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euesworld · 1 year ago

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"She is the riverman, she escorts you across death.. with long, perfect, slender legs under her cloak. She rows across the sea slowly, cloak covering her face in shadows reciting rituals like the pope.. the oars dipping into lightless dark matter, a rippling hollow darkness that emanates an eerie groan. You are aware of her, though you can't move a thread.. death.. her cloak slips a bit and you see a skull. Thin wispy, stringy hair hangs from the skull in patches and her eyes are cold.. two blue sparks floating in its eye sockets where the eyes should be.. she turned and you hear the raft bump against something, a dock? Out of the corner of your eye, you can see her coming over to where you lie.. with a strength that was impossible, she picked your body up easily with one hand, and as she carried you, you can see the dark, star filled night. Your body twists in her grip and you are facing those perfect womanly legs again as she walked along.. she stopped. Suddenly you feel as if something is wrong.. you can feel despair, emptiness, sadness, hate.. thick around you, squeezing like a snake. The feeling is consuming you, like your soul is dissolving.. it transcends pain like nothing you have ever experienced before. If you could scream, it would be an eternal wail of anguish like the curse of billions of souls that believed in absolutely nothing, in other words.. the devil.. the devil is absolutely nothing, the opposite of God. And as the riverman flings your body into a big dark hole, the energy that makes up your soul dissolves and the last thing that you experienced was the fabric of your soul being slowly torn, shredded, and destroyed even as you fought against it. You ceased to exist. They say you can't destroy energy, but when you believe in nothing.. you become nothing in the afterlife. Believing in nothing is like believing in the devil, the darkness before light when nothing existed.. you don't return to the flow of the universe, you don't return to God. The riverman looks at the black hole once more and turns around.. she returns to her boat to collect another soul. She looks up into the ethereal sky filled with stars and she whispers a little prayer.. 'I live for you. I love for you. Treat others with compassion. I give to you. My life for you. May our souls be everlasting.' She started rowing back across the darkness lapping at the sides of her boat. I'm starting to wonder how many trips she makes a day? If you don't believe in anything, why do you do the things you do? Cause you are told? Must be a pretty empty life with no meaning. Maybe it's best to just become part of the nothing.. it's a cruel existence not knowing God's love. God loves everything equally, down to the last cockroach but if you don't believe in God, God is not obligated to believe in you.. anything that God doesn't believe in just ceases to exist. Which isn't such a bad fate anyway, cause y'all don't believe in anything.. so you are right in a way."

Meh, this will probably be analyzed and scrutinized.. it's a story. Take what you want out of it, haha.. it's a weird fuggin story, I admit - eUë

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spacedace · 1 year ago

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Had an idea, thought I'd make it a prompt, 3k+ words later realized this wasn't a prompt anymore but a ficlet 🙃

Anyway, here's the first almost 2k of Talia being a good parent and deciding to not go with either Bruce or Ra's and go off and do her own thing and raise Damian and oops she got attached to Jason while checking in on Bruce and saved him from dying in Ethiopia. & now has 2 sons lol

When her Beloved and her father demanded Talia make a choice, of who she would choose, she didn't hesitate.

She chose neither of them. She chose her child. She chose herself.

Outwitting both Ra's al Ghul and Batman was no simple feat. They were both brilliant, relentless and with endless resources at their command. It was why their clashes were as devastating as they were. Immovable objects and unstoppable forces the both of them. If there was something they wanted, it was something they would have.

But not her.

They would not have her.

She had her own networks, her own people, her own keen intelligence and sharp cunning. It took time - time she really didn't have - and a great deal of pain and loss, but she slipped them eventually. Shrugged off the shroud of who she had been - who she was made to be - and stepped confidently into her new life.

Her son was born nine days after her freedom had finally, fully been assured.

He was small and perfect in every way. Soft and warm cradled close to her chest, unblemished by the cruelty of the world as he slept soundly in her arms. Even as exhausted as she was after such a long labor, she couldn't bring herself to sleep. Her attention narrowed down entirely on his every quiet breath, his downy soft hair, his round peaceful face.

In the weeks that followed his eyes would shift and change from a newborn's blue to her own green. It would take years before she could know if he inherited any of his father's features, but that was fine. He was hers and hers alone.

She named him Damian.

In another life she would name him with her father in mind. That her son would rise as Heir to the Demon and conquer the world. That he'd stand as ruler of all.

In this one, she named him with hope in her heart that what he would master was his own life. That he would never be forced to bow to the will of anyone else. To be made to act as servant or puppet. Let him tame his fate into something good and kind and happy.

She did her best to give him the life he deserved.

Lavished him with all her love and affection. Gave him everything he could ever want or need. The friends she began making for herself - not just trusted allies, but friends - laughed that she would spoil him rotten. It was probably true, but she didn't have it in her to care.

Her son would have the childhood he would have been denied if raised raised in the home of either of their fathers. Her father would have demand harsh lessons and frightened obedience and impossible standards. Damian's would have tried - she knew her Beloved would have tried - but his heart would always be for his city first and all else, even his children, second.

Talia kept tabs on both of them, covertly. Ensured she always kept a healthy distance from anything that involved her father or his people. Gathered stories of her Beloved's exploits to share with her son when he was old enough to hear them.

It gave her insight on just what choosing her Beloved would have meant. Reassured her that while not choosing her father had been the right choice, choosing her Beloved would have been the wrong one.

Bruce Wayne was a good man. Brilliant and driven with his kind heart and admirable goals. Breathtaking in his skill and ability.

Disappointing in his parenting skills.

