Some of you reading this are already trapped acquainted with the void and have figured out how to traverse this place but maybe you don't know all the secrets the void has to offer...
I DONT HAVE A MASTERLIST TO OFFER.
Settle in, there's always room in the void! There's no end! However, there are some things you should know that will keep you from getting lost...hopefully. Or atleast that's what we're told to say 🤷♀️. Can't get out
I try to be multifandom but that's flopping and so I write whatever I'm obsessed with. I have no update schedule. Vanity gets stressed easily and is only here to have a good time with everyone.
Hey, I've been called Vanity and been called Vannie. So thats basically my name now. Cant remember It's a pleasure to meet you! Let me out!
IM WRITING FOR...
Batman
Resident Evil Village
Perhaps some horror movie characters
Ground rules!
Do not question who are ✨️the council✨️. They're watching.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE NOT REAL. DO NOT CONSIDER THEM AS SUCH. ANY AND ALL VIEWS EXPRESSED BY A CHARACTER ARE NOT VANNIE'S REAL OPINIONS. DO NOT COME AT VANITY FOR ANYTHING SAID OR DONE IN ANY WRITING. THIS IS ALL FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES.
No Smut!
Do not request for anything like S/A, incest and anything of this nature. Gore and murder is accepted.
With the new label system on tumblr, Vanity will be marking fics that would require a warning under these labels. Therefore making it easier for those to avoid triggering content. That being in mind, you are reading at your own risk. By accepting the warning on the post, you are accepting that there is mature content and accepting this risk.
Please note...
All GIFs used are not mine! Vanity isn't that talented.
The void doesn't have any masterlists! This place is far too big for masterlists. It never ends.
Is there anything left- else?
✨️The Council✨️ will be watching Vanity. If Vanity goes off the rails please contact [REDACTED] at [REDACTED]. Vanity must be contained at all costs!
The worlds population could be split in half for various preferences. Jonathan and his long term partner, (Y/N), were on opposing ends for many of those yet somehow they balanced each other out.
The biggest issue to solve when moving in together was how to make Jonathan's space more of (Y/N)’s. Jonathan was very particular about the placement of his things and anything out of that place set him on edge. (Y/N) used to tease him about OCD which Jonathan was quick to rebut that if he had a compulsion or obsessive tendencies about object placement, it'd be much more uncomfortable for him and (Y/N). That OCD in itself is not a condition of light-hearted quirks that are so relatable. It was disruptive and could bend and twist the mind into exhaustion but that by no means was ever where it ended. That exhaustion was never the end goal. No, Jonathan's 'affliction’, if it had to be worded so, was nothing of mental illness and instead something much more mundane. He grew up an only child. His space was and had been his own. He'd never had to share anything. The closest thing was a college dorm and that was an easy split the room down the middle. Another divide. Yet the relationship had changed that unspoken rule and encouraged a merge of two people into a home. Jonathan was never very good at seeing anywhere he lived as a home. Rather just an open plan with a few rooms that he paid money to keep and sometimes might actually go into his bed for sleep. Home wasn't considered a comfort in his mind. Home was somewhere under his control.
Jonathan liked his own company, and liked solitude. He even considered being alone in his apartment for an extended period of time a sanctuary. (Y/N) intruded on that unintentionally, and only recently had he gotten comfortable again and able to still unwind in their presence. Yet that was when his partner had some adjusting to do.
(Y/N) was not so good at being alone. It wasn't that they hated their own company or were clingy. They could handle it but as time went on the discomfort crept through. Jonathan's apartment seemed to be a rife breeding ground for that slight sinking feeling in their stomach. It gradually made the world heavier and heavier to bear.
(Y/N) was quick to occupy herself in the evening. Dinner, TV (two minutes of the debates before Gotham's mayoral elections came up before it became insufferable and switching to sitcoms.) Now it was music from the phone joining the ramble of background noise from the TV. All in attempt to scratch that itch of unease that had power over the hair on the back of their neck.
Upon draining the water in the sink, dishes completed, (Y/N) paused at a faint noise. The gurgling of the drain muffled it but it was enough to pause any movements. At first it sounded like a distorted whistling. However it wasn't consistent to be the consequence of water in the pipes. Pausing the music, (Y/N) leaned closer to the drain, listening closely. Upon hearing the noise clearer, they reeled back in alarm at the sound of a muffled sob.
It couldn't have been that. A trick, water hitting metal, gliding through the pipes. Not a sob. Specifically not a female gargled sob overpowered by water. Denial was hard to grasp with a mind ready to jump to conclusions. Then it was audible again a little louder but not coming from the drain at all. It sounded like it was somewhere in the apartment complex. Not specifically the drains.
Within thirty minutes, It wasn't even a sob. It was a wail and definitely a woman. She sounded in extreme distress. Once again the population could be split in two. Those who'd run to aid at the sound of such a cry and those who'd shy away, their own survival instincts keeping them from interfering. (Y/N) was the latter- conflicted and unhappy with it on a moral standpoint but to argue interference implied being useful or beneficial. They doubted their input was either of those. Yet doing nothing still felt wrong. A sudden thought of calling the GCPD came to mind. Just because (Y/N's) input could be unhelpful didn't mean so for the authorities. Hesitation again…and tell them what? Someone's crying? No name, sounds female, no idea where in the building it was coming from. Did that even warrant a wellness check? Were there conditions for a wellness check? What about a noise complaint? That didn't sound ideal either. It sounded like more of a nuisance to be so distressed only for officers to show up to insist someone quieten down. Or if something was truly wrong could that make things worse? Say an angry boyfriend now enraged at police intervention and has a tendency to take out his anger on those closest to him. (Y/N) didn't want that on her conscience either. Although at this rate it seemed like it would take a beating- action or inaction. (Y/N) jumped at the sound of a not so gentle knock at the front door.
Jonathan looked up from his paperwork. The cheap lamps were not enough to illuminate beyond its general vicinity so he had three around the room. Although they made up for it with the soft lighting. Nothing too clinical but not too warm either to induce tiredness. A soft glow that blended productivity and comfort together. Jonathan sat back in his chair feeling his stiff back muscles and his shoulders and arm joints popping and heard their creak. He often sat in the same position for.long hours and age, even if not considered old yet, did not thank him for it and in fact made displeasure known with every year. He checked his watch. 9:48pm. Nearly five hours since he was supposed to be home. Nowadays he'd send a message to (Y/N) to expect him on time rather than when he'd be late. Something that sounded ludicrous to (Y/N) at first but then grew accustomed to. Not that Jonathan gave an alternative. He'd said so from the beginning, adapt to his lifestyle or don't expect to be in his life long. (Y/N) had told him he was having a laugh if he thought (Y/N) would scramble after him. In the end they found a happy middle. Jonathan rubbed his eyes, readjusting his glasses. Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. Upon seeing who was calling he accepted the call.
