āPatroklosā¦I loved him, and I killed him.ā -Book 18 of The Iliad
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āPatroklosā¦I loved him, and I killed him.ā -Book 18 of The Iliad

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im sorry I had to do this, everything reminds me of them *sigh*
(original meme found on @dream--interrupted 's blog)
Your writing wrecked me in the most exquisite way possible. I genuinely love your fics, but Philtatos: most beloved, especially felt like being slowly, beautifully dismantled and then stitched back together.
What I adore most is how you understand longing as something physical. Willās feelings arenāt just thoughts, they live in his sternum, in his throat, in the way he keeps looking back, in the rituals of normalcy that suddenly become unbearable. That line about everything being āso, so normalā while his whole internal world is collapsing? Incredible. You capture the specific agony of wanting someone woven into your everyday life, because then love is everywhere: in drive-through coffee, morning skates, familiar routines, tape-to-tape passes. Thereās no escape from it. And your characterization of Will is so sharp. Heās dramatic, funny, self-aware, romantic to the point of self-destruction, and using humour as camouflage every second. The Cat counseling couch scene was perfect because it lets him spiral and be hilarious and heartbreaking at once. āMy life is a tragedy in three partsā is such a Will line, but then the tragedy turns out to be devastatingly sincere. He isnāt joking at all.
I also love how Mackās love story is fundamentally different but equally intense. Will knows through yearning; Mack knows through absence and panic. Will has been translating devotion into romance for ages, while Mack only understands the shape of his feelings once he nearly loses him. That contrast makes the beach confession land so hard. Mack saying he never thought he was *allowed* to feel that way about Will says so much in one sentence, about repression, fear, youth, identity, and how sometimes the biggest obstacle to love is permission.
And the motif work here??? Unreal. TSOA references could have felt heavy-handed in lesser hands, but instead they deepen everything because you use them as emotional vocabulary. Will reaches for myth because ordinary language canāt contain what he feels. Then you brilliantly counterbalance that with hockey details, coffee orders, smelling salts, teammates chirping them, practical mundane life. Myth and mundanity coexist. Thatās exactly what epic love often is: divine feeling inside a stupidly normal Tuesday.
The sensory repetition of recognition is maybe my favourite thread: knowing each other by touch, breath, skates, instinct, movement. The tape-to-tape imagery as emotional shorthand is genius. They have always known where the other is without looking. So the romance doesnāt feel like a sudden shift, it feels like the emotional truth finally catching up to the bodyās knowledge.
And then that final section⦠wow. The scale becomes cosmic,stars, planets, orbit, yet the emotional payoff is domestic: shared pillow, Thai food, TikToks, limbs tangled in bed. That is such a beautiful resolution because it says love doesnāt become smaller when it enters ordinary life; it becomes safer. āDeep water anchorage of Mackās heartā is an ending line people would kill for. Honestly this fic understands something a lot of stories miss: being chosen is romantic, but being *known* is even more intimate. And your whole story is about both. Thank you for writing something this tender, funny, yearning, and wise. Iāll be thinking about it for a long time.
Thank you so, so much for this gorgeous note about Philtatos. I honestly feel so overwhelmed and grateful and frankly astounded to be read with such care and generosity and love; I cannot tell you how much it means. Your comments made me cry. š©·ā¤ļø
Iāll try and answer your thoughtful points as best I can!
The longing as physicalāIām so delighted you picked up on exactly what I was trying to convey. These are professional athletes who felt instant chemistry on the ice at dev camp and have to be attuned to their bodies, so it only makes sense that emotions are processed first as physiological sensations, that intimacy means attached-at-the-hip closeness wherever possible.
Your description of āTragedy in three partsā Will is better than I ever could have articulated! Is there anything more tragic than the fool in love who knows the love will ruin him, and loves anyways? He seems to me like a character that is always half-hidden, even to himself, and humour is a bad cloak for vulnerability.
āWill knows through yearning, Mack through absenceā just exploded and shattered inside me like buckshot. Thatās *such* a beautiful and striking way to put it, Iām going to be thinking about your words for a long, long time. I think to add to your point about Mackās repression and fear and permission-seeking, Mack to me seems like he clings because of a very particular panic that comes from not being rooted. So heās always terrified that something, someone is going to be taken from him.
āEpic love [is] divine feeling inside a stupidly normal Tuesdayā just made me smile so widely and also snagged at my heart. Goddamn, youāve hit the nail on the head. I think thatās why Iām so, so hooked by these two hockey boys and their charactersāit feels epic and mythical and also so mundane at the same time. Deified on the ice and idiots off it.
Thank you for the kind note about motif work, I was so nervous not to make the fic too heavy-handed or earnest or obvious, so Iām glad it still felt subtle.
āLove doesnāt become smaller when it enters ordinary life, it becomes safer.ā Donāt mind me, just over here gasping at the fact that your words performed open heart surgery on me without anaesthesia. I think youāve just summed up the red thread of my next fic too, about the domesticity of everyday life together.
Lastly your note about the āDeep water anchorage of Mackās heartā.
There is a repeated image in TSOA of Achillesā arms being a harbour for Patroclus. I loved that and wanted to expand on it somehow. I knew I needed a visual that represented how Will has been tossed around in a wild emotional storm out at sea, the utter relief of being in a physical space that can finally hold you, and the fact that a harbour with its existing infrastructure of docks and other boats felt too safe, too small for them. I didnāt want it to feel like a temporary bay to tie your boat up in but rather a proper anchoring in place. Something unmovable, unshakeable. Hence, deep water anchorage.
Sorry for this long note back, I am so deeply honoured to be read by a reader like you. Thank you thank you for your gorgeous comments, I so treasure them š©·ā¤ļøšš§”š©·
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A silly little drawing to go with this absolute stunner of a Christmas fic (written last year by my beloved @notearnest ) ā itās an absolute treat and I couldnāt help myself but illustrate this scene from it āØ
name one hero who was happy šŗ

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Achilles, gently squishing Patroclusās cheeks between his hands: Phil-tater-tot-tos
Patroclus: honey, are you drunk?
(after sex) so anyway do you ever think about how achilles' biggest mistake was choosing fame over a peaceful life with his lover all because he wanted to live up to the expectations that being a hero carried? how patroclus followed him thinking achilles would die first? hey stop kissing me i'm serious
"One more thing - take it to heart, I urge you - you too, you won't live long yourself, I swear. Already I see them looming up beside you - death and the strong force of fate, to bring you down at the hands of Aeacus' great royal son... Achilles."
- The Iliad, Book 16, Lines 996-1000. Patroclus speaks Achilles' name as he draws his last breath.