#its because of all the times he kidnapped him

[marcyvampire]

SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

[shigayokagayama]

mob warriors au redesigns and such, some i barely changed and others i pretty much started from scratch lol

full canvas and explanations under the cut, theres a bunch of other characters and stuff i didnt manage to fit or didnt have the energy to draw that ill probably get around to in the coming future

so by virtue of mob psycho kind of acting as a parody of a shonen in a lot of its characters and usage of tropes i felt like it was fitting that a warriors au sort of act as a parody of warriors.

basically, pretty much every major character is either a house cat of some sort, but they all see clan cats as these sort of cool aspirational things so they give themselves warrior names and know of general clan concepts (though, since the nearby clan left a long time ago due to twoleg construction on their territory, these concepts have sort of become distorted over time. istg i came up with this before warriorclan me and erin hunter just have some odd psychic link)

saltsplash (reigen) is a declawed kittypet who loves the taste of freshkill, so he has taken on the persona of a former medicine cat who came from far away on some sort of spiritual quest to help the cats in this area (in reality his owners just moved here) in order to get cats to catch prey for him in exchange for advice. flockpaw (mob) comes to him for advice, since he can see spirits and keeps getting dreams from starclan, and saltsplash agrees to take him as an apprentice

there is a pretty significant ghost problem in the area, the destruction of the moonstone equivalent (this isnt the setting of og warriors because i find switching what region/biome theyre in to be kind of part of the fun to making warriors aus so this is still japan. cats can now encounter monkeys.) has left a lot of souls trapped in the physical plane and unable to pass on. dimple (still going back and forth on his name) is one of these cats, he was a clan cat but so long ago that he's forgotten his original life and only remembers the goal of "bring back the clans with yourself as leader", which he initially tries to posses random cats to do before meeting flockpaw and settling on him as a good potential clan leader

the actual clans, meanwhile, have gone way downhill since they moved away. their numbers were dwindling pretty badly when hawkstar (toichiro) took over his clan, renamed it clawclan, conquered the other clans in the area and marked all his dissenters with scars, and has forged forward with the goal of reconquering their old territory in the twolegplace in the hopes that it will bring the clans back to their glory days. a lot of the more sensible cats, including his mate, have left the clan, so he's resorted to recruiting outsiders as well as kidnapping young cats with warrior potential in order to fill out their numbers

other stuff i dont want to write entire paragraphs for

-teru was someones outdoor cat but his owners moved :( he named himself starpaw and everyone who knows shit about the clans tries to tell him hes not allowed to do that but are too scared to argue further with him about it because he gets really pissed when you point it out

-the telepathy clubs goal is to meet lions, which everyone thinks arent real

-the awakening lab is mitsuura (curlystar maybe?)'s attempt to start his own clan

-the student council is a gang of young kittypets who have tasked themselves with enforcing "the warrior code" among the delinquents (rivals gangs of young alley cats). all the older cats see this as a game theyre playing and dont take it seriously

-flashpaw (mezato) was part of dimple's initial play to brainwash a bunch of cats into reforming a clan and worshiping "starclan" (him) and those group of cats have shifted to seeing flockpaw as starclans prophet, so she's trying to convince HIM to start a new clan

-rainshade (serizawa) was initially a kittypet who always hid in his cat carrier out of his fear of his starclan given powers, hawkstar found him on one of his recruiting missions because his mother was worried for him and was asking around for someone with experience with starclan

-mogami (crowflight maybe? maggotsomething?) was an actual former warrior who went to twolegplace to get help for his sick mother after starclan said there was nothing that could be done for her. kittypets offered to get her help in exchange for him helping them with spirit problems and got their owners to bring her to the cutter (vet) and when they did the vets put her down so he started killing cats about it seeing them all as selfish thugs beyond redemption before his own death and transformation into a vengeful spirit

-minori (still thinking of a name bc i dont have her design down) is someones very haughty purebred show cat who gets hella possessed.

-didnt anyone ever teach you feeding downed fledglings was bad manners?

-SunClan (the rising sun union) are a gang of random housecats, some of whom have actual StarClan connections and others are just opportunistic liars, who use extremely predatory means to help cats with their ghost problems (asking for a specific share of a cat's meals permanently rather than saltsplash's ask of like. one fresh songbird)

thats all the stuff i can think of off the top of my head but if you ask questions i can probably answer them bc ive been thinking about this since like. march 2022.