“(Y/N).” He said flatly. “Hey…” They grimaced at the unsettled tone that threatened a quiver. “Um, how long will you-?” His gaze narrowed on the opposite wall, irritation flickered to life. “As long as I need. What is it?” He didn't raise his voice but his tone demanded a direct brief response. A small pause again and (Y/N) spoke. “I want you to come home. Right now. Um…something is happening and-” They caught the words before it was out there to regret. However it didn't make it any less real. (Y/N) was scared. However Jonathan was intrigued by the statement they did make. (Y/N) always dodged those words much to his annoyance. Never wanting to sound too demanding at any given time like Jonathan would snap. Not that he ever did. However he was aware that his cold words could provoke a sting that made even the toughest of people pause. However, that honesty had him hooked momentarily. “Why? You said something is happening?” He asked. (Y/N) paused again, eyes flickering to the ceiling. “I don't really know. I don't know if it's a neighbour or something but then the neighbours knocked. You know, the couple across from us-?” A faint ghost of a smile clawed at his lips and he was just as quick to school it. “Yes, dear. They were my neighbours before they were yours.” He teased. “What's wrong?” He asked. “They knocked to find out if I could hear her too.” (Y/N) continued. “Hear who?” “I don't know but…we can hear her. She's crying but it's not just loud sobbing it's…like an anguished scream. I think it's getting worse-” They paused trying to take a breath. “They can't find her. It sounds like she's a floor above but…then Mr Collins- across the hall- he said he's friends with Gary Lakes and apparently he lives on the floor above and it's real loud but they can't find her.” That was quite the unexpected story. Jonathan was rather caught off guard by it. “Can…can you hear it?” They asked almost nervous- unsure if they wanted his answer. He listened close, he could hear something but it was so quiet he couldn't make out what it was. “I hear something but I can't say I know what it is or define it.” “Jonathan…? Please?” (Y/N) pleaded quietly. “I really don't like this and the Collin's want me to go into their apartment if I'm going to be alone. But then I'm worried you won't be safe when you do come home. Will you please come home?”
Silence filled both ends of the call before Jonathan broke it with a sigh. “I'll come home. Right now. It'll take me half an hour to forty minutes, can you handle being alone in that time?” (Y/N) sounded relieved. “Thank you, thank you, thank you-” She rambled out in one breath. He smiled that time, albeit softly. “My darling, you don't need to thank me for a thing like that. If you're this rattled and the neighbours have gotten involved then it must be something and if I'm not there I'll wish I was because my mind will be on you.” “Right…you're right. Just…call me when you get to the building so I know you're safe.” She said and he sighed. “My darling-” “Please just….indulge me on this.” Jonathan sighed again. “Fine, fine. I'll call you when I get out of the car and I'm on my way up.” “Yeah, I'll let you in when you call. I don't want you to be out there longer than necessary.” (Y/N) sounded more at ease with the promise.
The drive home was uneventful which Jonathan learned quickly had given him a false sense of security. Nothing prepared him for the spine chilling, hair raising wail of a woman. It was far off but loud enough that it travelled several floors below. Two GCPD officers turned towards him the second he walked in. They seemed to either be surprised that they weren't alone or had been expecting someone. The latter sounded more reasonable given this was the ground floor to an apartment complex. People are expected to come and go. “Evening.” He nodded to the two officers. He learned rather quickly that some people were distracted or even put off from confrontation when approached without preparation. Most expected criminal deviants to be socially awkward or recluse. It was no surprise that the most successful criminals hid in plain sight and could be the pleasant neighbour, or the good charitable citizen until no one is looking.
Not that Jonathan was concerned that he was suspected for anything. If anything, this had become a fun little pass time. How many times could he appear before the idols of Gotham ever caught on that whilst they played the heroic roles and set example, the rest of the city could see how truly useless they were. So he got a great delight in times like these. Times of panic or unease when people depend on them as they fail.
One officer nodded back, his mouth hidden by a thick but well groomed moustache. “You live here?” He asked. Jonathan continued to walk to the stairs. “Indeed, I do.” “Sorry to ask you but have you been out long?” The officer asked. Jonathan’s eyes flickered to the man's badge, so quick he doubted either of the officers noticed. Ramirez. “Yes. Long shifts, I left the building around… seven this morning. Quarter past at the latest. Or I'll never get to work on time.” He gave them a smile filled with charm, a smile that made people want to like someone. So much so that they convince themselves they do without even knowing who they are. Jonathan knew they'd ask for his ID and he could pull it out to show them but then he'd be showing one of his hand of cards. No, it was best to wait for the officers to ask because then they'll believe he has little to no police knowledge of protocol. Let them think him clueless and that they had the power, that's when they were likely to make mistakes or overlook any behaviours. “Ah, gotcha.” Ramirez nodded. “No worries. Can I ask what unit you're in? Simply for safety purposes for yourself.” A bold question, though relatively harmless. Jonathan nodded once, almost half-heartedly. “Right, yes, I'm on the third floor. Floor three, unit fifteen. I hate to ask…” Jonathan most certainly did not and couldn't manage to keep the smile off his face. He could only play it off as politeness, maybe charming. “Is there a domestic situation upstairs? That's quite the hollering.” Ramirez looked hesitant, definitely uncertain of what to say but unable to say nothing due to the horrific sobbing. “It's on the fourth floor. We can't find the source though. We're waiting out another unit, maybe two before taking a closer look.” That explanation was perplexing. “Sorry, you can't find the source of…well, that?” Jonathan raised an index finger towards the ceiling and an eyebrow raised. “It’s on the fourth floor. A scream that loud to travel all the way down here? Well that's…” Jonathan trailed off and the other officer, just a head smaller than Ramirez spoke up. Jonathan caught the badge briefly. Grant.
Grant was far more interesting to look at. At first glance Jonathan had thought Officer Grant a male. Upon Officer Grant angled more towards him, Jonathan wasn't sure if Officer Grant was male or female. The officer could have been either and Jonathan had to catch himself to not get too distracted with the young officers appearance. He couldn't let anything distract him from his task to be overlooked. Even with minor issues that had nothing to do with him- he couldn't do anything that would make the interaction memorable. Before he could overthink that meaning he should keep staring or look away, officer Grant spoke. “Impossible? Yeah. We noticed that too. Or maybe not so impossible but rather highly improbable.” This one was a thinker and immediately the one that would be a problem for him if he brought too much attention to himself. So it was a blessing that a strange phenomena such as a screaming woman that no one could seem to find was taking priority. “That's certainly odd. Certainly not usual around these parts either. Am I understanding You correctly officers? You're saying that screaming is coming from the fourth floor but…you can't find the person?” Ramirez nodded twice whilst Grant only nodded once. However Ramirez took over again giving Jonathan the impression he was the senior in this duo. Grant being the pupil or atleast not having as many years experience as Ramirez. It certainly looked the case. Ramirez’s age was starting to show. Crows feet and other wrinkles starting to score the skin permanently. Though he wasn't quite there to be considered old. The withering days were only starting to set in. Meanwhile Officer Grant had a youthfulness that meant they were in early years of their career. Five at most if he had to take a guess and they had not even so much as a blemish on their pale skin. Face round and soft, not a harsh line on them to be found. He wouldn't be surprised if they looked younger than they were. “That's right.” Grant nodded once again. “Gonna get some more units in, search the place again, talk to your neighbours and hopefully find her. Know of any vulnerable women living here? Any with bad boyfriends or…?” Ramirez shot Grant a sharp look. Jonathan internally smiled. “Hmm…I'm not too sure. We've never had this problem before since I've been here. There wasn't any mention of it either. My partner called me after the neighbours spoke about it. My partner did sound shaken up and I can definitely understand why. I recall a mention of it getting louder but…can't say I expected this.” Jonathan said. “Well, we'll let you get home and we'll try to figure out what's going on. We recommend you lock your door and stay in your apartment.” Ramirez said and Jonathan nodded, internally smiling again. They'd forgotten to ask him for ID and he wasn't going give them the chance to remember. “Right, well, for our sakes I wish you the best of luck.” He gave a brief smile and started the climb up the stairs. When he had turned the corner he pulled out his phone and started to dial (Y/N)’s number. “It's me, I'm just heading up now. The police are here too apparently.”
