#talia darling

[laufire]

Talia al Ghul for 3 hcs

I refuse to believe she doesn't strive to keep up with her medicine/doctor training. It's definitely an uphill battle sometimes with... everything in her life añklsdfjasf (the father stuff, the ex-lover stuff, the sister stuff, the son stuff, the whatever-Jason-is-but-that-definitely-wasn't-easy stuff...). She clings to it. It could be an alternative. It isn't, but it could be.

She's a voracious non-fiction reader, first and foremost, but also romance novels can be a bit of a guilty pleasure. Can be, because she often ends up frustrated with their gender dynamics, and with time she's grown more and more cynical about their endings.

The wardrobe in her Metropolis apartment is bigger than her room. She's a fashion icon <3

Bonus: if she had a daughter, she'd call her Melisande, after her mother (yes this will happen in my Jason&Talia as coparents + Jason playing matchmaker with Roytalia WIP, what about it xD).

send me a dc character and I’ll tell you 3-5 headcanons I have about them.

[acid-ixx]

〔00〕 — 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐌 : perfect perception

DIRECTORY: concept, chapter 00, chapter 01

it was always just you, and your family.

just you, your mother, twin brother, and grandfather. the puzzle is complete, there is no need for an extra couple of pieces to add on to your already satiated life. there is no need to work hard, or to endure painful endeavors to attain what you want; not when your family would complete it all for you.

it wasn't like you could, or should, complain, no? you have everything granted to you from when you were born. scarred hands, jagged figure, weary eyes; those aren't necessary for a person like you, who will always be sheltered, in both cozy blankets and loving arms. oblivious to the cruel world and pesting hands that claw on innocent beings like you.

a steady house life, a mother who shielded your innocence from all the bloodshed within the family's ordeals, who read to you fairytales, who had you sleep in her bed when you feared, when you foresaw what you thought were monsters under your bed. instead of inhibiting hatred for an heir who'd flinch at raising hands and the sound of clanging swords, she encouraged your meak demeanor and even spoiled tantrums. she runs her hands across your silky tresses, and kisses your forehead a thousand times if you'd even mention it in a passing moment. she dresses you in jewels, in velvety, silky clothes, and bathes you in toys and gifts you never seem to ask for. your little body sleeps on her chest, and listen the steady beat of her heart, calm and beating, all for you.

you teach her softness, and the joys of being a mother. a concept foreign in her eyes, raised opposite to you. she sees herself in you, and projects what should've been her childhood to her youngest twin child.

you have a twin brother, who, despite being born only a few minutes before you, was significantly older than you, both mentally and spiritually. from the moment he was taken into the world, his duty to take all your pain away and to become your very light was established. and like the warrior he is, he takes that daunting task and transforms it into motivation. he is your knight in shining armor, the prince who catches you when you fall, the one who braves your nightmares, the swordman to your royalty. he trains, all day and night, from such a young age to protect you from unnecessary dangers he understood even his mother fears you'd be subjected to. he does not complain, he does not find reasons to gripe; he takes the scars, the bruises, the punishments and missions all in stride. if it meant seeing you happy and unaware from all the cruelty of living; then so be it. as long as, by the end of the day, he comes back to your shared room to find your tiny form drawing a childish imagery of the little family you love and cherish.

you teach him compassion, vulnerability, and share with him the admiration for arts.

then there is your grandfather. a hardened leader, a monster to all those who serve, but an idol in the eyes of oblivious you. he justifies violence in the wake of achieving his goals, he doesn't tolerate mankind's treatment of nature and its animals, and takes the lives of those who dares oppose. but you are treated differently, like glass that shatters at the softest of hits. his words are sugarcoated and stripped down to the most infantine of comprehension, his eyes are soft every time he kneels to your level to gently request that you return to your room. ra's does not kneel, he does not plead, he does not stoop to those younger than him. but to you, naive and dewy-eyed, akin to a fawn hiding behind a mother's legs, he does. every week, he takes in various experts in the field of teaching to become your mentors in whatever passion you have. he is the foundation of your growth, and he prides himself in that regard.

from him, you learn your love of animals. from you, he learns of weakness, and defeat to such platonic desires.

