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Aaron He/him ἀνάκτανθες Odysseus shitty poster Don´t care if we know a 2%, there´s a 98% out there :D If lost return to water or to the nearest forest. English / Español
1713 posts
@anniflamma Thanks So Much Flr Sending This Amazing, Exquiste ART!!!!!!!
@anniflamma Thanks so much flr sending this amazing, exquiste ART!!!!!!!
Hekdpdfiduejrb ❤️🌊🩵
AHHHHHHH!!!!!
Thanks so much!!!!!! This is so beautiful!!!!! 🥹
Thank you, thank you!!!!!
Hi!, sorry to bother you, but, do you have Telemachus doodles? He's the sweetest of the goodest of the bois
![Hi!, Sorry To Bother You, But, Do You Have Telemachus Doodles? He's The Sweetest Of The Goodest Of The](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d0f6cd15946dbdafba9b08a9bd68c458/69829d263f216637-b9/s500x750/e4fc7b6b7a2e2868108f640afd9abee670309e6c.jpg)
I don't have a design for Telemachus yet. In my mind, he looks like a mix of both parents. However, I haven't designed Penelope yet... For now, he just looks like his dad, but younger.
![Hi!, Sorry To Bother You, But, Do You Have Telemachus Doodles? He's The Sweetest Of The Goodest Of The](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fe7c213daab493dbb293cfc1d57713cc/69829d263f216637-7a/s500x750/087c700cc721a8452beb9d98a98381595ee234f1.png)
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More Posts from Aaronofithaca05
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there's no greater betrayal than finally starting to read a book you've had sitting for months on your shelf or your desk or your nightstand and then finding out it's bad. like. i gave you a fucking home.
Cool Rock!! For you @nyx-of-darkness-1620
Awhhh T T
This is beautiful, I have no words, ¡BRAVO!, THIS IS PERFECT!!!!
Counsel to the Young Prince of Ithaka
“You see, Odysseus,” my grandfather shifted his weight on the unsteady branches of an old olive tree. We were far outside of the palace, away from the view of the royal guard and my father. He loved these places, trails that wouldn’t necessarily lead you anywhere in particular, and there were many in Ithaka, though it was a small island. He plucked a small bunch of olives from the branches, cupping them neatly in his hand as he came back down towards me. He passed me one — purple, soft and overripe. I grimaced as it fell on my hands, mother always said they were bad for you. “You wouldn’t eat one of those would you? They’re much too old now”, he dropped the rest of the purple olives on the grass.
“Oh don’t make that face!”, he said as he reached into his old leather bag, “Here! You’ll prefer this”. His arm outstretched toward me, holding an apple, an ugly, rotten thing. It seemed to crumble every time he swung his arms around to speak — which he always did. “Appearances are very important, young man, aren’t they?”, he said confidently, Grandpa Autolycus always knew what he spoke of, he had lived a life full of experience. “You wouldn’t eat this, would you?” he held it nearer to me. “No! Eww”, I grimaced, it smelled even worse than it looked. “But what if I…” he held my attention as he passed the rotten apple behind his back, from his right hand to his left, and out came a shining, almost golden, apple. They said it was his gift, as the son of lord Hermes.
“How did you do that!” I was shocked, my eyes filled with wonder at the gleaming fruit in front of me. It seemed to glow as the sun struck it through the leaves of the olive trees that surrounded us. It almost looked godly, like something Lady Athena or the mighty Lord Zeus would dine on. I inched ever closer towards it, its beauty mesmerizing me. The smell of rot and disgust hit my nose the moment the apple was up to my young face, and I darted back as the horrible stench approached me. “Appearances can be deceiving, wouldn’t you say?” he laughed as I attempted to get rid of the smell that had now plagued my nose and would disappointingly remain with me for the remainder of the day.
“But one can change their appearance” I saw the apple transform with a snap of his fingers, crumbling back into the rotten mess it was before “Even the mightiest of men can look poor and wretched if given enough practice. Even you, Odysseus!” He said as he ruffled my hair, laughing as the strands began to cover my gray eyes. In between laughs I stammered, “Stop!”. He managed to pick out some better olives, green ones, which we ate as we watched birds fly over Ithaka. I laid by him as Helios traveled below the Earth and night came. Nights were quiet in the island, only the sound of the crashing waves and the leaves of olive trees being rustled by the wind could be heard, perhaps the sound of a boar if you were unlucky.
“I taught Herakles how to wrestle, you know?” he laughed as he lifted me above his shoulders, “You’re lying!” I shouted with doubt as I laughed along. He stopped for a second, an almost imperceptible second, “I lie to everyone else, young man”, his face turned serious, “but not you. You’re too clever for that”. It was the first time he’d spoken to me without the hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Do not forget this, Odysseus. You are more clever than you know”. I did not understand him then –most of his words fell on attentive, but deaf ears— he spoke to me as though I were an older man, after all. A man such as he, bearded and full of experience. But I was not an old man like him, I was young, spry, and endlessly energetic. Though his words stuck with me even more than the scar that marks my thigh, and I would understand his counsel.
As we reached the castle, and he ignited my imagination with tales of monsters and gods — how lord Hermes stole the cattle of great Apollo, or how Perseus slayed the terrifying Medusa — until I fell unconscious on his lap and Eurycleia lifted me to my bedchambers.
“He loves you more than anything else in Ithaka,” she said as she tucked me into bed, “You were named by him you know, not your father”. I had heard the story before, my father and Eurycleia had brought the young boy, the heir to the throne of Ithaka, to the lap of his grandfather. He looked at the boy with joy, his young, gray eyes reminding him of adventures of his past. Eurycleia recommended the name Polyaretos, “most wished”, she said with tears in her eyes, “we have prayed much for this young boy”. My father seemed pleased, though my grandfather disagreed. “Odysseus” he told him, “hated one, that shall be his name”. He did not laugh, Eurycleia maintains that she could see tears welling up in his eyes. My father was opposed to marking the next heir to the throne with such a bad omen, yet my grandfather persisted. “Give me this, young man” he said to King Laertes, “this boy will be far more than all of Ithaka, I will assure it”. He stood, holding the baby softly to his chest and walking towards the young king, “name him Odysseus”.
No one is quite sure why I was called Odysseus, some don’t even believe it is of our native tongue. But it was important for my grandfather, regardless of what it meant for my future. I was important to him, perhaps he saw me as a second chance for the actions he regretted. “He was a haunted man” some would say, but they did not know the beaming, grinning Autolycus I knew. The old man who would run through the rocky hills of Ithaka with an infant on his shoulders who could not contain his excitement, or would involve his grandson in his many mischievous plans, to the delight of the young boy. He was a man who would do anything for his family.
I am older now, 22 years of age, expecting a young boy, Telemachos. I will do all I can to see him grow, to advise him and show him the beauty of our kingdom. I will be there for his first steps, for his first words, for the first time his beard begins to grow. He will be my pride, my joy, my world. I understand now, perhaps, why that young, gray-eyed boy meant so much to the old man.
-Odysseus, father of Telemachos
@dootznbootz You have ao3.?????!!!!!!
Girl, how are you able to post so much!!!!!!!???????
me, quietly whispering to the ao3 page of an author who doesn’t even know I exist: I am obsessed with you