The building was often quiet. So much so the residents of the complex didn't notice peaceful silence. That was until that silence was broken and now it was missed. Jonathan didn't spook easily yet something about those screams put him on edge. Hair raising, spine chilling screams reverberated down the halls through several floors. With the fact that the source couldn't be found. Yes, Jonathan Crane was uneasy. Though he didn't dare call it fear. That was his domain. To admit to fear was to admit that he had not mastered fear but instead fallen into its spiral. To be prey. The screams sounded that of prey yet the mystery source and the dim lighting made it a wolf in sheeps clothing. Jonathan couldnt wrap his head around the concept to hear screaming down several floors but unable to find the source. How could such a noise ringing in his ears hide so well? It seemed unthinkable- out within the borders of reality. The screams were sharp and full of pain, each one falling into wailing sobs. Suffering that could not be fixed and inconsolable. Yet they didn't tug at heart strings, not even an attempt to. The screaming was to be heard. To not go quietly, to not be ignored. A wail that demanded and forced those nearby to acknowledge it. Yet not one neighbour, or police, could find a cause or a source. Almost like the building itself was crying out in a pain that had been stewing for years. As each one travelled they wobbled and echoed down the halls to the floors before and maybe even the floor above. It seemed logical to think that the case. How could he hear it on the ground floor and it not be heard on the fifth? Then again, it would also be logical to resonate from an easily found source. As he climbed the stairs, up every floor to the third, the screaming neither took respite nor got further or closer. It sounded just above him, the floor above yet when he got there…it still sounded just as far away as before. It sent goosebumps along his skin like a wave rushing through him. Fear spiked his body before The conscious thought of it. Evolution always thought it best and so Jonathan had to accept the shameful truth that by the time he recognised his fear, it had already taken control of his body. He could pretend he had control but years of study told him when it came to fear responses, the consciousness of it came last and had already taken root. “That's me coming to the door now.” Jonathan said just a little bit quieter. “Yeah?” (Y/N) asked. “Yeah.” Jonathan replied. Before he could even get to the door, (Y/N) opened it. “I see why you're so distressed.” Jonathan said as (Y/N) pulled him in by the wrist. Even as the door closed and he locked it behind himself, the screaming could still be heard. His brow furrowed, none of it made sense. That only bothered him more and more.
Naturally he fell back on what he could control and turned to (Y/N) who was in their own lane of overthinking. “I'm so sorry, it's just so loud and I'm freaking out-” Jonathan gently grasped (Y/N)’s shoulders. “It's fine, no harm done.” His eyes flickered upwards towards the ceiling. “It is rather disturbing.” He drew the deadbolt. “So it's truly gotten louder?” He asked. “I could barely hear it about an hour and a half ago. I know someone in the building has called the cops. No one can find who's doing it.” They replied. He hummed. “I see.” (Y/N) continued. “I thought it was the pipes at first. The water altering the sound of pipes. I listened and it sounded like crying. So I thought that it was just a trick. Then it got louder and-” Their body had a visceral reaction, a shudder running through them without mercy. Jonathan rubbed their arms. “Hey… take a deep breath, its alright. I'm here now and I'm likely the scariest thing in this building.” He said it but if the source of that wailing wasn't found then that statement would definitely go challenged. His mind quickly went to how he could settle them both, more for their benefit than his if he gave it a second thought. “Come with me.” He took their hand in his usual firm grip and led them to the bedroom.
He gently closed the bedroom door as (Y/N) turned on a lamp on his nightstand. “Get them both.” He said loosening his tie and undoing it. (Y/N) nodded and reached over for the lamp on her nightstand. “I'm thinking we take an early night in here, out on the TV for a show or a movie and we just relax here.” Jonathan explained. “All of that out there? Not our problem. Everything's locked, the door dead bolted. We're safe and I know you don't feel that way right now but you are and I'm here. Let's just get ready for bed and relax and let that out there sort itself.” He said. He refused to even give it a name, that last line of defence for anyone really. To deny it a name was to deny acknowledgment and acknowledgement was power. If this phenomena wasn't bold enough to be sourced -to be seen- then he'd starve it of all reaction.
To (Y/N)’s surprise, as soon as they were both in bed Jonathan actually moved in close, wrapping an arm around them and cuddling in. He pulled them closer. “You're shaking a little.” He lifted the duvet up to their shoulders, their head resting on his collar. “It's alright, darling.” He kissed the side of their head. His hand cradled the back of their head as they rolled over to face him. Their head rested upon his chest as he massaged their scalp idly. “There we are, my darling.” He sighed out. He felt content as the heat already started to build up for him. He could feel their face on his bare chest. He turned on the TV and (Y/N) checked their phone. His fingers brushed up and down the back of their arm eyes on her phone. “That wish list of yours might be the size of a child at this point.” The side of Jonathan's mouth upturned in slight amusement. (Y/N) hummed in agreement. “My eyes are bigger than our bank account.” He chuckled. “It'd certainly make a sizable dent. We would recover though.” He paused after a moment. “You should get some of those. You've been rather stressed lately.” (Y/N) hesitated. “You think so?” Jonathan nodded. “I do.”
In background noise the wails were faint, drowned out by the TV or the sound of Jonathan's fingertips brushing against (Y/N)’s hair drifting to the side of their face every so often, caressing their temple and cheek bone before sliding back into their hair. Although those disturbing cries still continued on, the heat and the warm glow of the lights lit the area with such a softness that it was as though the screams were stripped of threat. A sense of safety that overpowered it. It hardly made sense, the only logical line of thought being the perceived distance that provided safety rather than the lock and deadbolt that had been put in place. Maybe even a brief intruding thought that shamefully brought comfort. Seeking comfort in the unlikely chance that so many residents meant their chances of being chosen by anything supernatural or human would be low. The flush of shame or embarrassment would come later if the thought returned to mind.
(Y/N) listened to Jonathan's breathing. Choosing to focus on that was more comforting than the screams. Despite the external noise, it was drowned out by heavy silence of dread. Or more specifically the silence of what was missing being something that overpowered the radiating noise of normality. An idea that suddenly couldn't be ignored or overlooked. Speaking with the neighbours, there had been a joint conclusion that was meant to comfort despite how ludicrously ironic it was. Followed by the guilty reflection of misplaced innocence that could only settle within face value and do nothing for the bone deep unease and fear the residents hoped to escape. Although, such things wouldn't save them here, the wailing had no mercy for anyone's feelings which, in turn, broke the unspoken expectation in human society. The rule of human decency.
