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gh0stly-pages · 2 months ago

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Out of Our Minds (Part Four)

Ledger!Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of blood

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Summary: More sessions pass and while you learn more about the Joker, the pull you feel towards him grows stronger. Yet this time, it feels like everything is starting to change...

Previous part: Part 3

Notes: We back, and things are really picking up this time. Hope this distracts everyone who might be going through a tough time right now. <3 Things really pick up in this one, and I'm already excited to drop the next part lol. Have fun with this one!

With every session your infatuation for the Joker only grows.

At first, you tell yourself it comes from your want (well, need) for him to progress, both for the sake of actually seeing him healed and for the sake of your survival. Then eventually, you think it comes from the fact that his mind truly is incomprehensible, and you want to know what’s going on inside of it, want to crack open his skull and see every gear. But now, you’re not even sure what it is exactly that keeps you feeling empty anytime you’re not in a session with the Joker. You don’t know what you’re chasing anymore. Everything is just one big mind fuck.

Slowly, the Joker becomes more and more human to you. Where others still see some kind of raving, homicidal madman, you see a person.

As your sessions carry on, you tell him more things about you, and you learn more things about him. He likes junk food. He is skilled with almost every gun known to man. He owns over thirty blades. His sleep schedule is so all over the place that he doesn’t even know what day it is ever. He prefers nights over mornings. He drinks his coffee with lots of creamer. Every fact you’ve tucked away in your mind and you’re not sure for what.

You like it when he tells you something personal about himself, but he likes when you do it even more. “I was a gymnast for a long time,” you told him once, much to his surprise. Even you hadn’t expected to get into that part of your life. “I had to stop once I started going to school, just got too busy, but I was real good at it.”

“Gymnastics, huh?” He said, grinning, and you figured he must be imagining you, usually so rigid, flying through the air. It sounded like a joke. You were surprised he wasn’t laughing. “So, you’re pretty, ah, light on your feet?”

You smiled to yourself, thinking of all the memories. It had felt so nice to throw yourself into all that hard work. When you were flipping in the air, you felt free. “Guess you could say that. Certainly hasn’t come in handy though, in my line of work.”

“It may come in handy with mine. You’d probably make a good fighter, Doctor l/n.”

The thought of you fighting anyone made you laugh out loud. Have you thought about fighting people before? Of course. All your life people have hurt you and you wanted to hurt them back. But in the end, you had decided that wouldn’t do any good. Now, however, as you kept imagining it, the Joker appeared at your side, and you were winning this fight, him laughing maniacally beside you. It sent a sort of thrill through you. You didn’t like it. “Luckily, I’m not in your line of work.”

He had winked. “You can always change your mind.”

Alongside learning bits of things about him, he also taught you a few new skills, probably antsy to test them out considering he’s strapped to a bed most of the time. He (as best as he could still cuffed to a table) tried to teach you to pick a lock, how to get a perfect shot with a gun, how to rig up TNT. It was nothing you needed to know, nor anything you thought he should be thinking about, but you went along anyway because it was best he knew you were there to support his interests. As dark as they were…. You’d work on that.

After your last session, you decided to bring something up to Mr. Dale.

“Doctor y/n, your progress has been very minimal,” he had commented as you walked up to him, before you could even open your mouth.

You frowned. “It’s the Joker, sir. It’s not going to move very fast-“

“Well, I am tired of waiting. The longer he sits in that cell I fear the worse he’ll get, and then what? He snaps and tries to kill us all?” He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. You wanted to smack him. “Is there any way you could hurry up the process?”

Don’t rush me, was what you wanted to scream, but that wasn’t going to get you anywhere but kicked to the curb. “I do think I have an idea,” you said, trying to direct him to why you came up to him in the first place. “You need to let me bring in his makeup.”

Mr. Dale’s eyebrows shot up. And, of course, he began to laugh. If it weren’t for growing used to the Joker doing it so often, it would really piss you off. “You want to turn him back into a clown? Miss l/n, I fear that would only encourage him.”

“First off, it’s Doctor l/n,” you point out sternly. You’ve had enough of him treating you like less. If there’s another thing the Joker has taught you, it’s to not take shit from others. “And second, I want him to embrace himself. If he can be this clown persona he sees him as, we can take this persona and shape it so that it’s less… violent. Then, the makeup will no longer be something he associates with villainy. Please, Mr. Dale, I know what I’m talking about.”

You smiled wide as Mr. Dale’s face fell, absolutely shattered by your words. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “Alright, Doctor l/n, I will allow it however if it ends badly-“

“It wont.”

“You’re getting too comfortable. It’s his fault, I’m sure. I was right, he breaks people.”

You wish you could grab him by the collar and pull him close, but instead you settle on a deadly glare, looking him right in the eye. “I’m not broken. J isn’t broken.”

“Well, you’ve changed.”

You scoffed and turned away. “See you later, Mr. Dale.”

You have changed. You’re not sure if it’s for the better or not.

—————————

For your session, you walk in with a gentle smile, the tubes of makeup in your bag clinking together. You’re going to keep it a surprise, for later in the season. You’re not really sure why you feel giddy, but you do. It sort of outweighs your exhaustion, you’d run to the store late that night to pick up the same paints the Joker was said to have used. And when the guards finally let you in through the door, your smile grows even wider at the sight of the Joker, who is already smiling back at you. Not just because of the scars, it’s an actual smile. At first, his smiles had been menacing, but now you feel they’re actually kind of… nice. “Well, hello, doll face. So lovely to see you again.”

“Hiya, Mr. J,” you respond, taking your seat. “How are you doing today?”

“You know me, Doctor l/n, your presence puts me in a much better mood.” He props his chin up on his fist. “You look beautiful today.”

The past few sessions, Joker has certainly grown more flirty. It’s not something you’re a stranger to, the other patients have tried their hand at it, usually to try and get on your good side, but it’s different coming from Joker. You know he likes to rile you up, but you can’t help but feel the words are mostly genuine. “I look like this everyday,” you point out, not wanting to show him how his words affect you.

“And you are, ah, beautiful everyday, doll.”

“Mr. J, refrain from flattery, please.”

He bows his head, pretending to be upset like a kicked puppy. “Oh, you’re no fun sometimes, Dr. l/n. You know I like to tease ya.”

“Some of the guards told me you’re allowed to roam around your cell now,” you say, trying to switch the subject before he can completely throw you off course. He’s good at that. “How are you liking that?”

“Hmmmm, well, I, ah, went from being stuck permanently standing in a small cell and now I can walk around the cell. Once you’ve walked it once you’ve, ah, seen it all.” He looks to one side of the room. “A wall there.” His head swerves to the other. “Oh, and one there too! What a surprise!” He chuckles to himself. Nothing makes Joker laugh more than his own nonsense.

“So, not much better?”

Joker shakes his head. “Nah ah ah, not one bit. Can barely even make a ruckus too, the doors conceal all my banging and kicking and laughing. The guards can’t even get annoyed with me.”

You bite your cheek. “You really like being a nuisance, huh?”

“I do like to make people tick.” He wets his lips. “Especially pretty psychiatrists with sharp minds.”

Already, you can feel your cheeks warming. Embarrassment, that’s all it is. You, once again, try and take the conversation back to what you actually need to be in there for. “How about we get started, huh?”

Joker nods, smacking his lips together. Despite how much he licks them, they’re always chapped, the skin cracking. “What am I in for today? I feel we’ve talked about everything we possibly can.”

“And yet you’re no closer to getting out of here, are you?” You smirk at him as you bring out your clipboard. “I feel like I’ve been keeping it too light these past few sessions. I’ve learned a lot about you but you still won’t let me reach past the barrier.”

“What barrier?”

“The barrier between you and whoever you were before you became the Joker.”

His lips twist into a frown. Again, his past touches a nerve. “Dolly,” he warns, “I’ve told you, whatever came before doesn’t matter. I’ve always been the Joker. You won’t find anything past that.”

Once again, Joker is being a stubborn ass. As much as you enjoy talking with him, he also drives you nuts. “You’re saying your life started once Batman came to the scene?”

“He gave me purpose. What’s a joke without the punchline? Batman is the punchline.”

“You were a child once, Joker.”

“Like most people, yes.”

“And how was your childhood?”

He ignores your question, grumbling as he stares at his cuffed wrists, rotating them as you sit there expectantly. You realize he’s not going to answer you and groan. So, he doesn’t want to dive into the past. You’re not going to force him. Prying was never the best way to go about things. You’d leave it alone again… for now. “Okay, sorry, Mr. J, we can move on. Is there anything that you’d like to talk about?”

Joker raises an eyebrow, not confused but suspicious. “You’re just gonna turn it into some kind of analysis moment, aren’t you?”

He knows me too well. “Well, that is my job. But no. Just, talk to me.” You hold your hands together, resting your chin on them. “About anything.”

“Hmmmm.” He looks like he’s having trouble thinking of something. “I’ve been thinking about Batman.”

“B-Man.” Of course. “What have you been thinking about him?”

“Those last moments I saw him, his expression. He looked so shattered.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, and you’re sure your face betrays this but he goes on anyway. “Oh, I’d live for a moment like that again. Seeing Batman react to my schemes, it’s so pleasing.”

“Do you consider your vendetta against Batman more for yourself or on behalf of the people of Gotham?”

He points at you. “There’s the analysis question. You can calm down there, Doc.” Joker coughs. “Behalf makes me sound like mister tall, dark, and dorky,” he snorts. “I’m trying to pull back everyone’s mask, but especially the Bat’s. I mean I, ah, already broke down Harvey Dent.”

That makes you go still. You hadn’t thought much on Harvey Dent, or how what Joker did may have affected him. You’re not sure if broken is the right word. Maybe scarred. Figures. “The explosion. Right.”

“Poor, poor Harvey Dent. Gotham’s White Knight broke right in half. All because of me!”

You frown. “Harvey Dent died a noble man, Joker. Batman killed him all because Harvey was trying to do good.”

Joker’s eyebrows shoot up. “Harvey Dent is dead? And Batsy killed him?”

Oh, fuck. You clap a hand over your mouth, shaking your head. You weren’t supposed to say anything. It was an accident, you hadn’t meant to let it slip. “I… no, I mean, yes but-“ you stumble to try and cover it up but there’s no going back. Joker knows. And, honestly, who cares? He was going to figure it all out eventually. You take a deep breath. “Yes. Harvey Dent is dead. Batman killed him and five other people. And then Batman… he disappeared.”

