Give me the one with the door I want it
The Bonds that Shape the Universe Again (A Persona/Batman Adventure)
- Thread starter Magoose
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- Indonesia
Yeah, I think I like this option the most:
My vote:
[X] The Orphan
My vote:
[X] The Orphan
Vote closed
Part 3: There Are Adventures to be had here.
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
Part 3: There Are Adventures to be had here.
[] The Orphan: Life in an orphanage wasn't the comforting or magical escape some might imagine from movies. There were no heartwarming moments or grand adventures. Just discipline and constant fear, a gnawing emptiness where love should have been. You learned early that affection was fleeting, and the connections you made with the other children were fragile, bound by shared survival rather than true family bonds. As much as you tried to care for those around you, deep down you knew you had to leave. The orphanage was a place you could never call home. The hope of money, of someday coming back to help, gave you a purpose but it was never happiness. (Gain Trait: A Faceless Orphan. You are alone, with only your brothers and sisters of circumstance as your closest family. But you know, even among them, you remain nameless and faceless to the world.)
Gain Trait: A Faceless Orphan: Despite all the adults in your life being terrible people, forcing you to conform with their own, misguided and poor choices and desires, you never were afraid to refuse them. You were never going to give them the satisfaction of letting them know you have been beaten. (All the Adults know of your behavior of nonconformity, and you fellow orphans love it)
----------------------------------------------
You stood up slowly, bracing yourself against the bedpost, the cold wood pressing into your palm. The room felt stifling, thick with the quiet fear that clung to every breath. The air was tense as Matron Glynda paced down the row of beds, her sharp eyes scanning each child like a predator, searching for the slightest hint of imperfection. Your 'siblings' shifted nervously, eyes darting to the ground, hands trembling at their sides. Each time the cane tapped against the floor, the sound echoed through the room like the tick of a deathwatch beetle, marking the seconds until she found her next victim.
Her footsteps stopped near you. You didn't need to look to know who had caught her attention this time. Little Howard, barely three years old, stood next to you, trying his best to stay upright. His toes were bandaged from last night's accident when he'd hurt himself stumbling out of bed. The sheets at the foot of his mattress were soiled again. The poor boy had done his best, but his tiny frame was shaking, fighting to stand as straight as his fragile body allowed.
Matron Glynda's voice cut through the silence, sharp and cruel. "Again, Howard? Do you soil yourself without changing the linen again? Do you not know the rules?" Her voice dripped with contempt as she glared down at the small, trembling figure before her.
Howard could only shiver, his eyes wide with terror, unable to find the words to defend himself. Even if he could speak, you knew anything said would only be met with scorn or firmness that would not help. His lips quivered, but no sound came out. You could see the helplessness in his eyes, the kind that made your blood boil. You stepped forward before you could stop yourself.
"Matron Glynda," you began, your voice steady, "fresh linens don't arrive until—"
"Stay out of this!" Her cane lashed out in a blur of motion, and pain exploded in your foot as it struck you. You heard a sickening crack, but you didn't cry out. You refused to give her that satisfaction. Instead, you stared straight into her cold, pitiless eyes, meeting her gaze head-on, forcing her attention away from Howard and onto you. The pain surged up your leg, but you stood your ground, gritting your teeth as she loomed over you.
Her lip curled in disdain. "You will be without your meal if you continue—"
"Enough!" You cut her off, your voice louder this time, resonating with the strength you could muster. "Matron, he did nothing wrong-"
The cane came down again, hard, on the same spot, sending a jolt of agony through your foot. You felt your leg buckle, your balance faltering, but you refused to fall. A grimace twisted across your face as the pain coursed through you, but still, you did not scream. Instead, you locked eyes with her, daring her to strike you again.
Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper, cold as the winter wind outside. "Do not speak back to me about what is right and wrong. The rules are there for a reason."
Her gaze swept the room, ensuring that every other child was watching, every other pair of eyes locked in silent terror. She wanted them to see. She wanted them to fear her more than anything else in their small, fragile world. "Rules are needed," she continued, her tone carrying the weight of conviction, "because as we all know, man is nothing more than a beast, ready to tear himself and others apart."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. You felt the eyes of your 'siblings' on you, the tension in the room tightening like a noose. But you didn't look away. You could feel the bruise swelling beneath your skin, the throbbing pain in your foot, but you stood tall, defying her.
You grimaced as she looked to you. "Come, we must update your adoption papers."