Jonathan sensed the stillness in (Y/N) that something had swallowed them whole. “Hm?” Jonathan hummed, a quiet gentle gesture offering an escape or, at least, company in whatever the thought had been. (Y/N) spoke. “...I was just thinking about what the neighbours had said. They had spoke with some others. They said it could be a domestic. Though…it's occurring to me that doesn't seem likely.” For a moment he had reprieve, unfortunate yes but something that is heard all too often. The enemy everyone has acknowledged at some point in their life. He assumed (Y/N) didn't want to acknowledge it. As though acknowledging meant condoning. “Oh? Why not?” After a moment of thought (Y/N) continued. “There's only one voice and we don't hear anything being thrown or breaking. On top of all that, there’s no source. No one can find whoever is crying? Like that?”
That tiny detail paused his hand motions like a rude awakening. It was not the attempt to understand that made him pause but rather the glaring detail opened up a vague yet all encompassing standstill. To have hoped it was such a thing now felt too easy, that it was silly to think such a conclusion could soothe their unease and perhaps even muffle and silence the screams all together. Another thought met that unease, a split second of a strong challenger only to discover it merging with the dread caused by the crying. Like two tornadoes colliding into one massive threat.
If there was nothing but what they could hear, if all they could hear was disembodied crying with no other external stimuli for justification…then what was the alternative? Jonathan felt his stomach sink again, refusing the paranormal suggestion before it could be embedded in his mind. He instead fixated on the only implication left, which would still be spun back to paranormal activity. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was not the beginning. If nothing provoked such crying then it meant something had already happened. Out of sight and therefore out of mind. Unnoticed. However, as of this night at least, it seemed things existed beyond such phrases and they were certainly not within Dr Crane's control.
But this contradicts the logic of the books. If Tom is a born psychopath, then he has no empathy from birth. In my opinion, he is more likely a sociopath; he is very impulsive.
Honestly? Not surprising, I didn't read the books 😂🤦♀️
If I remember, which I probably don't, JKR said (or atleast a person claimed she did) that because of amortentia being used on his father that he couldn't understand love or 'know' it like everyone else. I kinda squint with that because that means there's a biological factor within potions to be passed down genetically and if that was the case...why? Why logically would a potion that van wear off have a biological defect not on the person but rather their biological child?
But at the same time, I'm not sure sociopathy fits him either. Sociopaths are typically shaped by their environment. Unless he was mistreated by the orphanage which as far as I know didn't happen, he was a deeply disturbed child. Then we'd have to go into empathy which sociopaths have a limited conscience/limited capacity for guilt which I don't think he had. There was nothing to suggested he had remorse for anything he did at any life stage.
However behaviour is definitely more tricky. As you said he definitely has impulsive tendencies. They're littered throughout. Yet at the same time, he is calculated. Hence his plan took years to enact and had a back up plan for possible failure. He didn't impulsively create horcruxes, he made them in case of failure or unforseen circumstances. So that leaves us bouncing back and forth between psychopathy and sociopathy which was probably a good example of why they lunped the two into Antisocial personality disorder because neither of the two can be fully prescribed to a person with these behaviours.
Social chameleon it depends. I think he's a creepy lil dude back as a kid yet somehow wiggled his way into old wizarding family snobs. And it didn't seem to take much effort. Going by the movies, as a kid, he never looked on edge as he did so. He manipulated slughorn into silence after getting answers from him. And everyone are perceived pawns to Tom Riddle. Sociopaths cannot do this. They struggle to hide anything in behaviour and are clocked to be trouble makers almost immediately because they can't hide it. Tom hid it so well Hagrid took the fall and he didn't seem relieved or like it took serious thought. It was nothing to him. Not to mention literally getting away with murder. We got his reaction if I remember. Even thinking back to it he didn't care how he impacted Myrtle or Ginny Weasley. His reactions were dismissive or even anger. He could acknowledge innocence but it didn't matter.
Psychopaths who partake in criminal behaviour calculated and will take measures to ensure not being caught whereas sociopaths would do it like an intrusive thought. No thoughts just do it.
So all this being said I'd say he's tilted towards psychopathy but this is probably a prime example of why the terms psychopath and sociopath are considered obsolete.
Especially if the above was true that because he was a consequence of amortentia, then he wouldn't understand love. Therefore suggesting he was born with that inherently, and then it puts him into the psychopath category. I also consider the orphanage scene in the movie. Tom Riddle acknowledged not being liked but wasn't a victim because he would actively use magic to torment other children, which only strengthened any avoidant behaviour the other children had.
I am really curious about this impulsiveness though because there's the situation with the deleted massacre in malfoy manor and how wormtail died. These are things he obviously didn't plan and seemed very reactive. So now I'm torn between is it merely a reaction based on anger which can be rooted to that he doesn't care about anyone around him. Everyone in the social hierarchy to him is beneath him mentally and don't matter. Or is it impulsive by the means of he'll attack if anything goes away from what he planned and so he lives by a philosophy of if it isn't planned- kill it.
On the outskirts of Gotham city, the night had fully fallen, the air just beyond the point of cool to turn bitterly cold. A cold that repulsed all but the jaded heart. Gotham was never peaceful nor empty and the one night it was the closest thing to empty hadn't felt natural. Everyone remembered that night. Although there was an unspoken rule that was never told yet learned by experience and it showed on all who learned it. Like a contagion, no one lasted long without being hit with the rule. Just because it's a peaceful night for you, doesn't mean a peaceful night for Gotham. When there's a city of six million, there is always someone to suffer, something or someone to lose. Everything up for grabs yet nothing of moral value. Material value, for most, fleeting. The beautiful, shiny and new fading before the eyes. “It was a rot,” he had said. “the city of Gotham was destined for nothing but decay.” A self-sufficient mould that contaminated its inhabitants. Maybe it'd take hours, days, weeks, months, even years for the lucky few, but in the end all will fall victim to it. A few times the expression ‘there's something in the water’ was all too literal and close to home. To live in Gotham was to accept an inevitable path to be the victim of one's self or others and very few got to choose. If bad, expect the worst the deeper the rabbit hole goes… because blinders and rose tinted glasses weren't cheap and always come with a price.
The flee was uncoordinated but the hunt was not. (Y/N) was out matched, out numbered and not to forget- the hunter knew the prey. (Y/N) ran for not more than four minutes before their phone went off. The name they had typed in popping up no longer a pleasant surprise of a call by fate but instead a sickening black hole of dread and fear. Oh how bitter hindsight could be. The voicemail he left that wouldn't be listened to was brief and simple. Come back. Let him explain. Don't run. That last sentence was given as more of a demand than a plea.
He gave his orders to the thugs. Many men in Gotham would do anything for money. Whether it was a debt or an asset, Gotham demanded every dime back with every dime it gave. People like him could find replacements without question but one wasn't so replaceable. He'd give up every last one of them if it meant getting (Y/N) in return. (Y/N) just hadn't known how far he would go. He was honest, he just omitted the often gory details. They didn't need to know. Voicemail after voicemail teased him as he looked out into the trees. They gave no hint but they were put there and it was a long way to walk back and if they had answered they'd have heard his honesty again. (Y/N) wouldn't get out of that cluster of trees alone. Half of the group split into the trees on one side. The other half on the other. The rogue would sit with two other henchmen in the back seat, one at the front passenger another driving, full beams on. As far as he was concerned he had to be patient. So he was and he was always thorough. That's how people like him survived. It took a whole twenty minutes to catch up with (Y/N) or at least a guess, a squawk of the walkie talkie calling out the found target, her location and then a yelled warning.
