It's Not Quite The Fact That Tim Is Smart What Makes Him Their Favorite. I Mean, Bruce Loves Them All

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.

Selina: cute kid!

Dick: you gonna say something? No?

Bruce:... Kid?

Dick: mkay, well, hi! Thank you! Yes, I am a cute kid, with a cool dad, you should totally date him. c;

Bruce, nearly having a breakdown... Kid?

He has no idea where the kid came from...

AU Where Battinson is Adopted By a 10-Year-Old Dick Grayson >:)

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. 🙏🕊

Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for your kindness, compassion, and solidarity during this difficult time. ❤🍉

https://gofund.me/58268669 🔗

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

update, apparently my heart stopped for about eight seconds. Looks like all those times I fainted were actually tiny little heart attacks.

That is... Creepy

But good news, this is the only type out of five that has treatment. Not cure, but treatment. So. Uh. Good?

I'm so goddamn freaked out

Nope, I love Timmy. He's getting adopted definitely. Besides, gotta love Tim adopting Jason as his brother. Like a little duckling (or a drake ;) ) imprinting on him.

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

Tim Drake Edits Reality

Hear me out. Tim Drake has always loved photography, that's wildly accepted and known. But what if he has powers too?

What if whatever Tim edits into his pictures becomes the truth?

The first time it happened, Tim was just starting his photography hobby. His parents bought him a camera and he was so exited! He took a picture of his mom's Rosebush, a single rose in the entire bush, half Withered.

Tim found the picture beautiful, and he started messing with photoshop, editing the withered flower back to the bright red it used to be. He decided it looked lonely and sad, the bush dry and the rose edited to be lively but alone in the middle. So he edited the dry areas of the bush back to the lively green and more roses in it. The picture looked very different from the original, but it was beautiful. Satisfied, he saved the end result.

That afternoon, when he walked through the garden, the very same dry rosebush he photographed looked just like his edited picture: lively, with rich colors and plenty of roses.

It made no sense, but he ignored it.

He kept taking pictures and editing them, though the changes were small, like the lighting and all that. Sometimes he made small changes, and he definitely noticed them and thought it was weird, but didn't quite connect the dots. He was kind of in denial. He couldn't be a meta or anything! Right?

And then his parents left for a few months and he was lonely, but he didn't want to admit it. And at school everyone was talking about their pets, and he messed up and lied. "I just adopted a Border Collie puppy!" he lied, thinking that would be it, people would forget, he would get out of the awkward situation (why did everyone have pets?) and nothing would happen. Well turns out, everyone wanted to see his puppy.

So Tim came home and prepared his camera, in his trusted tripod to look like it had been taken by someone else, and took pictures of himself, a whole photoshoot, with his arms stretched like carrying a dog, and then sitting like he was playing with it.

He searched for a perfect Border Collie puppy, one who had a whole photoshoot just for that one, so he could be sure the pictures were coherent and no one would question them. He carefully edited them and memorized every feature of his supposed dog in case anyone asked, to keep his story straight. Once satisfied, he sent them to those who asked for pictures, and received plenty of "cute dog!" compliments. It had taken him all day, so he went to bed almost immediately after, already past midnight.

He woke up to the very same blue eyed fluffy Border Collier puppy he edited into his pictures, licking his face, the same blue harness and leash hung on his door, and even the bed and bowls he put in the background were on the corner of his room now.

He freaked out, of course, but the small pup didn't seem all that worried. And apparently he now had a puppy? Well, he's always wanted one. He named her Frankie, because her multiple colors and patterns clashed like Frankenstein's monster, like she had been made for from mismatched parts.

He loved Frankie. She was so smart! And Frankie was quite loyal and enamored by him, too. He was her whole world, and she was his heart, his companion and confidant, his best friend and ally in his too-big house.

He did decide to experiment though. He needed more research.

