#Homer's iliad

[lukasaurusart]

I've been reading the Iliad so here is my Diomedes sketches while i work on some patrochilles stuff.

Diomedes is the best and i wont hear otherwise. I swear i love this man so much. He is SO good at what he does.

[community-gardenss]

The Achilles/Medea elysium marriage is so unbelievably funny to me but there's also something compelling there I think.

Just like. Achilles who's entire life was defined by a prophecy, his destiny preordained, a game played by the gods. Medea who's life was ruined by a goddess's meddling with her heart. And then even in death they cannot escape the whims of the gods. Promised to one another even now, even here. Their deaths ruled by prophecy just as their lives were.

I just think there's a lot of interesting potential there. Two people so defined by their rage, fearsome in their own rights. I cannot imagine either of them being at all happy about this LOL.

Basically what I'm saying is Medea and Achilles have a wierd little marriage of convenience. Because it's like... taking their destinies back into their own hands. They were prophesized to marry but what they do with that marriage is their own.

[tetobrain]

ATTENTION GRABBER!!

FIRST DRAFT OF ALTERNATE UNIVERSE ODYSSEY FANFIC/MYTH ITERATIVE

INCLUDING A TRAGIC PENELOPE AND TELEMACHUS BEING FORCED TO MATURE INTO BRUTAL PRAGMATISM TO SURVIVE

OKAY PLEASE ENJOT:

The Telemechiad

Book One;

Across an endless canvas of stars, beyond life and light, primordial night wanders:

Reality as her muse, Nyx cries in divine boredom, “O, infinite cosmos, answer to my call, and with the threads of your being weave me a tale. A tale of destiny defied! Inspire in me a story of a time where fate fails and mortals fall!.”

Servant to her primordial demand, the stars shift, the world bends, as time itself bows before her, split in two; and so she would peer into the cracks between, where a song would grace her ears.

And in this song, she heard the musings of the gods who bicker so meaninglessly below her-

Athena’s voice would pierce firstly, a cry of simmering rage and sorrow, “Father! Do not tell me you cannot see the injustice of his fate! Would you have a simple man on his way home suffer so excessively?”

Zeus gave an indignant nigh indifferent look, his eyes bored as he gazed upon his fiery daughter, “I do not have this man do anything! It was not I who cast him into the underworld, and it was not I who had him disrespect Persephone.”

The goddess of war, though not as enflamed as her brother, was not quick to surrender her stance;

“And what of Xenia? Have you no care for the suitors or their blatant disrespect? Tame for now yes, but their anger is bubbling, their rage imminent. Have you no concern for your own domain?”

Upon these poison tipped words, the sky rumbled and shook with a deep, grey, fury. Zeus’ voice boomed as he reprimanded insolent war, “Do you mean to call me a hypocrite? Or perhaps a coward? My daughter you may be but your words from here should be chosen with caution. Know that my judgement is ultimate and fate inevitable; if my divine law is disrespected then of course punishment shall follow suit!- that said, when and how is not of concern. If, still, you are so concerned with my xenia or this mans nostos, then I may allow you to deal with it yourself!”

Thunder cracked and rumbled as he waved his hand, ��Go then! Descend for this foolish man! Or is your word fiercer than your conviction?”

Athena bit her lip in restrained rage and deep concern; colorless ichor flowing from her bite as she weighed her options. She knew she didn’t have much choice, The King Of The Skies would not tolerate much more, and to stop here would be to abandon her pride.

So, with a powerful step that boomed against the rumbling heavens- a final resounding of her authority and pride- she would stride off toward the underworld, “Then it is so, I will hold the mantle of the one to honor nostos and xenia then if that is what you wish.” Her words were sharp, like a unexpected arrow to the gut- and so too was it cunning, as Zeus did not wish to chase her down for such inconsequential sentiments.

And so with burning conviction, of pride as the cunning of war, as authority as a goddess, and as her stakes in this man, she descends.

And silently, like a murmur, something escapes her lips in an exasperated breath,

“Telemachus… I will not be able to watch you during this, I may only have faith in your safety”

Thunder rumbles and booms over the rowdy ithaca; the halls of the kingdom loud with drunken rage and reckless frustration, it had been a week or maybe more, and still no man could string the kings bow.

As if in rhythm to the suitors rage, rain beats relentlessly against the castle, chilling its halls with the premonition of tragedy. The fates whispered between the taps of water tonight.