At the very same time the driver swerved to a turn and raced back down the road. Just as he was about to clarify where, he got his answer. A blur of movement. A humanoid shape illuminated by the lights. Tyres screeching and a sickening thud. At the very moment his brain recognised it was a person. He recognised who it was.
The shape had weight to it. That was only confirming a person yet the speed hadn't been enough to break the windshield, the roll was quick but by no means soft and fluid. Over the roof and off the trunk. However his brain focused on the all too familiar person who had been thrown like collateral damage.
Scarecrow: Jonathan had realised early but was helpless to do anything but let out a scream. It was torn between terror and rage. He never did well with what was out of his control. The driver had rushed out of the car just as he did. Upon the sight of (Y/N) on the road, Jonathan lashed out with a fast backhand. The force struck the driver so hard his head sharply whipped to the side, his orbital bone connecting with the roof of the car. Pain followed soon after and he groaned, clutching his face. However by that point, Jonathan had ran for (Y/N). He dived forward onto his knees and hovered over them, his brow creased with what could only be called fright yet it had been many years since it had been associated with him. Their eyes locked as they had many times before. “You're okay, stay awake.” He patted (Y/N) down. “Stay awake.” He said over and over again, willing their eyes to keep tracking him. The injuries looked minor, scrapes and bruises. There was no doubt she'd feel muscle pain but he couldn't find anything to suggest a lethal injury. The shaking either from the shock or him but the latter meant they were aware and that was a miracle in his eyes. His large hands cupped their face. “Oh my darling…” He breathed out in relief and pressed a kiss to their lips. “You're okay. Everything is going to be just fine.” He nodded with every word he spoke- a vow in that moment. “Don't be afraid. You're with me and that…darling, you couldn't be safer.” He smiled before pressing another kiss to their lips.
The Riddler: “You- IMBECILE!” He roared at the driver before shoving one of the henchmen who had opened the door, practically pushing him out of the car to scramble out himself. His sprint was without dignity as he nearly grazed his knees across the road. “Look at me, look at me. Are you awake? Can you hear me? Honey?” He cupped their face, staring into their eyes to get a sure confirmation that (Y/N) wasn't as injured as they could have been. “Oh, honey…” His fond coo sounded like a plea. He looked like he might just cry. “I…I don't want to move you in case you're really hurt. Are you in pain? Anything? Honey, can you talk to me?” His hands twitched wanting to pull them up to sit, maybe not stand yet. That seemed to be too ambitious even for him. After feeling for anything severe, he took the chance. “We're getting you home. Okay?” He promised. “I'll take care of everything and you'll be alright, okay?“ He sealed the deal with a kiss to their forehead. “Oh honey, why did you do this?” He pleaded…mostly to himself. He seemed unable to accept any responsibility yet at the same time clearly was devastated. That didn't seem to matter whether he considered himself at fault or not, it didn't weaken the blow any less.
Two-Face: He had no words but then within seconds he was lashing out at anyone in his path. “Get out!” He yelped. “It's chance…the coin-” Harv’ was cut off with Harvey's holler. “Shut up! Shut the hell up! It's my fault!” He sprinted towards (Y/N). “I'm so-” Harvey couldn't even say the word sorry. He felt like an apology meant and fixed nothing. What did his feelings change for (Y/N) in that moment? Nothing. It didn't ease their pain or fear and he understood that better than anyone. No apology was ever enough to fix that wound. “Oh, baby…” He whispered mostly to himself as he checked every inch for severe injuries and the state of each one. It felt wrong to say they were lucky but they were. Suddenly Harv' took over pulling them into his lap and cradling them. “We got you, baby. Eyes on us. Those morons will face justice, you hear? We won't let this slide. They'll be sorry, baby. We'll make them sorry.” He carefully smoothed away anything unseen that could be bothering (Y/N) from their face. He turned his head sharply so that (Y/N) couldn't see the mutilated side of his face. He didn't want to upset (Y/N) any further and the first thing always seemed to be to hide his face. “I can handle this…” Harvey gritted out quietly. “Don't be naive.” Harv’ replied. Harv’ was so used to protecting Harvey from the worst moments in his life that this one -even through Harvey's protests and struggle to maintain control- was non-negotiable. “It was my fault!” Harvey argued. “Shut it!” Harv' snapped and received no response, Harvey losing the fight for now. Just like the rest of his life, something in his brain refused to settle into the moment and pushed this as far back as his brain could muster making it difficult to consciously acknowledge it as his doing. Just as quickly his hand twitched for the coin in his pocket.
Black Mask: The driver gasped, scrambling for his seat belt and hurriedly attempting to get out of the car. Roman was getting out at the same time, yanking the henchmen around him into every crevice that got them out of his way. “Boss, I swear it was so fast-!” There was a loud bang as his handgun emitted a brief flicker of smoke. The driver slumped forward head landing on the steering wheel as the horn blared out under the drivers weight. However, Roman's mind had paid him no mind already scrambling towards (Y/N). Panic set in just before he got to them. Due to that panic, he didn't think it through when he pulled them into his arms. The second he had their top half cradled against him he loudly swore remembering it was a bad idea to move them. “Fuck!” He snapped. He sucked a deep breath through his nose, brushing the gun aside briefly but not entirely out of his reach. “Fuck, not again. Don't do this to me, baby. I can't do this again.” He didn't realise that he was rocking them ever so slightly. “I can't. Not you too. Not you too!” He pressed the cool wood of his mask on their forehead, his harsh breathing audible as his eyes were squeezed shut.
Penguin: “Son of a bitch!” He punched the back of the drivers seat head rest, his meaty fist pounding it so hard it vibrated. “You a fuckin’ moron!?” He snapped. “What have you done!?” He shoved a henchman out the back passenger door. “Outta my way!” He hurried as quickly as he could, although admittedly given his limp, running wasn't exactly his strong suit. Though that didn't change it was the fastest (Y/N) had ever seen Oswald move. He bit back a groan of pain as he shifted his weight to get on his knees, his bad leg protesting although it went ignored. “Baby? Sweetheart, eyes on me sweetheart!” He cupped their face, panic etched in his features. “Come on, sweetheart, look at me. There! Yes, that's right, I'm here! I'm here, sweetheart. You're gonna be alright. It ain't that bad. Okay? Okay. You're gonna be alright. Can you feel everything? how much pain are you in?” His gaze snapped to his henchmen. “If you lot don't get your asses moving, he won't be the only one due an ass-kicking!” He roared and they scrambled around getting their phones out making calls. “Get a doctor!” He roared at them. “Any of you call 911 and you're dead!” He then looked back down at (Y/N). “Sweetheart, listen, you don't gotta be scared. I know a guy, a doctor. He'll help you out. We'll get you all fixed up. You're completely safe, you hear? I wouldn't mess with that. We'll get you all fixed up, you just stay awake and relax.” He quickly tugged off his leather jacket and draped it over (Y/N). “There, all warm. You'll be alright.”
((A lengthy one as an apology for being gone so long. Cough cough, catch the Arkham Knight Reference))
So I was answering an ask and it got me thinking about Tom Riddle's psyche. EDIT: I was but then I left and now I'm back and it sounds like it's been seconds. It's been months.
So this is a good old 'vanity needs to stop talking' post about Voldemort after a lot of thinking. You probably caught this. I did not. Like an idiot.