Joker shoots up from his chair, and it takes you aback, causing you to squeal. You instinctively push your back into the chair while Joker looms over you. You’re not sure what he’s feeling, his mouth a thin line, his nostrils fuming. “Doll, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” he hisses.

“I… my bosses didn’t want me to. They were scared of what you’d do. That this would inspire you…”

You wait for him to yell, to react violently, but instead he laughs. This time though, it isn’t a creepy giggle or a small chuckle, it’s a full body laugh, the kind that contorts his body. It sounds like it hurts. “Batsy killing people?” he chokes out. “I don’t believe it. No, I don’t believe it-tah one bit.” He clutches his stomach. “Batman is a very hard person to break, believe me.”

“You… you don’t think he killed all those people?”

“Ha! Absolutely not. He would’ve killed me too, he had me in the perfect place to do it, multiple times. No no no, something’s wrong about this…”

Slowly, you loosen your posture, moving back closer to the table. You’ve never even thought that any of that mess could have been something made up. “I’m confused,” you admit.

“Doll, do you know how hard I tried to get Batman to kill me? He won’t do it! He just won’t. He’s got his, ah, one rule, his precious little moral code. He had me in the perfect position to kill me so many times yet he didn’t take any of those chances. Yet now he says he’s killed off five people including Gotham’s little savior? Puh-lease. There’s more to this story than they’re letting up.”

You hadn’t thought about it that way at all. Well, probably because you had no reason to. Joker knew more about Batman than any Gothamite did. You didn’t know much about him other than his attempts at stopping crime. Who were you to know Batman supposedly didn’t kill? You admit, it was strange that he had a streak of getting rid of criminals in ways that didn’t involve killing, then suddenly turned and killed a few people? “Are you sure you didn’t… break him?”

“No, if I did I’d know it. I’d feel it. The Bat is about as stubborn as me, doll. And now he’s in hiding?” He sniggers, a hand gently touching his lips. “Sounds like some kind of, ah, twisted joke. The Bat is hiding something.”

“I’m sure he’s hiding lots of things.”

“Whatever this is though I’m curious about it.”

Of course. You just ignited a flame in him. Idiot. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing they got nine lives.”

The more you think about it, the more intrigued you are. Batman has always been shrouded in mystery for you. Was he good? Was he bad? And now it turns out his story is all over the place, that it doesn’t make sense? You kind of wanted to know now too. “Do you think it has to do with Harvey?”

“Only one way to, ah, find out.”

“Which is?”

He looks at you like the answer is obvious. “Drive the Bat out of hiding, of course.”

There it is. Mr. Dale was right. You shouldn’t have told him. He was going to find out eventually but now was not the time. Shit. “J, you can’t-“

He cuts you off. “You don’t like the Bat, do you?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Then don’t you wanna know what his little secret is? It must be somethin’ real special if he’s, ah, abandoned Gotham. Doesn’t sound very heroic to me. Sounds rather dull.”

You know Joker’s dead set on getting back Batman for his own amusement, but what of you? What reason would you want to go find him for other than to expose him? He locked up Joker and left him here to rot. He killed five people plus Harvey Dent. He gets to hide away while people still root for him, safe from consequences. Everyone else suffers. Maybe Joker has a point. “I’m just a psychiatrist working Arkham asylum, Mr. J, trying to seek out the Batman is far above my pay grade,” you finally say, snorting, trying to get the idea out of your head. “B-Man can’t hide forever.”

“You’re right. Because we’ll drive him out.”

“We?”

“Well, you like to do good, don’t you? Little miss Mother Teresa, over here. You’ve already offered me friendship. So come on, help me, help Gotham, help us all!” He shows you his yellowing teeth. “Or, are you not as good as you think you are?” He reaches out with his hands suddenly, moving towards you. They only reach about halfway across the table, stopped by his cuffs, but you still jump. “What’s behind that mask, dear? Tell me what you really want. Let. It. Slip. Every dirty detail.”

You’re trembling now. Like a rabbit caught in a trap. “I… I’m not sure I’m following.”

“You’re not as good as you think you are, dolly. I can see it! I, ah, can sense the darkness looking beneath your white coat.”

What the hell was Joker going on about? That you were as rotten as he was? You weren’t. You had dark thoughts sometimes, yes, but you weren’t crazy. You weren’t crazy. You weren’t. You weren’t bad you- “I don’t know what you want from me,” you whisper.

As your voice gets quieter, Joker gets louder. “Is that it? You feel all fine and dandy in this shitty life of yours, locked up with me in this madhouse? The people out there don’t care about you, they don’t care about any of us. But you’re fine with it, huh? Like a little pet pooch nipping at their heels. You’re just being optimistic!”

“Joker-“

“Tell me,” he demands, “what you really want! I want to break Batman! I want to strip all of Gotham down to its rotting core! And you want to keep yourself beneath their boots? Dolly, please, you’re much much more than that.”

Heart thumping, you can’t take his words anymore. You stand up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table. “Fine! You wanna know what I want? I want to hurt every single person around here who has done me wrong! Every single person who ignored me or disregarded me, everyday I wish I could just rip them apart. I- I hate everyone. I hate this stupid fucking place because everyone treats me like shit and at first I was only trying so hard at this because I can harldy survive and they told me that if your sanity improved then I’d get a raise!” What is with you today? You clap your hands over your mouth, hands shaking. Fuck, Joker was going to be pissed. Oh, goddammit. “J… I- I didn’t…” You struggle to find the words, trying to keep looking him in the eyes. They give nothing away. He is silent. “Mr. J-“

Then, out of nowhere, he cackles. He throws his head back, neck exposed, and laughs into the air, the howls of his laughter echoing throughout the room. Immediately, you’re caught off guard. You can’t tell if he’s laughing because it amuses him or because he’s angry. Even when he calms down enough to look at you and smile, you still can’t tell, and you continue to shake. “Doll,” he begins through his laughs, “that’s exactly what I’m looking for.” He doubles over with howling laughter again and you’re not sure if you should be scared or confused. “This whole time you just wanted a raise! So you took on little old me?”

There’s a lump in your throat. You swallow it down. “I didn’t have much of a choice but yes… it was that or be fired. But I did really want to help you, Mr. J. Are- are you mad?”

“Mad? No! I am, ah, lovin’ this side of you. It’s so cruel.”

That certainly took a weight off your shoulders, and you finally took a long breath in. Fucking hell, Joker was confusing. Guilt still gnawed at you. “You’re right, I’m just as selfish as you say people are,” you mumble.

“Exactly,” he hisses. “But it takes guts to admit it, especially to someone who, ah, doesn’t exactly handle things very nicely.”

“I’m so sorry, J.”

“Don’t apologize. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Then I don’t know what to do now. You’re set on getting Batman out of hiding, I’m going fucking crazy right now, everything feels so weird.”

Joker seems to find the utmost pleasure in your unraveling. “Doll, what’s in the bag?”

The question takes you off guard. “What?”

“When you came in, you were all giddy, and I could hear something moving in your bag I haven’t heard before. What is it?”

Ever so perceptive. “Oh… uh,” you fumble through your bag, bringing out the three tins of paint. “Your paint. They… they let me bring it for you.”

Joker’s smile falters a bit, yet he doesn’t look upset, just surprised. “My paint… You really brought it for me?”

You nod. “Y-yes.”

His voice dips low. “Put it on me then.”

Now that takes you by surprise. More than anything else that’s happened to you today.

The Joker is so guarded off, yet he’s inviting you in, allowing you to not just touch his face but apply his makeup. It feels sacred. This is a part of him that makes him not just recognizable, but feared. And here you are, being asked to put it on him. It’s so wrong it feels… right? It scares you.

“Are you sure you-?”

“Put it on me, y/n.”

If this is a test, you’re not exactly sure how to pass. But his look is unnerving and so you stand up, pulling yourself onto the table between you, a lump in your throat. You feel frazzled as you move close to him, bending your legs to the side of you as you settle on your thighs. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. You can see every line of his scars, every wrinkle and crease on his face. “Okay,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You grab the white paint to the side of you, screwing off the lid and taking a large glob of the substance.

You loom close to him, your fingers wet with white paint, waiting for a sign that he’s okay with this. You don’t dare breathe, scared that any movement, any sound, will shut him down. But to your surprise, he doesn’t back away, he nods. Keep going. Your fingers finally land on his cheek, right beneath his eye, and you gasp at how warm his skin is. Joker shows nothing on his face to reveal how he feels except for the way his eye twitches slightly at your touch, his cheek twitching along with it. As you start to paint around his face, everywhere but his scars and lips, you wonder if his reaction stems from a disdain of being touched or from not having been touched so gently in so long.

“Mr. J,” you whisper, and you can feel your hands start to shake again but you quickly steady them. Once his face is fully white, you dig into the black paint. He notices this and closes his eyes, letting you rub the dark paint in circles until each of his eyes look like they’ve settled into two, painted voids. When he opens his eyes again, they’re still trained right on you. “What am I doing?” you ask to no one in particular.

Joker doesn’t answer your question. He doesn’t have one for you anyways other than the obvious. “The red now, doll.”

“Y-yes, of course.” Quickly, you grab the red paint and stick your fingers in, moving them towards Joker’s lips but stopping. Putting the makeup on his face had been intimate enough but… his scars? That was a whole different kind of territory. “J…”

“Do it,” he murmurs, and it’s so quick you still wait, your hand just in front of his mouth shaking. This had to be a test. Some kind of sick joke. “Doll, can you, ah, hear me? I said ‘do it’.”

You want to protest, but for what? He made it clear what he wants. So, you begin to smear the red across his lips, moving first to the scar on his right, your entire body shuddering as your fingers touch the sunken in skin where the carvings were made, the mangled flesh around it, every bump and curve. You don’t understand why anyone would ever find these scars ugly. To you, the way they healed, the way they are a part of him, there’s something hauntingly beautiful about it.

Godammit, J is beautiful.

As you continue to smear the red paint, he looms closer. “Do you wanna know,” he whispers, “how I got these scars?”

“I…” Of course you do. Everyday since you’ve met him, you go home and you can’t help but see his smile. See those scars. And you can’t help but wonder how they got there. You imagine a blade ripping across his mouth, drawing so much blood it drips down his chin. You’ve imagined him screaming in pain. You’ve imagined him uttering not a peep as the blade pierces his skin. So many possibilities. This was the barrier you’d been hoping to jump. “Yes,” you finally rasp.

