𝑰'𝑴 𝑮𝑶𝑵𝑵𝑨 𝑩𝑬 𝑵𝑶𝑩𝑶𝑫𝒀'𝑺 𝑺𝑶𝑳𝑫𝑰𝑬𝑹 !!

the lost son of zeus; a demigod plunged into tartarus by his own rage ( and his father's eager hand ) then salvaged by the titan of time. a man out of his era, a figure wrapped in storms && spite, who reeks of death && cigarettes.

an independent / highly selective original character based in the riordanverse / percy jackson, but with additional verses present for additional fandoms, as struck by tally (he/it, 25). triggering themes will be present; proceed at your own discretion.

a study in surviving past the narrative ; in the consequences of divine wrath ; in the agony of being known; in the ways we cope && all the ways we shouldn't.

phthia.       that  draws  a  crease  to  steve's  brows.       he  enjoys  history  –  his  entire  apartment  is  filled  with  as  many  books  on  the  subject  as  he  can  read.       enhanced  brain  has  made  it  easy  to  blow  through  those  books  as  if  they  were  as  simple  as  children's  picture  books.       while  it's  true  he'd  spent  most  of  his  attention  on  learning  american  history  in  his  downtime  since  defrosting  ,  he's  not  skipped  out  on  world  events  &*  geography.         a  lot  changes  in  seventy  years.          while  he  might  not  know  as  much  about  the  rest  of  the  world  ,  he's  never  heard  of  phthia.       tries  quickly  to  place  it  –  it  sounds  greek  ;  matches  the  sharper  features  of  the  man  before  him.       assumptions  –  but  one  he  can  test.   

❛    they  call  me  the  first  avenger.    ❜          he  says  his  words  in  greek  –  modern  greek  ,  to  be  fair  ,  but  greek  nonetheless.        his  accent  is  perfect  --  another  perk  of  enhanced  intelligence.        he  spends  much  of  his  free  time  studying  anything  he  can  –  fighting  ,  language  ,  history.         ❛    i  suppose  it  fits     …     i  killed  the  red  skull  for  killing  my  best  friend.   ❜        history  would  not  phrase  it  that  way.        but  steve  crashed  that  plane  to  join  bucky  in  the  ice  –  the  only  person  who  knew  that  was  peggy  ;  it's  not  a  secret  she  divulged.       ❛    now  we  fight  to  correct  the  wrongs  the  world  has  wrought.      it's  a  promise  –  if  you  attack  ,  we  fight  back.    ❜

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑-𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄   has   changed,   but   so   too   has   the   greatest   of   the   greeks.   words   have   shifted   in   meaning,   pronunciations   differ   drastically   to   how   he   once   knew   them,   but   this   does   not   dissuade   his   understanding   -   nor   does   it   dull   the   sharpness   which   bleeds   into   his   eyes   when   the   other   speaks   his   favored   tongue.   there   is   an   alertness   there   which   defies   definition   with   a   passion;   it   can   only   be   known   as   the   recognition   of   the   sound   of   your   childhood   home’s   door   opening   and,   despite   the   presence   of   new   occupants,   still   being   the   safest   place   in   the   world, at least to some part of him.    ❝    i   see.   then   i   suppose   the   name   makes   sense,   even   if   it’s   still   not   the   most   pleasing   to   the   ear.   ❞   his   greek   is   older.   it   is   a   mixture   of   modern    &&   archaic,   an   almost   poetic   cadence   to   his   speech   -   fitting,   considering   his   position   in   one   of   the   oldest   tales.   the   most   the   admission   of   a   killing   gets   is   a   nod;   even   with   minimal   context,   it   clicks   in   achilles   mind   well   enough.   gods   know   this   man   is   not   the   first   to   kill   out   of   rage   for   a   loved   one:   he   is   speaking   to   the   patron   saint   of   it.    ❝  …   then   they    &&   i   have   something   in   common,   to   a   degree.   ❞   he   nods   to   the   display,   to   the   man’s   attire.   ❝   though   the   wrongs   i   deal   with   are   slightly   harder   to   kill.   ❞