You limped behind her, knowing you have just saved everyone quite a bit of trouble. At least she didn't break your foot this time.
-----------------------------------------------
What is your name… Mostly because these idiots need a name:
[]Write in
The Picture came out good at least:
[]Place Image here
How Old were you?:
[] Eight:
You're just another child lost on the fringes of Gotham society, an orphan under the indifferent care of a city too broken to protect its own. Yes, you're known your name exists in some file in a grim office but being "known" in Gotham carries no advantages. It's not a shield against the cruelty of the world outside, nor does it offer any reprieve from the expectations heaped on you.
You had to perform, to behave, to smile when prospective adoptive parents visited. You had to try try to get adopted, try to stay out of trouble, try to survive. And you did, but it was never enough.
Gotham's streets are becoming an unforgiving battleground for those on the bottom, like you. Crippling poverty crushes the soul, while crime and the Mob choke the life out of whatever hope you might have once had. Survival here feels impossible, and yet every day you wake up, determined to make it through, even though every action and every step you take is weighed against the slim chance of escaping this life.
But then, the news came. It swept across Gotham like wildfire: The Waynes—Thomas and Martha, Gotham's beacons of hope, the last vestiges of light, sanity and goodness—were dead, murdered in the heart of Crime Alley. For most, it was a tragedy that rocked the very foundation of the city. For a select few, it was an opportunity to seize more power in the vacuum left behind. But for kids like you, it was a disaster.
The Martha Wayne Foundation had been one of the largest donors to Gotham's already struggling child services. Their money fed you, clothed you, and kept what little roof you had over your head. Now, with the Waynes gone, so too was the funding. You could already feel the effects, the tightening grip of poverty becoming a noose around your neck. And it was only going to get worse. (You begin as a child, where fleeting moments of adventure and wonder intermingle with the brutal reality of Gotham's streets. You must navigate a city hostile to your survival, where predators both human and something darker keep Gotham drowning in poverty, crime, and death.)
[] Twelve:
By the time you turned twelve, you had already seen more of Gotham's darkness than most adults. You grew up in a city where poverty was a way of life, a constant companion that weighed down the spirits of everyone around you.
Gotham had once been a city of promise, but those days felt like distant memories. Now, all you saw was decay, a festering wound that refused to heal. Waynetech, once the heart of Gotham's industry, had pulled most of its operations out of the city, citing the uncontrollable rise in violent crime. The Gotham City Police Department, once a symbol of protection, had become a farce—a broken system too afraid or too corrupt to stop the bleeding.
The Mob ruled now, with an iron grip that stretched into every corner of the city. They controlled the streets, the businesses, and even the lives of the desperate people who lived in Gotham's poorest neighborhoods. No one was safe.
The streets were ruled by fear, and trust had become a commodity too precious to waste. Even the people you once called friends had become potential threats because when survival was on the line, betrayal often came with a payday. You had learned the rules early. Keep your head down. Don't make eye contact. Don't trust anyone. And yet, in the deepest part of your soul, you couldn't help but dream of something better. But Gotham wasn't a place for dreams. It was a place where nightmares walked in the daylight, and all you could do was try to stay safe. (Begin in the darkest time for Gotham. The Mob controls the city, crime is rampant, and safety is an illusion. Trust is a luxury no one can afford. You've come to know just how powerful and inescapable the enemy is a leviathan that cannot be slain.)
[] Sixteen:
Sixteen years old, and you're still alive, somehow, which in Gotham feels like an accomplishment all its own for having no parents and living in a crumbling forgotten orhpanage. The city around you has fallen further into the abyss, becoming more twisted and broken than you ever thought possible.
The death of the Waynes had been the signal of Gotham's descent, but now, years later, the full scope of that collapse had become undeniable. The streets were darker, the crime more vicious, the hopelessness more suffocating. You sometimes wondered what Gotham had been like before all this. Before the Mob had its claws in every business before the GCPD had turned into a joke, before fear became the language everyone spoke.
What had the city been before the darkness swallowed it whole? You clung to those fleeting thoughts, even though you knew they were nothing but illusions. Still, a part of you wished that something or someone could do something. Gotham needed a savior, but no one was coming. Bruce Wayne, the last living Wayne, had left the city, disappearing into the shadows of some faraway place. Gotham had been abandoned by its greatest hope, in the eyes of many. And now, the city had nothing but despair. People whispered about the death of Gotham as though it were inevitable, as though nothing could be done to stop it.