We get the impression from the movies he was just born bad. Maybe that he was an orphan so he didn't get love in his early years and that developed his brain in that direction.
From the books I can't say much. I didn't read them. It seems implied its nature that was followed by the orphanage.
However, the movies had me feeling like he was just born bad and it came from nowhere.
Then it hit me when I was writing up another post.
It was nature. He was born that way.
Because he's a fucking Gaunt.
OBVIOUS CUT HERE SO PEOPLE WHO ARE TRIGGERED BY THEIR STORY ISNT EXPOSED TO IT.
The Gaunts are so inbred and insane that they died out.
Marvolo Gaunt was abusing his children.
Morphin Gaunt was physically violently towards Merope.
Merope had zero concept of love and was more obsessive.
He literally had no change from the start. Evil coming from inbreeding? I've never looked at it in such a way that it wasn't just that he wanted immortality and was willing to do what it took because he didn't have a solid foundation or just because he was evil from the start but I always seemed to consider nature being RANDOM in that regard. That he was evil, and that was it.
But what if he literally couldn't be anything else. He wasn't free from guilt and love and empathy to he capable of it and rather trapped by generations of genetic mutations!?
Good news: I think I can actually try and cram some of these out of my mind.
Bad news: I'm still obsessed with alecto carrow and it looks like I'm forcing you guys through it too. There is no such thing as choice. There is not enough content of her in Golden Trio Era. I'm SORRY but I CANT.
Have a picture of this crazy lady that has me in a chokehold:
A moot was sharing Arkham Origins goon/henchmen dialogue and I thought you Roman Sionis x Reader fanfic writers may wanna know, if you don't already, that it's been comfimed. The common headcanon "whatever they want they get" is official canon. Thank you Arkhamverse. 💖
Howdy! It's been a while, just wanted to check in. I hope you have been doing well.
...I won't lie, I completely forgot this blogs existence.
Okay HI HOW ARE YAS?
I'll be honest, I had a super rough time a few months back and then I got back into reading and fell off of doing art and I won't lie, writing didn't even get into the playing field 😬
And then I remembered this blog thought I'd went unnoticed.
People noticed.
But I'm here now and here to look at the scraps and see what I can salvage.
I should say im doing a little better though! If there's any take away from all this.
Thank you! 😅😂 sorry I wanted to give you an update on Ubangi, since African dwarf frogs are social and the friend Congo I bought with Ubangi didn’t make it out of quarantine when I got them back in February, I found Ubangi a new friend named Ruki.
They are different subspecies of aquatic frog but both social with about the same size range (Ubangi 1.5-2 up to 3 inches for females but Ubangi is male and 1.5-2 inches for Ruki) and age estimate 3-5+ years, I just couldn’t find Ubangi’s specific type of frog as they are apparently not quite as popular in the pet trade at least from my observation. I tried twice after putting in an order request for African dwarf frogs at different stores but they both got froglets of Ruki’s type in so I ended up just getting Ruki. But after Riki’s 10 day quarantine I introduced them and Ubangi and Ruki have been inseparable so far, it’s been a week.
Ruki likes to peacefully swim and climb more hanging out near the top in the tree while Ubangi has always crawled unless swimming up for air but it seems Ruki has inspired him to climb halfway up some decorations every so often.
And no rush on finishing the scenarios your health and well-being comes first. Trust me I’ve had writing burnout since high school and that was since around the early years of the pandemic. I’m glad you’re doing okay! And that’s awesome that you’ve gotten back into drawing! ✍️😄 Anything you’re particularly proud of or want to share? 😋
*sorry about the frog ramble I’m just so happy for Ubangi he’s been alone with out a frog companion since February, and I mean he and Congo were emaciated rescue frogs when I got them I could see their little hip bones. I’m just proud of how far he’s come.😅
Thanks for the love and they're so cute!! I love that they're little besties. 🥹
I'll show my comparison pics. From last year to this year.
I started again at 17/11/2024.
The first I attempted was oil pastels and I've kinda leaned away from them since.
Then I moved to acrylic paint which was my strong suit in high-school.
Then I moved to pencil drawings and this is around the first few months. Nightmare fuel I know. Could hire me for those police sketches for some uncanny valley.
I've been trying to teach myself faces. I really want to accomplish those.
These are my recents.
18/11/2025.
I'm not so happy though that I can't seem to come up with these on my own. All my drawings are recreations of others work. I can't imagine things and have a visual. If I get an inkling of a visual, it slips away and I'm left with uncanny valley face up in the top left. I use Pinterest for the inspiration.
So I'd like to say I've improved but creativity and visualise in my head. Not much progress in that department in a year.
Tom was right to abandon Merope; he loved Cecilia, a beautiful Muggle. In the books, Merope is cross-eyed, has a terrible face, and is pale with dull eyes and hair , while Tom Riddle is the squire's sin, petty aristocratic son. She lives in a hut in the woods.Sixteen years later, the Riddles are killed by Meropes son. They die with a look of horror on their faces. They're killing , and Tom abandoned Merope, whom he didn't love; she raped and poisoned him for two months.
Im learning details😅 my fic might have been a bit off then.
So I haven't read the books so I don't know these tiny details. The fantom is very much teaching me.
The image of merope I'd from a fan film and whilst I was told Merope as a character was hideous...I think that word works.
However, I was really inspired by the merope in that fan film. That had me create my own kind of description for her. That merope in the film is pretty but unsettling.
So i wanted to blend those descriptions. That had she not been living in such bad conditions and for her whole life, she wouldn't be so ugly looking. The idea of beauty and grace the Gaunts once had generations prior. Wealth and pretty faces, now shadowed by poverty.
I wanted Merope to be unsettling at first glance that had the potential to have been decent looking, but that no one ever noticed because she's so unsettling to look at. That years of malnutrition and no balanced diet, the big doe eyes that would lure people in, look too big for her face. High cheekbones only showed how hollow her her cheeks were. Hair a brilliant colour but only adds to how unsettling her look was as it was unsettled and hanging lifeless down the sides of her face contrasting how pale she was.
I knew Tom Riddle is his father's double. (Tom Riddle Sr) but I wanted to play around a little woth the idea that Tom Riddle was good looking like his father but did have some of his mothers traits- though were obscure given to Merope's physique.
That maybe even he looked like his father but Tom was always his mothers son. Like he was cursed by it. He hated his mother for abandoning him in death but had fragments of her insanity. He hated his father for his blood yet forced to wear his face. I want to really bridge that he never knew his mother but she very much lived on within him. I think she'd have the idea that her son looked like Tom Riddle Sr but had a piece of her too that would live in him. Binding them both two her beyond life and death.
I'll admit I have no idea who Cecilia is.
I wonder if Tom knew his roots and felt disgust for it- so he did what made sense to him. Wiped them out.
Their child was quite the bookworm but it was never so easy as to just pick a book for their age. Oh no, that'd be too easy. No, their child was reading a book that was for those older readers. Non-fiction and…oh. Questioning the motives behind the ministry.
