Reblogging Because I Really, Really Need To Pass A Class That Chances Of Passing Are Not In My Favor

Yesterday I ate a burger.

This is important, because it's like my #1 fearfood. I'm autistic and have ARFID, and burgers are my most hated, can't-stand-it food.

But I also have severe anemia, so I for some reason craved it.

I ate 2/3 before feeling like if I ate another bite, I'd puke.

I tried to give it a chance, hoped maybe I'd like it now. I did not. It's disgusting.

And also, as it turns out it had bacon jelly and I'm allergic to bacon so now yesterday and today I've felt awful.

Very proud of myself for trying, though.

‏Dear friend,

‏I’m AbdAlhadi from Gaza. My family and I have lost everything—our home, work, and security. We now live in a tent, struggling daily.

‏Please share our story. Your voice could connect us to those who can help.

‏Thank you,

🍉AbdAlhadi

If anyone can help, please do. This is not a war, it's a genocide. Cease fire and free Palestine 🍉

And Tim got a copy from Talia as soon as he found out, back when he was in the League looking for Bruce. Now he has them printed and hidden away, but deleted from any of his electronics so they can't hack them and are forced to go through him.

The question is, are Bruce and Dick willing to owe him every favor he will ever ask and their undying loyalty? Are they willing to go down the villain path if he ever does, no questions asked?

Velcro baby Damian

Give me Mexican Jason dancing Payaso De Rodeo in Park Row with other Mexican immigrants. Him teaching younger kiddos how to do it. Give me all the Mexican Gothamites having Posadas and fucking up a traditional Piñata (those are hard as fuck no mames) with their bare fists because yes, they're Mexican, but they're also Gothamites. The youngest ones do use the bat though.

Give me Jason belting Canciones De Señora™ while cleaning his safe houses and to other popular Latino Music when cooking or cleaning his guns or just randomly, and like, so very dramatically.

Like, imagine Jason just...

"Ven y cuéntame la verdad Ten piedad Y dime por qué, no, no no, oh ¿Cómo fue que me dejaste de amar? Yo aún podía soportar Tu tanta falta de querer" he looks at a picture of Tim as Robin, feeling replaced and unloved

"Hace un mes solía escucharte Y ser tu cómplice" he looks at a picture of Batman and him as Robin "pensé que ya no había—" he turns around to find Dick, who just sneaked into his safehouse, leaning against a wall.

"Don't stop on my account. Carry on."

"No, I was just... Nothing. Just. Uh. Looking through cases."

"And singing?"

"Yeah. Uh... Helps me process."

"Riiight."

But before that,

But before all that, give me this little fucker making Tamales on February 2nd. Give me this fucker making Pan de Muerto and Rosca de Reyes respectively. Give me this fucker making Chiles En Nogada and watching his family eat them happily.

Give me Bruce, Dick and Alfred learning about Mexican foods and traditions and continuing them on his behalf once he dies.

Give me them putting up his Ofrenda for Día de Muertos, with Pan de Muerto and his favorite foods, and his Robin mask. Give me them finding comfort on Día de Muertos because he's supposed to visit, right?

Give me Tim seeing this Ofrenda and shaking, falling to his knees. Give me him staying there on Día de Muertos, begging for forgiveness, promising he's not trying to replace him. Just in case he does visit.

Give me Jason knowing deep down that they set up an Ofrenda for him, because he may not remember what his soul did while he was dead, but he has a feeling, deep down, that maybe he visited.

Give me Jason teaching his family after reconciliation to dance Payaso de Rodeo and them treating it like endurance training, dancing again and again and again until one of them collapses or sits out.

What can I say? I'm Mexican, and I love my Mexican Jason Todd headcannon.

I've been listening to EPIC:The Musical on repeat for the last few days, and just so you know, I was this close to making one of my fics into a reincarnation fic (DC x EPIC. Especifically Epic and not The Odyssey because the whole fic revolves around music so it's fitting)

So the fic as it is is Tim being married to a woman named Wren, an OC. Together, they are musicians, they're a duo called Howling At The River, and their identities are hidden because Tim didn't want his parents knowing, so Tim is Wolfhart and Wren is Hummingwave.

They met when they were 5 and went from friends to lovers and ultimately eloped during the Brucequest, so his family doesn't know. It's not that he keeps it a secret, it's just that she's such an important and central part of his life that he thinks they know. They don't. They don't know he makes music either, because their identities are magically hidden and it hasn't been brought up.

It's a slice of life fic that I write in between my other fics to keep the creative juices flowing when I have none. It has no plot beyond the Batfam finding out Tim's married and is a relatively famous musician. Beyond that, it's slice of life and a bit of a ranting space because I gave her my disability so now when I'm in a flare, I write Wren in a flare, and she used to be a dancer but now she can't, because dancing was my dream and now I can't (though she did get training where I didn't get to). That's all there is to this.

I'm only two chapters in, and two drafts. So a lot can still change, so I almost made it a reincarnation fic.

Tim would be Odysseus, Wren would be Penelope. Not quite soulmates, not random people either. The Fates figured they made Odysseus suffer enough and took too much family time away from him, so they decided to reincarnate their souls over and over, but not in every lifetime did they find each other.

It is already stated in the first chapter that their meeting felt right, even if they were only five years old. Their love is beyond just love. It's adoration, worship, devotion. They're each other's whole world.

And then Ra's would take her.

And Tim would go full Odysseus on him. Full man-made monster. It's not a battle, it's a damn massacre, as Tim storms into Ra's base, slaughtering any and all assassins he finds. The rest of the Bats arrive a little late and go after him, following the trail of bodies, the absolute river of blood.

They try to stop him, because they don't kill. They'll get her back, just not like this.

Odysseus Tim is not having it. They took his Penelope Birdie. They're going to die.

And so he aims a bow he took from an assassin to them, to his family.

"Listen, I love you. But I love her more. And I will destroy anyone who stands in my way. So move, or I'll go through you." and he's not bluffing. There's no hesitation in his grip. If they try to stop him, they will get an arrow sent their way, whether it'd hurt them or end them isn't something they want to find out. So they let him through.

Meanwhile, Ra's has Wren tied up, and she's surprisingly unafraid. Maybe she's trusting that Tim will get to her. Or, Ra's thinks, maybe she's just stupid and naive.

He figures she can serve as training. There's a young prodigy, a preteen, son of assassins and raised as one as well. He follows orders, he's a natural at fighting, especially swords and bows. And so Ra's brings him forward and tells him to hurt Wren. Not kill—he wants her alive for now— but inflict pain on her.

The boy nods and unsheathes his sword. And then he looks into her eyes and he can't hurt her. He can't. It's not that he can't hurt people. It's not the fear in her eyes, or the lack of it. It's not the pity and compassion in her face. No, it's none of that. He can't put his finger on it, but he feels an unyielding loyalty towards her. He just met her, but he feels the need to protect her.

"Go on, boy."

But he can't. He can't. Ra's gets impatient, and he reaches for her, meaning to tug her up. The boy swings his sword.

Not to Wren. To Ra's. It makes a cut on his arm, superficial, but it's treason. It's a death sentence. Ra's draws his sword, disarms the boy, grabs him by the collar, and prepares to strike the boy down.

And then Tim storms in, shooting an arrow straight towards Ra's. He has tunnel vision right now, he sees red. He doesn't register the boy yet, he just wants Ra's gone.

The arrow misses him for a few inches, but it makes him flinch back and away from the boy, who immediately picks his sword back up, and instead of running, he fights off the other assassins that try to take Wren, while Tim fights Ra's.

Tim doesn't pull back this time. He stabs Ra's repeatedly (think Poseidon) and eventually cuts off his head. Will his death stick? Probably not. He then turns to kill the rest of the assassins, only to find most of them are already dead or wounded. He deals a final blow to the wounded ones and turns his sights on the remaining three assassins, two fighting one. An arrow to the throat takes one out, and the other's throat is slit by the young assassin.

Tim snarls, not trusting this assassin even though he killed the rest. The boy drops his weapons and raises his hands in surrender. He moves slowly, Tim's arrow aimed at his head the whole time as he leans down to take the keys to Wren's cuffs, telegraphing his moves.