“I can, ah, never get the story straight. It’s like a black hole, doll. A black hole in my mind. There’s so many ways I could’ve gottem, so many ways I think I gottem. What’s real? What’s not? Who the fuck cares?” Even with a furious growl in his voice, he laughs. “I can’t remember what it really was that did it. There was a horrible father. A wife who I tried so hard for. There was war, and violence, the mob, and so much pain. I’ve seen a lot. Maybe they’re all real memories, maybe they’re not, doesn’t matter! I hated the scars at first, I really did, but now? I embrace them because there is just so much to smile for. I’ve got so much left to do in this city. So much fun left to have. But there’s something I’ve been missing.”

You rub your thumb over his right scar, drawing in a shaky breath. “What is that?”

“I have all these plans, all these ideas and feelings over what I do and yet I’ve never thought anyone good enough to share them with. People, ah, will only be good to you for a while before runnin’ off with your secrets, it’s just human nature. I didn’t feel a kinship to anyone until you came along, Doctor l/n.” When he smiles, you feel the movement beneath your finger. “Look at you. So lonely. Letting everyone spit on you. Yet here you are, being so kind to me. I’m sure you imagined I could’ve killed you for keeping me along for a stupid paycheck, but you admitted it to me anyways. You are pulling back your own mask, right in front of me. You know you couldn’t fix me, right?”

You can feel tears welling in your eyes at his words, guilt gnawing at you. “I wanted to try at first. But now… I- I don’t want to fix you. I like what you are.”

“That,” he growls, “is exactly why I’m so drawn to you. I know, doll, that you crave something more than what you have now, this world kicking you down over and over and over again. I know the feeling. You’ve got nothing and everything to lose. Yet you manage to smile amidst the darkness. You smile in the face of pure chaos.”

“I don’t understand,” you mumble.

“I want what’s best for both of us, doll face. You were right. I do need someone by my side. As I was saying, what I’ve been missing this whole time, was you.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Me?”

He nods. “You stuck with me this long. Even for a paycheck, that’s somethin’ no one else would do. And yet the big Arkham bosses are out there now, laughing at the both of us. Ain’t that unfair?”

“Yes.”

“Doll, stick by my side, and we’ll let them all know just how corrupt they truly are.”

Your arms break out in goosebumps. Every word the Joker utters is dripping with venom, an edge to each syllable. You’ve tried to ignore him, the way he crawls into your rib cage, into your mind, finding your weaknesses, your dark desires and whims you push away. Yet here he is, getting you to reveal them, and trying to get you to go along with him. It’s working. “Let’s show them, then.”

You look down at your fingers, covered in red, and it almost looks like blood.

He grins. “That’s the spirit.” With a curl of his finger, he gestures for you to move closer. You do, and he cranes his neck towards your ear. “If you really wanna help me,” he whispers, his breath hot in your ear, “then tomorrow is the day you get me out of this place.” Every t is pronounced as sharp as a blade. “You’re smart, doll, I know you can think of something.”

Breaking Joker. Out of Arkham. A few weeks ago, you might have grabbed your remote and hit the red button but now? You think you might just take him up on that. You move back to look him in the eye. “You won’t help me think of something?”

“I’m sure you’ve got something in that, ah, pretty mind of yours.”

You huff. “J, I’m serious. This is Arkham. It’s constantly guarded and protected. And I’m just me.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“You’re you, sweets. No one’s gonna suspect you.”

Oh fuck. He’s right. No one gave a shit about you. You’d fly right under the radar. That part was easy. But everything else? This wasn’t exactly your forte. You didn’t know what to do. “I’ll try my best,” was all you could offer.

He reaches his hand out, and at first you think he’s trying to grab you, but instead he goes after one of the paint tins. The red paint. Agonizingly slow, he removes the cap, getting his fingers wet with paint. “Doll, you and I are gonna make something special. I always knew you had it in ya. C’mere.” You tilt your face towards him, and Joker smears the red across your lips, a mirror of his own striking smile. “Don’t forget to smile,” he says.

“Never.”

_______________

Later in the night, Joker stares at himself in the reflection of the small, grimy window of his cell door. His face is painted exactly the way he likes it, maybe just a bit different, but he could care less. This, this person he’s looking at, is the person he is, the person you have given back to him. He touches his face and he can still feel your phantom touch, the way you had run your finger over his face, his eyelids, his scars. You hadn’t backed off, or avoided them, you had touched them so softly. Soft. You were soft.

You made Joker feel soft and he hated it.

Yet, he couldn’t fathom getting rid of you. It would be easy, definitely. If things actually went well tomorrow and you managed to get him out of Arkham, he could easily kill you off. No one would look for you. And even if they did, helping him break out of Arkham would mark you a criminal, and Gotham would curse your name forever. But Joker doesn’t want to do that. Even the thought of your death makes him angry. He is used to wanting to hurt people, yet when he comes across you now, he feels… protective. He knows how the world hates him, yet somehow you showed him sympathy. No, even better, you were showing him loyalty by offering to help break him out. And if you really went and did it? God, he almost breaks into chills.

When he looks at you, he notices his body reacting strangely. His heart speeds up, his hands feel sweatier, his mind feels like it’s going to split right in half. This isn’t the kind of insanity Joker usually basks in, this is something worse. He doesn’t want to put a name to it. You were so good, and yet when you let your mask slip, Joker couldn’t help but feel pulled in even more. What lies beneath you is dark and spiteful, and Joker wants to see all of it.

You won’t let him down tomorrow, Joker is sure of it.

A voice on the intercom comes through the crack under the door, crackling through the speakers placed along the hall outside. “Shutting lights off. Everybody get to bed.”

Joker grunts, moving to plant himself down on his metal “bed”. He’s not going to sleep though, how could he? Chaos was coming, and you were bringing it straight towards him.

________________________________________________

When you get home, you stumble into the bathroom, quickly turning on the sink faucet and drenching your face in water. You let the ice cold water drip down your face, crying out as you try and get a grip on things. Your fingers are still covered in Joker’s face paint, the water hardly washing any of it off. It’s like he’s on you forever.

Why, for fucks sake, do you almost want it to never wash off?

You look at yourself in the mirror now, the makeup that Joker spread smeared down your chin. This is you now. Mr. Dale was right, you have changed. But fuck it, it was for the best. This change, this thing radiating beneath your skin, it’s something dangerous yet powerful. It moves you. You’re not crazy, you’re insane.

You can’t tell what this feeling is towards Joker. It almost feels like… love.

Love for the Joker.

The Joker. The Joker. The Joker-

He was right. He was always right. People were going to walk over you all your life. You were tired of it. Nothing was going to change if you didn’t change it first. You couldn’t stand around and watch these people, with their pockets fat and their reputations swell, walk around with such pride when you knew they were all phonies. This city, your city, you’re going to unveil it. No longer will it crush you. You’re going to crush it.

You were going to be Joker’s partner in crime. And you loved it.

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey / @ilovetoomanymen / @amazingzou/ @ronniesweetkisser / @emberhatesthemoon

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

#dark knight #dark knight joker #dark knight joker x reader #heath ledger joker #heath ledger joker x reader #joker x reader #ledger joker x reader #dark knight fanfic #dc joker

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genericpuff · 4 months ago

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I'm honestly amazed by how well you can imitate the LO S3 art style! Have you always been good at this sort of thing or is it a skill you developed due to your work as a tattoo artist?

ahhh thank you, but ima let you in on a little trade secret -

it's literally just referencing LMAO which is a valuable skillset to have! but one that I think a lot of folks tend to overlook because they think "learning to draw" means "I need to be able to draw everything perfectly from imagination!" Which sure, learning how to draw things without needing references might be cool, but it's ultimately not the sole defining feature of a "good artist" and I think there's frankly way too much emphasis put on "drawing without references" these days because it creates this unrealistic expectation of what an artist is. Referencing is part of the process! It's important! And it's a valuable skill to have so that you can actually grow your skills beyond your own limits! Referencing is as important to the process of creating art as research is to the process of writing, you can only produce so much new stuff if you're not taking in new stuff alongside it.

Though I use this skill a lot in tattooing as well, it's mostly rooted in my animation schooling which broke me out of the habit of drawing purely from imagination and taught me how to properly reference other material for educational purposes.

And I'm sure there are people in audience right now gasping at the fact that I simply cropped a bunch of different shots of Minthe from S3 and rearranged them like some surgical madman playing with body parts-

-but this is like, the actual majority of the process when it comes to learning other art styles and this process is taught as a skill in a lot of art schools because it forces you to draw what's there rather than what you think is there. This is the basis of master studies, to learn the techniques of other artists by trying to mimic them as closely as possible. Don't know what tools that artist used specifically? Try to recreate the work anyways with your best guess. Even if you only get close but not perfect, you'll still likely learn a lot along the way and may even develop some brand NEW techniques that weren't present in the original work you're studying from.

Imagination is necessary to the creative process, but it's only part of that process, you can't suddenly learn how to draw the way other artists draw through imagination alone because your imagination is limited purely by your own lived experiences. Our brains don't come pre-installed with these skills, they can't just magically unlock the capability to "do the thing". Just like how we have to learn to follow recipes as a means to becoming a baker or learn to read the alphabet to learn how to read and write, we have to learn how to draw what we see and reference the material around us if we truly want to expand our own innermost knowledge which will allow us to draw from imagination.

Here are some other examples of studies I've done, such as my attempts to learn the art style of The Doctor Foxglove Show:

As well as a background study from S1 of LO:

And of course here are a handful of the shitloads of studies I've done to try and "figure out" how to draw Hades and Persephone from S1 of LO:

Aaaand just for the fun of it, here are some completely non-LO studies, like the ones I did of Kazuma Koda's background work and Akihiko Yoshida's character designs for Nier: Automata:

And this sorta rotoscoped ??? animatic of Mitsuhiro doing the opening jig for Still Feel by Half Alive which is 100% not done and probably never will be LOL

I'm always progressively doing studies of both LO and other media in this way so that I can update my knowledge and continue to improve my skillset.

Though, despite my best efforts to mimic the original creator's style, works like Rekindled will always have my own stylizations present, as that's just an inevitable consequence of it being made by myself and Banshriek (and the fact that we just refuse to draw worse to look more like LO because jfc so much of LO's original art, even the stuff we love, is rooted in Rachel's trial and errors lmao), but that's a feature, not a bug :') <3

So the answer is yes, the Minthe S3 redraw was done through skills I developed over time, though not necessarily through tattooing, simply through learning how to actually practice properly beyond "drawing a lot". And you can too! Draw lots, but also remember that your brain isn't naturally just going to "get better" at whatever you're trying to achieve just because you really want to achieve it. I try to avoid the mantra of "just practice" because it oversimplifies what's truly necessary to learning - having something to learn from outside of your own imagination. If you don't learn how to practice properly, then you'll just wind up repeating the same mistakes and reinforcing the same bad habits over and over again.