But you… You sometimes imagined it could be you in your dreams, in your nightmares of something else. Maybe you could rise from the ashes, and become something more than just a survivor. Maybe you could be the one to save Gotham from itself. It was a fantasy, one you hardly dared speak aloud, but deep down, it was there. The city hadn't completely crushed your spirit. Not yet. (Bruce Wayne has left Gotham, and the city teeters on the brink of collapse. In this time before Batman, all you can do is try to save yourself...or perhaps, if you dare, you could be the one to save someone else in Gotham. If there's another way.)
AN: Enjoy and please vote in plan format, please!
[] The Orphan: Life in an orphanage wasn't the comforting or magical escape some might imagine from movies. There were no heartwarming moments or grand adventures. Just discipline and constant fear, a gnawing emptiness where love should have been. You learned early that affection was fleeting, and the connections you made with the other children were fragile, bound by shared survival rather than true family bonds. As much as you tried to care for those around you, deep down you knew you had to leave. The orphanage was a place you could never call home. The hope of money, of someday coming back to help, gave you a purpose but it was never happiness. (Gain Trait: A Faceless Orphan. You are alone, with only your brothers and sisters of circumstance as your closest family. But you know, even among them, you remain nameless and faceless to the world.)
Gain Trait: A Faceless Orphan: Despite all the adults in your life being terrible people, forcing you to conform with their own, misguided and poor choices and desires, you never were afraid to refuse them. You were never going to give them the satisfaction of letting them know you have been beaten. (All the Adults know of your behavior of nonconformity, and you fellow orphans love it)
----------------------------------------------
You stood up slowly, bracing yourself against the bedpost, the cold wood pressing into your palm. The room felt stifling, thick with the quiet fear that clung to every breath. The air was tense as Matron Glynda paced down the row of beds, her sharp eyes scanning each child like a predator, searching for the slightest hint of imperfection. Your 'siblings' shifted nervously, eyes darting to the ground, hands trembling at their sides. Each time the cane tapped against the floor, the sound echoed through the room like the tick of a deathwatch beetle, marking the seconds until she found her next victim.
Her footsteps stopped near you. You didn't need to look to know who had caught her attention this time. Little Howard, barely three years old, stood next to you, trying his best to stay upright. His toes were bandaged from last night's accident when he'd hurt himself stumbling out of bed. The sheets at the foot of his mattress were soiled again. The poor boy had done his best, but his tiny frame was shaking, fighting to stand as straight as his fragile body allowed.
Matron Glynda's voice cut through the silence, sharp and cruel. "Again, Howard? Do you soil yourself without changing the linen again? Do you not know the rules?" Her voice dripped with contempt as she glared down at the small, trembling figure before her.
Howard could only shiver, his eyes wide with terror, unable to find the words to defend himself. Even if he could speak, you knew anything said would only be met with scorn or firmness that would not help. His lips quivered, but no sound came out. You could see the helplessness in his eyes, the kind that made your blood boil. You stepped forward before you could stop yourself.
"Matron Glynda," you began, your voice steady, "fresh linens don't arrive until—"
"Stay out of this!" Her cane lashed out in a blur of motion, and pain exploded in your foot as it struck you. You heard a sickening crack, but you didn't cry out. You refused to give her that satisfaction. Instead, you stared straight into her cold, pitiless eyes, meeting her gaze head-on, forcing her attention away from Howard and onto you. The pain surged up your leg, but you stood your ground, gritting your teeth as she loomed over you.
Her lip curled in disdain. "You will be without your meal if you continue—"
"Enough!" You cut her off, your voice louder this time, resonating with the strength you could muster. "Matron, he did nothing wrong-"
The cane came down again, hard, on the same spot, sending a jolt of agony through your foot. You felt your leg buckle, your balance faltering, but you refused to fall. A grimace twisted across your face as the pain coursed through you, but still, you did not scream. Instead, you locked eyes with her, daring her to strike you again.
Her voice dropped to a deadly whisper, cold as the winter wind outside. "Do not speak back to me about what is right and wrong. The rules are there for a reason."
Her gaze swept the room, ensuring that every other child was watching, every other pair of eyes locked in silent terror. She wanted them to see. She wanted them to fear her more than anything else in their small, fragile world. "Rules are needed," she continued, her tone carrying the weight of conviction, "because as we all know, man is nothing more than a beast, ready to tear himself and others apart."
Her words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. You felt the eyes of your 'siblings' on you, the tension in the room tightening like a noose. But you didn't look away. You could feel the bruise swelling beneath your skin, the throbbing pain in your foot, but you stood tall, defying her.