"Why did you help her?"

"I don't know. I couldn't hurt her."

"Free her and run. Try anything and you're good as dead, kid."

"Yes, sir."

With slow moves, the boy gets on his knees before Wren, and his trembling fingers get the key into her cuffs. They fall to the ground, and he goes to open the ones on her ankles. Wren runs a hand through his hair.

And the world stops. For all three of them.

Memories of another life rush in. Of waiting, of fighting, of protecting. A husband, a wife, a child. A father, a mother, a son. Memories of days spent weaving, nights unthreading. Of a son protecting his mother from the suitors, of waiting for his father. Memories of fighting gods and ending lives to get to his family.

This is their son. Their Telemachus. Born on another age and to different parents, probably orphaned by Tim's hand, born halfway across the world, with another name, and only like ten years younger than them (they're 22), but their boy nonetheless.

Tim drops his weapons and they embrace. They're safe. Tim won't let anything happen to his son and wife.

"Telemachus..." Wren whispers, tilting the boy's chin up. The boy nuzzles into her palm.

"Mom..."

When the Bats catch up, Ra's is dead (at least for now) as are many other assassins, Wren is safe, and there's a twelve year old assassin being embraced by Tim and Wren.

"Who's that?"

"My son."

"...??? Tim you're twenty two."

"Hi, I'm Elliot."

"And he's my son, ages be damned."

"Ah, pulling a Bruce, I see you."

With their memories now awakened, Telemachus Elliot and Odysseus Tim are unbeatable. They have literally more than a lifetime of experience fighting, after all. Tim was always good, but now he's unstoppable. And he's the only one who can beat Elliot, though Dick is a tough challenge for the boy (not like he encountered many acrobatic-style fighters in Ithaca, or in the League)

Tim gets bolder with his strategies, no longer shy about them. He steps into Odysseus' leadership.

The boy eventually becomes a wolf themed vigilante. Not a bird because he doesn't answer to Bruce, he's not Batman's bird. He's his father's Little Wolf. Maybe Red Robin eventually changes to an owl themed vigilante (nod to Athena)

Father and son are unstoppable. They work with decades of teamwork, they move fluidly, reading each other's moves in a way no one else can.

And they speak Greek. They do so during patrol so that the enemy can't eavesdrop, or during planning, on instinct. They speak Greek between them when they're just hanging out, and they speak Greek with Wren when they want.

Speaking of Wren, they treat her like a Queen. Tim always has, she's his everything. But Elliot started treating her like royalty as soon as he got his memories. He makes her tea, reads to her aloud, and protects her like a loyal guard.

He's very protective of her when it comes to men. If anyone is even remotely creepy to her, he's going all out on them. Tim does so by ruining their lives and exposing their secrets, because he's better adapted to this lifetime. But Telemachus? The boy who had to listen to his mother's suitors talk about abusing her? The boy who guarded his mother's door with his life because if he didn't, they'd use her? He's not having any of it this time around.

One day, while Tim is at work, Elliot and Wren go to a mall. He insists on carrying her bags, even though she can do it. People assume he's her little brother, because again, she's 22 and he's around 12.

At some point, his gaze lingers on a toy section of a store, but he doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to leave his mom or make her wait. Luckily, she doesn't need to be told. She notices his longing gaze and encourages him to go check the toys out and get some if he wants while she checks out some clothes. It takes a little convincing, but eventually he agrees.

When he comes back, an owl plushie cradled in his arms, he sees a man ignoring Wren's boundaries and personal space. She repeats that she's married, asks him to leave her alone. He doesn't listen, and instead he reaches to grab her waist. Telemachus sees red.

The toy drops to the floor as he lunges at the man, landing a solid hit to his jaw. That usually would be enough for him, but this guy harassed his mom (just like them). He keeps hitting the man, and Wren knows it's a matter of time before security is called and they're escorted out, probably getting into trouble if he continues.

"Elliot, stop." he doesn't hear her, bringing down hit after hit "Elliot, that's enough!" but he's zoned in, the man pinned to the floor receiving the beating of his life.

"Telemachus!" she snaps. The boy snaps to attention and hurries to get off the man, getting into a soldier position, his focus on his mother, his Queen. He ignores as the man scrambled to his feet, but snarls in his direction as he hears a "crazy bitch" muttered. Wren leans down and picks up the discarded toy, and hands it to him.

"Thank you for defending me, sweetheart. I appreciate it. Let's just not get arrested, hm? Come on, kid."

When they tell all this to Tim, he high-fives his son. When Jason finds out, he buys him candy.

He's the kind of boy that holds other men accountable. Rape jokes and comments do not fly with him. He has and will punch guys twice his size for making those sorts of comments. "What was she wearing?", "she was asking for it", "shouldn't have been out/drunk/alone", "did she say no?", "playing hard to get" and comments of the sort are all one-way tickets to his shit list and probably the hospital, depending on if you double down or apologize.

Elliot is the kind of boy you'd trust with your drink at a party. The kind that covers them and hunches around them, glaring at anyone who comes close.

Also, from his late teens onwards, he acts as a sort of bodyguard for any girl who might need it. It started with a friend of his sitting next to him and asking if he'd do her a favor.

"So, you're... Intimidating."

"Oh? Oh! I'm sorry. Do I make you feel unsafe? Because I would never hurt you, and if it's something I do, please tell me and I'll-"

"No, a good kind of intimidating. The kind that wards off creepy guys. Look, I just, my little sister has a party she has to go to, and there might be a boy there that won't leave her alone. I was wondering if you could accompany her, make sure she's safe? I'll pay you! I can pay you by the hour, I don't care how much, I just want my sister safe and—"

"Hey, stop. Yes, I'll do it. I'll keep her safe. I charge one origami star per hour though." he jokes, because that specific friend makes origami stars all the time and he likes them.

And he goes to Jason to play up the whole "scary guy" vibes. And at the party, the boy approaches the girl, and Elliot looms behind her, and he leaves her alone.

He doesn't like parties, they overstimulate him, but he goes as a bodyguard to his friends so they can enjoy without creepy men. Sometimes he returns home with blood on his knuckles, and it's not his.

Also, just so you know, these two also kind of adopt Bart (who I made five years younger than Tim because creative liberties) and he and Elliot have a funny relationship because while Bart is older than him, Elliot can sometimes behave like the old soul he is. So they're in an eternal circle of "I'm the older sibling", "No, you're not", so they settled on twins.

Anyway, that was the idea I had. But I highly doubt it'll happen, because those who are reading the fic are there for wholesome interactions, not adventure, and they're there for Tim, not for Odysseus and Penelope. Also, I have never written action and I don't know if I could truly write the whole League of Assassins part the way it should be written.

Following the Mini of Ithaca thing.

But before that, warnings: hunting, blood, blood drinking (lmk if I missed any)

An elaboration on the hunting thing I mentioned.

We've established she's Artemis' friend and student. So, she holds immense respect for the lives she hunts. Her arrows fly true and sharp, they don't give the prey a moment of pain. It's an instant, merciful death. And she doesn't scare the animal beforehand. No, the animals' last moments are peaceful. And afterwards, she kneels beside it, touches her forehead to its and thanks it for the sacrifice as she closes its eyes. If it has to be trapped, her dogs corral it quickly. It's sharp, quick. Honorable. She doesn't let it suffer.

This contrasts with how Telemachus and Odysseus hunt, which is more strategic. They were mentored by Athena, they set traps and are strategic about it. The animal feels fear as it falls into the trap, and they have no post-hunting ritual— it's just a meal for them, a sacrifice that had to be done. She finds their method dishonorable, barbaric and cruel, not so much because of the traps or the lack of ritual, she understands that, but because they tend to watch even after it falls into their trap, prolonging their fear and suffering instead of ending it quickly.

Another difference is that she pays attention to her prey. No mothers, no babies. She hunts those who had lived enough and didn't have anyone depending on them.

After Odysseus comes back and they bond a little, once there's no awkwardness anymore, they go on a hunting trip, the three of them, while Penelope stays in the palace making sure everything stays running as it should. Or rather, they join Mini in one of her regular hunting trips.