The rain would however find entrance through the open window within penelopes chambers, flooding her stone floor and soaking her carpet; and like a siren upon a rock, Constant Penelope in all her fatigued majesty sits upon her olive-carved wedding bed; barely out of range.

In her hands she weaves, her eyes flicker and shudder, the shroud shall be finished.

Within this same room sat Thoughtful Telemachus, seemingly the only one bothered by the cold that washes over not only his body but mind and soul. Within his heart is a deep darkness, a feeling he cannot shake, as if the fates itself are warning him.

“Mother, shall I go fetch something to cover the window? Do not worry, I do notfear the suitors; Rather, I could likely quell them-”

“That will not be necessary.” Her voice was sweet and soothing as she cut through his sentence- but her eyes seemed lost, glazed over. There was something bittersweet about the way she gazed weakly at the shroud, now finished, in her hands.

Something was not right, and telemachus knew it; she did not look him in the eyes when she spoke,

“I am sure you know, but I am a spartan. I can not claim the title of warrior, but I’ve been close to those who are, I’ve grown up in that world.” Her words were slow, deliberate, as if every breath required a year of thought;

telemachus’ heart grew heavier with dread,

“Every warrior is expected to meet impossible circumstances, and in these circumstances they must make impossible decisions. As an example: If the gods have left you, would you wait in vain at risk of your own family?”

Telemachus’ voice falters, “What do you mean mother?”

The wise penelope gazes distantly past her son’s eyes “What I mean to say is, something happened. I do not know what, I do not know how, but something happened. I have spent now over 20 years waiting for your father, because I love him.” The wife of odysseus still would not meet his gaze as she reached over to a table, her gently calloused fingers wrapped slowly around a chalice of unkown liquid,

“That said, I also must consider that for 20 years, I’ve grown to love you as my son. I cannot easily put one of you above the other, so I must approach this pragmatically…”

Flawless penelope would close her eyes as her icy silky hands shook- bringing the chalice intimate to her lips; and hero telemachus, pushed by a deep instinct, would try to run forward; but the mother of ithaca was swift as she brought it to her lips, and that rancid bitter fluid ran down her throat, gulped greedily as if she were drinking ambrosia itself,

“I say this to tell you this, my actions today are not a betrayal of faith, they are not me giving up on your father or renouncing him, so i ask you to do the same. Have faith in wise odysseus, and however you two may meet ensure it is not at Styx, not with me.”

“... Then why?”

“Because I love you as much as I love your father. But i know not when your father will get back, or how. You however are right infront of me, I cannot save him, I can save you.” With shaky hands, weak from the poison which ravages her, she hands him the shroud, “take this, and run. As far and fast as you can. I will not survive, so you must. If you must burn this to keep yourself alive then do so. Just, please don’t die.”

But prudent telemachus, strong as his love and understanding may be, was for those very same reasons not so swiftly dismissed,

“Mother! Are you mad? What is this? Quick, I shall fetch euryclea to find someone who can cure you- of the poison and this madness!”

But her eyes only softened at the son of ithaca’s exasperated loving fury, “Telemachus, I raised you well, and you inherit the wisdom of your father. I do not believe you don’t understand.”

“I understand very well that grief has broken your mind!” Wily telemachus snapped back with quickness- yet in this haste he had failed to hide the crack in his voice, and the despair that filled it.

“Perhaps it has.” Her voice was slow, solemn, but with a sharp conviction she stood.

The queen of ithaca stood fiercely before young telemachus, though shorter her stature felt taller, and her shaking weakened hands thrusted upon the boy the shroud she has crafted, “If so then it is such that no mad woman shall rule over what the old king Odysseus once cherished and crafted with rugged and torn hands. And so this mad woman shall give one final address, and by her own hand and no others will she die.”

“Mother i say once more I can handle them!”

“If that’s so, perhaps you are no less mad than me. I cannot stop you Telemachus. I do not have your strength, your youth, your energy. All I have now is my name. So with that I will do what i can.”

The boy was short of breath as Penelope of ithaca trodded purposefully down the water soaked floor toward the door, “If you believe trying to battle a hundred angry men in fair battle is all you can do with the gifts you are given- I cannot stop you. But this mad woman- your mother- is not so inclined to agree.”

Left in silence, chilled by rain and winds, the gods spared no mercy to the boy sat on the edge of a revelation- Young telemachus never gave much mind to fate, more concerned with the here and now, yet as he stepped steadily to the door penelope had just strutted out he stopped and began to consider something new- inevitability.

“Oh, mentor, where are you now? If i had the time, or if i perhaps knew sooner, I would consult Old Nestor’s wisdom, or spear-famed menelaus’ will while i could.

