One Nice Bug Per Day
will byers stan first human second
$LAYYYTER
Love Begins
ojovivo
Andulka
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PR's Tumblrdome
noise dept.
macklin celebrini has autism
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Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
YOU ARE THE REASON
Cosmic Funnies
Xuebing Du
Jules of Nature
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Three Goblin Art
DEAR READER
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@iloveprettypeople101
YAAAAY PINNED!!
Hello!!!! my names are Layla and my pronouns are she/it
also i'm in a lot of Fandoms but for now my hyperfixation is BSD
also maybe in the future i will make art or x reader idk
_______________________________________
DNI if
Proshippers
Dream stans
Mspec Lesbians
Transphobes,homophobes, racist,ableist, zoo, pedo ect
THERES NO FUCKING WAY SHARPWOLF HATERS ARE SAYING ANTINOUS WAS STRAIGHT.
THERES NO FUCKING WAY.
YOU CAN HATE TYE SHIP, SURE, BUT YOU CANT DENY THAT THAT MAN WAS GAY
THAT MAN WAS FUCKING EURYMACHUS DAILY.
THERE IS NO EVIDENCE YOU COULD BRING UP ANYWHERE THAT EVEN SUGGESTS THAT HE WAS STRAIGHT. THE ODYSSEY EVEN SUGGESTS OTHERWISE
Bet that Antinous and Telemachus argue like an old married couple (and then they make out as a way of apologising)
SHARPWOLF pov:
Sharpwolf - after the shower
Antinous loves to tease Telemachus after his shower in the palace, he finds it cute
I couldn’t pass by this frame from "Tangled", and so… You needed this, I know.
Their first time, probably 💀✨
Uncensored
Gonna call this a WIP since I kind of wanna fully colour it one day.
me reading the odyssey and realizing sharpwolf’s dynamic is literally just
telephone: if you don’t stop being a fucking fatass and leave ill fucking kill you
antibody: *scarfing down another piece of pork* nuh uh
telemedicine: fym NUH UH??
Uhm.. uhh Gulp (I had to censor the thing💔)
getting the demons out since this scene has been in my mind for awhile
So like I made this edit thats based on @messymoonmad Little comic where Antinous mistakes long haired Telemachus as Penelope , when I Heard this audio i tought about that comic 😭😭
Sharpwolf haters are actually insane 💔
I’ve seen so many shippers get death threats and telling people to off themselves, like yo 😭✌🏼
anyways I love my odyessy sharpwolf 🥹
Modern AU
Anti snapping pics! I wonder who he's sending them to...
Part 2
No pants vesion
Edit: I made a part 2
Silly Sharpwolf hc I have, Antinous calls Telemachus different things, depending on his mood/current goal. Normally he calls him little wolf, usually around other suitors. When he wants to tease him, he calls him your majesty, your highness, or (my) prince. If he wants to be extra ennoying, he'll call him princess (Tele would want to give him a second tooth gap after this 💀). When he's horny, he'll call him puppy (Anti is so silly, I can't).
I assume calling Tele by his actual name is something that happens in really serious situations (･ัω･ั)
Antinous and his nickname hcs are my favorite thing. ❤️
Def agree, like a soft "Telemachus" you know that shit is heartfelt 😭 vs a mocking Prince(ss) or Pup(py), like dude stfu I'm going to beat u up 👊 😡
I like "My prince" in context of body worship bc *twirls hair* my thoughts roam.
Telemachus averting his eyes bc of how intimate/ the very meaning for ANTINOUS to be referring to him in such a way brings a lot of feelings
but Antinous redirects him so they lock eyes when he repeats himself to call for him—
Ok I'll stfu
MY LITTLE WOLF
(Antinous x Telemachus)
written by: Han Espiritu
---
The first time Antinous saw Telemachus, he had laughed.