All that's to say, if you want to learn how to draw like a certain artist, try and recreate their art for yourself ;0 (but like also please for the love of god remember that it's for EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES, I shouldn't have to tell y'all not to copy directly off other artists' work for your own because that's just deadass stealing lmao) I know this enters the ethical dilemma of tracing, and whether or not it's a "valid" way to learn, but there's a lot of virtue in learning through referencing other artists and building new skills through them. I'm sure folks will argue that it's a 'crutch' or 'training wheels', but that's all often being touted from the perspective that crutches and training wheels... are automatically bad things and aren't meant to help people ?

Like obviously if you want to create your own thing that isn't purely "living in the shadow" of the works that inspired you, you WILL have to make that leap into the unknown. But that leap's a lot less scary to make when you have a parachute.

#sorry this turned into a long art advice post LMAO #but i hope it's helpful!#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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unfortunatebrainfarts · 9 months ago

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Cussing out anyone and everyone is fun until you get lasso'd out of bed to do it on behalf of your casual space cowboy co-worker who for some reason knows where you live

Boothill x f!reader

A/n: soort of part 2 to my previous work but can be read seperately‼️

"For the last time — let me go before I literally unscrew your dick off."

"Psh, as if ya got the balls for that lil' missy."

You don't even have to look at Boothill to know he was immensely enjoying himself right now — hell you couldn't even if you wanted to since you were currently getting dragged through the ice cold floors of wherever the hell you were, with a fucking lasso firmly binding your legs and arms.

"It's like 5 a.m. in the morning, what the hell could you even want at this god forsaken hour?!" You righteously grumble, but alas, you were met with nothing more than silence probably because you've asked similar questions before. Yes. This has happened before. Many times before.

For Boothill, tracking down enemies and pinning them down was great. Not being able to curse them out and instead calling them a 'cutie' and blessing their soul? Not so great. But that's where you come in! His lovely fellow galaxy ranger who's been with him long enough to know what he wants to say, and is far too weak(compared to this baby shark looking freak of a cyborg) to refute him. Physically that is — you always make sure that you complain his ear off to at least ensure some sort of mental damage.

"Hey! If you're going to take me somewhere could you at least not drag me all the way there? Ugh these floors are so cold I feel like I'm gonna get hypothermia. If I do and I sue you, don't you have to pay me compensation for that? I'm expecting at least a million credits or so cause I don't think Lan provides health insurance for the galaxy rangers—"

Your pitiable monologue was abrubtly cut short by Boothill firmly gripping the rope which binded you and roughly jerking it upwards so that your body would fall limp directly on his shoulder like a giant worm, your head just centimeters away from his.

Of course to which you responded with automatic aggressive squirming and wiggling only making you look more and more like a worm. But honestly who could blame you? I mean, who just DOES THAT and expects the other party to be calmly subdued?!

"Oh sugar honey iced tea, could ya quit strugglin' for just one moment—" A large, metalic hand was promptly placed around your waist and no amount of wiggling could even get it to so much as budge. "Now that y'r off the darn floor ain'it 'bout time ya shut yer trap? Heh... we're almost there."

Now that you were head to head with Boothill, although not in the most favorable position, you could see his face now — his face with probably the most shit eating grin you have ever seen on it. His sharp teeth making themselves apparent, and unwavering eyes focused on just whatever lied ahead.

And then his feet stood still.

"THERE," he shouted unrestraintedly like a madman, while pointing his free hand at... a random lady in purple?

Without warning, Boothill launched himself forward stopping only inches away from the woman who looked just as confused as you.

"Now, go tell 'er that she's a wonderful ray of sunshine that deserves absoloutely nothin' but the best. Oh Acheron, bless your soul ya lovely imposter, be prepared to go on a playdate and have some teatime with me soon! Until then, you should keep yourself safe."

The sheer passion that Boothill had in his tone made it clear that he had a message to get across. Though you don't think the other woman, or supposedly Acheron, understood a word he said. You exasperatedly sigh, you felt just as bad for this lady as you did for you yourself.

"Well?! What'cha waitin' for," the arm around you tightened just enough for a squeak to involuntarily come out of you and you knew you weren't getting out of this.

You mentally apologise for this poor lady before translating his thoughts into words, "Er... what he means to say is uhm, 'you're a disgusting piece of shit who deserves to die seven times over by my hand. Oh Acheron, you absoloute dumbass fucking imposter, be prepared to meet me and face me off in a showdown soon, but you might as well just kill yourself before that."

"...," Acheron's face remained unchanging and blank throughout the whole spiel, Boothill's however, was characteristicly smug and maniacal.

To others, the three of you looked as if you were frozen in time for at least a minute or so, until Acheron simply tilted her head and monotonously responded,

"Sorry, who are you?"

#I wrote this in like 30 minutes pls help #li actually writes🤯#boothill x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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pencileraser1 · 10 months ago

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things i noticed/thoughts about most recent rewatches of dps (plus laserdisk deleted scenes):

whenever theres a group scene i've started watching the characters that the story isn't focusing on to see what they do and i've been having a fun time with that. pitts and cameron specifically seem to almost always be doing something interesting in the background.

hopkins!!!! my favorite minor character who somehow got character development despite having like 2 lines!!!! the last guy to stand on the desk but he did it!!!

sometimes i do like to think about what the rest of the students thought about the dead poets society, esp in alternate timeline neil lives dps keeps meeting universe. like yeah theres this guy in their class whose one of the most credited students in the school and we think he maybe started a cult. idk though. but that group runs out into the woods every few days to do god knows what and one of them keeps talking about "dead poets honor" whatever that means and holy shit welton star student neil perry started a cult.

i watched the movie with headphones. and maybe it's because ive seen this movie Far too many times and mabe i'm listening too hard but it was Really obvious sometimes when audio was added in post production. llke in the sweaty toothed madman scene when you can hear laughing and to be fair the camera is behind their heads. but it does Not look like anyone's laughing. my favorite is at the end of the phone call to chris scene where knox is like i'm gonna seize the day!! and runs up the stairs and the poets are cheering him on and neil is sort of yelling "carpe!!!!" and i could be wrong but i'm like 75% certain that the person singing is Also rsl so now neil is just speaking two times at once somehow. anyways it didn't ruin the experience for me or anything it was maybe just a little bit funny to notice but very sorry if this did ruin anyone's viewing.

people talk a lot about how rsl and ethan hawke really made their characters what they are but i have to add dylan kussman to that list. I get the impression that older versions of the movie didn't really give as much depth to cameron and watching dylan kussmans performance is like. he Knew who his character was so fucking well and it shows!! like the deleted scene of them getting clubs assigned. like i could tell So Much about cameron from that scene

for how little she actually appeared, there is an emphasis put on the fact that neil's mom smokes pretty frequently. and i think that's interesting considering neil is one of two poets shown actively smoking. neil's mom doesn't appear for very long in the movie but during that time it definitely seems like the movie is intentionally making parallels between the two, particularly in the last argument with neil's father. neil and his mother are both sitting for almost the whole time, which contrasts with his father who is standing. they are both almost powerless in this scene. they stand up at almost the same time. anyways there's a couple different possibilities for what this could mean? that i've though of? 1. to show that neil's mother is in a similar situation to the one neil is in in regards to neil's father and 2. maybe a stretch here but the theory that neil inherited his mental illness at least partially from his mother. i'm pretty sure 1 was fully intentional on the directors part, not entirely sure about 2 though

unmanned flying desket scene: it's probably cause he and ethan wrote the scene themselves but the way rsl talks in this scene feels more like the way he talks in general than the rest of the script. like briefly neil perry is talking in rsl's voice. one of my absolute favorite scenes though the sarcastic dialogue is so good.

the light of knowledge at the first shot of the film vs. todd standing on his desk at the last shot of the film paralel

#there was a whole additional part of this post that was about knox and charlies relationship with their parents #but it ended up being half of what i wrote here and i still had more to add so i'm making that a separate post #that should be posted in a few days i'm not a fast writer #neil perry #richard cameron #gerard pitts #todd anderson #dead poets society #dps #hopefully coherent

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jessource · 8 months ago

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prompts:　ttpd, the anthology by taylor swift.

your location, you forgot to turn it off.

the only thing that's left is the manuscript, one last souvenir from my trip to your shores

could it be enough to just float in your orbit?

quick, quick, tell me something awful, like you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy.

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

now and then she rereads the manuscriptof the entire torrid affair.

if you wanna tear my world apart, just say you've always wondered.

if comfort is a construct, i don't believe in good luck.

i move through the world with a broken heart.

they killed cassandra first, 'cause she feared the worst.

don't want money, just someone who wants my company.

say it once again with feeling.

even statues crumble if they're made to wait.

we here-by conduct the post portem.

what doesn't kill you makes you awake.

they tried to warn you about me.

i'm not a doner, but i'd give you my heart if you wanted.

i got cursed like eve got bitten.

i hate it here so i will go to secret gardens in my mind.

i feel so high school every time i look at you.

I look in people's windows like i'm some deranged weirdo.

there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

she wrotе headlines in the local paper, laughing at each baby step i'd take.

one bad seed kills the garden.

when the truth comes out, it's quiet.

you see, i was a debutante in another life.

you have a favorite spot on the swing set.

the empathetic hunger descends.

i'm addicted to the 'if only'.

he said that if the sex was half as good as the conversation was, soon they'd be pushin' strollers. soon it was over.

oh, we must stop meeting like this.

way to go, tiger.

i built a legacy that you can't undo.

you said some things that i can't unabsorb, you turned me into an idea of sorts.

i may never open up the way i did for you.

he was a cad, wanted her bad just like any good trophy hunter.

tell me about the first time you saw me.

they knew, they knew, they knew the whole time.

i don't think you've changed much.

you have no room in your dreams for regrets.

they set my life in flames.