Since she disagrees with their method, they divided. She hunted with her dogs, and Telemachus and Odysseus hunted their way, together.

She hunted a boar, a limp to his step, covered in scars and a graying coat. It had likely been thrown out of his pack, and it had lived enough.

She made it quick, swift. It felt no fear, no pain. She knelt before it and closed his eyes. It looked peaceful, like she'd hunted it in it's sleep.

"Thank you for the life you led and the life you give. It will not go to waste. May your strength give back to the Earth."

She tied it up carefully and her dogs helped her tug it to camp, their tails wagging happily as they tugged on the rope.

She frowned at the sheer amount of traps her brother and father had set and made sure her dogs avoided them. She heard the panicked, pained cries of an animal and rushed forth, her dogs leaving the boar to follow her quicker.

She saw a doe trapped in one of their traps, rope burns and shallow cuts on her skin as she desperately tried to escape. Her brother and father approached calmly, slowly, no rush to end her pain.

But beyond that, she noticed, she had young. She could see it in her belly, she had recently given birth. If they killed her, her fawns would not make it, and it would be in vain.

She fired a warning arrow at her father's feet to stop him from shooting and instead she stepped in to calm the doe down and free her. She apologized on her family's behalf and ensured she was once again calm. Being blessed and befriended by Artemis, her presence is peaceful for the wild. She cleaned the cuts and kissed the doe's forehead, respect and reverence clear, before she let her run free.

She was disgusted by the disregard of her family for the lives of their prey. They saw themselves above them simply because they are humans. She understood that the prey, too, are lives.

After the doe runs, she turns to the prey they already killed. Fear in their bodies, pain in their wide eyes. Meanwhile, her prey, both the boar and any other, looked simply asleep, only one stain of blood in each. Only one wound, while theirs had rope burns or even wounds in the legs to be immobilized.

I'd like to point out that Odysseus met Athena by killing her magic boar for the thrill of it, and he was rewarded by her for it, because that was it's purpose. Cool and all, it wasn't a clean hunt but he was a kid so ok, and the point of the boar was testing their strategy and mind. But the point remains, he enjoys hunting, enjoys the thrill of it. Mini likes hunting because it's a beautiful cycle of giving and taking.

Now, Telemachus looked at her prey— the boar, hares and birds alike— and the peace in their bodies. They looked simply asleep. And he watched as she prepared them when they got home, carefully cleaning their pelts and leather for clothing, preparing the meat, what she couldn't cook was given to her dogs, and the blood was gathered. Her dogs fasted on what she couldn't use, part of why they might just be the healthiest dogs in Ithaca. The bones served either as enrichment for her dogs, or to carve tools or even toys for children to play with. What couldn't be used or consumed was given back to nature. Telemachus found it fascinating. She wasted nothing.

He had noticed before that she always smelled of blood, but hadn't understood why until he saw her prepare her prey herself, no regards for keeping the blood off her hands at all. She let the blood drip and gather in a large clay bowl, and when it stopped dripping, he watched her take a few sips of it before setting the bowl down for her dogs to lap up the rest.

"It's no different from Black Soup." she explained

"Which is boiled beforehand"

"So long as it's cleanly collected it's fine. They gave their lives for our nourishment, the least we can do is take as much advantage of their strength as we can."

Which, now I'm thinking would make a hell of an intimidation tactic.

She's nineteen, so I imagine suitors are starting to pursue her from other kingdoms.

A prince arrives to Ithaca, and no one likes him. He's rude and treats her like she's inferior, condescension in his every action. He insults Ithaca and its people, especially it's women, including the Queen and Princess. He constantly talks about how "when she marries him, he'll teach her to be a proper lady" because she's too wild and "doesn't respect her superiors" (men). He talks about what a great bride and mother she'll be once she's "corrected". He doesn't shut up about how improper it is that she hunts and she should leave it to the men, and how she'll learn to sit still by his side.

Odysseus is constantly having to be held back from killing him, because it'd end in war and there's been enough of that. And he knows it, so he's not too afraid to be killed. Telemachus inconveniences him as much as he can and sticks by his sister's side.

Everyone tried to scare him off for days, Odysseus tells the most bloody, gory of his stories from the twenty years away, hoping to scare him. But he's persistent. So she decided to take it upon herself. After a few days of putting up with him, she went hunting, all normal. Then during dinner she poured the raw blood straight from the bowl to her goblet and took a sip, humming contently.

"Oh, how rude of me. Would you like some?" she grinned, lips stained red "I do love the taste of fresh blood" she hummed "And so do my dogs. Isn't that right, my darlings?" she threw them each a large piece of meat, bone still with it, and they tear it apart wildly, the crunch of the bone echoing in the silent dining room, an unspoken threat, a show that their jaws were strong enough to snap bone and tear through flesh easily.

By that point, only Telemachus was aware of her blood drinking habit, but Odysseus and Penelope also want the prince OUT so even though they're mildly disturbed, they play along like it's the most normal thing.

Telemachus, eager to see the prince go, and having witnessed his sister drinking blood before and had time to come to terms with it, amps it up by asking if she could serve him some as well and sipping calmly.

The foreign prince remained, though hesitant. He's decided to marry Alkmene. So Odysseus, who is willing to do anything short of starting a war to get this man away from his daughter, and Penelope, a Spartan first and foremost, figure, you know what? Fuck it, let's traumatize him. It can't be that bad.

So they try to remain unbothered as they fill their goblets as well and drink, a contented smile on their faces even as the smell of fresh blood being so intense overwhelms Odysseus (imagine his trauma, poor man)

The prince fled, muttering something about urgent business in his kingdom. Not wanting to make himself seem cowardly, he twists the stories.

He spread rumors of Ithaca and its royal family.

He said that the reason she hides her right eye must be because it's the eye of a demon.

He retells Odysseus' stories, how he grinned as he spoke of fighting Gods and slaughtering sirens, of eating their tails.

How the whole family drunk raw blood like the finest of wine.

How her dogs must be hellhounds, the size and strength of them not limiting their speed and agility.

How their muzzles and paws were stained red with blood like the Princess' hands and lips, and how the three of them (the princess and her hounds) always reeked of blood and death.

How the Princess must have some sort of supernatural senses because she sees things she shouldn't be able to.

And I mean, he's not wrong about the fact that they are no normal pups. As previously stated, they were gifted to her by Artemis herself, imbued with magic. They're bigger, stronger, faster than most dogs, yes, but they're not hellhounds. And the last point is actually just because again, they serve as her eyes, and they constantly guard her back, so if you attempt to sneak up on her, she'll see you through their eyes, but no one knows this fully.

Other kingdoms eat up the stories about Ithaca's monstrous royal family. "Wild monsters, all of them" they whisper, "They have no hearts, I tell you".

Ithaca knows better. Ithaca adores their royal family. The King who went to hell and back to come home. The Queen who reigned on her own for twenty years, no man by her side.

Their beloved half-masked princess who carves toys for the children of the kingdom, the huntress whose game feeds anyone who goes hungry, whose prey's leathers and pelts dress those who most need it instead of hoarding them for herself. The archer who is only rivaled by their beloved king.

Their Prince who knows the servants and maids by name and who is often the one who hand out his sister's gifts to the people. Who sits with the children of tired mothers and plays with them with his sister's handmade toys so the mothers can rest, because he knows how tiring it was for his mother to raise them.

The Prince and Princess, who the people know if hunger or winter strikes, they can knock on the palace doors and they'll personally see to it that their children are fed and warm.

The princess' dogs, who look intimidating but don't lash out even when kids tug at their fur. Who wag their tails softly and lay down when a kid approaches their mistress. They are no hellhounds.

There's no rumor that could be spread that would make Ithaca turn on their rulers.

The gods are amused by this whole shitshow. Mini is Artemis' friend, and therefore favored by her and Apollo. Her brother and father favored by Athena. Odysseus is Hermes' great-grandson. Poseidon is terrified of her father, yet he was the one to take her eye. The gods think this is all hilarious.

Speaking of Apollo, like I said, he favors Mini too, because hey, if his twin is her friend...