[nynyhaha]

Do you think Chrollo expected the Troupe to last 12+ years? The expectations set at the start largely determine his current views. How good did they do?

Now Ofc he’d want it to ✨last forever✨ or as long as possible,but how long did he think they’d actually get to live?

Chrollo in yorknew carries himself with a confidence that the Spider will live on way beyond him,we somewhat feel like the adventure is only starting. But at the same time he is lost and doesn’t really know the direction the Troupe is heading in.

At the start he mentioned offering up their lives in order to: -find Sarasa’s murderers and get revenge -free Meteor City from crime/mafia so that no child can be kidnapped again

We know the troupe later also broke the deal where Meteorians are exchanged for money. This is a significant achievement,it implies the Spider provides enough money instead,and it hints at the fact that the previous points are already done,that Chrollo has achieved what he planned.

Those were things that he was ready to die for,things for which the others were also ready to sacrifice themselves. And that’s what they kind of expected,right?

My theory is that they greatly surpassed their expectations.

If they were still fighting for any of the above,we wording have this sense of directionless roaming around that is present in the yorknew arc. The Spiders seem to be beyond the theme of revenge unless it directly affects them. Uvo even said he hates those who fight him for revenge reasons (and I wonder why).

Maybe little Chrollo would’ve marvelled at the progress he managed to make in those years,but he probably couldn’t know how it would affect his psyche. He knew he’d become a “villain” but he probably meant that he’d be fighting for a noble end using bad means. What is that end now?

The Spider needs some sort of plan to justify its existence. For its death to be a tragedy,it needs the will to live and some goal to achieve. Or is it a question of a candle stump losing its flame once it’s burned down?

Should the Spider just retire?

If they have achieved all of their previous goals,the answer could well be yes. Sadly those goals aren’t milestones that you have to reach once and for all,but Meteor City’s safety is fragile and needs maintenance.

And yet,it’s never stated as the reason why the Spider has to keep moving. Maybe to the characters it’s obvious,but we as the audience can only speculate. Also it would make the problem way too simple.

“Oh the Spider is still needed back at home” Ofc it is,duh,but that’s not enough to satisfy the quest for meaning.

It would be interesting if the Troupe started out as a team that’s some sort of necessary evil (and the backstory chapters present it in such light) but now that all it’s done it’s no longer necessary so just evil, but they don’t see it as such.

You know,a band of child soldiers that grew up and is now terrorising the world because their original purpose is completed.

But how is the Troupe unnecessary when it’s the solution to the Mafia problem? It’s rather that they don’t know how much more that can do and how much of that will matter at the end.

No one is forcing them. All of their duty is “self inflicted”,they chose to carry that burden.

Are they suffering from success?

Chrollo thought on the way to avenging Sarasa he might loose his own life or some of his friends. He made that commitment still,and then they all survived. Ok,they lost number 8 & 4,but those weren’t original members and it’s still lucky that the rest made it all the way to yorknew. Yk,after they’ve already done what they wanted (and yes,they have already found the murderers,fight me on that, I KNOW its the truth).

So Uvogin and Pakunoda didn’t die on the way,but after they’ve arrived at the top.(But at the top there was nothing :()

Is that to say that they could’ve hopped off and lived a safer life? At this point they were unable to. Much like Chrollo,they might not have a proper self outside the Spider. AND YET the reason it hurts so much is because they died for the Spider after it lost its main goal. This is why Chrollo quickly needs a reason to ground it all since they couldn’t have died for nothing.

There must be a reason why they’re still doing this other than “we can’t otherwise”, right?

RIGHT?

In conclusion, Chrollo is what happens after one survives the “Kurapika arc” and completes his revenge. He might be free to live on,but after he threw away his life and morals already,this existence looses meaning and so do all deaths for the sake of it.

[miquella-everywhere]

The way they try to characterize Miq in the DLC is just all over the place omg. He's wise enough to see the problem at its root, but not enough to realize that godhood isn't worth it and that he'd perpetuate the cycle. He's also not wise enough to pick a lord based on anything other than??? A childhood crush? Strong and kind, yup.