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

i loved you the way that you were.

you're a just ruler covered in mud, you look ridiculous.

i'm there most of the year, 'cause i hate it here.

you saw my bones out with somebody new who seemed like he would've bullied you in school.

how did it end? i can't pretend like i understand.

this place made me feel worthless.

i wanna find you in a crowd, just to hide from you.

quick, quick. tell me something awful.

i won't confess that i waited, but i let the lamp burn.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

Buried down deep

out of your reach the secret we all vowed to keep it from you in sweetness.

splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless.

old habits die screaming.

i'm lonely, but i'm good.

in my fantasies, i rise about it.

forgive me, [name], please know that i tried.

if i sell my apartment and you have some kids with an internet starlet. will that make your memory fade from this scarlet maroon?

behind her back, her best mates laughed.

you needed me, but you needed drugs more, and i can't watch it happen.

she's the albatross, she is here to destroy you.

i'll tell you one thing, honey. i can tell when somebody still wants me.

were you makin' fun of me?

nostalgia is a mind's trick.

i read about it in a book when I was a precocious child.

does it feel alright to now know me?

excellent fun 'til you get to know her.

life was always easier on you.

tell me all your secrets, all you'll ever be.

it wasn't a fair fight.

if i die screaming, i hope you hear it.

i can confirm she made a curious child, ever reviled by everyone except her own father.

are you gonna marry, kiss or kill me?

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

all that time you were throwin' punches, i was buildin' somethin'.

one less temptress, one less dagger to sharpen.

i'm hearing voices like a madman.

you said you were gonna grow up, then you were gonna come find me.

but i can't forget the way you made me heal.

they nicknamed her 'the bolter'.

wise men once said 'wild winds are death to the candle'.

now i wanna sell my house and set fire to all my clothes.

i'm gonna get you back.

push the reset button, we're becomin' something new.

i'm watchin' american pie with you on a saturday night.

i'm an aston martin that you steered straight into the ditch.

#taylor swift #the tortured poets department #rp prompts #rp sentences #rp starters #rp memes #rp lyrics #rp lyric starters #taylor swift lyrics #ttpd: the anthology #memes #prompts #lyric sentence starters #mymemes.#*

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the-once-ler-in-superjail · 1 year ago

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CHAPTER 35: The Asylum - Part 1

Thanks for holding on again, we hope your patience was worth it! Went with a slightly different presentation style this time round (more comic page form) so expect these uploads to not always be the same format- that's part of the fun we're having with it.

Lineart/cleanup, flats & writing- @wiggybe

Layout/roughs, shading/lighting & writing- @self-made-madman

(TW: Mental illness/health/asylums.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once-ler: *Sitting at his desk in his office with his curtains closed, his hands through his hair and he's staring tiredly at a messy desk of papers in front of him. He was once reading them, but he's gotten to the point where he's so tired-out and stressed that he just stares at them without taking in any of the words, his eyes move over the same sentence he's been reading over and over again.*

Warden: *He just bursts through the door without knocking- though this is normal. He never knocks in his own jail, ever.* Good afternoon!~ *He's been... not perkier (it's impossible to be perkier than the Warden already is) but more bulletproof than ever since his breakdown. It's like a big weight off his shoulders.* How's my favourite accountant? Working hard or hardly working? Ha! You know, this place could use some sunshine! *Skips through the room poofing vases of flowers and other decorations around the room, as the curtains magically open.*

Once-ler: *Gasps at the sudden disruption of his silence and looks at the Warden with wide eyes which then squint at the sudden light. He almost hisses like a vampire bat when his perfect darkness disappears. He relaxes and then frowns a little.* It looks fine the way it is. *Leans on his elbow so he doesn't look at the Warden and takes his pen in his hand. He taps it a few times on the desk as he tries to read the papers again.*

Warden: *Pauses, and all the flowers in a vase he's holding wither and die.* Heeeey... *His voice softens down, actually showing some initiative and care for once.* You okay, buddy? *Walks over and rests a surprisingly parental hand on his shoulder. He looks down at Oncie's head with worry.*

Once-ler: *Sighs and drops back in his chair, throwing the pen onto the desk and his chair rolls back a little on the floor. He might have responded more callous if the Warden hadn’t picked up on his mood this time, and then adjusted his own mood to better console him. Instead, he sighs and drops his pen. His shirt is untucked and his braces hanging down by his waist instead of over his shoulders.* No. I'm not okay. *A bit of a whiny teenager voice. Then he frowns more seriously.* And I don’t appreciate you bursting in unannounced when I’m trying to work.

Warden: *Gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze.* What's up? I thought you liked that math-y boring stuff. *Sounds honestly like he cares. He really has grown very attached to his Oncie- enough to actually think of him as a human and not a toy. Which is just why he falter slightly when his sudden burst-in is mentioned.* Oh!-Uh… *Clears his throat then laughs awkwardly.* Sure, buddy! I hate it when Jared bursts in on me too- Not that I’m anything like Jared. *At least when HE suddenly shows up it’s for fun reasons, not boring annoying Jared reasons, and who wouldn’t want that? But he’s starting to learn that Oncie has his own feelings and ways of doing things, and that’s good, because if he was the same as everyone else then he wouldn’t be what makes him so great. He tilts his head.* Anything other than that your all-powerful prison-warden can do to help?

Once-ler: *Shakes his head, but he's really very grateful that he can feel the Warden concerned for him.* Not really. I have work to do for Superjail and then even more important work for my business. *Stands up and points at the Warden.* You've been spending too much over the budget again. *He points his thumb towards himself.* I need to get to Thneedville to sort out my factory. *His hands flick in mid air, flat, vertical and parallel to each other, like he’s showing a box size.* But I cant go to Thneedville, *then points at the floor,* Because I’m stuck here.

Warden: *Brightens up again* Weeeell, why didn't you say so?? *He completely glosses over, or doesn't even hear that he's over-budget. He never does, and probably never will. But, somehow, Superjail always survives.* How about you and I take some time out and go back? You can set up all your... *wiggles his fingers in midair,* factory doowhatsists, and I'll, I dunno, take in a tour! *The thought of Oncie going back alone doesn't even cross his mind. They're a duo.*

Once-ler: *Huffs and strokes his hand through the back of his hair. That’s not a terrible idea. Who’da thought he could just disappear? Maybe he’s becoming somewhat institutionalised here already and is still living with a prisoner mentality. He takes a glance at the papers and then frowns.* Yes! Yes! Okay, just take me out of here.

Warden: Alrighty! *Smiles and pulls Oncie backwards so he's suspended on the back two legs of his chair. He gives him a big kiss before they disappear, then reappear in a hover car on the coast of Superjail’s island. The car shoots off and off they go through the outer world back to mainland and back to Thneedville. There go his powers though- he won't be getting them back until Jailbot comes to get them. He did not think this through very much, but it's a perfectly reasonable plan so far.*

Once-ler: Hmph! *Gasps into the kiss and feels very dizzy once his powers take effect, the dizziness of the powers and the sudden romantic flutter in his stomach at the kiss, make stars appear as his eyes clench shut and they vanish. He snaps forward once they arrive in the car and gives a little shudder, feeling disorientated.* Uurgh…

Warden: *They land outside The Once-ler’s Lerkim and drags them out to the front door, before the car takes off again to leave back for Superjail. He pouts at him good-humouredly.* Enough moping! It's time to take care of your factory! *Wheels around him and moves to push him away from the building.* We'll meet back here in a few hours~

Once-ler: Wh- *Lets himself be walked out.* Where are you going?

Warden: Me? *Juts out his jaw as he thinks.* I guess I'll go exploring. We were so busy the last time we came here that I hardly saw any of the town~ *They were too 'busy'.* Now stop worrying! You're draggin' down the vibe.

Once-ler: You want to go exploring the town alone?- *His initial reaction to that-* No. *- and stops letting the Warden push him.*

Warden: Oof! *Crumples into the back of him, not ready for Oncie to stop moving.* *Pouts, speaking into Oncie's back with his nose and eyes visible over his shoulder.* Meanie.

Once-ler: *Looks over his shoulder.* I just don't want you getting into trouble. You'll probably end up punching a barbaloot or something *Frowns as he just put that image in his head. He might slap the man if he dared to harm any of the animals.*

Warden: *Gasps and straightens up.* The very idea! *Huffs with his hands on his hips.* I'll have you know that I am a grown man! *Shakes his finger in midair in a very old-fashioned way of making a point.* I can walk around town all I want completely unsupervised! *He doesn't sound angry, and he's not. He's just doing that automatically-appalled thing that he does.*

Once-ler: *Turns to face him.* Well, from what happened last time, you can understand why I wouldn't want you to be unsupervised around here. No slapping women! Or getting into trouble! This place is my place, it belongs to me its Thneedville. So I'm not letting you go out alone here.

Warden: Okay! Okay, geez, Mister Territory-Pants *Throws up hands in defeat.* What would you suggest? I'm not following you around all day doing accounts! *Grumpy face, hands on his hips.* If I wanted to do that I'd just leash myself to Jared's big, stupid head.

Once-ler: *Huffs in thought and thinks- that’s a good point. Then chuckles at the little Jared insult* It is big, isn't it?

Warden: Like, enormous, am I right? *Measures it in his hands, momentarily distracted.*

Once-ler: *Keeps laughing at him* Haha-! Totally~

Warden: *Frowns* Ababab! Don't distract me. *Grumpy point. However, throughout all this he's still been perfectly happy and in his usual safe half-sane space. No breakdowns or real arguments seem likely. He folds his arms.* Are you gonna arrange me a babysitter or something? *Sounds like he'll put up with it to humour Oncie's 'insane overprotectiveness'.*

Once-ler: Ppppffffff... *Rubs his neck* I don't know any-...I wonder who I could hire... *He ponders for a looong time, genuinely considering hiring a minder for his own boyfriend, which causes the Warden to almost start spluttering in incredulity, and then gives up with a little smirk.* Alright. *The smile drops and he looks him dead-on and serious.* You can go out alone, if you promise not to get into any trouble. No fights, no tantrums, nothing. *Smiles, softening his voice.* You gotta be good and polite and nice to people. You're not the Warden here, okay? You're Edmund Theremiah, so act normal and mature, okay?

Warden: *Squints in submission.* Fiiiine. *Hates the thought of being 'Edmund Theremiah'. It sounds boring and uninteresting, and he takes GREAT pride in never being boring and uninteresting.* Scouts honour. Best behaviour. *Stuffs his hand in his pockets and kicks a rock poutily.* I'll be good.

Once-ler: *Smiles at him calmly* Good~ Because you’ll be in trouble if you aren't, you hear me?