He didn't mean to. Truly. Gods, he didn't even like her at first— she doesn't have one speck of musical talent and it took her months to even manage to string a bow, and a year at the least to fire an arrow more than five feet away. She was BAD at it.

He first met her when Poseidon took her eye, and Artemis called on him to heal her. He couldn't, it was beyond even his power. A wound inflicted by one of the main three. He managed to heal her enough so that she'd keep her eye and her eyelid wouldn't be torn into damn strips, but that's it. He couldn't restore her vision or rid her of the recurring pain.

He saw how much it affected his sister though. He watched Artemis remain by her side as she was unconscious on the coast. Apollo took on a mortal appearance and warned the Prince that his sister had decided to spend a few days away.

Apollo too remained by her side, not for her but for Artemis. He played music by her side and the warmth he exuded seemed to relax her unconscious body.

When she awoke, her first reaction was to push him away, much to his amusement. Or, well, attempt to push him. She wasn't conscious enough to realize who he was, she only saw a man sitting on her bed and shrieked and pushed him away, slurring words of "who the hell—", "get away" and then called for Artemis.

After that, he visited her. He and his sister taught her to use the bow with the other hand, since Poseidon took her dominant eye. He felt guilty for being unable to restore her sight, and frankly a bit curious about her.

And by the time she learned, he'd grown fond of her. She had guts, he'd give her that. Treated him like an equal. If he was particularly annoying, she whacked him across the head with her bow, much to his amusement.

As they grew more comfortable with each other, she grew bolder. If he mocked her aim, she'd fire an arrow at his head, knowing even if it hit (it wouldn't, he'd dodge or catch it), it wouldn't harm him.

Eventually, he started just hanging around her when he was bored. He'd play music while she carved, and every few minutes he'd look up, expecting praise, because "Excuse me, I'm the God of Music, be glad I'm allowing you to listen to it." If she didn't praise him or acknowledge him, he'd stop and steal her carving or her blade.

"Fine, yes, your music is beautiful. Now give me that!"

"Thank you, dear mortal. Was that so hard?"

"Gods, you're like a stray cat that just showed up one day and refuses to leave."

And Apollo committed to the bit, so now when she didn't acknowledge him soon enough or give him enough attention, he knocked her wooden figurines off their shelf, one by one, until she looked up and gave him the attention he wanted, which often meant maintaining a conversation or attentively listening to his music and praising it correctly. Generic compliments ("Very beautiful, Apollo") would get things knocked over until she did it right ("I liked the part where...", "It made me feel...")

That, or sometimes he just enjoyed pushing her buttons.

"No—... Apollo, NO. Leave that alone, you glorified housecat. No. No, leave it. Leave it. Gods above, you're annoying."

However, he was actually mindful of those figurines she cherished most. He noticed the care she handled them with, and the looks she sent that told him anything but those. And he left those alone.

And then he started seeking not only attention, but affection.

It started with the damn headscratch.

She was used to giving Telemachus headscratches from time to time, especially when she wanted him to relax. So really, it wasn't even intentional.

Apollo was bothering her, he was bored, and she was tired. He was being too hyper when she was tired, and when that happened with Telemachus, head scratches put him to sleep easy enough. So she didn't think about it when she reached up to his golden hair and scratched it gently.

Apollo froze, his mind went blank. Artemis had always been more of a tough love kind of sister, she showed her love through arm punches or affectionate bullying, and he had had that kind of dynamic with Mini too.

He had never received head scratches. And by the gods, he loved them. He relaxed into her hand, lowering his head to make it easier. He closed his eyes, stopped talking and hoped she'd continue.

She did, even as she nodded off, her fingers continuing the motion. Apollo laid her on her bed and knelt by it, resting his head on the bed and letting her continue to scratch his head as she slept.

She woke up to soft, melodic snoring. When she opened her eye, she saw Apollo asleep beside her bed, his head in his arms, resting on the bed, and her hand on his hair. She smiled and continued to give him gentle head scratches. She fell back asleep, and this time when she woke up, he was gone.

The next time she saw Apollo, he was particularly unruly. He knocked everything he could out of their spots, snatched whatever was on her hands the moment she picked it up, and was overall a menace.

He'd stand up, make a mess, and sit next to her for a few seconds before starting again.

She tried striking up conversation, but he'd only reply with an annoyed "hmph!". He didn't play music for her to listen to, either.

And then she reached up and scratched his head. And he finally, finally, calmed down.

"Is that all you wanted, Apollo? Head scratches?"

"Hmph."

"Yeah ok. You don't need to be so annoying to be petted, you can ask."

"I'm a God. I don't ask for something like head scratches."

"Ok, well, then how about next time you just lean in?"

Apollo didn't reply, but he leaned closer.

There was still a lot of playful bullying involved in their dynamics. She still hit him, still whacked him across the head with her bow or her hand, she even bit him when he annoyed her. At some point she started stealing his stuff just like he snatched hers. His lyre, his bow, his arrows— sometimes she just took them, and he let her.

But sometimes he'd just lean in for headpats. It evolved into him resting his head on her lap.

And that evolved into him sitting on her lap like a too-big dog that was convinced he fit.

"Get off me, you annoying lapdog."

"Nope."

"You're heavy!"

"Pets."

"No, move!"

"Pets!"

"You're squishing me, Apollo"

"Pets!"

"Fine!"

Now, of course he was mindful not to lean all his weight on her, but he did put enough of it that she couldn't move him.

He also started to just drape himself over her back sometimes, playing the lyre while she works on her carvings.

Artemis teased her twin about having gotten himself adopted by a human, and he replied that Mini was her human first.

Regardless, Mini seemed to have gotten herself two God friends that loved to bully her, but hey, she gave as good as she got.

Hello 👋,

I hope this message finds you well. My name is Aziz, and I’m reaching out with a heartfelt plea to help my family find safety and reunite with our mother. 😞

The ongoing war in Gaza has torn my family apart. My mother and newborn sister are stranded in Egypt, while I, along with the rest of my sex family members, am trapped in the midst of the genocide in Gaza. We have not only been separated but have also lost our home and are enduring unimaginable hardships. 💔

Your support can make a difference. Whether by reading our story, donating, or sharing our campaign with others, you can help us reunite, find safety, and start anew. 🙏🕊

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If anyone can help, please do. This is not a war, it's a genocide. Cease fire and free Palestine 🍉

Hear me out. Secret magic user Jason Todd, except it's a secret to him too. Like, Nature Witch potential.

When he was little, out on the streets, people died from the elements, left and right. In Gotham, it always rained. It was hard to light a fire when the things you were trying to light were wet. So during the colder months, the homeless population tended to go down— hypothermia's a bitch.

But Jason somehow always managed to light a fire. He gathered newspapers, even if they were wet, rolled them up and made a little campfire, just like other homeless people. Except they took care to gather the dry ones, and Jason just... Didn't care. While others struggled to get it to light, he always got it on the first try.

And see, he should probably notice something's odd there, but this started when he was little and lacked the common sense that, you know, wet things shouldn't light up. It had started when his apartment didn't have heating and it was cold, so he made a makeshift campfire in the sink so he could extinguish the flame later, and somehow his parents didn't bother to question it. And then, well, if it had worked before, it should work now, right? He never realized that it wasn't exactly normal.

And he didn't realize that rain should put it out. Sure, he tried to do it on a covered spot because he didn't particularly enjoy being soaked, but he didn't realize that fire doesn't enjoy being soaked, either, and when he is unable to find a cover, he seeks warmth from his fire. Under the rain, no matter how heavy.

And it's not like he's using gasoline or oil. Nothing special. He's just using newspaper and a cool lighter he found that should've run out ages ago. He's been using the same lighter for years (it did run out— it never lights up for anyone else, but he attributes it to the pressure he's mastered. Not that he lends it much). He jokes that his trusty lighter is picky and loyal. He loves his cool-as-fuck dragon lighter as much as it loves him. It's red, black and gold and he loves it. He keeps it in an inside pocket of his jacket, right above his heart, and on cold nights it seems to heat up wonderfully.

Sometimes when it's snowing, he finds he's not all that bothered by it. Then again, he has no point of reference. Maybe that's how everyone feels? Or maybe he has a damn good jacket, plus his lighter is warm.