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓   remember   where   achilles   hails   from.   not   his   fair   home,   no,   but   the   time.   how   many   divine   children   &&   grandchildren   &&   great-grandchildren   lay   dead   on   troy   when   all   was   said   &&   done   ??   how   many   souls   crossed   towards   elysium   thinking   themselves   rewarded   by   their   parents,   only   to   instead   be   ushered   into   a   gospel   ??   oh,   he   knows   the   heroes   of   legends   that   stay   in   paradise!   he   loathes   that   lazy   lot:   the   world   may   very   well   be   on   the   cusp   of   succumbing   to   a   second   titanomachy,   &&   those   who   he   once   adored   would   sit   by.   perhaps   they   train   the   dead,   but   none   care   for   the   living   quite   like   achilles.   his   care   is   like   that   of   the   gods:   it   destroys. he   steps   towards   the   demigod   &&   gestures   not   to   a   specific   part,   but   to   the   whole   of   the   younger’s   body. ❝   you   swing   with an   eagerness that   will   get   you   killed.   ❞   his   posture   straightens   after   a   beat;   his   weight   shifts   to   his   back   foot,   his   shoulders   rise   just   enough   to   be   noted.   he   pats   his   side   with   his   hand. ❝   your   stance   is   disjointed,   like   pieces   instead   of   a   whole.   your   arms   are   more   eager   than   your   legs;   a   strong   gust   could   knock   you   off   balance   like   that.   every   part   has   to   move   in   unison.   has   to   move   with   purpose.   together.   ❞    he   steps   back,   eyes   locked   on   the   younger   boy.   ❝   swing   like   you’re   trying   to   kill   something,   demigod.   you’re   not   wanting   for   inspiration   on   that   front.   ❞

crimson eyes followed the movement of the other's head, to where a building should have stood. but like everything else, it was now nothing more than ruins and dust. his mind wandered, unwillingly, through memories, searching for the place, for the girl achilles spoke of.

slowly, the memory formed. walls rose where there were none, light returned, and for a feeting moment the god could almost hear it. music, laughter, the voices of those who once walked that land. almost. when he blinked, it was gone again. reduced to silence, as if it had never existed at all.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒   indeed   a   sense   of   endless   grief   roiling   ‘round   in   his   heart,   a   sea   which   —   when   some   vast   &&   incomprehensible   madness   seized   it   —   became   nigh   unstoppable   in   its   fury.   it   claimed   everything   about   him:   the   way   he   held   himself,   identical   to   how   he   did   prior   to   the   end   of   all   things;   the   way   he   regarded   others   as   though   he   had   already   seen   the   end   of   their   stories,   for   he   knew   the   sorts   of   folks   who   wound   up   in   his   company;   &&   now,   how   he   regarded   ruins   as   homes   that   should   have   still   been   standing. though   achilles   tried   to   not   put   himself   in   the   shoes   of   a   god,   he   imagined that   time   itself   must   have   been   a   conundrum   for   them:   decades   were   years   to   them,   years   were   months,   &&   so   on   &&   so   forth.   were   the   memories   fresher   for   the   god   than   they   were   for   the   man   ??   most   definitely.   &&   yet,   evidently,   only   one   possessed   particular   feelings   towards   the   old   stomping   grounds. achilles’   brows   furrowed   at   hades   question.   though   he   was   a   man   in   his   twenties,   sometimes   he   still   clearly   resembled   the   hero   who   had   stormed   troy.   he   had   made   the   same   puzzled   face   dozens   of   times   before   while   listening   to   the   great   odysseus   explain   his   plans,   having   to   work   twice   as   hard   as   those   around   him   to   understand   the   intricacies   of   the   ithacan   king’s   genius. ❝   best   not   to   shape   your   answers   around   how   i’d   feel   about   them,   ❞   achilles   reminded,   his   gaze   remaining   fixed   on   the   nearby   stones.   ❝   you   &&   i   both   know   peace   is   far   from   me,   regardless   of   your   answer.   which,   by   the   by,   i’d   still   like.   ❞   

she was out of her mind when she said it, of course. ( she usually was when she spoke to me. ) for a second, though, there was something in her eyes. i couldn't tel l what. if it'll keep her around, i told myself, then okay. i'll bring the sky down with me, and i'll be my mom's favorite shooting star.

#𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄: independent && highly selective original character set within the percy jackson universe, as adored by tally (he/it).

crimson eyes remained fixed on the ruins, watching, feeling, almost searching for a home that had never truly been one. a city that once spoke his name with reverence, that built temples and whispered prayers into the dark. now reduced to stone and ash. what a shame. and yet ... the god felt nothing. no grief. no sorrow. only a familiar weight of duty, the same one that had settled upon his shoulders the moment he became lord of the underworld.

he wondered, distantly, why the absence of feeling bothered him more than the destruction itself. achilles' question reached him then. to hades, it sounded unnecessary. why would the god of the underworld walk among the living if not to claim them ? and yet, death itself existed for that purpose. still, some tasks were too vast, too chaotic, to be left to one alone. or perhaps ... he was simply tired of his own realm.

𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐃   long   since   looking   for   ghosts.   he   knew   where   they   sat   ‘neath   elysium’s   evergreen   trees,   where   they   fished   on   the   winding   streams   which   stretched   through   a   hero’s   rightful   resting   place.   there   was   no   point   in   looking   for   them   up   here,   nor   was   there   any   true   point   in   searching   for   the   familiar   beyond   the   divine;   they   were   already   gone,   safe   in   a   place   that   he   could   not   stand   to   be   in.   elysium,   great   resting   place   -   how   you   spited   him   with   your   deluge   of   peace. the   dead,   achilles   had   learned,   had   nothing   more   to   say   to   him.   all   their   eulogies   &&   legends   had   already   been   spoken   aloud   centuries   ago;   the   passive   conversations   he   could   have   with   them,   or   with   any   spirit   which   lingered   about   the   ruins,   would   have   been   only   repetitions   of   ones   he’d   already   had.   echoes.   broken   records.    he   hummed   a   single   note,   then   bobbed   his   head   from   side   to   side.   perhaps   his   assumption   was   wrong,   &&   it   may   very   well   have   earned   him   some   kind   of   smiting   or   chide   from   the   dead-king,   but   that   had   never   stopped   him   from   speaking   before.   only   made   him   cherish   the   words   a   little   more   before   they   were   said.    ❝   so   you’re   here   for   nostalgia,   then.   ❞   achilles   said   calmly,   regarding   the   god   from   the   corners   of   his   eyes.   ❝   do   you   remember   the   girl   who   used   to   sell   bread   over   there   ??   ❞   he   tipped   his   head   in   a   nod   towards   one   of   the   crumbled   remnants   of   a   building.   ❝   did   she   -   did   anyone   from   these   ruins   -   ever   pass   you   by   on   the   way   to   asphodel   ??   ❞

she was out of her mind when she said it, of course. ( she usually was when she spoke to me. ) for a second, though, there was something in her eyes. i couldn't tel l what. if it'll keep her around, i told myself, then okay. i'll bring the sky down with me, and i'll be my mom's favorite shooting star.

#𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄: independent && highly selective original character set within the percy jackson universe, as adored by tally (he/it).

— 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐖, 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒. 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇.

𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦, && 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 interpretation of 𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐒 of greek myth. informed && inspired by mozley's translation of the achilleid, robert fagles translation of the iliad, and homer's the odyssey. as loved by tally (25, he/him). art credit.

"I   dare   you   to   try."

"Do   you   always   get   close?"

"You’re   pushing   my   limits."

"Stop   looking   at   me   like   that."

"I’m   losing   control   here."

"You   have   no   idea,   do   you?"

"I   can’t   resist   you   anymore."

"Stay   back,   or   don’t."

"I   know   what   you   want."

"This   is   getting   dangerous   now."

"You’re   too   tempting   for   me."

"I   shouldn’t   want   this,   but…"

"I   don’t   play   fair,   remember?"

"Careful,   you’re   testing   me."

"You’re   just   making   it   worse."

"You’re   too   close   for   comfort."

"Do   you   always   push   buttons?"

"Stop   before   I   kiss   you."

"You’re   making   it   too   hard."

"I   can’t   stop   thinking   about   you."

"I   want   you   too   much."

"You   know   exactly   what   you’re   doing."

"I’m   not   playing   games   here."

"You’ve   crossed   the   line   now."

"Keep   pushing,   and   you’ll   regret   it."

"This   is   dangerous,   isn’t   it?"

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"Don’t   make   me   regret   this."

"You’re   playing   with   fire."

"You   don’t   know   what’s   coming."

"I   shouldn’t   be   this   close."

"We’re   getting   dangerously   close   now."

"I   can   feel   the   heat."

"Don’t   test   me   right   now."

"I   want   you   too   badly."

"Don’t   make   me   chase   you."

"You’re   distracting   me,   you   know."

"I   won’t   fall   for   this."

"I   want   you,   but…"

"What   do   you   want   from   me?"

"I’ll   never   give   in."

"I’m   trying   not   to   care."

"You’re   playing   with   my   patience."

"Don’t   make   this   harder,   please."

"I   can’t   stop   this   feeling."

"I’m   already   in   too   deep."

"You   won’t   walk   away   unscathed."

"You’re   walking   a   fine   line."

"I’m   trying   to   stay   calm."