Alecto Carrow: Not an apple that fell even an inch further from the tree, Alecto wasn't intelligent. She was a follower with a wicked bite. She attacked people before she answered questions. Mostly because she couldn't reason her way out of a wet paper bag if her life depended on it. So relied on brute force and the dark arts to do the talking for her. However, she sees this trait as an opportunity to mold the child into a strong candidate for her beliefs. Never thinking far ahead, she never considered that the child might question her beliefs. (Whether in a critical or curious fashion- it didn't matter. Questions weren't tolerated in the Carrow family.) Although that meant very little. Alecto would just punish the child for daring to question anything. She'd turn them against the ministry and gather more specific reading material for the child. Possibly asking her aunts or uncles for their recommendations.
Amycus Carrow: Probably the least able to handle it. Amycus is arrogant and not very intelligent. He made up for it the way every Carrow did. Bravado. He seemed to think that if he demanded respect he could brute force respect into his lap. So to have a child who might actually have a natural intelligence and wanted to learn had a public reaction and a private one. The public one was nothing but ego. He took credit for it. His kid was smart and wanted to learn because of him. That they could only hope to be as smart as him one day. The private response was an attack in a whole other direction. Amycus was actually intimidated by this eagerness to learn because not only could it show his true colours but with knowledge came more questions. If his kid wasn't questioning the world around them then they'd learn to question him. Questions were not tolerated. His word is law.
Bellatrix Lestrange: She usually passed everything off to Narcissa when it came to her child. She was much too distracted and raising a child simply wasn't what she wanted. She didn't have a maternal bone in her body- and was proud of it. However her little sister did. This included the childs hobbies. She actually blames Lucius, thinking it was a hobby by influence and not my nature. That the snobby, uptight, Malfoy had made a little know-it-all out of her child when she wasn't looking. She might have been able to endure it better (like Rodolphus) if it was something like romances. She felt immune to those as she recalled how her sisters would gush over the love in their books growing up. No. Instead she got a kid that wants to become a little conspiracy theorist. She was hardly on the Ministry's side…but the contents of her child's book was more mind-numbing than a speech on how powerful Dumbledore was and she had heard many of those over the years. Those got old long ago. As usual she'll be seconds away from sliding down her chair and under the table in sheer boredom.
Barty Crouch Jr: He knew he should be proud and sometimes he could get a strong rant going about certain subjects like the Ministry. Especially how close to home it was. However if he didn't have that and it wasn't about the Dark Lord then he was bored to tears. Where could this have come from because it wasn't from him. This was something that his parents wouldn't have tolerated. They'd have loved a studious grandchild but one that questions the Ministry? Not in the slightest. Yet it wasn't from him either because he wasn't studious. He was a practical guy. Theory wasn't for him. Sure he wasn't a Ministry lover but he was the type to be dead set in that he didn't like it so he didn't need to hear anything redeeming. So he liked that his child didn’t take the Ministry at face value but the rest…it was way beyond him.
Antonin Dolohov: He'd not show it but he'd probably have some pride in his child. Pride for the hunger his child felt. So whilst he didn't have any physical reaction to this trait, he would encourage it here and there with buying his child a new book and paying attention to what they were reading. Sometimes he'll even ask what they've learned. It seems like a test but really it was him enjoying how passionate his child was when they were in the midst of a book. He enjoyed watching their eyes light up and relay what they've read. He might have some input if he knows anything else about the topic. His child's innocence breaking the constant pattern cruelty and torture in his life, if only for a moment of course.
((I thought I'd do a little experiment and see how this goes. Let me know what you think :) ))
MC just died and they think it's all their fault. The villain then attends MC's funeral secretly on their own. (found family / friends only :))
The rogues are Two Face, Riddler, Scarecrow, Penguin, Mad Hatter, and anyone who you might find fitting to destroy lol :D
I'm so sorry for this wait too😭❤️
The Beginning Without You
Two-Face: When there's no hope for yourself, you have hope in someone else. It was a pain that could not be told. Not to mention a sense of failure within him. You counted on him. Advice, support, and companion in life, they had developed a strong bond despite their life changes and age gap. He felt undeserving to be stood over your grave. A grave meant for him long ago. He knew you'd never have blamed him but he blamed himself. People had walked on eggshells around him since. Anything could set him off. He had been a mix of a mentor and a father figure to you. You were young and he had a lot of life experience under his belt. He had never led you astray. Yet in his eyes you're death was his responsibility. He ruined everything he touched and had he stayed away, you'd have been alive. Perhaps staying away could have been the best thing he could have ever given you...if he had been strong enough to do it.
The Ridder: There was a major detail about mourning his friend. His usual bright emerald green suit had been replaced with a dark green suit that could almost be black had it not have that tinge of dark green that was only emphasised when the light hit. The change of dress had went noticed. All knew why. Though he didn't show it, it was clear by that detail alone that he was very much in mourning. He stood alone, his head held high but silent in respect. No riddles or sarcasm, no cheerful jabs with some added condescension, just complete silence. Though people noticed the tight clench of his jaw as he marinated in his thoughts. People let him be. No one really knowing what to do with his state. Everyone so used to fending off the bravado and his attention that when he gave none of either, all the could do is stop and stare.
Scarecrow: Jonathan was an only child. His home life growing up left for little desire for a sibling. No thought of what it'd be like to have a sibling. Yet your life with him kind of went the same way. You had been the new addition to arkham. Then you were annoying coworker. He wasn't sure when that developed into a protectiveness on his part. If anyone was allowed to find you annoying, it was him and only him. That graduated into your presence being a welcomed normality. Now that you're gone, nothing is the same and Jonathan is more aware than ever that he is completely alone. He understood grief. That the grave wasn't for you- not really- but for him and the rest of the world. When you died, your body wasn't your own. Very few had the misfortune to see the corpse left behind. A lot of the times, they didn't look like themselves anymore. They had lost what made them look like them. Yet even at the grave...you were not here either. Death had taken you days ago. All of this was utterly pointless. Yet he sought just a moment to find you again.
Mad Hatter: People had thought the two were a couple. However his friendship with you was very platonic. Jervis needed people in his life. He needed people who gave him their all. You did more than most. There was a domesticity to your friendship. You knew Jervis needed help just living and you had taken it upon yourself to look after him. Make sure he's fed, and in clean living conditions. Even keeping him out of trouble sometimes. He depended on you. Now that you were gone, he was truly alone in the world and he couldn't grasp it. Whether it was his condition or flat out denial, he couldn't accept you were gone. Even at your funeral. Even standing over your grave. He went through the motions, yet there was a part of him that was already thinking about relaying the days events back to you when he got home. You'd love to hear the drama of it all. Perhaps over some tea. Maybe even he'd get to apologise. Though Jervis didn't know why he felt the need to apologise in the first place.
Penguin: He couldn't be noticed. People would recognise him. So he waited until after the funeral to visit your grave. You had watched him become the man he was today. He had compensated you well over the years. If you needed any help, he was there. His way of repaying your loyalty for years. Yet he felt that in the end he had failed you. That under his wing, you should have had a long happy life. He left no stone unturned wanting to find a possibility that he was responsible. He even went through his enemies just to make sure. There was an emptiness in him when he found no connections. Yet the feeling of guilt remained. He had made donations to your family and he hoped it had went to the funeral. He cherished your friendship and wanted to embed you in the legacy. He'd find a way. He must.