with your little family, you are happy. you never have to find reasons to complain about food, clothes, or any luxuries their family, akin to royalty, could obtain. you have a family smothering you in affection, attention, to the point where all you have to do is smile at the slightest thing and notice how they melt to your whims.

you were never alone when you didn't want to, you were always guarded, safe, and constantly served.

as you should, as it always should be.

and it was a routine you were used to. you never complained, you never pondered beyond primitive knowledge, you had never desired for more, or wanted less. life was normal despite the strange arrangements with servants always being by your beck and call, or how your brother would always seem to come seeking you after another day of "hard work" your mother doesn't permit you to try, with gashes that litter his tan skin and usually sharp eyes, still fixed with a glare though softened once your arms come to coddle him as a reward.

he finds comfort in your hold. it never once registered within you his ever-growing strength and how his hold on you would always seem to to tighten whenever a potential friend would pass by.

yet you are loved either way, you are cared for. what more is there to ask when you have and always been the singular pearl dripping with grace, poise, and a softness beyond the brutish weapons swung within the training grounds your brother finds himself in.

you are loved by everybody: by your mother, by your brother, by your grandfather, and you're the necessary voice that calls out mercy for whenever a servant would be punished for maintaining a less than satisfactory performance when it comes to serving you. you're the light of reason beyond instictive swings of the sword and the impulsive raise of a voice demanding for battle to settle a deal; biting your lips in disappointment every time your mother attempts to punish a small mistake a servant would do right in front of you.

although certain voices in the hallways find your presence... unsavory, out of place, or they simply pity you; whispers filtering through the kind words everyone else never withdraws from you— nonetheless, they'd have no choice but to obey your childish whims, to smile at you, to be kind and diligent to your emotions.

everything is perfect.

yes, yes it is. an undeniable fact within the factions of your heart. you ignore the subtle strain within your chest, the way the emptiness becomes blatant, and the misunderstood desire for something else... something greater, far beyond the honor of your current family; and replace it with temporary joy.

a joy that softly smiles at the piling gifts, a joy that teaches itself to be good, to be grateful, and to dismiss the ever-changing spotlight you have for your family.

to ignore their hushed whispers whenever your small, eight-year old form with wide eyes, holding a toy between your chest, inquire about what they're discussing with that requires such... strained air and ridged poses.

to ignore their careful words, their gentle hands that pats your hair, that beckons you to come to a different room, and the irritation and bubbling tantrums paired with the heat that wraps your boiling thoughts and clenching hands.

you ignore, and try to neglect that growing ache that insurmountably never passes.

even if you lay in bed every night, unable to sleep, gaining consciousness slowly but surely after another day passes.

you ignore, and dismiss, and it all becomes a cycle that you ought to never break, to never rupture with childish curiosity and the thirst for wisdom.

... because everything is perfect.

everything is perfect. like the candlelight beams of the moon dancing through victorian styled windows, fluttering past the curtains to kiss your resting body every night you lay sleeping on a king-sized mattress, surrounded by soft, cotton plushies and silky, cool blankets as your brother coddles you; your head laying on his chest like routine.

it is perfect like the gardens of flowers all planted with your favorites, an array of colors harmoniously dancing to the sway of traversing winds and bumbling pollinators.

it is perfect like the daily hustle and bustle of your servants, buzzing through wide spans of hallways with their voices mingling through busy air and the wafting scent of a new delicacy your mother ornately chose for you to try.

everything was perfect, until it wasn't.

until the illusion of completeness, of unity and satisfaction were shattered like the bones of your brother's opponents, powderized to mere dust.

until you take notice of the hollow piece in your heart, until your servant mentions a father (a word so foreign, so similar to mother... but different all the same) in mere passing when you two had conversed whilst they were tying your shoes.

at first, you didn't pay a mind, proposing to yourself that you'd ask your mother instead after you've finished your daily assignments.

but then, unlike every other time where you dismissed, ignored and forgot— you began to ponder.

the word, the meaning, its possible etymology and every historical relationship it might've contained; a lesson your brilliant mentor taught you, one that served as a paveway for curious, little you, to investigate.

a trait you're sure nobody really tackled within your family.

if that is so, then where does your stubbornness, your drive to seek answers, come from?

you try to solve the puzzle pieces, ones you thought were never present in your life, your mind wracking through stored memories of a young, prying individual like you; until you came to a conclusion.

does it possibly come from a... father?

father...?

father?

father.