You grimaced as she looked to you. "Come, we must update your adoption papers."
You limped behind her, knowing you have just saved everyone quite a bit of trouble. At least she didn't break your foot this time.
-----------------------------------------------
What is your name… Mostly because these idiots need a name:
[]Write in
The Picture came out good at least:
[]Place Image here
How Old were you?:
[] Eight:
You're just another child lost on the fringes of Gotham society, an orphan under the indifferent care of a city too broken to protect its own. Yes, you're known your name exists in some file in a grim office but being "known" in Gotham carries no advantages. It's not a shield against the cruelty of the world outside, nor does it offer any reprieve from the expectations heaped on you.
You had to perform, to behave, to smile when prospective adoptive parents visited. You had to try try to get adopted, try to stay out of trouble, try to survive. And you did, but it was never enough.
Gotham's streets are becoming an unforgiving battleground for those on the bottom, like you. Crippling poverty crushes the soul, while crime and the Mob choke the life out of whatever hope you might have once had. Survival here feels impossible, and yet every day you wake up, determined to make it through, even though every action and every step you take is weighed against the slim chance of escaping this life.
But then, the news came. It swept across Gotham like wildfire: The Waynes—Thomas and Martha, Gotham's beacons of hope, the last vestiges of light, sanity and goodness—were dead, murdered in the heart of Crime Alley. For most, it was a tragedy that rocked the very foundation of the city. For a select few, it was an opportunity to seize more power in the vacuum left behind. But for kids like you, it was a disaster.
The Martha Wayne Foundation had been one of the largest donors to Gotham's already struggling child services. Their money fed you, clothed you, and kept what little roof you had over your head. Now, with the Waynes gone, so too was the funding. You could already feel the effects, the tightening grip of poverty becoming a noose around your neck. And it was only going to get worse. (You begin as a child, where fleeting moments of adventure and wonder intermingle with the brutal reality of Gotham's streets. You must navigate a city hostile to your survival, where predators both human and something darker keep Gotham drowning in poverty, crime, and death.)
[] Twelve:
By the time you turned twelve, you had already seen more of Gotham's darkness than most adults. You grew up in a city where poverty was a way of life, a constant companion that weighed down the spirits of everyone around you.
Gotham had once been a city of promise, but those days felt like distant memories. Now, all you saw was decay, a festering wound that refused to heal. Waynetech, once the heart of Gotham's industry, had pulled most of its operations out of the city, citing the uncontrollable rise in violent crime. The Gotham City Police Department, once a symbol of protection, had become a farce—a broken system too afraid or too corrupt to stop the bleeding.
The Mob ruled now, with an iron grip that stretched into every corner of the city. They controlled the streets, the businesses, and even the lives of the desperate people who lived in Gotham's poorest neighborhoods. No one was safe.
The streets were ruled by fear, and trust had become a commodity too precious to waste. Even the people you once called friends had become potential threats because when survival was on the line, betrayal often came with a payday. You had learned the rules early. Keep your head down. Don't make eye contact. Don't trust anyone. And yet, in the deepest part of your soul, you couldn't help but dream of something better. But Gotham wasn't a place for dreams. It was a place where nightmares walked in the daylight, and all you could do was try to stay safe. (Begin in the darkest time for Gotham. The Mob controls the city, crime is rampant, and safety is an illusion. Trust is a luxury no one can afford. You've come to know just how powerful and inescapable the enemy is a leviathan that cannot be slain.)
[] Sixteen:
Sixteen years old, and you're still alive, somehow, which in Gotham feels like an accomplishment all its own for having no parents and living in a crumbling forgotten orhpanage. The city around you has fallen further into the abyss, becoming more twisted and broken than you ever thought possible.
The death of the Waynes had been the signal of Gotham's descent, but now, years later, the full scope of that collapse had become undeniable. The streets were darker, the crime more vicious, the hopelessness more suffocating. You sometimes wondered what Gotham had been like before all this. Before the Mob had its claws in every business before the GCPD had turned into a joke, before fear became the language everyone spoke.
What had the city been before the darkness swallowed it whole? You clung to those fleeting thoughts, even though you knew they were nothing but illusions. Still, a part of you wished that something or someone could do something. Gotham needed a savior, but no one was coming. Bruce Wayne, the last living Wayne, had left the city, disappearing into the shadows of some faraway place. Gotham had been abandoned by its greatest hope, in the eyes of many. And now, the city had nothing but despair. People whispered about the death of Gotham as though it were inevitable, as though nothing could be done to stop it.