He's smart enough to have figured out where the Gate of Divinity is and how to use it, but not enough to know the Tarnished, whose whole thing is becoming Lord, would come after him. He has blinding strength, but had to send the twin he loved, and didn't want to succumb to the rot, to potentially do exactly that in facing against Radahn.

His bewitching is ultra powerful and he's cool with using it to achieve his goals, but couldn't have bewitched Radahn and baited him off a cliff or something to snatch his soul.

He's desperate to become a god, but he's fine sitting with this plan that hinges on someone killing Mohg and Radahn, or wait for the rot to kill him. He has enough follow through to become a god and make good on a vow from ??? ago, despite the nascency curse, but not enough to follow through for whatever purpose he gave us Torrent and the Spirit Tuning Bell, or do literally anything else.

Also, Ranni says she was "once" an empyrean, at a stage where the only thing she did in her plan was slay her "empyrean flesh". So it sounds like having empyrean flesh is an important part of being an empyrean? Because otherwise, there would have been no point in killing Godwyn's soul and her body? Or all the other demigods? So how is Miquella able to abandon his empyrean flesh in the cocoon, and then whatever the other flesh in the Land of Shadows is, and still become a god? Does being an empyrean just mean nothing?

Of all the too many cookbooks we got, I wish we got one for the Tonic of Forgetfulness. Time for DS1 I guess. At least the DLC final boss isn't Capra Demon, consort of Artorias.

Yes to all of this 👏

Miquella's character writing, thanks to the, is all over the damn place and I hate it. Miquella the Unalloyed and Miquella the Kind are genuinely two different characters and it's infuriating.

And Imo the thing that frustrates me the most is how in the base game Miquella was portrayed as this unparalleled genius, but in the DLC his "plan" is just so stupid, especially the Mohg part, because it's left so intentionally vague(about the circumstance of the kidnapping) but also in your face about Miq using Mohgs body for the Promised Retcon.

This whole thing literally makes no fucking sense and is frankly far too risky of a plan in general, like fuck, if we all remember that in the base game even Gideon had no fucking clue who Mohg even was or where he was hiding.

And you're trying to tell me that Miquella was seriously riding on a plan that quite literally hinged on the rare fucking chance and pure dumb luck that someone would come along and kill Mohg????

Miquella sending Malenia to kill Radahn to free the stars and cause the Eclipse to revive Godwyn made more sense and has more base game basis than this shit 😒

Absolutely horrendous writing, I will never forgive how they dumbed down Miquella the Unalloyed.

[headfullof-ideas]

I normally never post more of these so quickly after the last set, and I am shocked at how many people like the last set of Incorrect Quotes so fast. It’s probably Alpheus, who I feel I’ve gotten a better hang of, especially with the wires in his wetsuit. Anyways, have some of these goober cousins

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

something about qbad mentioning how much horror he put red team thru every time purgatory gets brought up... something about how proud dapper was of him.

like this is just my late-night read but- it feels like guilt qbad is trying to twist into pride. he keeps needling away at it. “i killed them all, over and over and over again.” “they were hunted by a monster.”

it’s like- reassurance. like a nail he’s trying o beat into his head. he’s had SO much trouble with legitimately hurting his friends, despite making that vow all the way back when the eggs first went missing, despite all the tree talk and the promises to save the kids no matter what. He never faltered with elq, and that protected them. He keeps faltering now. Sometimes he doesnt remember the code, or cucurucho, or skeppy. But that doesnt matter, right? Because he’ll protect the eggs. He’ll be the monster. he is the monster. he can and he will protect them even as his seams start ripping and he keeps breaking further and further apart. even at his worst, he’ll do whatever he needs to protect the eggs.

he’ll be the monster. wont he?