Warden: *Juts out his jaw in grumpiness again.* Yes Oncie. *Deflates slightly.* Stupid Thneedville. Can I go now? *Sounds so childish.*

Once-ler: Here, take this. Then if anyone questions you, you can just tell them that you know the Once-ler. *Reaches into his pocket and pulls out the pink truffula pin that usually goes on the lapel of his green tailcoat. *Strokes under the Warden's jaw and then pulls him into a little peck on the lips. Then tilts his head to the town.* Okay, off you go then.

Warden: *Blinks innocently when he sees the pin and takes it from his hand* Uuh- *The peck comes as a surprise, he pecks back with pink cheeks and a small eyelash flutter, then jumps up and down on the spot a few times.* Yeah! See you later, Oncie! *Pockets the pin and then leaps off to go and explore.*

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Once-ler: *Stood outside his factory gates in his green suit, all dressed up for opening his factory again. He's holding a pair of scissors, cameras are flashing everywhere and girl are screaming at him.* -And I am very proud to finally re-open the new and eco-friendly Thneed factory!~ *Cuts the red ribbon across the gate. People are cheering and photographers are flashing, journalists go to smuggle him.*

Lorax: *He's sitting on top of a small wall nearby, watching the proceedings. He refuses to go down just yet because he hates publicity- especially after the media circus he was dragged into when Oncie ran the factory before. All that 'Lorax approved' bullshit left a bad taste in his mouth. Still, he looks proud of him now and has already had a peek at all the inner workings of the factory. So far it honestly looks eco-friendly, and so he's very pleased. Cautious, but pleased.*

Once-ler: *After talking to a few reporters, talking to a few fans and signing a few thneeds, shirts, bra's and breasts, he eventually starts to bat a few of the bothersome public away.* That's enough attention for one day I think, thank you all for coming~ Once-ler out. *Enters his factory and shuts the door behind him, letting out a tired sigh as he does, but he straightens and walks to his office. He goes over to his huge balcony and leans over the edge of it, smiling broadly at the very few truffula trees that managed to survive his onslaught and then dropping his smile when his eyes fall on the many stumps he left behind. He chews on his cheek… He should really do something about them.*

Lorax: So! Looks like you managed to turn it all around, huh? *He's above Oncie's head, sitting on the top of the window-frame with his little legs dangling over the edge.* You look tired. You been eating properly?

Once-ler: Hm? *Looks up at him and smiles. He's gotten so used to the Lorax randomly popping up in places that it doesn't make him jump anymore. He can almost predict when it'll happen by now, which isn’t something he can say for the Warden just yet.* Oh, naah, I'm fine. It's just difficult to be in Superjail and have everything else here. *Rubs his face with both hands and yawns out a word-* Tiring. *Sniffs.* All these fans and reporters too. But I can handle them, no problem.

Lorax: *Jumps down and lands in front of Oncie's feet.* Aww, well make sure you get enough Zs, got it? I don't like the thought of you runnin' yourself out. *Turns around to look up at the much nicer factory and gives a low whistle.* You know, much as I hate commerce and capitalism and all that crap, you really have done me proud. This is somethin' good. *After how far they've come together, he knows that those words are ones that will mean the world to him. He looks back over his shoulder at Oncie with a smile.* So where's your guy? He back in that jail of his?

Once-ler: *Smiles broadly at him, feeling very happy with himself that the Lorax feels that way about his hard work. There’s a warm swell in his stomach at hearing those words of pride, and that sort of feeling is so rare to him. He goes quiet for a moment, so happy he's finally been able to please him and hasn't messed up this time.* No, he came with me here. But he's out right now to explore Thneedville. *His voice sounds a little unsure at the end, and his smile has relaxed a little. It's more like a slight mask over his worry.*

Lorax: *Sounds very sympathetic as he groans,* Uh-ooohhh... And Thneedville's still standin'? *Turns around properly to face Oncie as they talk.* Ah, he's probably fine. *Gives him an encouraging smile.* That town is harmless - he's the most dangerous thing in it. You've got nothin' to worry about. *Still sounds more like he's comforting Oncie than actually giving his honest opinion.*

Once-ler: Yeah, exactly! I'm not just worried about him, I'm worried about the town. He doesn't know this place very well and this place doesn't know him at all. *And maybe the fact that the Warden might be the most dangerous thing in Thneedville isn’t actually that reassuring.* But- yeah... I'm sure everything will be fine.

Lorax: And if not, it's nothin' you can't fix. *Gives him a grin and holds out a paw for him to take.* So! You got a kitchen in this place? I'm starved and I'm sure you owe me a meal for somethin' or other.

Once-ler: Haha- sure *Takes his hand but pulls him up onto his shoulder. Then walks back in, removing his hat and placing it on his chair.* So how've you been? I haven't seen you since I got my eyesight back.

Lorax: *Punches the side of his head gently.* And it's damn good to see you... Seein' again! You gave me the shock of my damn life. *Relaxes.* But I've been keepin'. Joints gettin' stiffer every day I swear to God. *Gives a happy hum. As old as he is, he's got a ton of years left in him.* But nothin' much is different. Had to screw with a couple of lumberjacks up in the Arctic National Preserve and then make it down in time to stop an oil drillin' down in the swamps of Tennessee. Whole lotta trekkin'.

Once-ler: *Laughs at his ‘seeing’ joke, and can only laugh more in relief at the fact that whole chapter is over now.* Aaah, man, that sounds like a busy day. *Pulls his gloves off and drops them onto his desk as he walks to the kitchen.* Did you fix it in the end?

Lorax: *Heavy sigh.* Temporarily. They're more thick-headed than you were. *Gives him a friendly hair-ruffle, showing that he didn't really mean it.* Just once I'd like a guy to go "Gee, maybe the little fella is right. Let's all go home and have some hot cocoa." *Pauses, then adds.* "And while we're at it, let's invite the little fella over for that, too." *Frowns* Geez, I really am hungry.

Once-ler: *Laughs.* That's where we're going now. Anyway, it certainly worked on me... eventually. And you can come to mine for cocoa anytime you want~ *Gets to the factory kitchen.* What do you wanna eat?

Lorax: *Jumps onto a countertop.* A cheese sandwich would go down well right about now. *Frowns to add gravity to what he's saying.* A responsibly farmed cheese sandwich. You humans have a way to make everything suspect. *While he still seems very proud and happy for Oncie, he's got the grumpiness of a guy who's just come of a far too-busy day's work.*

Once-ler: Uh- ahaha, sure.*Begins making him a sandwich, sometimes feeling awkward about his race when the Lorax starts complaining about them, but he supposes it’s justified considering what he himself did to his forest. It is the critters job after all.*

Lorax: *Bops up and down on his heels as he waits in excitement for the sandwich.* So how are things with you? Besides being all better? He proposed to you yet or whatever? *Sounds like he's kidding.*

Once-ler: Pfffthbth! *Gets a little embarrassed and shakes his head quickly.* NO! *Gives him the plate with the sandwich on and pouts with a raised eyebrow.* Of course not.

Lorax: *Cackles in a joking meanness before stuffing the sandwich in his mouth.* Well good. You're still far too young! *Points his sandwich at him... or the crust of it, which is already all that's left.*

Once-ler: Thank God! I hope that doesn't cross his mind *Scratches his neck and laughs.* I have a feeling I wouldn't have a choice if he demanded it, if anything because he’s such a romantic and he’d love an excuse to throw a party about us.

Lorax: *Gnaws on the crust of bread.* Would you say no if you had the choice? *Sounds amused and gossipy, but he's always been a little worried about their relationship. Anybody responsible would be.*

Once-ler: *Thinks to himself, tapping his finger on his chin, and then nods slowly.* I know we're like, together and stuff, but just feels weird to get married to a guy, ya know? My mom is really old fashioned in that way, *he sighs,* I doubt she’d ever approve of us, not that she approves of me much anyway. So I guess it's hard to think otherwise. *He shakes his head.* I'm way too young anyway to even think about marriage.

Lorax: *Nods* Smart. Don't tie yourself down to that place. *Still, his expression darkens.* Call me a new-age tree-hugger or whatever you want to call it, but your mom is full of trash. *Finishes sandwich decisively. He's had a long day, and he's not got the energy to put things in a nice way.* You marry a guy if you want to.

Once-ler: *Jolts at hearing the insult to him mom and then panics a little.* Hey! She is not. Don’t say that about my mom. *He’s still in some denial about who his mom really is. He always has been, but at the very least he just thinks it’s rude to say such things about a man’s mother. He’s still finding it difficult to digest what she really is.*

Lorax: Ppft. *Flaps his hand at him but doesn't press the issue. Recently he's been more respectful of Oncie's family- at least when talking about them to Oncie- but he has no patience for it today.* Alright, fair enough. The important thing is that you can marry whoever you want. Whether that be man, woman, or manchild.

Once-ler: *Still tense about that comment, but tries to get back into the conversation.* No- yeah, I know. And it's not that I wouldn’t want to some day... *Gets a little fuzzy feeling.* Like- it'd be totally awesome! I mean- so awesome! *Getting a little excited but relaxes.* And I would, just not now, not this early. I can't get married to someone who won’t say he loves me.

Lorax: *A biiig cat-like grin crosses his face when Oncie gets excited, but it falls immediately when he finishes that sentence.* Wait, what?! After all the crap you've helped him with he's still holdin' out on you?! The jerk! *Dusts his hands clean from crumbs.*

Once-ler: *Looks back at him wide-eyed and quickly realises he said that wrong, and tries to correct his screw up.* N- no, no! I didn't mean it like that. *Trots forward and puts his hands out to the Lorax* He does love me! He just cant say it. But he does. He definitely does! But he can’t admit it.

Lorax: *Squints at him, not sounding very pleased.* Explain.

Once-ler: *Cowers a little. He has no choice but to obey his surrogate parent now. He shrugs.* He- just can’t. He's very complicated. *He sighs.* Right, this is all very new to him, I think he has a real struggle about saying those words, he seems to think that every time he admits to loving something, he gets punished for it. *He frowns* His dad used to tell him it was bad, that it makes things weak and useless to know love. He trusts me more than anyone but its still in there. *That angry frown becomes a sad one.* I think he thinks that whatever he loves will always die, usually by his own hands, whether that’s forced on him or an accident or… I don’t know. *He looks to him with big remorseful eyes.* I think that’s another reason why he doesn’t want to admit it, I've been in more than enough accidents thanks to him. But he does feel it because he's almost been able to say it to me! It’s just that the words get caught in his throat.