Hiiii, I was wondering if you could do a small thing with gotham villain girl dads. Like penguin, black mask, two-face, Scarecrow, riddler, bad, and mad hatter with a clingy 18 year old daughter(talk about a self-interest) like she constantly wants to hold his hand or cling to his arm. Whenever he's home and not working she wants to spend time with him, like she doesn't care or judge her dad at all for his work, she just wants attention and affection, like a annoy bubbly happy-go-lucky puppy. Like any chance she gets, she just wants to be around them, or talking to them. - from someone whos really clingy with her parents, and follows them around everywhere at the age of 18 and finds it embarrassing that she dose so. (,,¬﹏¬,,)
Ps. Sorry if this is a strang asks
I'm sure I've had worse. Besides its bound to happen, they aren't getting any parenting awards any time soon. I'm sure their kids would turn out...quirky.
Daddy's Girl
Black Mask: He actually had no problem with it. Roman Sionis knows how women are treated in Gotham and even now that his daughter is considered a legal adult, he doesn't see her as an adult. He still sees a little girl and that has kinda rubbed off on his daughter. She is a little on the childish side under his upbringing. Independence in the outside world simply wasn't encouraged. He never encouraged a job or further education because daddy has her covered. He never paid attention to her social life and encouraged it, so any friends she did make gave up on her. She was like an extension of himself. Anytime they were out, he held her hand. It settled his paranoia. If he had her hand in his very tight grip them it meant he was protecting her. On top of that, he shielded her from the media. He didn't want her to be embarrassed or ashamed and he knew how sensitive she was. She didn't have thick skin, so any speculation of her behaviour would bring her to tears. Truthfully, he loves it. He loves having attention from his daughter because he never got it from his parents. He told himself that it was more that it meant he succeeded where his parents failed in parenting but the truth was that it wasn't about how it benefitted his daughter. It was how it benefitted him. He relished the attention he finally got. He did try to keep her out of the mob side of things and where it all went wrong is his party lifestyle. He didn't want her there for those things but it was so engrained in her that his saying so and setting that boundary was a rejection of her and his daughter couldn't take rejection. So to save himself, there are times where he'd force a situation for them to be separated. Such as "You need to go with Victor because-" or "I have business to take care of and need you at the house". It was always a fight but Roman always got his way. Even if he had to make up for it later.
Scarecrow: He hated it. Jonathan has no experience at all with wanting a connection with anyone. He struggled to make any meaningful connections throughout his life. His daughter was the closest thing he had to a connection, but it was work on his part. He had to remind himself to care. Sure, he cared enough not to forget her but that wasn't even the minimum requirement for being a parent. He never knew how to handle his daughter and never learned either. He had no examples since his father handed him off to Jonathan's grandmother when his mother wasn't around to look after him anymore. Jonathan has truly hoped that his job would be done when she turned 18 but that was far from reality. Though he knew that would happen every step of the way. Jonathan knew what was required for her emotional, mental and physical well being. He could provide financially and a roof over her head and meals and anything if she got sick. However, mentally and emotionally, he lacked every step of the way. In theory, he knew what he had to give as a professional in psychology, but he couldn't give it. The more he lacked, the more her clingy nature grew. Trying to compensate for what was missing. He saw the signs but didn't nothing to change them, a lot he couldn't. However as she got older, some kind of twisted paternal instinct came through as he started to use it against her. He knew his daughter had issues because of him and that she'd look to other men to because of that. She'd be more vulnerable to being manipulated...so he manipulated her to stay by his side. He didn't want to hold her hand and coddle her but he never truly let her break away from him either. His mind constantly in the future since in his eyes, she couldn't survive without him but she'd outlive him. So he made instructions for her, set money aside, did everything he could think of that she'd be covered when he was no longer there. She'd never know until the time came for it. In the meantime, their dynamic consisted of an emotionally distant parent and an overly clingy daughter and the constant push and pull there was. He often brushed off the consequences of this. Her crying never really affected him anyway. There wasnt any conversations about what he wanted to do in her life. He'd never think to ask or care.
Two-Face: It stressed him out. He really meant well for her but bloody hell she's 18! He hated himself for how she turned out. He was sure it was to do with him. It had to be him. He was so quick to anger, impulsive, his constant mood swings must have done this. Yet this seemed cruel he'd have rather, she hated him instead of this. When he tried to calmly explain this that she shouldn't be so attached to him like this. She cried, terrified she'd lose him and before he knew it, he was screaming at her, and she was bawling. He felt so guilty in the end that he put up with it more. He never wanted to put her through that again. He never let the conversation get that far again. If he was dealing with his henchmen, then he did hold her hand. It reassured him that she was always with him. As though she'd run off like she did as a child, sending panic into him when he couldn't see her. However he did encourage her independence and he gladly forked out the money when she talked about college. He didn't hesitate. Told her to pick something. Anything she was interested in and not to worry about the fund. In his eyes, it meant a chance for independence, freedom from him and the chance to meet people her own age. Even if she didn't get that as a career, then he didn't give a damn. Even if she dropped out in the end. He wanted her to experience life away from him and his mess. An obscure way to try and counter her clingy behaviour without upsetting her.
The Riddler: In his eyes, his daughter sees in him what no one else does and that's why she clings to him as she does. In that way, it is encouraged by him. However, he isn't used to that constant clinging and attention. Everyone else left him alone. So it was a constant push and pull. The truth is that had she not be so close to him as she was, then he wouldn't have been nice to her as he was. As a narcissist, he was able to mold her into the correct responses he wanted that be perceived how he should be treated but took for granted if his actions reflected that he deserved the treatment. Her feelings were, for the most part, secondary to what he wants to do. So he will push her away for however long he wants but then have the audacity later to say she's abandoning him. If he's showing bravado, he'll hold her hand. When he's feeling good about himself, life is great for both of them and he'll take all of the attention she wants to give. His daughter lives a very isolated life, a symptom of having a narcissist in someone's life. A very common one. All she has is the gamble of if at anytime he'll be there for her emotionally or if he has better things to do. He both loved and hated her low self-esteem. Loved the attention and loyalty it gave him when he wanted it. Hated it when he didn't want to focus on his daughter and wanted space. What he couldn't tolerate was her presence when he was working because he was always conscious she was there and that brain power can be used on his work. So that's immediately her fault. It often meant that when he finally got her to leave that she'd cry in solitude and feeling the consequences of having no one to talk to. Once again stuck in waiting for when her father would come back for her. However long it took.
Mad Hatter: It was hard to grasp what Jervis actually thought when it came to anything. Some days it didn't seem he even remembered if he had a daughter. Everyone with a brain- the other rogues- all knew what was happening since they met the girl. 'Daddy issues' they'd murmur. A premonition that had come true. She was a lovely girl. She was truly a good person. However Jervis severely lacked in giving her attention. He tended to get caught up in his own head. Yet even Jervis had his reservations about how clingy she was. He really did require personal space sometimes. Something his daughter didn't really want to give. She already felt like he was miles away from her. Although in the time of simply trying to make personal space, he'd get distracted and within minutes he'd forget about her. It was unintentional but to her it was a constant painful cycle of watching him slip away. Yet she is forced to endure every consequence to his actions. All just to be close to him. It was sad to watch. So much so, some rogues stepped in here and there to suggest independence, hoping that they'd plant a seed in the girls mind. Nothing to severe. Some things like college. She never knew that there were those out there (cough cough- Jonathan and even Edward) who would have put money aside to help her out. They knew firsthand how difficult it could be to get that freedom.
