Unfit for Society Recs

Kings

Covenant by novembersmith
It keeps happening; David thwarts him without even trying during the day. Soaks up all the attention and all the regard Silas gives him, takes Jack's seat, takes his job, takes his life like he's slotting into a place Jack was never in at all. Oh, Jack. During sleepless nights, David provides the softness he needs but doesn't want/can't ask for. Lovely.

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Lamb

The Blog of Levi Who Is Called Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal by yasaman
So now that Biff and Maggie have written their gospels, what next? The internet, of course. And trashy airport novels. This story feels like the perfect epilogue to the book. Wonderful.

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The Iliad

blinded by my fate, i could not prevent your fall by oultrepreu
Patroklos is the first thing you seek when you return to Phthia, and he is the thing you had most missed while in Skyros. Deidamia resembled him, somewhat, but she didn't have his apple-crisp laugh, his wine-dark eyes, his ability to take you captive with a single glance. Alone with him, you re-map the planes of his body, re-learn the different cadences of his voice, re-fit yourself to the dips and curves of his form, and it satisfies the humming in your blood, relaxes the tension in your chest, which, like an unwelcome guest you could not dismiss, had stayed for so long that you had forgotten it was ever not there, until it no longer was. Utterly gorgeous Achilles/Patroclus story. I wish I could write like this.

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Alexander/Hephaistion

The Diplomat by earis
Really fantastic Alexander/Hephaistion that does a nice job portraying the depth of their love for each other and also shows Hephaistion as good at his job. Plus, footnotes!

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The Eagle

exiit ad caelum by slowascent
It is well that Esca builds a fire, because the April rain comes down like sling-stones on a forward rank, and the black thatch above their heads is more space than substance. On summer nights it might show a vault of stars, grander than the great tombs at Veii; now it is only dark, and the little rivers that run through the rafters are dark as well. Marcus shuts his eyes, tries to remember - when we have turned the wheel of time a thousand years - but the line is gone.

At his feet, Esca crouches, and his hand coaxes smoke from scattered ash and sodden straw. Soon they are piling the wood they have carried, square like a pyre; Marcus feels like a child, somehow, making camp in his own home. Really gorgeous, subtle and inevitable story of Marcus, Esca and Cottia making their life in their little farmhouse after the end of the book. <3

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