... your brother, too, said the same word.

when he was tired and beat from his training, when all he wanted was a singular hug, whose hands were stained with dripping ichor and knees bruised from hitting upon rocky ground. his emerald eyes were seeking your presence, and you find how his delirious state, itching for calm after another stormy trial of missions, was abnormal; unlike you who flinched at the dizzying scent of blood.

too mature, now you've noticed. a presence that exudes superiority, that takes the lives of those who rebel, that punishes anything less than perfect; that only softens, whose shoulders only sag when he takes in your presence within the same room as him— traits too foreign in the midst of a brother the same age as you.

so when you denied him of oasis, when your young brain was too scared, too worried and all the more wishing for answers on why he always comes back bleeding and injured, rejecting his offer for you to come closer— he all but seethes, and instead sighs; watching your quivering lips and the igniting fight in your eyes, a shaded mixture of your mother's and his.

"you're exactly like what mother told me. stubborn like our father when inconsolable... but i love you too much, akhi/akhti, to care for your lesser."

he muttered under his breath, emerald eyes gleaming under moonlit glow as he looks at you, emotions too miscellaneous beyond the swirling pools of green that always keeps a watch on you.

sometimes, he feels less like a brother and more of a knight. sometimes, you wish to rebel and instead dig deep into what's been happening to your brother these past few years, shaped by experience you never once caught yourself transpiring through. sometimes, you wish he doesn't treat you like a glass ornament.

sometimes, you wish you had a normal family.

as much as his words were sweet, as much as you would've felt warmth at the mere affection and exception he holds you in regard to his heart, even if he takes your body in his arms prior to your previous rejection, all but melting and rocking your body to sleep; a common method he utilizes to make you feel drowsy, and to eventually forget the blood on his sheathed sword and sinful hands once your eyes drift to a close—

you still reflect upon his words even if weeks had already passed by after that incident, even if he must've thought your somnolence was enough to dismiss whatever was the 'grammatical' mistake he'd mumbled that night was a product of fatigue after a long day of work.

... because despite being the perfect family, despite the love and care they foster within your heart; washing off the beating emptiness in your chest was harder than any injuries you've obtained after momentary clumsiness.

at least you knew when those scars were incurred, at least you had people to comfort you through the tears that escaped through your eyes.

but this immaterial emptiness has long since festered within the confines of your caged soul.

it beckons you to choose rebellion, it traps your thumping heart and tightens its hold on it, snaring it in a pit you couldn't crawl yourself out of.

desire drives you further away from delusion, from the foundations of weaved lies and rose-tinted picturesque perfection.

and you began to crave satiation to at least mend the missing puzzle piece in your heart; piece by piece, stitch by stitch.

who is your father? what is a father? why did dami told me i'm like... our father?

as you sit alone in your bed, toys long forgotten, alone with only the cool breeze fluttering by your window to accompany you. the questions begin to grate at your mind, yet all you do is bring your knees closer to your chest, lips dry at the forgone isolation you put yourself through after a cycle of endless thinking.

"momma will be here soon," you mutter to yourself. your voice, meek and highly pitched, young and cradling childish curiosity; it breaks at the seams when your fingers bring itself to touch and wipe away at wet cheeks and tender, aching eyes.

dami was right; you are stubborn like your father.

because even if they try all necessary means to shroud your life in seclusion from reality— you don't easily back out of a losing fight.

even if the tears you shed from the lack of progress were insurmountable, even if you knew you were at a physical disadvantage shall push come to shove where you'd have to fight your dearest brother, even if it means struggling against the invisible shackle your beloved family locked you in.

because your perfect perception of your fucked up family has long since dissipated from the moment your servant and your brother mentioned a foreign word.

a simple word, a small mistake, yet acting as a newer path of life that long since diverged from the only way you knew how to live.

and you still wish to solve the mystery of your forlorn emptiness.

will you give up just so easily? would the tears you shed all become mere depression?

no, not even as you sit in your too-huge bed, with no clue on where or how to start a hopeless journey; too young to plan, too little to fight, too tenderhearted in the views of your family.