Not out of mirth, nor amusement, but because the young prince looked so much like his mother, it was almost absurd. The same bright eyes, the same regal bearing, the same defiant pride etched into every curve of his face. But what made it truly humorous—at least to Antinous at the time—was that Telemachus, despite his noble blood, carried himself like a wolf pup trying to bare its fangs at seasoned hunters.
“Look at him,” Antinous had scoffed to Eurymachus, “our little prince, all fire and no bite. Do you think he believes his glare alone could send us running?”
Eurymachus had chuckled, and the other suitors had joined in, jeering, taunting.
“Poor Little Wolf,” Antinous had said mockingly, tilting his head in mock pity. “Has your mother not told you? The pack does not bow to the cub.”
Telemachus had burned with anger, but he had been helpless then—young, untested, and alone amidst a den of jackals. He had clenched his fists and turned away, enduring the humiliation in silence.
---
But years passed, and the Little Wolf did not remain a cub.
Telemachus grew into himself, his once-awkward presence sharpening into something undeniable. He had the beauty of his mother, yes, but the steel of his absent father. He moved with a quiet, calculated grace, his voice steady and sure, his gaze no longer a boy’s glare but something deeper, something piercing.
And Antinous… Antinous could not stop looking at him.
The jeers faded. The taunts turned to silence. The laughter choked in his throat. For the longer he teased Telemachus, the longer he was forced to observe him, to understand him. To want him.
“Still glaring at me, Little Wolf?” he murmured one evening as they stood at the peristyle, away from the drunken feasting. The torches flickered, casting long shadows against the marble. “Or is it something else now?”
Telemachus turned to him, his expression unreadable. “I should be asking you the same thing, Antinous. You no longer laugh. Have I ceased to amuse you?”
Antinous smirked, but there was no malice in it. “Oh, you amuse me, Telemachus. But not in the way you used to.”
“And what way is that?”
For once, Antinous had no answer.
---
One night, as the halls quieted and the suitors lay in their drunken stupors, Antinous found himself walking alongside Telemachus once more. The wine in his blood gave him courage—or perhaps recklessness. Either way, he spoke before he could stop himself.
“What if,” he began, “I were to change?”
Telemachus gave him a wary glance. “Change?”
“What if I no longer sought your mother? What if I no longer played the game of suitors?”
Telemachus stopped walking. He turned fully to face Antinous, his expression unreadable. “And what would you seek instead?”
Antinous hesitated. He had prepared for resistance, for anger, for cold dismissal. He had not prepared for Telemachus to ask, to want to know.
“…A friend,” he said at last, though the word felt like sand in his mouth.
Telemachus laughed softly, shaking his head. “A friend? You, who mocked me for years?”
Antinous sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes. Or… more.” He swallowed. “But I would be respectful.”
A slow, knowing smile spread across Telemachus’ lips. He took a step closer, tilting his head just so, the firelight catching in his eyes. “Respectful?” he echoed. “From you?”
Antinous exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of his own desires pressing against his ribs. “Yes.”
Telemachus studied him, his gaze thoughtful. Then, to Antinous’ utter shock, he reached forward, fingers grazing the fabric of Antinous’ tunic. It was not quite an embrace, but neither was it a dismissal.
“Then tell me, Antinous,” Telemachus murmured, “why do you call me ‘Little Wolf’?”
Antinous smirked, despite himself. “Because,” he whispered, “I thought you were weak. But you weren’t. You were just young.”
“And now?”
“…Now I know better.”
Telemachus nodded slowly, his fingers still lingering against Antinous’ chest. “Good,” he said softly. “Then we’ll see.”
---
And so they did.
Days passed, and the air between them thickened. A glance across the hall felt like a drawn bowstring. A brush of hands was a storm on the horizon. Antinous found himself craving Telemachus’ presence, his sharp wit, his quiet, confident fire. It was dangerous. It was intoxicating.
One evening, as the sun bled over Ithaca’s shores, Antinous found Telemachus by the cliffs, gazing out to sea. He approached without a word, standing beside him.
“You look as though you are waiting for something,” Antinous said at last.
Telemachus sighed, the wind tousling his dark curls. “Perhaps I am.”