Talia knew she was lacking as a parent herself. That her own upbringing had left its scars and that try as she might she'd undoubtedly end up doing the same to her own child over the years. But she always pushed herself hard towards improving, in making herself better for the tiny boy that she loved more than anything else. And she felt satisfied that in the very least that when presented with options on how her and her son's life would be, she'd made the one that was best for Damian.

Not the life of an assassin or a vigilante, but the life of a child.

A child who was taught some of the skills of both the worlds she'd turned her back on, admittedly, but only ever for his own protection. Damian was safer knowing how to hide, how to escape, how to fight. She had done her best, but there was always the looming threat that they might be found one day. She needed to be sure he was ready, if that time ever come.

She didn't teach him the way she was taught.

When her son fumbled or failed she gently corrected him. Walked him through what he'd done wrong, how he could improve. Made a game out of the experience so that he came running up to her on toddling feet with bright eyes begging that they have a lesson. His excitement and delight in it all made him a better student then her fear and desperate need for her father's approval and affection.

There was a day she caught sight of him, all of four years old, tiny face scrunched in a look of concentration as he practiced the form she'd taught him the day before with his small, wooden practice sword. Some of his father's features lingered at the edges of his face, but he'd deepened his resemblance to her by picking up her mannerisms and expressions. Her son, going through the same steps and motions she had when she'd been his age, little body wobbling as he turned to fast before plopping on the ground with a tiny oof.

Talia had small silver scars on the back of her hands, so thin and so old as to nearly be invisible anymore. They burned all the same as she recalled herself stumbling in nearly the same way. Stomach churning as she remembered the terror she'd felt as her instructor had snatched her up by her hair and drug her over to a low table, holding her hands in place with a massive hand. The way she'd bit her lip hard enough that her mouth filled with blood as he struck her with the thin lash, knowing that if she cried the punishment would be all the worse.

Damian only blinked his big green eyes and scowled the same way she did whenever something of minor importance didn't go the way she wanted it to. Then he saw her standing there in the doorway watching him and his face lit up, bright as the son and just as beautiful as he jumped to his feet and darted over to her. Tiny hand clinging to the loose fabric of her pant leg as he begged her show me again Mama!

It was moments like that where she knew beyond any shadow of a doubt she'd made the right choice.

Her father would have broken her brilliant, kind hearted son. Would have done to him what was done to her to forge Damian into a weapon.

Her beloved...

He would never hurt her son like that. Not the way her father and his loyal followers would. But she couldn't ignore the fact that Damian would still be hurt all the same under his father's tutelage.

Talia knew the man she loved well. Adored his strengths, but was not blind to his flaws. He kept his heart well guarded, hidden behind imposing walls of silence and razor wire of words he didn't truly mean. Still kind, but horribly distant when it came to those he cared for most. It shielded him some, perhaps, but it left those who loved him feeling lost and alone.

She saw how Dick Grayson had grown over the years. Tall and clever and lonely and bitter. Fighting for independence, for acknowledgement, for his father to speak words of love and respect. Things Bruce felt but almost never said unless he thought things were dire.

She saw too how the heavy weight of her Beloved's priorities weighed up on his second son.

Young Jason Todd who saw magic in the harsh world he'd been drawn into and desired to be the protection for others that he never had growing up. She saw much of herself in him, though he faced the world with far more hope than she had at his age. He was a bright boy with a good heart that had weathered a harsh upbringing that Talia could sympathize with. There was a familiar anger in him too, broiling just beneath the surface, flaring up and burning him as much as everyone else when triggered.

Most of all though Talia could see the desperate loneliness that had marred her own life in the boy. The soul deep fear of abandonment. The painful desire for love from a father that always seemed to stay at arm's length who spoke rarely of affection and often of missions to be completed.

She kept a close eye on her Beloved's second Robin.

When he left for Ethiopia, searching for family in a stranger that had already given him up, she'd followed.

Jason only ever wanted family and love. A good boy, bright and fierce and brave. A boy Talia saw a lot of herself in, who faced the world with such determined brightness in spite of the pain and hardship he'd known.

Shelia Haywood took that boy that Talia had grown so fond of, took his trust and his love and crushed it beneath her heel. Callously handed him over to the Joker without a second thought. As if he was disposable, as if he was nothing more than a puppet to use and toss away when it suited her.

Talia had risked everything when she'd decided she would not choose either her father or her Beloved. She'd turned her back on her entire life, everything that had ever been and ever could be on either side. She spent months running, hiding, fighting and killing, in orchestrating a plan that could outwit and outmaneuver the two most brilliant men she knew. And she'd done it all so that her son could live free, as master of his own life.

Jason Todd had come to Ethiopia looking for a mother.

Talia, with blood on her hands and a burning warehouse behind her as she carried his broken body to safety, made sure he found one.

#batman #batman au #talia al ghul #damian al ghul #damian wayne #jason todd #talia al ghul is a good parent #good parent talia al ghul #protective talia al ghul #jason doesn't die #Talia ends up catching Bruce's adoption habit oops #Bruce isn't a bad parent in this exactly #he's just not a good parent either #he loves his kids but his priorities are fucked up and his communication skills are worse than a literal rock's #I just have a lot of feelings about the abstract parallels that you could find between Talia & Jason #And about how Talia could be the mother that doesn't abandon or betray him #believe it or not I think I make this a dpxdc thing #got ideas about introducing Jazz to this whole mess lol #we'll see what happens #Jason - terribly concussed coming to in a private jet with Talia casually reading across from him #Jason: Am I being kidnapped?#Talia - gently and reassuringly: Oh no no no #Jason: Can I leave?#Talia: No.#Damian is gonna lose his damn mind over getting a big brother #Jason was gonna try and escape and go back to Gotham but Damian is just so cute? And loves him so much? And Talia is being so nice?

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