When a boy at school picked on him, he edited his picture bald, and that same day his father shaved his hair. He tried again with another boy who picked on Jason (Jason doesn't know Tim exists yet, but Tim keeps an eye out for him), editing his hair bright barbie pink, and this time he added a date to the corner, writing the date of a week ago, two days before the pictures for his football team were taken.

When Tim saw the football team's pictures displayed at school, the boy had pink hair in them, that he didn't yesterday. He asked around, if the pictures looked different to anyone else.

"yeah, I don't know what persuaded him to dye his hair pink before picture day and the tournament."

"I asked him two days ago, he said he lost a bet."

Two days ago. Tim's mind was reeling. He asked the boy himself when he dyed his hair, and he replied with the date Tim edited on the corner of the picture.

Did Tim just... Edit reality?

He later uses this power to his advantage on patrol, and before that while watching the Bats.

Jason is surrounded? He takes a picture and edits a few goons out of it quickly. They aren't there when he looks up.

Shit Joker escaped? He doesn't have the energy to deal with it right now. He edits tonight's date on a picture of Joker sitting peacefully in his cell and a few more guards for good measure.

His family doesn't understand why he takes a small discreet camera on patrol in his utility belt

In a few hours I'll pay a big amount of money to get tortured :D

It's a Tilt Table Test. It's definitely gonna send me into a flare. Monday I start school and probably I'll still feel like shit (more than usual), we'll see. But look, as long as it works. Also, let's hope it's a flare because last year I sent myself into a flare via stress and woke up feeling shittier one day, and haven't felt better. So.

Wish me luck, I'll report back in a few hours

after my Tim Edits Reality post, I haven't been able to stop thinking about Frankie (the dog) and though he remembers just editing her into his life, what he edits is more like the space-time continuum, so his parents remember getting her for him. And I haven't been able to stop thinking of like

Little kid Tim, trying to get his parents to stay longer: mom, I'm so lonely...!

Janet: oh sweetheart, I know. But we have work, you know that.

Tim: but I'm all alone in this big house... It's so lonely and scary...

Janet: you're right, Tim. I'm sorry about that, sweetheart. I'll see what I can do.

Tim thinks his mom is going to try and stay. That same night she arrives with a Border Collie puppy.

Janet: look, Tim. So you won't be so lonely while your father and I are away. You can train her, and you can play together. Just make sure you take care of you both and clean after her, ok?

Tim, torn between sad his mom isn't staying and happy he now has a puppy: ok, mama. Thank you.

Now I love Frankie, and I love giving the batfam an animal companion. So far, through my fics, it's as follows:

Lettuce the Crow for Jason (not yet written, but will be appearing soon) in "Tim's a weirdo, but he's our weird— Jason, what do you mean you have a child!?" (my Dragon!Tim and dad!Jay fic)

Promise the Kitten for Dick in Shadows of New Beginnings (my dad!Dick fic)

And I will be adding Frankie to my Howling at the River fic (secretly married musician!Tim)

Plus of course Alfred and Titus play a big role for Damian in Of Beliefs and Devotion (part of my dragon Tim au, but focused on witch worshipping Damian/magic Damian)

When I write my magic user Janet au, you best believe she'll have a familiar too, maybe an owl or even a small magical creature

that's it, thank you, I was ranting. It's 6am and I didn't sleep to write Howling at the River

Happy to provide links if you want, after I've slept

my dumbest little headcanon but you can pry it out of my cold dead hands is that Tim has a resting bitch face so severe it's terrifying, but can give off any vibes he wants when he puts a little effort in it.

He can fake a smile so perfectly that no one could know, but his family and friends do, because of one simple reason.

His nose scrunches when he smiles genuinely. He is not aware of it and his family and friends find it adorable.

You can pry it out of my cold dead hands I swear to god, this boy scrunchies his nose and can't replicate it if it's not genuine. It's the slightest thing generally, but when he truly laughs his whole face squishes and his nose scrunches and his eyes close. It's very hard to make him laugh so much and so genuinely.

pls tell me your batfam headcanons I need inspiration

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.