Alas, time wasted in regret is worse than passivity. But what am i to do? To simply accept the death of my own mother? Of her kingdom?

Yet her logic was profound, and i must face the truth that it is by now far past late to cure whatever poison she digested.

And I know it true that if she were to die- even if i were to topple those ravenous guests it is likely my injuries would not last my life much longer- Ithaca would be left with no more than dead vengeance, and a broken kingdom for my father.”

His conclusion had been reached, though he still didn’t want to accept the idea of just running; his concentration is broken, however, by a hardly recognized squawk from behind.

Alarmed and on-gaurd telemachus spun around, his eyes locked upon the open window- and rain continued to pitter patter through, singing a different song now however, as it landed too upon not just the room but the bold-eyed hawk that perched upon it’s windowsill.

Telemachus would calm ever so slightly, but his suspicion wasn’t at full rest, “A hawk? Could it be, athena?”

There’s a beat of silence, their eyes remain locked,

“No, athena i don’t believe you would appear before me like this, would you? Or have I truly gone mad finally?”

Telemachus interrogated the blank-faced bird of prey before him, his reservations and already fraught state leaking into his every doubt; yet his guard was quickly thrown off as the bird seemed to move as if… it were laughing?

And as it’s body moved with the silent laugh he noticed the dangling sandals held by the hawks mouth- small feathers on either side adorning the gold-coated footwear.

“Hermes! It must be…” steadily and carefully telemachus walked toward the brown-feathered messenger god; however as soon as he got close the laughing bird would drop those gilded sandals upon the windowsill and take off into the storming sky- unbothered by the perilous divine with it’s strong-feathered quick-footed flight.

Telemachus sprinted to the window sill and nearly slipped out as he barely caught sight as the hawk escaped out of view at shocking but fitting speeds.

Left alone once again telemachus gazed down upon the sandals, no mind paid to the rain beating upon his face as if begging for acknowledgement while he weighed the reality,

“I see then- even Hermes knows it true then. To disobey now would be to draw the ire of both mother and god- if that is so I can no longer allow my childish aspirations blind me.”

With a bit lip, telemachus would grab hold of the cold golden sandals, slipping them steadily upon his stone-calloused feet; it was a miraculous perfect fit- yet no less would be expected of a god’s blessing-

“Yes, this wasn’t just a sign, it was a blessing.”

Yet even as the son of ithaca finally begun to reconcile with the paradoxical duty of abandoning duty- a fire still burnt like a wildfire inside his wide pupils.

“Know this, ithaca,”

Nimble-footed telemachus would perch himself above the windowsill, staring distantly at the storming kingdom,

“This is not abandonment, this is a temporary retreat, and i promise i will return. With men, with power, with the king- and you will either accept and repent, or witness the son of the wisest hero’s full wrath.”

His words were a spiting poison threatening to infect the very rainfall upon this land as with one more preparatory breath- he leaped high through the air.

His feather feet hit the ground and flew with a pitter patter against muddied earth- as wily Telemachus ran past the boundaries of home- leaving nothing but a vow to return.

[ij16]

oh look its me

Starting a collection

[starstrvckfool]

So I started reading the iliad

I thought this part was pretty funny, Odysseus crashes out

POV: Achilles & Odysseus hate the same guy (they would be a pretty interesting duo ngl)

[sodapanque]

Odysseus if we had the beta Troy saga:

What I mean is, Imagine these songs sung/composed by Jorge LOL

[kurzler]

in my opinion, many modern greek retellings/stories inspired by greek mythology don't fail because they're inaccurate. they fail because they have nothing new to say.

i don't mind changes to the original myths, as long as they make sense and they have a narrative purpose! i understand that making changes is sometimes necessary to convey a certain narrative, especially to modern audiences.

is epic the musical mythologically accurate? hell no! but the changes serve to tell a specific story and to convey a certain message. also, epic the musical is self aware about its "inaccuracies". and the music just bangs.

is hadestown accurate? no! does it make the change that I always dread, removing the kidnapping from the hades/persephone myth? yeah. but hadestown is barely about them, and it uses greek mythology as a "narrative frame" to tell a certain story. it has a point. it has a message.

what are stories like lore olympus trying to say? what is the messagge of the hundredth persephone/hades retelling? what are we supposed to take from them? "don't listen to your mother she's a bitch"? "mothers are irrational and you should forsake her for a man"? very feminist.