[olliepurples]

in homosexual white collar news today, neal is handing over his wedding ring for peter :/

[nie7027]

WAIT WHAT HOW DID WHISPERS FOUND OUT ABOUT WOLFGANG?? HE WAS THE ONE WHO HAD SHOWED THE LEAST TO HAVE SENSATE CONNECTIONS!!

will Riley and Nomi were obviously found out by the bpo and known to be connected (although I don't remember how whispers learnt about Nomi and Will being connected)

sun was probably the easiest to find out that was related to them since Nomi did a lot of hacking to help her which is something Sun couldn't have done on her own (and while the point of hacking is to leave not trace of you behind every person has its own style and no doubt the obp would be on the lockout for any hacking activity that smelled like something Nomi would do)

After that Capheus and Lito would be next in that order. Both showed out of the blue extraordinary capabilities that didn't make sense they knew and clearly marked them as sensates(just no way to know who they were connected to) just like the people visiting Capheus said. The only difference was that Capheus acts were widely known while Lito only had Dani and Joaquin as witness.

And finally Wolfgang mad Kala who showed it the less. In fact they didn't show it at all.

Kala with her perfect idyllic life never needed to make use of the others abilities (besides that one time will helped her defend herself at the temple).

And Wolfgang although did use the others abilities and pulled of amazing feats thanks to them all of those instances were stuff that would be credible he did on his own because they were in line with the type of person Wolfang is and what he's capable.

So yeah... HOW THE FUCK WAS HE FOUND OUT? While it made sense Lila would tell the obp about him she also said that the Cannibal was specifically looking for him!

So how???

Ugggh it really goes way too fastpaced in the last episodes and it doesn't make sense... the Wachowski sisters would never leave such a big pothole...

I know they had to skip a lot of explanations but...

Dammit netlix

[headphonemouse]

Ch. 427

Shin Yoosung pulling out premature grey hair on my head tackled the boy immediately.

I can't believe I forgot about kdj's premature grey hairs. Post epilogue dokjoong bald4bald

[dayurno]

To me ideal kidnap situation would Kevin and Neil (in a semi non violent aiming for the ramson scenario). Neil who has actual torture experience and does not shut up vs Kevin who is trying to get a good grade at being kidnapped. The kidnappers will be lucky if the police arrives before Andrew does.

i adore you people i truly do where else am i going to get an ask that starts so earnestly with “to me the ideal kidnap situation is…” SERIOUSLY. i feel like anyone who has motivation to kidnap kevin would probably not have it to kidnap neil just because the way i see it who kevin’s at risk of getting kidnapped by is stalkers or raven cultists (either fans or athletes themselves) who would ultimately not really care much for neil. BUT after neil’s dad kicks the bucket and neil tells the fbi everything he knows i do think neil would be put under an IMMENSE target for being a tattletale, and that would be a genuine concern of the moriyamas because his death would be an investment lost

to me the ideal (and funniest) situation is someone trying to kidnap neil and accidentally taking kevin along without recognizing him. can you imagine? you’re here for some fucked up kid of the butcher who put your entire livelihood as a criminal in danger and you happen to accidentally take a FAMOUS ATHLETE along. you were already wrong thinking no one would notice neil’s disappearance and now you have to deal with kevin day’s face blasted on the news everywhere because he went missing. like it’s seriously ridiculous. i think this kidnapper would probably just kill them and be done with it if i’m honest but since we’re having fun i will say that this person will dream of carcerary life if they ever encounter andrew minyard. kevin and neil get saved by moriyama agents eventually but kevin is never getting out of his house again

[scattered-winter]

well i was hoping this whole experience would have been some character development material for the king but well. alas

[purpleandstarlight]

Rereading an early DLTD chapter and getting hit with a nostalgic feeling over how (mostly) easy things were for the characters back then...

[hauntingblue]

I loved this movie about nami and her ex situationship reconciling and also anti capitalism

[dirt-str1der]

yk every time i see a post about somebody wishing bad things on another person i think ‘dirt-strider to kiryu’ you’ve broken me brain

You see a post thats like i want to stick him in time prison so that he gets so bored he starts breaking his own bones to get even a hint of stimulation and its tagged me at kiryu and you scroll down and its a post thats like i want to feed him chips from my cupped hands like a wild stallion and its also tagged me at kiryu also hiiiiiiiii

[albatris]

maybe i should post nat's first murder <3

[kurthorton-moving]

this isnt an au ive talked ab on the dash much its mostly been written on discord but i am thinking heavily about the au where kurt spends his entire teenage years kidnapped and finally escapes a little while after he turned eighteen and the way he has to adjust to the shift in his life from being hostage and conditioned into the lifestyle he lived vs freedom and rediscovering the world and more importantly rediscovering himself