Call Me By Your Name And I Will Call You By Mine, Is Equivalent To, He Is More Myself Than I Am, Whatever

Call me by your name and I will call you by mine, is equivalent to, he is more myself than I am, whatever our souls are made of his and mine are the same.

Let's all go cry now.

steve rogers' first and last time with the captain america shield

alternatively titled: endings, beginnings

avengers: endgame was released five years ago today.

marvel parallels 26/?

chris evans and anthony mackie in captain america: the first avenger (2011) and avengers: endgame (2019)

Just a fun idea; whomever contributes the first letter in the ship name is the top, applying this rule, who tops in your favorite ship?

Bucky remembering Steve in the Winter Soldier after years and years of torture and brain frying is equivalent to Percy Jackson remembering only Annabeth Chase (aka the love of his life) in The Son of Neptune after a God taking away his memories.

L'appel Du Vide

He staggered from one pillar to another hoping that one of them would share his pain.

He walked through his school corridor meeting the judgemental glares of his fellow peers.

He passed by a class and saw a girl getting yelled at by her teacher. The teacher not knowing the pain the young girl goes through continues to batter her with harsh words.

He resumed walking, he realized that this place will never let him fail. No matter how hard things are ,this place will always remind how much he messed up, how he disappoints everyone and how he'll never live up to anyone's expectations.

The cold realization struck him when he found himself on the top floor of the school.

The cold air brushing his face with unkindness. He looks down and marvels how no one knows that he's up here, how no one knows who he is.

He's tempted to take the fall.

He wonders if he will do this will things change?

He wonders if he will do this will people finally realize and stop someone else from making a decision like this?

He truly wonders.

He sheds his jacket wanting to feel the coldness of the evening.

Wanting to be free of any warmth.

But at the same time he wants to be saved

He wants to be warm.

He understands that will never happen.

He knows that he will never experience a mother's love or a friend's trust.

After all who is he?

No one

And that's when he gives in to his temptation.

The earth capturing him in a trance and welcoming him with open arms.

In the few seconds of his flight he hoped that someone would catch him.

Someone would pacify his trembling heart.

But he knows truly that it will not happen.

And gladly welcomes the blackness that will keep him safe from the coldness of this world.

Hyacinthus was a hero in Sparta. Dark eyes, dark skin, dark hair but a pure heart. A heart so pure and bright that it caught the attention of the sun God himself. Apollo was everything that Hyacinthus was not. He had sun-kissed skin, hair like the sun and the sun in his eyes and like everything he was, Apollo's heart burned like the sun; his passion was fiery like the sun as was his nature. He was simply like the sun.

The sun was high and pure and ever shuns evil and searches for the pure. No wonder Apollo fell for Hyacinthus.

Whenever he dragged the sun with his chariot his eyes would search for Hyacinth from afar. He saw many suitors who came for the hero, women of great nobility, men of great strength and Gods who controlled the winds. Yet, the hero refused them all, sending them back to their homes with the strings in their hearts snapped.

He had a companion a man called Thamyris. Apollo could see how much the man loved him and how Hyacinthus was oblivious to his affection and treated him like one would do with a brother.

Not able to control his desires and affections Apollo approaches Hyacinthus. First they were good friends; Apollo taught him to shoot arrows, to write poetry, to play the lyre, to mix herbs and instead Hyacinthus showed Apollo happiness. Despite Apollo being handsome like his father he never had any great luck in love. He was charming, sure. But love? That was something Apollo couldn't fully grasp. Then again, not a lot of mortals did either.

The first time Hyacinthus kissed Apollo was when they sleeping beside each other, thinking that the God was asleep. Apollo however was not, he was awake and returned the gesture. Neither knew that would be the beginning of the end.

Apollo like many of the other Gods wished to impress his lover. It was a simple sport. To see who threw the discus further.

Hyacinthus threw for a reasonable distance, and smiled. Apollo threw it so far that it split the clouds in the skies. Apollo smiled as Hyacinthus threw his head back and cheered. And like many , Hyacinthus wished to impress his better half as well.

As the discus came down Hyacinthus moved to catch it. Only for it to ricochet and hit his head. Apollo saw as the discus came down and saw as it hit Hyacinthus' head and saw as he fell with his name on his lips.

The world always moved slow for Apollo but the moments before he fell seemed as though it moved faster. As though time was afraid that it can't kill Hyacinthus while Apollo was with him and had to hurry.

The God of healing was not able to heal the man he loves, he could only watch in horror as the blood seeped into the earth. Hyacinthus did not shudder or seize in his death, he was calm and silent with his eyes closed, only inhaling and exhaling softly. When Hyacinthus breathed his last, Apollo screamed. He screamed so loud that the nymphs ran away to their ponds and lakes, that the Sun set early that day and the moon was afraid to take its place.

He pulled at his blond hair and clutched Hyacinthus so close hoping he can breath life into him. He called out to his father asking him to take away his immortality, what was immortality without Hyacinth? He called onto all the Gods asking them to take his life, what was the reason to live on this wretched plane that has cast out Hyacinthus?

No one answered him. No God did.

Apollo didn't want to do his funeral rites. He didn't want to bury him so that he could cross river Styx and stand before the three judges. So, Apollo whispered. He whispered with his magic and Hyacinthus slowly turns into a flower.

Apollo looks at the flower before leaving. Pure and beautiful, that was how Hyacinth always has been. Even beyond his death.