He also finds snowballs are too easy to form. He doesn't even need to form them, really, he grabs a fistful and when he throws it, instead of, you know, a fistful of snow, it's a perfectly round snowball. Also, if he intends it as a weapon (say, to escape the police or a criminal), it seems to do far more damage than friendly throws. He attributes it to the strength of the throw (it's not)

This little shit can walk through a storm, or a blizzard, or strong-ass winds from a hurricane, and he's fine. He can walk easily through weather where even Batman stays in for.

There's an apple tree in a park, it's very tall and very hard/impossible to climb. The lower apples may be collected if you have a ladder, but the upper ones are usually just bird food until they fall, hardly ever in one piece. And yet, if Jason is hungry and passes under it, any apple the tree has to offer falls near him, enough to be caught, perfectly ripe and whole.

There's a raven that always steals his lettuce. If he gets a sandwich, the raven comes down and bothers him until he gives her the lettuce. If he gets a salad, she comes down and settles with him and steals the lettuce from his fork, but lets him eat anything else in it. It works, because lettuce makes him itchy (is it supposed to be spicy?) and while he can eat small quantities, he prefers to give them to Lettuce (not very original, but it works) unless he's really starving.

Lettuce wakes him up at dawn every day. No matter where he hides away for the night, she finds him in the morning, and comes and goes throughout the day. They each do their own thing, but she sticks relatively close, and if he's in danger, she protects him. With patience and a lot of boredom, and lots of time together, Jason and Lettuce have developed a call between them, a birdcall they both can mimic and respond to. And if Jason is in danger, he'll call for Lettuce loudly, and it takes no time before she flies in, attacking whoever is threatening him. This is of course more effective during the day, because Ravens are diurnal. However, if she happens to be sleeping close enough to hear him at night, she'll wake up and call back, and Jason will repeat the call and she'll find him. She has blinded many people, including but not limited to cops (it's always creepy afterwards, watching her eat the eyes of his attackers, but he's grown numb to it)

Lettuce is his best friend, his partner in crime. She helps him steal, be it food, money or objects. It's mutually beneficial, see. He couldn't be more unafraid of bugs and rodents. He calls her over and they're being eaten the next moment. And he shares a lot of space with bugs and rodents. It's only at night that he needs to worry about them, once Lettuce goes to sleep. It's much easier to take care of yourself only at night than it is 24/7. Besides, while Lettuce wakes him up early, she lets him take a nap later on if he needs it, while she keeps guard. They're family.

When he got adopted, he worried he'd miss his feathered friend, being unable to spend as much time together. He underestimated her.

He woke up at dawn, habit unbroken, but went right back to sleep, feeling the absence of his loyal friend. And a few hours later, he was woken up again by a pounding on his window and angry croaking. He looked over to find his big-as-fuck bird repeatedly slamming against the window, talons first so she wouldn't get hurt. He rushed to open the window for her immediately, a grin on his face.

"Lettie!" he greeted happily. She greeted him angrily, instead, pecking his shoulder, however careful, and tugging on his hair. She'd been so worried when she couldn't find him! "I know, I know, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to dissappear on you, girl. But hey, I'm safe, promise!"

Now, listen, Ravens can reach a length of up to 66 cm (26 inches) and have a wingspan of more than 1.3 metres (4 feet). These are big birds, ok? So imagine Alfred's surprise when he saw Jason walking down the hallway, all good there, but with a massive raven flying above him.

Naturally, he assumed that the bird got in, at first. He was amazed by the sheer size of the bird, not having seen one so big from this distance. And then the raven descended towards Jason, talons out, and he was about to tell the boy to duck, because he though the bird was about to attack his head, and then the bird just landed on his shoulder.

"Ow! Bitch, mind your talons, they do hurt, you know?" he complained playfully, and the bird croaked back. Even to Alfred's ears it sounded amused. She clicked her beak, Jason clicked his teeth, and they seemed to argue playfully like that, as Alfred watched from behind them, unnoticed. Evidently, the bird won the argument, because Jason looked away and huffed "Ass", and she let out what sounded very much like a laugh.

"No, I hate you. So much" Jason scoffed, a blatant lie, his lips twitching into a smile. She cawed, fondly, like saying "no, you don't", and tugged gently on a strand of Jason's hair.

"No, I really do. Bossy bitch" he said, his voice lacking any bite. He leaned in, resting his head against her body carefully. She started preening his hair lovingly, almost motherly, and he let his eyes flutter closed as she pulled him closer with a wing. "Fine, maybe I love you. Just a little bit. Big dumb bird."

When he walked into the dining room, Bruce and Dick stared at him. Or rather, at her, perched on his shoulder, preening his hair and leaving it a mess, a wing around the back of his head. She paused, analyzing them too, but took note of Jason's relaxed demeanor around them. Not a threat, then.

"Jason... That's a big crow." Dick breathed out.

"A raven. Same family, different birds." Jason corrected, and the bird croaked, agreeing.

"Raven or crow, both are wild birds, Jason. That's not a parrot you can keep as a pet." Bruce intervened, eying the bird wearily "it's a predatory bird, that can and will turn on you in the blink of an eye if it wants. It's a dangerous bird. Not to mention it's illegal to keep them as pets"

"Well, good thing she is not a pet, then. She's a friend that chooses to stay by my side because she loves me and it's a beneficial agreement. And I'm aware of her potential. I've watched her eat human eyes—"

"You've what?"

"—but to be fair, they deserved it. She won't hurt you unless you hurt me."

"Hold on, circle back to that about eating human eyes"

"If you see people without eyes near Park Row, or blind former cops, that's us. They tried to attack me, she attacked them. I gave them plenty of warning, mind you."

"Wait, didn't Officer Johnson lose his eyes recently, Bruce? Commissioner Gordon was losing his mind because Johnson took lots of shifts."

"Johnson, Johnson..." Jason ran the most recent officers through his mind, trying to see if he remembered a name, but he didn't exactly stop to chat.

"Blond hair, 5'9, short beard, nasty scar on his—"

"—Right arm! Yes, I remember that one. He beat up another kid and then chased me, I told him to get lost and even decked him, but he wouldn't stop. Nearly crushed my wrist, that bitch. Then Lette flew in and—" Lettuce snapped her beak and puffed her feathers proudly "Yeah, that was us, but I did give him plenty of chances."

That did not make Bruce feel better about having this bird in his house, near his boys. There had been plenty of cops though the years that lost their eyes, it was driving Gordon mad. True, none of them were good cops, but still.

However, he could recognize as he watched his newest son and the bird communicate with various sounds, working as one, with evident years of teamwork, that sending the bird away to a sanctuary was not an option, and nothing short of the death of either of them would separate them, so he compromised. The bird would stay, as long as she proved healthy and didn't attack anyone.

Now on another note, Jason proved undefeatable in a snow fight

Somehow, no matter how good their aim was, or how hard they threw it, the snowballs either missed him, falling a few feet short of reaching him, or they hit him very softly. He never made any noise, like the snow didn't crush under his feet, and he always stayed on top instead of his feet sinking into it. And his snowballs always hit damn hard and accurate— unless he was only intending to get your attention, in which case it barely brushed you.

Patrolling on snowy days also proved easy. Bruce and Dick were in no way noisy, but the snow did slow them down and crushed under their feet, and they left footprints that left them easy to follow.

Jason didn't.

He somehow walked on top of the snow without leaving prints. The snow didn't crush, didn't make any noise at all, and he didn't slip on it either. It was as easy, maybe more so, for him to patrol on heavy snow than normal nights. Same with storms. Batman and Nightwing had to be careful to not slip when it was raining, and extra mindful of their movements so the splashing didn't give them away, while Jason could run or jump without making a sound or slipping even once.

"Practice" he said, "I've lived in the streets, I grew used to it, I guess."

He was a strange Robin.

The first time he met Poison Ivy, she had been particularly aggressive. And then she caught sight of the new Bird. And she stopped. She'd had the upper hand, Batman unconscious and trapped, Nightwing in Blüdhaven. She could've won. And Jason knew that, but he'd be dammed if he went down without a fight.

"Who are you?" she whispered, awe in her voice.