even then, your red, rubbed raw eyes seek to look back on your first hint from within the room

a dictionary was sprawled across the opposite end of the bed, thrown haphazardly, opened to a certain page that highlights words closest to 'father'.

you crawl, with sore arms and wobbly legs, to retrieve the heavy, hard-bound and gold-encased dictionary, lounging on your bed with a damaged spine.

your fingers return to traverse multiple pages yet again—

stubborn, impatient and impulsive.

earlier, it came to you in the form of realization that the dictionary your mentor assigned you to read had a missing word cut precisely with a blade and replaced with an unintelligible one.

earlier, you realized just how much your perfect family was only perfect because they've hidden the truth from you.

earlier should've been years ago, earlier should've never been swept off the rug so easily. but what could an eight year old like you do? you've none of damian's talents to quickly learn, you're raised differently. it is only now you wish you weren't so gullible.

and as your fingers strum against pages, near to ripping out expensive paper, tears unceasing, lips bitten 'til bleeding— you learn, and you grow beyond simple comprehension.

motivation, and the drive to uncover all things unsaid, even if the end would result in something negative.

through them, you'll soon learn of spite, of anguish, and bitter contempt.

but for now, you're merely left alone, with only a mantra of words all circling back to dami's words; so many questions left unanswered.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: honestly don't know half of what i wrote + i don't like this as much as i wanted it to come out. this went through multiple revisions with an added fact of me trying to discern why my writing style keeps fluctuating 😭 guys please comment about what you think of this. if this flops, i'm gonna quit writing LMAO. this is a bit more formal than my usual style (re: again & again) because i wanted to capture the regality of the al ghul's family partly told through the perspective of a child.

taglist: @th0rn118, @obsessedwithromance @rogueofbullshit @ch1cky-093, @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd, @confused-they @biiibs01, @ghostdoodlen, @earlqurl, @chericia, @herebyaccident0, @ilovemyhusbandnanami, @mintynilla, @lilyalone, @anonymousdisco, @plsfckmedxddy, @maria-figueiredo, @143637-hrrm, @neerathebrightstar, @jsprien213, @realifezompire, @sammytheotakunerd, @sh4rk-k1d, @confused-they, @peptox, @lillian-morningstar.

[bittersweetcreep]

All According to Plan Red Luna! Darling x Yandere! Damian

Part 2

It was a quiet night in Gotham City. The crime rate was (at the moment) low, so Luna's patrol was peaceful, which was rare. Although Luna wasn't patrolling alone tonight, Nightwing is accompanying her. Nightwing is usually a chatterbox, talking about various topics in one breath, but he's quiet and alert seemingly on edge.

Luna isn't a fool she knows they're being followed, but unlike Nightwing, she knows by who. Letting out a sigh, she started to tap on the closest surface to her, which was a light pole.

°You can come out Talia°

Confused Nightwing asked, "Talia?". Stepping out of the shadows was a woman with high cheekbones, long brown hair, and green eyes. Nightwing took on a defensive stance, but Luna didn't. She calmly walked up to the woman with no hesitants and started to sign

°Talia, I'm on patrol still°

"I know dear, but your patrol is coming to an end. And I thought about picking you up for our ladies' night. "

Bewildered, Nightwing cleared his throat in an attempt to draw attention towards him. "Luna, who's this?"

°This is Talia she's my friend..... I think.° Placing a dramatic hand over her heart, the brunette playfully said, "Luna, I'm hurt you would question our friendship."

°You did try to assassinate me when we met, but now you've been trying to set up me up with your son ever since then, so I'm inclined to think you have some ulterior motive°

With a horrified expression, Nightwing screamed, "SHE TRIED TO WHAT!?" The man is close to having a freakout, and what Luna signed next didn't help him at all. °Talia and a number of her assassins ambushed me on one of my patrols, but I took care of them.°

"You took down 30 of my men and permanently put them out of commission. It was quite impressive." Talia said this with a fond expression while stroking the girl's hair. Luna took notice of the look Nightwing gave her.

°Do not fret, they're not dead. Just paralyzed or become amputees.°

Before Nightwing could say or do anything, Batman was calling him through his earpiece. He was asking for both vigilantes needing backup. Answering him with a quick "We're on our way." and just like that, they were off. The ravenette couldn't help but think 'talk about being saved by the bell.'