Lorax: *Sighs. He's always had his worries, but he does respect that Oncie can handle it.* You'll be the death of me, you know that? *Gestures for Oncie to come over for a hug.* C'mere. Damn, kid, you've got a whole lot baggage wrapped up in this relationship, huh?

Once-ler: *Enters the hug like a normal grip, but half way though he hears that last sentence and his weight falls onto the Lorax in mental exhaustion. It does take a lot to handle the Warden, along with all of his other work, and he does so well to completely hide it that it never crosses his mind. No-one's brought it up before, not even himself, and to hear the Lorax so perfectly know him and know exactly what he thinks, it makes him drop it all out on him accidentally. Like it's okay for him to admit that it's tiring him. He doesn’t even have the strength to respond to that at the moment, he’s too bewildered by that last comment.*

Lorax: Woooaaah, you're okay. *Crumples a little with the sudden weight, but manages okay and gives him a big hug, stroking his hair gently once he's regained his balance.*

Once-ler: *Nods into him but doesn't leave the hug.* I'm fine- I'm fine.

Lorax: Of course you are. *Continues to stroke his hair, one little hand sorting out any stray flicks while the other just holds him.* But if you weren't that'd be okay too.

Once-ler: *Shakes his head.* It wouldn't. *He's not had a breakdown since he's been in Superjail. It's been a long time since he last snapped. He's had the odd cry every now and then, but that’s about it. It was probably when his dad left, or something his mother did, or most likely when the stocks of Thneeds crashed, not that they ever have in reality. There is always so much going on in Superjail, and as much as it all is too much for him sometimes, it’s as if it’s impossible to dwell on anything for too long because you need to be prepared for the next thing. Maybe that’s why it exists in the first place, to keep the Warden’s mind from thinking too much. In a way that’s good, but at the same time it forces a lot of things to become repressed and compressed, until suddenly, someone’s having a breakdown, whether that’s an inmate finally snapping, Jared returning to tears and drinking again, or the Warden literally falling apart at the seams and going on a crying-murder spree. And it was almost him the other day. If the Warden hadn’t been fixed by that rant then there’s a good chance the Once-ler would have given up too. It’s not just that though… How could he ever have the time to have his own breakdown when he’s so busy trying to help the Warden with all of his?*

Lorax: Kid, it'd always be fine. If it's not fine around your fella then it's always fine around me. I can take it. *Takes Oncie's cheeks and makes him look at him. He's frowning, but it's the frown of a kindly father, rather than any form of disappointment.* Bein' around him has turned you into one a' the most amazing people I've ever seen - he's challenged you and forced you to grow and, *he smiles,* now look at you. All grown up and already too good for anybody I can think of. *Rests their foreheads together, glaring at him straight in the eyes.* I can't tell you how proud I am of you. But part of bein' so strong and so capable is knowing when it's okay to stop.

Once-ler: *He hadn’t expected to feel a lump in his throat, and he doesn’t want to, but everything the Lorax says is exactly what he's been waiting to hear. He lets out a quiet, dry sob as he sighs out and then his arms loop around his fluffy friend and cling closely to him. It’s being told that the Lorax is proud of him, the Lorax proud of him after all he did to the forest, that makes a few small tears prick up at the corner of his eyes.* Th- Thank you, *He sniffs a few times, clenching his eyes shut in an attempt to blink away the tears, but a lump still resting in his throat.*

Lorax: *Gives a short chuckle that rumbles through his fur, hugging Oncie tightly.* It's what I'm here for. *Rubs the back of his head, keeping Oncie tightly pressed against his fluffy, warm body. He lets him sniffle all he needs.*

Once-ler: *Sniff against him and squeezes the hug for moments and then pulls away to wipe his eyes. His shoulders hang heavily but he sighs out and feels a little better.*

Lorax: *Smiles at him in a calm and loving way.* You gonna be okay tonight?

Once-ler: *Nods* I… *His chest shudders with an outward breath and he gives him a weak smile.* I should be.

Lorax: *Chuckles at him.* I'm sure your Warden won't mind. He might not even notice if you don't sniff too often. *Plods over to the roll of kitchen paper towels and tears a piece off, then holds it up for him.*

Once-ler: *Chuckles back at his little tease and takes the tissue to finish up mopping his eyes.*

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Once-ler: *It’s the evening after the Once-ler had finished sorting what he needed to in his factory, he’s been waiting at home for the Warden, but so far he’s heard nothing from him and he hasn’t returned from Thneedville. He’d tried to contact his communicator but no-one answered, he even went to look for him in Thneedville after work and couldn’t find him, he called Jared just in case he might have returned to Superjail for whatever reason and he was told they’ve seen no sign of him. As much as he wants to helicopter around him to make sure nothing bad is happening, he does want to trust him on his own- he doesn’t want to go back out to look for him and turn the whole town upside down, looking like a maniac in the process. It’s just that it’s getting to the point now, as he paces around the lower ground of his Lerkim and checks his pocket watch while the day gets later, that he really thinks he should go and turn the town upside down. He doesn't know what to do, he paces his living room while trying to think of a solution, his fingertips in his mouth to chew on and his eyes tense with concern. He thought he’d be okay, but now he’s disappeared and Once-ler doesn’t know what to do or where to go, and he has no idea why he let him go alone. He looks a bit of a mess, in his half/half outfit with his braces hanging down from his waist. Too worried to make himself look that presentable.*

*There's a brisk knock on the door.*

Once-ler: *Jumps a little at the knock and then goes over to the door, suddenly feeling a wave of relief as he hopes that that’s the Warden returning after his day out, but then he considers that it’s a little strange the Warden would knock when he would usually just stumble in and announce his presence. Unless he really took what he said that morning in his office seriously. He winces, straightens himself up and tries to make his appearance better, but he hopes to heaven that it’ll be his boyfriend. He clears his throat, and then opens the door.*

*Outside is a stern-looking, boring man in a white lab coat. He has thick glasses and looks like an immovable, business-like sort. He waits for the door to be answered before speaking, being too strict and professional to call through the house.*

Once-ler: *Looks the man up and down with a confused, slightly concerned frown.* Uuh... Can I help you?..

Doctor: *He nods, his face expressionless.* I am truly sorry to bother you, Mr. Once-ler, but I'm here on behalf of the Thneedville Psychiatric Institute. *Flaps his hand a little in small gesture.* Merely a formality we have to conduct, but we have a patient with us who insists that he knows you. You'll understand that we have a number of patients who make claims of knowing celebrities and usually we don't follow these accusations up, but he's been very insistent. *Coolly he reaches into his pocket and brings out the lapel pin that Oncie owns, the one with the small truffula tuft.* He also had this on his possession. We simply want to make sure that he's deluded, for the sake of his ongoing treatment. He claims to be... *briefly fishes for the word,* a jailer of some sort. *Seems a little embarrassed by how ridiculous a house call this must seem.*

Once-ler: *Squints and tilts his head at him as he listens, wanting to ask questions but they get answered straight away. His tongue goes numb, but he thinks for a moment that this could be a misunderstanding, but then he reveals the pin. He stares at it with horror and takes it slowly, his eyes having to be forced away from it to look at the man again. His stomach has been getting tighter all through this explanation, still clinging onto hope that this could still not be real,but his stomach plummets at the last thing said, and he stares at the man it utter shock, feeling sick to his stomach* No- he’s in a-? *He gasps, suddenly knowing what that means. He feels like he might be sick. He snaps out of it, trying to act sensible and try not to panic, but he is, and suddenly he grabs his coat and top-hat* Thank you. *Then bolts out of his house, almost knocking the man over and slamming his door shut.*

*This is his town, he funds all of its institutions, he practically runs it and he knows where everything is and the quickest way to get to places. In just a few minutes he’s at the asylum and bursts in, slamming the doors open as if anyone would dare to tell him not to. He’s The Once-ler, he practically owns this town, he built it into what it is today. If he wasn’t there then it wouldn’t be able to run properly without him, let alone have such a great economy, and everyone knows it. He bursts in, his tailcoat fluttering behind him like a demons cape and his hat stretched up to the ceiling as intimidating as one of his factory chimneys, puffing the smoke he burns to keep all these businesses alive.*

Receptionist: *Jolts upright at the sudden entrance and in a small explosion papers addresses him nervously.* Oh! Mr. Once-ler! Can I help you? *A few people are picking up and moving damaged furniture and strewn documents from the reception area- something akin to a hurricane passed through here at some point. Clearly the Warden didn't go down without a fight.* Th-this is very sudden- do you have an appointment? *Everything here is very normal and grey, though it does have the rounded edges and slightly off-kilter angles and asymmetry of any Thneedville building - nothing out of the ordinary as far as Thneedville goes, very professional. There's a small piece of very worrying information, however. Perched on top of the receptionist's outbox are the Warden's glasses- a glint of bright yellow in this otherwise drab place. Of course he wouldn't be allowed to wear them if he were an inpatient. They'll be taken to a small holding area until he's let go... but that could be any time.*

Once-ler: *He stops for a moment to look at the mess, he doesn’t even have to question it, he knows it was the Warden's fighting back that caused such a chaos and it makes him worry even more. Then he snaps his head over to the receptionist and struts over to her dangerously* Do I need a goddamn appointment?! Do you really need to ask me th- *Then his eyes catch the glint of yellow and they notice the Warden's glasses. His mouth goes dry and his eyes look at them in complete horror. Okay- NOW he’s panicking. And he whispers, terrified* Y- you-... took them off him.

Receptionist: *Recoils a little.* Uh, well yes! Of course! They'd be classified as... as contraband... sir. *Pauses and tries to avoid looking at him head on- intimidated by him immensely.* I assume... that this means you're here to see the man who was brought in last night? The, uh, *makes very, very meek quote signs with her fingers,* "prison warden"?

Once-ler: *Scowls at her when she quotes with her hands and places both hands on hers and pushes them down.* He is a prison warden, and everything he says is the truth. He knows me. *Clears his throat and tries to calm down- this isn’t her fault.* He was brought in here last night you say? Why? What for? *He demands an answer quickly.*

Receptionist: *Panics a little and immediately starts typing at the computer to one side, pulling up the Warden's record.* Oh, um. *Reads, readjusting her glasses* He was found at the scene of a fight. Apparently there were, uh, weapons involved. He was brought here instead of to the police station because... well... *She ducks a little, not wanting to be the one to say it.* He was claiming some rather outlandish things. I'm sorry, Mr. Once-ler, sir, but I'm not legally allowed to say any more than that. *Quickly adds, hoping to get rid of him as soon as possible.* Would you want to be taken to him now?