"I'm Robin." he answered simply, standing with a confidence he didn't feel.

"I see that. It's not what I meant. Who are you?"

"What, you think I'll give you my identity so easily? No way!"

"I didn't mean that, either. Who are you?"

"Listen, lady, I don't know what you want. Are you hard of hearing? Do you need me to use ASL? I mean, sure, if you want. I ain't ableist." Jason shrugged and actually started signing his words "I'm gonna need you to let Batman go."

"I am not hard of hearing, but I appreciate the inclusion anyway." Ivy smiled, and carefully laid Batman on the ground, much to Jason's surprise.

"Huh. That was easy."

"Listen, kid. If you ever need a mentor..."

"I'm with the Bat."

"Not what I meant. I can help you in ways he can't."

"I'll pass."

"Very well. The offer is on the table, if you ever change your mind, you can find me. Tomorrow or in twenty years, I don't care. I can guide you. I can help you."

And surprisingly, she handed herself in, giving the new Robin a smile. He kept her words a secret, confused. Weird woman, he thought.

And then, a few months later, he found his mother wasn't who he thought. And he looked for his mother. And he found her and was sold out by her. Bruce searched for him desperately, with Lettuce on his shoulder ("A promise", he'd said as he instructed Lettuce to stay with Bruce, "so you know I'll come back to you. So you know you're my family, even if I still have a mother. I'll be back, Dad"). But Joker had him.

But see, magic tends to wake up when the user is in danger.

So as Joker beat the boy, as fear beat in his heart, so did his magic. Barely conscious, beaten, bruised, but alive, the little Bird was underestimated.

"I'll say hi to your daddy for you." Joker said, planting the bomb.

And Jason realized he wouldn't be coming home. He realized Lettuce would never wake him up at dawn again. He realized Dick would never hug him again. He realized Bruce would never ruffle his hair again. He realized he'd never play with them in the snow again. He realized he'd break his promise.

And he screamed.

The warehouse went up in flames before Joker could leave. Far before the bomb went off. All-consuming flames that rose around him like the depths of hell, but caressed him like the touch of a loving mother, like Sheila never would. He heard the screams of Joker, just like his before. The flames enveloped Jason's broken body and pain overwhelmed him as his most broken bones snapped into place. He sobbed.

And then came the water. As his tear hit the flames, red turned into blue in a flood that put the fire out. Jason saw his blood seep into the water, red dissolving into the clear liquid. His wounds, the most severe at least, closing into scars. Jason saw the body of Joker floating on the water, charred and barely recognizable.

And then he saw hers. Sheila's body, still restrained, at the bottom of the water, skin melted by the fire. And she may have sold him off to Joker, he may never be able to forgive her, but still, he sinked to her, praying for her to be alive.

But Magic protects Her loved ones, and Magic doesn't forgive all that easy. She deemed Sheila unworthy of her favor. She was the reason Her Child was in such a situation, and as such, she earned Her wrath.

Jason reached for his mother, but as he touched her, the water evaporated. He carried her body out of the warehouse, no pulse to be found. He stared, a third parent dead. But was she really ever a mother? He reached down and closed her eyes. And vines sprouted from the ground, covering her body like a coffin. Jason knew this was her burial. His fingers traced over her covered body as he said his goodbyes, and then watched as she sinked down, down, down, into the earth, disappearing six feet under.

Jason looked down at himself, still wounded but not nearly as much. He took off his gloves as he felt his right hand burn, and he watched as the mark of a vine engraved itself into his skin, spiraling from his palm, the back of his hand, his wrist, all the way to his elbow. The mark shone green for a second before it settled with an bright silver color.

He heard a familiar caw and panicked. Because Lettuce meant Bruce, and Bruce meant Batman, and Batman didn't like metas in Gotham. And apparently he was a meta, right? Just like Poison Ivy.

He put his glove back on and searched his utility belt for a bandage, which he wrapped around his forearm, hiding his mark.

And then he called to Lettuce. And he heard her respond, louder, happy, worried, hopeful. He called again, and soon she was flying to him, Bruce running right behind her.

Bruce didn't understand what had happened, what happened to the warehouse, to Joker. To his son. But he didn't care. He was there, he was safe.

He checked his son for injuries, and he was quite hurt, but not as much as he could've been. Broken bones, bleeding wounds. Bruised, broken, scared. But safe.

And Jason let him assume that was as badly as he was hurt, let him believe Joker didn't beat him to death's doorstep. Because if he told him, he'd have to tell him how he healed.

The rest of his injuries healed normally at home, but Jason didn't let them see his right arm.

Dick, Bruce and Jason assumed maybe Joker had marked him. It wasn't uncommon to mark victims in some way. They wanted to help, but if they pressed about it, Jason would run out for an hour or two. So they let him. Jason always wore long sleeves and gloves, or a bandage on his arm, even when he slept. It became part of his style, just like the white stripe on his hair from where his head was split open.

But see, once awakened, his magic refused to lie dormant again. It buzzed and ached for release. And it seeped out of him with his every breath.

And it terrified him.

He lived with the world's greatest detectives. They were bound to notice the flames flaring when he walked into the room, be it candles or the fireplace. They were bound to notice the wind picking up unnaturally indoors. They were bound to notice his glass of water moving with unnatural waves.

So he ran out when he felt the call more active and let it explode. The plants deep into the Wayne Estate wildest part had never been greener. Plants that shouldn't bloom in there were growing. It was as easy as breathing, letting it flow. The problem was controlling it.

Jason felt like a baby learning to use the restroom. Doing it was instinctual, natural. A reflex. But holding it in was a challenge. The thing is, there were no diapers for magic. And he couldn't let anyone find out.

This is part one, I'll come back another day with how Tim comes into the picture, because duh, Jason didn't die

Hey, I was thinking of a fic idea. I don't know if it's been done (please send link if so)

I was thinking that it was a risky move from the syrens to mention a daughter when she perfectly could've not mentioned it. Unlike with the water fear thing, she wasn't prompted. Now syrens are supposed to know every way at sea, so I bet they have a wide net of information. So what if they had information on Ithaca as well? Would make sense, wouldn't it? Maybe not the best info, but info nonetheless.

Now, I don't know about you, but if my husband were to go to war, I'd be real affectionate those last few days iykyk. Also I don't think there was a very effective birth control yet, was there?

So what if Penelope sees them away, everything's normal, Telemachus is a baby, all good. And then as time goes on, she starts feeling symptoms but she's in denial. No, she can't be pregnant when her husband isn't home to know about it. She can't. She must be just anxious, or ill or exhausted. Oh, her belly? Yeah no, it hasn't yet gone back to what it used to after telemachus. Oh it's bigger? Yeah, she ate a lot tonight. Totally normal.

By the time she gets over her denial and realizes that oh shit she's pregnant, Odysseus is on the battlefield, not just on the way. She asks Hermes to deliver the message, but Athena convinces him not to, because he's already eager to go home, and if you add that his wife is pregnant, he'll try to make it home before the birth, but that would only make him reckless. It'd get him killed. No, they'll tell him when the war is over. Except of course it takes longer than expected.

Now meanwhile, Ithaca receives her Princess not even a year after her Prince. They get along great. Telemachus adores his little sister. And Penelope adores both her children. She sees a part of her husband in each of them. But the girl (I'm thinking Alkmene, which I'm aware is already a character of Greek mythology, but roll with it) is Odysseus's spitting image while Telemachus is hers.

All of Ithaca can see that the Princess is the miniature version of their King. She makes the same expressions, snarls the same way when she's pissed off, has the same features, from his hair, eyes, face shape. She's his mini-me. So, Ithaca slowly shifts from calling her Alkmene to Mini (alkmene, mene, mini).

Meanwhile Telemachus is his mother's son through and through. The Prince and Princess look like the King and Queen genderbent. And act like them too. Telemachus learns arts, sits alongside his mother as he learns to play instruments and she even teaches him to weave. And Mini, she tries. She does, truly. But she's just not the most patient. She can't sit still for hours on end handling a thread.

So Penelope sits her down hands her a knife and a piece of wood. She knows Mini is just like her father, and hopes his hobby will be something she finally picks up. So she teaches her woodcarving. And would you look at that, she likes it.