why are we still doing the medusa "feminist" retellings? it's BEEN done. too many times. and they're ALL the same. it's a worse crime than being bad: they are boring.

i'm tired of retellings that are just "what if this very famous story was THE OPPOSITE and the protagonist was an ASSHOLE the whole time and the villain was MISUNDERSTOOD and the real VICTIM" okay but why. why would that be the case. what's the point of the story you want to tell. or do you just want to use shock value.

of course, i dislike retellings that are so different from the myth that they go AGAINST the spirit/message of the original, because in that case what's even the point of retelling the myth? just tell an original story. but i would take stabbed poseidon and capitalist hades any day over the same basic story of medusa being a girlboss or demeter being bad because of... reasons?

tl;dr: stop being unoriginal and tell a good story. or at least an entertaining one. i beg you

[qinnyanimation]

Guess who’s my favorite greek hero.

My Iliad book 5 fanart. He goes stabby stab on immortal gods, gotta love the guy for that.

[maggie44paint]

Uhhh so I made Menelaus/Helen Iliad Swap AU-

Or as I like to call it Malewife Menelaus AU

Basically everything is the same but Paris kidnaps Menelaus instead of Helen and Helen goes to war to get her husband back!

Nobody dies in the end and they all end up in poly relationship

[xixovart]

odysseus and telemachus.

father and son.

they’re going to kill me some day

(thx to @ikea09 for the idea :])

[katerinaaqu]

Odysseus's fixation upon his son could possibly be explained by the timeline.

A small thing that needs to be said is that according to Homer Odysseus left Telemachus a "newborn" (or at least so Menelaus says in the Odyssey). Interestingly is hard to tell how long Odysseus and Penelope have been married before they had Telemachus because the time line is not cut and clear.

It seems like their marriage took place during the oath of Tyndareus period when Odysseus was at Sparta as a suitor to Helen. From the Oath till Helen's infidelity or abduction or forced seduction by Aphrodite we see there were around 10 years of difference (quite frankly according to some accounts Helen mentions she was 20 years in Troy). That means that he and Penelope were potentially married at least a decade (which makes sense given that he made a wedding bed for her from scratch making it seem that their palace was also being rebuilt at that time)

But if Telemachus was newborn or almost newborn (like let's say about 1 year old tops) that means that Odysseus and Penelope were childless for almost a decade. Either that means they were having some issues aka Odysseus running errands in the kingdom or that they were trying very hard to have children and somehow they couldn't

Do you imagine what this means?

Odysseus potentially had to leave behind a son he wished for for almost a decade full and not to mention that Palamedes nearly killed him, that very son that he potentially tried so hard for and wished for so much!

Hell no wonder he names himself "Father of Telemachus" and quite frankly one can understand why he would hold a grudge against Palamedes (be it Higenius you follow where he frames him or be it Pausanias who says he drowned him) one can imagine why his brain would snap like that! If this hypothesis is correct that is.

[simoondraws]

That scene still makes me laugh so hard

…The son of Peleus was furious, and his heart within his shaggy breast was divided whether to draw his sword, push the others aside, and kill the son of Atreus, or to restrain himself and check his anger. While he was thus in two minds, and was drawing his mighty sword from its scabbard, Minerva came down from heaven (for Juno had sent her in the love she bore to them both), and seized the son of Peleus by his yellow hair, visible to him alone, for of the others no man could see her. Achilles turned in amaze, and by the fire that flashed from her eyes at once knew that she was Minerva. "Why are you here," said he, "daughter of aegis-bearing Jove? To see the pride of Agamemnon, son of Atreus? Let me tell you- and it shall surely be- he shall pay for this insolence with his life."

And Minerva said, "I come from heaven, if you will hear me, to bid you stay your anger. Juno has sent me, who cares for both of you alike. Cease, then, this brawling, and do not draw your sword; rail at him if you will, and your railing will not be vain, for I tell you- and it shall surely be- that you shall hereafter receive gifts three times as splendid by reason of this present insult. Hold, therefore, and obey."..

[community-gardenss]

Sketch for a project I'm doing for class because I haven't posted in forever hiiii. Clytemnestra and Iphigenia you will always be famous to me

[pearlssz30]

Some sketches of the girls ever, Penelope and Helen of Sparta

[jugganautism]

cassandra of troy design 🌚 specifically for paris the musical

[anty-gone]

modern media: Patroclus was such a softie! so tiny and cute! he could do no wrong

the mf after killing a Trojan soldier and watching him fall off his chariot: AH! and they said Trojans can't dance. twirl, you ballerina bitch.