“Your father?”
A humorless chuckle. “No. Not anymore.”
Antinous hesitated, then dared to reach out, fingers just barely brushing Telemachus’ wrist. “Then what?”
Telemachus turned his head slightly, looking at him through dark lashes. “A reason.”
Antinous swallowed. “A reason?”
“A reason not to hate you.”
Silence.
Then Antinous did something he never thought he would do—he dropped to one knee. Not in mockery, not in jest, but in quiet, solemn sincerity. He took Telemachus’ hand in his own, pressing his lips to his knuckles.
“Then let me give you one,” he murmured.
Telemachus’ breath hitched. And he did not pull away.
Antinous rose to his feet, and in the darkening twilight, Telemachus closed the space between them. A breath, a heartbeat, and then—
A kiss, slow and searing, stolen between sea breeze and firelight. Not gentle, not chaste, but fierce, filled with years of unspoken tension, of old rivalries turning into something neither of them could name. Antinous curled his fingers into Telemachus’ tunic, pulling him closer, until there was no space between them, no air, no past—only this, only now.
The Little Wolf had bared his fangs at last. And Antinous would gladly let himself be devoured.
---
The air in the chamber was thick, charged with heat and something raw, something unspoken that had been building for far too long. Antinous’ wrists strained against the linen bindings, his muscles flexing as he tested them, but they held firm. Not that he truly wanted to escape. Not when Telemachus was above him, straddling his hips, his breath warm, his eyes ablaze with something feral.
Telemachus ground down against him, slow, deliberate, watching with wicked satisfaction as Antinous groaned, his head tilting back against the pillows. He moved with the grace of a predator, rolling his hips in a way that left Antinous panting, his composure unraveling more with each shift of Telemachus’ body against his own.
“You like this, don’t you?” Telemachus murmured, his voice thick with amusement, with power. He leaned down, lips just brushing the curve of Antinous’ jaw. “You, the great suitor, the one who once mocked me—you like being beneath me.”
Antinous let out a ragged breath, his fingers curling uselessly in their restraints. “Gods, yes.”
Telemachus chuckled, dragging his hands down Antinous’ chest, his nails scraping lightly over his skin, making him shudder. “I could make you beg,” he mused, shifting his weight just enough to make Antinous gasp. “Should I?”
Antinous’ jaw clenched, his pride warring with the burning desire coursing through his veins. But as Telemachus rolled his hips again, pressing down harder, a strangled moan escaped his lips, and he knew—Telemachus knew—there was no war to be won here. Only surrender.
“Say it,” Telemachus commanded, his hands gripping Antinous’ sides, his nails digging in just enough to leave faint marks. “Say you yield.”
Antinous swallowed hard, his pulse thundering in his ears. “I yield,” he rasped, his voice raw with longing, his body burning with the need for more. “Gods, Telemachus—I yield.”
Telemachus smirked, victorious, his hands trailing lower as he leaned down, his lips brushing against Antinous’ ear. “Good,” he purred. “Now, let’s see how much more I can make you beg.”
The night stretched long, filled with heated gasps and teasing laughter, with the sound of bodies moving in perfect, burning rhythm. And for once, Antinous—who had spent years vying for the hand of a queen—realized he had never truly wanted a throne.
He had only ever wanted the wolf who had finally caught him.
•┏────────────────────━
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Sharpwolf?😔😓
I could draw them, even write my own fanfic about them, because I think the ship can be taken to interesting directions. The reason why I won’t is because of the people who are oversensitive (must add, without a good reason) about this Telemachus x Antinous ship and I don’t want, nor have the energy to deal with the stupid hate thats source is ignorance, the fact that many take the EPIC adaptation with the mention of SA canon and most likely have never read the Odyssey (in which Telemachus is a sassy bad b!tch and literally tells Penelope in front of the suitors to go back to her room and work), and that they try to pull today’s norm onto the 12th century B.C. Also that many don’t consider Telemachus a 20 year old