Now, Telemachus as the heir, he is the one most in the public eye. Mini tends to hand back, carving wood and watching her brother with sharp eyes, but doesn't stay seated for long, no, she sticks to the shadows and shifts which pillar she's resting against. Unlike Odysseus' leadership and commanding presence, though, she doesn't like to be perceived. She moves on quiet feet, never stays in one spot for long, and doesn't speak much. It's hard to keep track of her. But she's always watching.

Telemachus and her have different ways to feel close to their father. He steals his accessories and clothes (I read a headcannon and a fic and loved this), and she usually sits by her father's bow and talks to it, as if it were her father. Eventually, just before the war ends, she takes a regular bow and teaches herself to use it. She sucks at it at first. She struggles to even string it. Just like Telemachus struggles with fighting.

She does this on secret. She sees the way her mother stares at the bow. Her brother isn't all that interested in learning that yet. So she sneaks out and practices. She sucks. Truly she does. The amount of times she's hit herself on the face just trying to pull the string back, or later cut her cheek with the string as it shoots, the amount of times her arrows were pathetically weak.

Meanwhile, the war ends, and instead of telling him, by now Hermes isn't paying much attention and Athena wants to, really, but can't find the way to tell him "oh by the way, you also have a nine-year-old daughter and I knew all along but didn't tell you", and then you know, they argue and such. She never actually tells him.

And when Hermes makes his appearance during Wouldn't You Like, he also doesn't tell him because there are more pressing issues. But after the Syren thing, on the way to Scylla, he comes down again like

"uhm, actually... You do have a daughter. Your wife was pregnant when you left."

"What?"

"Yeah. Your spitting image, that one. So much so, they call her Mini. Mini of Ithaca, has a ring to it, doesn't it? Mkay, I'll take my leave, have fun~"

"Wait no, you can't just— Hermes, come back!"

And then everything goes as it does. His seven years on Calypso's Island are torture, not only because he has to wonder how his wife is doing and how his boy grew up, but also because he spends them thinking of the daughter he didn't know he had. Was she his spitting image physically or personality wise? What traits of his did she get? What's her real name? Because okay, they call her Mini, but what's her name? Ctemene, like his sister? Something else?

And as the years pass, his anxiety rises when he thinks of home. Because by now, she must be grown up. By now, both his wife and his daughter must have suitors, and he's not there to scare them off.

And meanwhile, during those ten years after she first took the bow, she spends most of her time hidden, trying to learn. The first thing she tries to learn is to hunt, she's not great at it, but she tries. Not for sport either but because as the suitors start to arrive, boy can they eat, and she doesn't want them in her space. This gets Artemis's attention.

Artemis sees this young woman, trying to hide from suitors (some of them also try to get her, because hey, Queen or Princess, same thing right?), trying to learn to hunt but not doing so unnecessary or out of malice. This girl tries to befriend as many animals as she can, but still does hunt. And she takes her under her wing. Now I know Artemis was on the Trojan's side, but come on, it's been almost twenty years.

Under her tutelage, Mini becomes a great archer, just like Telemachus becomes a warrior under Athena's. Unlike Telemachus, she's not too interested in fighting. She does archery because she feels it brings her closer to her father, not because she wants to be a warrior.

And so she becomes an archer as good as, if not better than, Odysseus (Because come on, while Athena is the Goddess of war, Artemis' weapon is a bow) And people know this. She's scary good.

Much like Telemachus with Athena, Mini befriends Artemis.

So during God Games, Apollo is actually firmly on the Releasing Odysseus side, much to Athena's surprise. After all, hey, his sister likes his kid, might as well help her get her dad back. With this change, Athena doesn't get beat up as badly, because that's three gods (Apollo was like "lol isn't that your protégé's dad? Yeah, you should watch this") standing up to Zeus instead of one. They each receive a beating, but not as bad.

Also imagine like:

"Hey, Apollo—"

"It's Odysseus of Ithaca, right? That Odysseus?"

"Yes? I know he killed your Syrens, but listen—"

"Yeah, so mean of him. Anyway, release him."

"... What?"

"My sister is friends with his daughter."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks."

"Mmhmm. Bye now, you have others to convince."

Now, during The Challenge, the suitors are like "No, this is impossible, it's literally not possible, you're trying to trick us"

And the nineteen year old princess snorts, stands up, strings her father's bow and shoots through the axes cleanly. Then unstrings (?) the bow and puts it where it was.

"Dunno, seems very possible for me."

Later, during Hold Them Down, these bastards also plan to take her the same way they will her mother. Break her pride, they say. Put her in her place. A girl can't be better than them.

Odysseus is filled with pride for his daughter at the thought that she's so much better than them that it broke their egos. He's also filled with anger, logically.

Now, it is 108 men. What if they did manage to get Telemachus just a little before (not that he lasted less, just that it happened a little earlier), and Odysseus is in check, because fuck if he attacks they'll hurt his boy. He's seething with rage and trying to formulate a plan. He could take them, he absolutely could, but how will he do it without harming his son? Their eyes are all on him, he doesn't have the element of surprise anymore, he can't move quickly or they'll kill his son.

And then an arrow flies. And it's not his.

The arrow pierces the head of the man holding Telemachus, at the perfect angle that it doesn't harm the boy, and it comes from behind and slightly above.

Odysseus looks up, and he sees his own eye staring back at him, but she is much younger. And yes, I said eye, because she's wearing an eye patch. He doesn't think much of it because she's an archer, and some archers use an eye patch. Also, it's cool as heck, looks more like half a mask than an eye patch, with intricate designs and expanding over more than just her eye to her temple.

"Shit it's Mini!" "Where is she?"

Between the three of them, a close-range warrior, an archer, and a versatile, experienced warrior, the fight is over soon. You can't not turn your back on at least one of them, especially when Mini, just like her father moments before, hides in the darkness and shoots.

After they're all dead, she steps out of the shadows. And damn, she is his carbon copy.

Then you know, I Can't Help But Wonder is kinda different because it's not one child but two. Also, he finally gets to learn her name. And listen, Odysseus is fascinated by his children, because Telemachus is Penelope's copy and Mini is his. Down to the height, Telemachus is taller than Odysseus and Mini is almost his height.

After the reunions and all, family bonding is hard. He feels like Mini stares into his soul and it unnerves him, a little because he's used to being on the giving end of that look, and a little because she doesn't take off her eye patch. She changes it up, has many designs, some more like masks than patches, but is still always wearing one, and always has her bow and quiver on her person or next to her, which makes him feel like she's always on guard, which puts him on edge.

"Does she ever take the patch off?" he whispers to Telemachus

"No, hasn't for years."

Also, Argos is an old doggo but he's alive because I say so. Still, Mini has two Hunting Dogs because again, Artemis's protégé. Argos sticks by Telemachus and Odysseus, and her dogs are loyal only to her. They don't leave her side. They are big, like wolves. Artemis herself picked them for her. One black, one white. And they flank her at all times, it's certainly unnerving. They're not playful puppies, at least not to anyone but her and her Goddess.

"Did I... Do something? You're staring at me, Mini."

"Nah, she does that." her brother replies instead "Nothing personal. She doesn't like to talk much."

And yeah, she doesn't. But things are still a bit awkward between them, and he's not sure how to fix it. She seems to judge him. Sometimes she outright snarls at him if he suggests she lower her guard a little and take off her eyepatch/mask. They're no longer at war, the suitors are not a threat anymore, they're all safe. He made sure of it. And yet, the worst thing he could've done was try to take her mask off.

He got close to her, gave her a side hug, tried to be a dad. And everything was fine. And then he tilted her face up and she looked at him. She seemed relatively relaxed, but not fully.

"Kid, you can relax. I promise you're safe. You don't need to be battle ready all the time here, take it from me."

And he reached out to take off her mask. It was meant as an act of comfort, like Polities prying his sword off his hand when he was tired during the war. A sign that he'd take care of her and she could relax.

But she smacked his hand and pushed him away. She glared at him, one eye portraying the message just as well as two would. She took her bow and quiver and left without a word. She only came back before dinner (she left after breakfast), with fresh meat for their meal.