Talia watched them run off in the distance. She made sure they were long gone before she spoke. "There's no point in hiding from your mother, Damian." Jumping down from his hiding spot, Damian gave his mother a hostile look. "You have no right trying to assassinate her!" Turning to look at her son Talia asked. "So... are you two dating?"

"No, but that'll change soon. Got a problem with that mother?"

"A problem? Yes. The problem is that you're not dating her." He was taken aback by his mother's response, not expecting this turn of events. With a surprised tone, Damian asked "You support me?"

"When I first found out you've become infatuated with someone it didn't matter who it was I wouldn't support it, but when I saw her fight and having fought her myself I can see why you've become smitten."

"SHE FOUGHT YOU!?"

The brunette let out an amused chuckle and continued to speak. "Yes, she did, and I lost." Damian's eyes were the size of dinner plates while also sporting a massive grin. He couldn't help but feel smug and was proud of his girl. "I should be going. I can't keep her waiting."

Skeptical of his mother's motives for having these ladies' nights knowing they're not for her getting to know Luna. "So what are these ladies' nights for really?" With a smirk, Talia clued Damian in on her motives. "I'm gathering info that'll be useful to obtain her heart. I've been at this for 2 weeks now and have sent my men in my stead when I'm unavailable." This has piqued Damian's interest. "What have you gathered so far?"

"You have my number, right? I'll text you what I know. Oh, and before i go, you should try seeing her as a civilian."

"Why? Got some plan?"

With a smirk, she turned away while saying, "Yes, I do." and then she left.

Bonus Scene

The police shoved The Penguin in their truck, and then they took off down the road. Luna turned to look at the older men behind her. °Please excuse me, I must be off.° bidding a farwell to both men, the (h/c) took off. Nightwing shouted after her, turning to look at him he was wearing an anxious expression. "Be careful." With a nod of her head, she turned back around and took off.

Batman gave Nightwing a hard look. "Spill it." With a deep sigh, he answered the Dark Knight. "She knows Talia." The air between them became tense. "How?"

"She tried to assassinate Luna. Luna fought a number of her men and won. Now she's trying to set her and Damian up." With a deep sigh, he continued. "Why would she even want them to date?"

"She wants them to have children." Nightwing didn't have to ask why Talia chose Luna.

[everyscreentoobeseen]

John/Joker has a million different pet names for Bruce/Batman but the singular pet name Bruce has for John is Buddy.

[misscaptaincat]

Couple goals out on the beach😍 🫶🏼🙌🏼

(Was feeling single here irl🥲)

Talia x wally! Talia is my self-insert persona 🤗 but I talk more in 3rd person cause why not😤. I already drew Talia with wally a few times already of tiktok 😋 @misscaptaincat

[betterbooksandthings]

"A-spec and asexual romance novels might just be my favorite kind of romance novels. The communication is next level, the interpersonal plots are to die for, and, even better, at least one character is ace.

Really, the A-spec community has a lot to offer romance readers who’ve already bought into the project of romance at large. I.e. readers buy into the idea that the characters are going to have a happily ever after or happy for now (HEA/HFN). The joy of romance is figuring out just how those two people will get from point A to point B.

A-spec characters introduce an added layer of communication and consideration into the character’s interpersonal relationship that can sometimes get glossed over or assumed in other relationships. Allosexual and alloromantic couples do not always separate their layers of attraction (sexual, romantic, platonic, aesthetic, etc.). Don’t get me wrong: they can consider the varied ways they are attracted to and want to interact romantically, platonically, or sexually with another person. It just doesn’t happen all too often.

In contrast, I love the range of interactions asexual romance novels give readers. Some decide to do an info-dump style AVEN (Asexual Visibility and Education Network) definition. Others describe how they experience attraction and go into their feelings about what they are comfortable with the people they are in a relationship with. However they happen, these are conversations that clarify and crystalize relationships on the page for readers in satisfyingly intricate ways.

The Range of A-spec and Asexual Romance Novels

There are more and more a-spec and asexual romance books being published every year in every romance subgenre. So, there are more and more opportunities for new approaches to representing a-spec characters in interpersonal relationships with an HEA/HFN that feel more authentic to individual readers. Not every book is going to land for every reader. What I like in these a-spec and asexual romance novels might be something you dislike.