But you… You sometimes imagined it could be you in your dreams, in your nightmares of something else. Maybe you could rise from the ashes, and become something more than just a survivor. Maybe you could be the one to save Gotham from itself. It was a fantasy, one you hardly dared speak aloud, but deep down, it was there. The city hadn't completely crushed your spirit. Not yet. (Bruce Wayne has left Gotham, and the city teeters on the brink of collapse. In this time before Batman, all you can do is try to save yourself...or perhaps, if you dare, you could be the one to save someone else in Gotham. If there's another way.)
AN: Enjoy and please vote in plan format, please!
Let's go with the earliest timeline
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
All I will say is that there will be some more mini adventures... but then again, the later timeline means faster time for Batman to show up.
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Plan Saint of Orphans
-[X] Paula Emiliani
‐[X]
-[X] Eight
-[X] Paula Emiliani
‐[X]
-[X] Eight
[X]Plan: Not That Orphan
-[X]Adam Romero
-[X]
I had originally planned on straight-up using a picture of Burton's young Bruce Wayne but I'm giving up the ghost.
EDIT: I did it! My idea is that Adam is eerily visually similar to Bruce Wayne in appearance. Hence the name of the plan.
-[X] Eight
-[X]Adam Romero
-[X]
I had originally planned on straight-up using a picture of Burton's young Bruce Wayne but I'm giving up the ghost.
EDIT: I did it! My idea is that Adam is eerily visually similar to Bruce Wayne in appearance. Hence the name of the plan.
-[X] Eight
Last edited:
[X]Plan: Not That Orphan
That Matron is a bitch and the MC is nice for sticking up for the other orphans.
That Matron is a bitch and the MC is nice for sticking up for the other orphans.
Is this okay? Not sure how Protagonist we can get.
[X] Plan: In Search of A Friend.
-[X] Edin Damya
-[X] Google Image Result for https://i.pinimg.com/736x/d0/b3/28/d0b3283a42e9076865cda1452eff6875.jpg
Google Image Result for https://cdn.myanimelist.net/r/360x360/images/characters/15/428532.jpg?s=02ab0a9ffc1ac2c7697b97f12d3e519f
-[X] Eight
Wasn't sure whether or not this would work, haven't ever inserted pics using my phone before.
Let me know if I fucked anything up. Probably not the best but ayy, why not just throw it out. Enkidu looks cool as hell
Also, didn't see any pics of a younger version, I can look though.
[X] Plan: In Search of A Friend.
-[X] Edin Damya
-[X] Google Image Result for https://i.pinimg.com/736x/d0/b3/28/d0b3283a42e9076865cda1452eff6875.jpg
Google Image Result for https://cdn.myanimelist.net/r/360x360/images/characters/15/428532.jpg?s=02ab0a9ffc1ac2c7697b97f12d3e519f
-[X] Eight
Wasn't sure whether or not this would work, haven't ever inserted pics using my phone before.
Let me know if I fucked anything up. Probably not the best but ayy, why not just throw it out. Enkidu looks cool as hell
Also, didn't see any pics of a younger version, I can look though.
Last edited:
- Location
- California,USA
[X]Plan: Not That Orphan
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
You choose to be good. So as a good storyteller about to begin this adventure, I show, and tell you, why you are good, why you are fearless...
and set up some future challenges in the future as a ward of the state.
That is fine. And most things are pictures are available, though in saying that, don't ask for things that are too out there.
[X] Plan Saint of Orphans
[X] Plan Saint of Orphans
Duke William of
I really need to finish my quests. :V
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Do we have a say in who our persona's are, or is that random?
Magoose
SV's Questing Fanatic
- Location
- California USA
- Pronouns
- He
You will choose from a selection of personas I've created.
A few are reused, but I have some others made for this one.
- Location
- New York
[X] Totally not planning to make him look like Gojo as an adult
- [X] Aster Walker
-
-[X] Eight
- [X] Aster Walker
-
- Location
- Indonesia
All of these are good. But man, is the Gojo plan hilarious.
My vote:
[X] Totally not planning to make him look like Gojo as an adult
[X] Plan: Not That Orphan
[X] Plan: In Search of A Friend.
My vote:
[X] Totally not planning to make him look like Gojo as an adult
[X] Plan: Not That Orphan
[X] Plan: In Search of A Friend.