Her one visible eye (the left btw) glared at him the whole dinner, and, he felt damn uneasy, and she snarled at him when he tried to talk to her. Which wouldn't be all that intimidating if her dogs didn't snarl every time she did, baring their teeth and growling. Penelope and Telemachus, bless their hearts, tried to de-escalate the situation. Telemachus started talking about absolutely anything that came to mind and his sister's attention snapped to him and she relaxed slowly. She loved listening to her brother rant and be happy.

It went on for days. Eventually, she stopped glaring at him, didn't snarl at him anymore. But damn her dogs did. They didn't seem to like him, and he really didn't want to get into a fight with them, because either they'd rip off his arm or he'd kill them, and neither was a good option. She had them well trained, though, so as they growled at him, she only clicked her tongue and they quieted down.

With time and effort, he got her to relax a little more. Still, she never took off her mask/eyepatch. It still got on his nerves.

And then one night, as Telemachus was talking about his day, she relaxed so much she fell asleep.

Odysseus lifted his daughter in his arms, her dogs flanking him but not growling at him, just seemingly protecting her, as they always did.

He took her to her room and tucked her in. Now, he's a man who learns from his mistakes. He knew he shouldn't take her mask off, she wouldn't want him too. But today's mask was rather extravagant, and it probably would be quite uncomfortable to sleep with. So he took it off her face.

And he stumbled back, his breath knocked out of his lungs. Because his daughter had a trident scarred across her eye, starting at the bridge of her nose and diagonally across her eye. Her eyelid had been torn and sewn back together, but there was no question of it it had harmed her eye. It was purposeful, careful, designed. It was a mark. It was Poseidon's.

That bastard had blinded his daughter for blinding his son. An eye for an eye. It was a damn miracle he didn't take both her eyes, and that was probably because of Artemis. However, it did look a bit older than just his last confrontation. It must've been while he was in Calypso's island.

No wonder she was wary around him. She must know it was his fault that Poseidon partially blinded her.

Odysseus knelt beside her and took her hand. "Forgive me" he whispered. She didn't stir, but one of her dogs huffed at him, the other growled. And for once, he didn't try to calm it down. If it tore him up, he'd deserve it. He wouldn't fight it.

He fell asleep at the foot of his daughter's bed, her mask set beside him and her hand between his.

He woke up as she stirred. He was the lightest of sleepers after twenty years in danger. He thought Mini was just waking up, but she wasn't. She whimpered and thrashed. He didn't know what to do, should he comfort her? Wake her up?

Alkmene curled on her side and clawed at her scarred eye. One of her dogs got in between her arms and her face, preventing any more damage. Not for lack of trying, the girl whined and growled in pain, trying to claw at it, but the dog kept interfering. Her growls and whimpers turned into desperate gasps and growing screams of pain. A wound inflicted by a god likely hurt like new every once in a while. What could he do, if it wasn't even a nightmare. It wasn't that she was scared and he could comfort her, she was in pain so excruciating she wanted to claw it out. Her dogs protected her face, they didn't mind that it meant she clawed at them instead. He didn't know what to do.

The black dog locked its jaw around his wrist, firm but careful, it didn't even hurt, And it pulled his hand toward his daughter's face. Odysseus carefully pressed his palm against her eye, cringing at the texture of the scar. The pressure seemed to relieve the pain, however slightly. She still gasped for breath, but no longer screamed. She still tried to claw at her eye, but she only managed to scratch his hand and wrist, clawing so desperately that it broke his skin.

He welcomed the pain. A fraction of what he put her through, a fraction of the pain he's to blame for. A part of him hoped she tore his skin. A part of him hoped her dog would lock its jaw and puncture his arm, so he'd have the scars to remind him of his daughter's. So she wouldn't be alone in her pain tonight.

He stayed steady there for hours, pressing gently on her face. He memorized the feeling of her scar on his palm, jagged and rough, imperfect and cruel. He wished he could take it from her, he wished Poseidon had taken his eye instead.

Little after dawn, her eyes fluttered and he took away his hand. He had dried blood all over his wrist and hand, and she had it under he fingernails. He was nervous, terrified she'd hate him, terrified she already did.

Her eyes opened, and once again it knocked him off balance, seeing her right eye open but discolored. Broken. She stared at him for a minute and he bowed his head in shame.

"Telemachus can't know. He'll blame himself, think it should've been him." is the first thing she said, instead of the insults or reprimand he expected.

"Alkmene…"

"It's Mini. Listen, it's your fault. None of this would've happened if it weren't for you. So I was told. But I know you did your best with what you had. And you didn't know Poseidon would take my eye as revenge."

"He told me. When I came back, he said he'd take my son and take his eyes. I didn't think he already had."

"Yeah, couple years ago. I was alone in the coast, an easy target I suppose. It was meant to be my brother, but he settled for me. And hey, at least it works. I'm an archer. He did take my dominant eye, but I adapted. Archers don't need both eyes anyway."

"Damn you are too calm about this."

"Well, I mean, it's been years. I don't hate you for this. It's hard to hate someone who I only heard the best of stories about, and by the time you arrived, I'd come to terms with it. I was tense around you because you kept insisting I took my mask off, and I couldn't exactly tell you off without making it obvious that I was hiding something. So quit that and we're good."

"I'll never pressure you about it again."

"Good. I'm so glad we see eye to eye" she grinned

"Yeah, I didn't like coming in blind about you" he joked back despite himself. He didn't know if he had the right to. But she snorted, surprised by the pun.

"So I got my humor from you. I should've seen that one coming."

"we probably shouldn't joke about this, but I suppose I can turn a blind eye to it"

"come on, don't be blinded by your righteousness, this is fun."

"Yes, I suppose I shouldn't lose sight of fun"

All day, father and daughter exchanged bad blind puns, much to the confusion of Penelope and Telemachus. But hey, at least the tension between them had dissipated.

Odysseus saw his daughter in a new light. He caught all the small gestures she had that hinted at her partial blindness. He understood now the way she struggled with depth, often trying twice to reach something, and struggling to catch. He noticed her relationship with her dogs. They were more than just her pets and companions, they were her eyes, always alert and flanking her so she wouldn't need to be on guard, especially the one on her blind side. They prevented her from bumping into walls and furniture, even if it meant she bumped into them instead. He saw the way she startled slightly when Telemachus touched her unexpectedly or moved too fast.

Bonding with her became easier as the tension dissipated with bad jokes that had Telemachus smacking his head on the table, yet smiling.

And then he figured they could bond over archery, all of them. Penelope was good, a Spartan through and through. Telemachus was getting the hang of it, but he was better at close-range fighting. Odysseus enjoyed helping him out, fixing his form and aim.

He knew his daughter was a good archer, but he thought surely there would be some tips he could give her, with twice her experience. Or hey, at least he could show off a little. He took his bow and aimed. As his arrow flew, it was knocked off course and split by another. He looked up to see Mini hanging from a tree branch, a shit-eating grin on her face.

"What's the matter, old man? Can't land a shot?"

Odysseus huffed and fired again. Once again it was intercepted by another arrow.

"I thought you were an archer, My King." she mocked.

"I am, you little Winion!"

And for hours, they tried to one-up each other while Telemachus and Penelope watched fondly. They did all sorts of trickshots and they were generally pretty evenly matched, though their techniques were different. She was more fluid, she could aim while hanging upside down or while running, while he slowed down and had a more traditional technique.

Hunting was still very much her thing, though. When Odysseus and his children went to hunt, he and Telemachus went all Warrior Of The Mind, thinking of traps and strategies. While Mini just set her dogs free and her and her canines moved like a unit, rounding up prey. They were stealthy and the prey did not see it coming.

However, she was respectful. She didn't hunt more than necessary. It was a quick death and after reaching the prey she thanked it for the sacrifice. There was not a moment of fear or pain for the prey. It was the way of Artemis, the way of nature.

He had thought himself a great hunter, but of course the protégé of the Goddess of Hunting would put him to shame.

I just found this song and all I can think is of @kdpartworks Cloudysseus

The sample is too short and not even the best part but truly, I can only think of Cloudy. Maybe I'm obsessed.