All that being said, I had a terrible time narrowing down my list to just the 16 best asexual romance novels. These books have a range of a-spec characters who are aromantic, asexual, demisexual, demiromantic, and gray ace. I have broken them up into contemporary romance, historical romance, romantasy, horror romance, and paranormal romance."

[genny-grotesque]

maybe its the lesbian in me but i think talia al ghul and catwoman should forget bruce and fuck each other

LIKE?????

[kelpie-writes]

Intro Post!

General Info

Name: Kelpie

Pronouns: they/them

Genres: fantasy, sci-fi, dystopian, YA

Main Blog: @witch-of-the-sands

I'm not great at writing yet since I've only been doing it for roughly 6-ish years so this will be mostly WIP gabbing and OC brainrot.

WIP info

(I'm currently working on a masterdoc for all my WIPs as well as WIP and character intros!)

My main two stories (with names) currently are:

The Dark Place

A teen dystopian sci-fi where a government will buy children from poor families to experiment on them for militaristic purposes. Members of their experiments, however, have slowly been breaking out of their testing facilities over the last 8 years and how slowly been building a resistance called The Dark Place.

Main Characters: Pipe (Peter) Darling, Solstice Basara, Jace Ivord, Caroline Darling, Forrest Addison

This one is a joint work with a friend of mine!

Westwood

Set far in the future, the entire solar system has been conquered by humanity. Anywhere and everywhere is capable of being traveled to. For triplets Violet, Bell, and Senna Carter, however, they've been stuck on Mars for as long as they can remember. But when their father gets a new job as a biological history professor at the mysterious (and private) Westwood University in New America on Earth, they get the chance to leave just in time for their freshman year of college.

Violet, struggling through the first semester of college, meets Talia Maitra-West, her English tutor, and also the granddaughter of the Dean.

Senna, known for his graffiti murals on Mars, finds himself ostracized in his traditional art classes until he meets the mysterious Corbyn at a party one night, a body modification apprentice in the nearby college town.

Bell, goes missing right after spring break.

When the police entirely unhelpful, Violet and Senna decide to go on the hunt for themselves.

Main Characters: Violet Carter, Talia Maitra-West Bell Carter, Senna Carter

[rosalinesurvived]

Need me a funky little hotd/teen wolf au. The Hightowers are an ancient hunter family while the Targaryens are werewolves. Alicent was childhood girl bestie companions with Rhaenyra who never told Ali she was a werewolf out of fear of driving her away. Alicent was married to Viserys as a peace offer by Otto, ultimately leading to a war. Gwayne and later Criston teach Ali how to be a hunter to kill her bitch husband…

[porto-rosso]

she does not fucking look like that...

[brutalage]

she'd bury his body in a concrete box with no openings and see how long it takes him to get out

my muse is dead . tell me how yours responds to the news / not accepting !

[acid-ixx]

do i look like him?

— just another series concept. please note that talia sexually assaulting bruce is retconned in whatever portrayal i have of her. i will not tolerate any racist or sexist remarks towards her character for a mischaracterized version of her, written by some gooner.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

i don't know if anybody would be interested in a certain premise i'm planning. taylor's song, "like him" is resonating off of my body, and i've a draft written inspired off of the song featuring yandere batfam x damian's twin! reader x yandere! al ghul family.

wherein instead of being neglected, you're treated like royalty by your own family. your twin is subjected to the cruelty of being raised as an assassin. you're met with scarred hands, nicked back, and calloused skin every time he comes back from your shared room after another particularly harsh training. yet every time you worry for your older twin, he'd silence you with the same bloodied hands that handled bodies like ragdolls, gently like it has never killed, with hushed promises whispered by your ear that "this is necessary for your protection, akhi/akhti."

at first you'd be convinced that this family lifestyle is normal. your mother is doting, she is kind, she is where you learned the word mercy; unlike the fierce image she displays in public. you're often spoiled rotten with her favorite shades of clothes, and her teachings emanate within you a deep sense of loving for animals. you never truly see her cruelty for other humans, as she often makes you sit by her lap upon a seat you call a throne when you were all but a mere five year old, playing with your hair, muttering affirmations and cradling you on her chest every time you ponder too deeply about the word, 'father'.

a word you'd read from those fairytales by the library, a word you craved to know, a word forbidden to be stated by everybody within your castle-like home.

she'll call upon your brother every time your curiosity gets the best of you, and the duo would try their best to sway your attention away with playtime. either it'd be stories, or damian showing you new tricks he'd learn from masters long overthrown by your twin, or it would be as simple as talia dragging both her beloved children to the huge kitchen, demanding the head chefs to bake you and your brother's favorite dessert (a little moment to spoil your brother after a hard-earned day of training, even if damian isn't always fond of sweet confectionaries; your grin would always tempt him to take a bite of your food if it means spending a day being himself).

it seems even damian plays along with the sick fantasy of not acknowledging the possibility of an alive father figure to you. not like you'd be aware of it, too caught up with your grandfather teaching you about rare species' on the verge of extinction, his (rarely) soft gaze fixed on the way your small body would gently pat the face of his wolf companion, or your brother constantly vying for you, his younger twin's, attention, eliminating all possible rivals who could potentially act as your future playmate that only he has the privilege for, or how your mother seeks you, her youngest baby, out, for a day of rest after another mission, doting smooches on your face, her lipstick smearing all over the soft chub of your cheeks, dismissing your pouts

a perfect family, with not much left to desire for your part.

so why is it that talia would often hear damian complain about your sudden fixation about a father figure? you'd mumble, something about one of your servants who mentioned visiting her father for vacation, a man who works as a merchant for his family; you asked them what your father's job was, what his name was, "why isn't he here at the family dinner?"

you asked, with wide, pitiful eyes, a feature long foreign for hardened assassins, but associated only with you. a quality nobody in the league dares to criticize; your gentleness the only thing keeping their leaders sane, keeping most servants alive as you find precious each and every single living being; not exclusive to animals or plants, but to humans too.

you're the league's only hope for reprieve, for softness in the moments of emboldened duties and priorities. you're the fingers that caress on calloused skin and the lips that kiss bloody scars. the hearth that warms even the coldest of hearts.

which was why nobody attempted to answer you, no matter how much it breaks your heart; because nobody wanted to ruin your soft and kind heart, or see the sullen droop in your eyes, or red, sniffling nose.

yet once ra's heard the confession of you being aware of what a father is like through the mouth of your servant, he'd immediately demanded another assassin to eliminate whoever dared mentioned such preposterous concepts to his grandchild.

throughout their rage, throughout damian nuzzling his head on the crown of your, muttering that whatever his baby sibling is sputtering is nonsensical, mere fantasy, arms encasing your entire body. he'd cradle you, run his hands against your hair even with furrowed, always angered brows; all the same questions lingered in the back of their minds:

is your current family not enough? why is it that the more you grow, the more you... wear the same expression of stubbornness, a quality your mother is sure you've adopted from you... father.

she may not be the best mother, taking both you and damian away from the arms of bruce wayne after she had learned about her pregnancy after a night spent together with the man, but she did it for the sake of her children; for your future, too.

bruce wayne will not be a good influence to you. if he tries so much to subject you into becoming another one of his robins, destroying your innocence, your perception of the world into a bleak portrayal of lackluster colors— ra's wouldn't hesitate to destroy the entirety of bruce's home.

and the manor is nothing! nothing, mind you, compared to the castle you call your home. only you deserve the richest of the rich, the shiniest jewels and the best treatment in the world. what more can gotham offer you? what more, if not for broken bones and bruised knees?

and so they settled upon ruining your perception of your father, with no known face to be plastered upon your memory, no known source, or picture— at such an early age.

if you yearn so much for a father, why not paint the image as dark as the cowl he wears?

why don't they feed you lies about him never wanting you and your twin in the first place? you'll be given opportunities to call an empty line, hoping your father would pick up, would respond and tell you that he's coming for you. they'll give you time to write letters, even if it takes your crummy fingers hours to finish a dedicated letter for your father, after years of being unable to meet him; it causes all the more ache in your mother's chest, witnessing her beloved youngest stay up late, whispering whimsical wishes about how excited you are to read your father's reply to you.

all your mother could do was kiss your forehead as she sat by your side, and rub your delicate cheeks with her fingers, mumbling that her baby should sleep now.

your mother never lies to you, no?

at least, not outright in your face.

damian, hates seeing the heartbreak in your eyes, but he's the very same twin who comforts you every damn time you fall to your knees after discovering that the letters you sent to your father's locations were long since unanswered — even if they're all hidden away in a vault of every possession you thought you lost. he'll pick you up with his trained body, and you'll melt even further into his form, shivering at the prospect that you're an unwanted child in the face of your father.

soon.

soon, you'll learn to despise bruce with every being of your soul, and learn to only reserve the association of warmth for your only family. you'll be the spoiled royal of the al ghul, and you'll come to find yourself grateful that you're raised without his presence, deluded into thinking that he abandoned you, that he never truly cared in the first place.

you love your family, you hate bruce wayne.

he is not family.

he is not your father, he lost that status long ago right after you thought he'd ignore all your calls, your messages, letters, gifts, every and any signal sent to the man you once called your father right after learning his name. he made you hope, he left the light flicker once flickering within you now blown away, leaving only an empty husk of your wanting to meet your father.

you hate bruce, you hate him so fucking much, you're ashamed that he's even your father in the first place— even if he's the very same man working tirelessly, day and night, to save you, once he caught news of what his children looks like, and locks eyes with your hopeful ones, a rare sight amongst the imagery of assassin. he plans to retrieve you, to save you, from the castle you call your home; truly what you call your cage.

little did you know that you are more like your father than you are with what you call your family.

— heavily inspired by @anxiousnerdwritings portrayal of twin!reader.

a/n: i honestly don't know half of what i wrote. i'm out of my mind, and i'm honestly not confident with the outcome of this concept. if people do like it (leave comments, or inputs, or whatsoever) i might post a chapter about this (since i do have one written in my drafts a week or two ago). if not, i'm dropping this and leaving it as a concept mostly, a one-time thing at best. so if anybody does like this, please do tell me. i do have a lot in store for this concept, specifically the way manipulation works within this family convincing you the other side is evil; i've been through this once w/ my family actually ngl, so writing this was a bit fun.

[commissions-yourmajesty-open]

It reminds me of the Bojack Horseman Poem; The View from halfway down. /pos when the door (death) was approaching and he would stutter and panicked and stop halfway through speaking.

guys how fucked up would it have been if in ride the cyclone each character sang their song and then before the play goes back into motion they repeat their last words. Just after their song completely out of nowhere a panicked little “I wanna get off” or “hold on hold on hold on we’re gonna be fine”

[wttnblog]

9 October 2023 Book Releases You Need To Read

I know this post is weeks late, but nevertheless I wanted to give all of the October book releases the attention they deserve. There’s so many incredible books coming out and it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t take the time to scream about them! For the most part, all of the books on the list are contemporary fiction, although there are a couple of thrillers mixed in there for your enjoyment. As…

[spicy-apple-pie]

Wait, I got another crack fic idea!!!

Super Villain but Good Mom Talia.

Like she’s cartoonishly evil, but also openly communicates with Bruce about their son. So it kinda looks like:

Talia: “Yes, our plan to take over the world is underway and coming along nicely >:)”

Damian: “Not so fast, Mother!”

Talia: “Ah my darling- wait… it’s a school night.”

Damian: “uh…”

Talia: “And where is your Father? Young man, I expect you home at once. I need to have a few words with Bruce.”

Later, Talia’s on the phone: “I don’t care that he snuck out, you’re telling me you couldn’t catch a 10 year old? …You also trained with the League of Assassins!! And additional experience outside of that… Thank you. And how is he doing in school? …Wonderful, I expect nothing less of my boy… and I’m still waiting on those school pictures by the way.

[ghostbsuter]

"Hi darling." Talia stands strong, relaxed with her assasins at her back, on the path.

Danny smiles at the sight, ducking when people started looking their way before hurrying to his mom.

Talia ushers him into the car, windows tinted and the personnel protective as they enter.

It was alright, Danny could handle his classmates tomorrow, now he gets to enjoy his mother's rare visits.

—

An au where Danny had chosen civilian life, got sent over to past workers of the league who had retired under Talia's watchful eye.

Was talia living essentially a double life? Yes. Neither of her sons knew of each other, she isn't going to ruin the perfect harmony.

One son at his father's side, the other in safety. She would fulfil their wishes.