Once-ler: *Is about to snap more demands but stops immediately at the question. That’s definitely what he wants out of this, so it works to get him to go away* Yes please. Right now.

Receptionist: *Immediately snaps her fingers at one of the men in coats walking around.* Excuse me! Could you take Mr. Once-ler to see our newest patient? He's... uh... *She looks to the Once-ler and then immediately lies to make things easier.* Family! Yes.

Doctor: *He squints at the Once-ler, then takes some documents from the receptionist's desk. He cringes.* That patient? I'm afraid he's not approved for visitation right now. *He looks down at the notes and snaps them to a clipboard.* If you are family, we will require some... *Again his eyes rest on the Once-ler, knowing exactly who he is but being as careful as possible in regards to protocol...* Documentation.

Once-ler: *He doesn't like the way he said 'that patient'. His brow tightens and his shoulders stiffen at the resistance shown.* There is no paperwork because the man is no longer in contact with his biological family. I'm his significant other. We have photos together, his things are in my house, and the fact that you picked him up with my lapel pin in his possession and I'm not charging him for being a stalking fan but instead am here trying to represent him, should prove we have a relationship. *He breathes in a sharp breath and huff it out of his nostrils like a steaming bull. He tries to hide the pain in his next statement.* He has no one but me who can care for him. *He points his finger sharply down at the ground.* I demand to see him!

Doctor: *He appears completely dispassionate as the Once-ler talks, even though he believes the man is telling the truth - he is the Once-ler after all, everyone knows that and this is Thneedville - because this isn't a court of law and he isn't looking to be convinced. There is protocol to follow, documents to be inspected, because if they make a mistake by taking a shortcut then they could be sued into the ground.* You can demand all you want, sir, but I'm afraid that until I see documentation proving that your relationship is as you say it is, we can't allow visitation until he's gone through our screening process. He was violent with the nurses as he was brought in, and we have no guarantees that this won't continue to be the case. *When he says 'violent', it's highly likely that he just resisted them as they dragged him in.* He’s a very sick man.

Once-ler: *Takes a step forward assertively but not aggressively, and he cuts in before the man can really finish.* He won't be aggressive to me! *One eye squints and he snarls,* But alright, if you want to play that game, how about this for 'documentation'. When was your last unscheduled routine humanitarian check at this establishment, huh? *Straightens up and folds his arms.* By Thneedville law you're permitted to accept an unscheduled visit by a city representative to check that the treatments, handling and facilities provided to patients are humane and up to human rights standards at all times. *Places his hand on his chest and raises his eyebrow.* As the city's main representative, I've authority to instigate this operation when I see fit, as well as appoint the individual in charge of carrying it out, which can also be myself. So consider it your unscheduled investigation, and I request to see the most recent and most volatile patient checked into the facility within the last twenty-four hours to best review these conditions. *He frowns.* I wouldn't recommend objecting to this kind of operation, it tends to look very bad for an institution of people holding medical licenses.

Doctor: *His eyes widen. Oh crap. He straightens up coldly, his shoulders drawing back defensively and his chin lifting, and for a moment he looks him dead in the eyes, lifting his head slightly as if almost daring to challenge him before remembering who he is. Cold grey eyes unpleasantly squinting. They haven’t had an investigation in a long time. The cultural era that they exist in Thneedville doesn’t pay much attention to the well being of mental patients, but if he doesn’t let the Once-ler in to see just the one patient, then he might put a bigger focus on them overall. He might take it to the press and demand a large-scale investigation as revenge, but maybe if he’s let to see the one man then that’ll be all he wants. Finally he quakes, watching the Once-ler's bright blue glare, as the math clicks and he feels a tiny shudder rattle through him. He is the Once-ler after all, and he’s caught him in a bit of a tough place with all that practical, systematic business talk especially when he tried to just throw the same at him about protocol. He's forced to nod with a slightly unhappy curl to his nose.* Very well. Right this way.

*The receptionist moves to escort him, but the doctor holds up his hand.*

Doctor: No-no, I'll handle this. Right this way, Mr. Once-ler. *He turns on his heel almost like a soldier and glides on sharp feet down the corridors of the facility. He doesn’t seem particularly happy with the way the Once-ler has worked around the rules, but he can’t say anything, the man is too powerful. Never the less, he is hiding an attitude with a bitter sneer, holding his head up and glaring out the corner of his eye at the businessman. The doctors here don’t like it when outsiders try sniffing around their patients and the facilities, they just want to get on with their jobs, with unfeeling. What does the Once-ler anyway? He doesn’t know better than they could about this sick man and what he needs.* You will see that we have everything up to code when it comes to exiling lunacy. Out here are our less volatile inpatients, but I'll take you to our secure wing where the worst are. You’ll see, since you’re here to review our establishment, that the mad man you’re talking about is in the perfect place. *There’s the tiniest hiss sound from his nose that indicates a smirk. To him, the people here are nothing more than animals.*

Once-ler: *His eyes are just as unfeeling to the man’s opinion or reaction, even more so, because he owns this damn town and no-one dares to look at him like this man is daring to. He either doesn't know who he is, which is ridiculous, or he's the most stupid man on the planet to exist in Thneedville and look down his nose at The Once-ler like that. Especially when he's standing in the way of something the man wants and will take. He won't be stopped, nothing can stop him, the only thing this man will succeed in is guaranteeing to make his own life worse by trying to slow the businessman down. He lifts his own head and if he were some sort of demonic creature, his claws and fangs would be unfurling at him right now; he's lucky that they're meant to be existing in a civilised society else the Once-ler would have torn him to shreds as easily as the Warden does to the prisoners in Superjail. ‘The perfect place?’ He picked up on that vile, snarky tone towards himself and his boyfriend- his boyfriend who right now is vulnerable and suffering in his worst nightmare. One thing is for certain, this man is losing his job by the end of today whether or not he's taking him down to the Warden right now. He could write a very convincing report on him and have it approved in seconds. He's not in the mood to stare down a more pathetic predator that apparently doesn't know what lions nest it's poking at.* Good. *He says when the man states where he’s taking him, the word coming out as a stab as he follows him down.*

*Naturally he doesn't really care about the facility's humanitarian standards protocol right now, the Warden is the only thing on his mind and he wants to go there immediately, he doesn't even look around or pay attention to the man as he describes the hallways, but he will write a report like he promised once he has his boyfriend back, and as he makes his way through the corridors, he does start to see just how miserable this place is as well as hear the distressed sounds groaning from the rooms… It reminds him of Superjail on a slow day. Maybe he should investigate here- the thought comes to mind for a moment.

He's a man of doing things by the books most of the time, if he declares an investigation then he'll follow through, if he promises a report then he'll write one, but that's already played them perfectly into his hands now and he knows it. They might call his bluff here, thinking he's just using this reason as an excuse to get into the facility and humouring it to save their reputation, when really he wont write a report in the end. But they would be wrong to do that, because this isn't just a one-off excuse to get into the facility, he knows full well that he's opened up the door to further threats that he'll follow through with. Oh he'll write a report, and it'll drag them all through the mud so violently that they'll forget their names because his own will be etched into their ID cards like branded cattle.* Mh-hm. And Doctor. *That last comment stings. Do they talk about all of their vulnerable patients like that? He nods his head when he's told they're going to the secure wing. Then he looks to the Doctor and scowls at him like a feral mountain wolf ready to claw his eyes out. If he's going to get what he wants, people here need to remember who they're talking to in this city. He seethes with a dark voice.* Don't you ever look down your fucking nose at me again, and don’t you ever say anything like that about one of your patients either, or you can kiss your medical license goodbye. *He's lucky he's only losing his job, maybe then he'll learn the most blatantly obvious lesson of the town named after the Once-ler's very vision.*

*The doctor doesn't mess around, taking him straight to the room with their most volatile and most recent patient, but he nevertheless points out the important things as they make their way through - maintaining the paper-thin pretense of legitimacy. This place, like all of Thneedville, is filled with swirling tubes, old-fashioned copper machinery, big buttons beside each rounded door with chunky plaques declaring the rhyming name of each ward or in-patient. It's a large place, or maybe just seems that way because of its labyrinthine layout, but beyond pointing out the appropriate security measures, the basic facilities and gesturing towards continued areas of the building, the doctor says nothing. Like all of Thneedville, this place was sponsored by the Once-ler himself to some degree if not designed outright by him, so it's all good. It's just, unfortunately, old-fashioned.*

Doctor: *Turns when the Once-ler speaks to him. He doesn't expect the way in which he's spoken to, or the dark tone of the man's voice, and it honestly shocks him. He definitelydoesn’t expect the cursing, because thneedville is almost ‘family-friendly’ in the way it’s inhabitants barely acknowledge curse words to be a part of language. It makes him gulp. He isn't about to fight the man, both because he wouldn’t be that dumband also because he's a professional doctor in his place of work, and drops his steel-grey expression immediately. Suddenly his ego vanishes over realising how seriously the business man is about all this. He can��t even see what’s wrong with speaking about one of these patients like that- Is he actually going to investigate them?* O- of course, Mr. Once-ler.

*They get to the door at the end of the secure wing - another rounded door with a little, wonky, barred window, with a big red button to the side and a plaque that says 'Max Security'.*

Doctor: Here we are, sir. *He thumps his fist on the big red button, and the door swings open.*

*The Warden is lying on the ground of his padded cell, curled up and facing away from the door. It's difficult to judge what state he's in, but it's never a good sign when the Warden is sitting still. Sitting still and wearing a straitjacket. Only that and the hospital patient uniform, which is a grey and shapeless outfit with nothing to cover his feet. It's the last thing he'd ever choose to wear himself.*

Doctor: I have.. aah.. much to do, and he's not dangerous like that. *Likely he just wants to get the hell away from the lions gaze. He passes Oncie a small buzzer.* Let the nurse know when you're ready to leave- visiting hours shut at six. *Gives a small awkward frown* Usually patients in the maximum security area aren't allowed to have visitors in the first place, but since it's you... *He knows Oncie owns their ass. He won't do anything.*

Once-ler: *He gasps, his heart breaking when he sees that curled up, limp figure, and if he had zero social instincts, he’d have sprinted over and curled over him by now just to hug him up and protect him. Instead he takes the buzzer off of the doctor.* Right. Thank you.*He waits for him to leave and then steps into the room. His face drops at the sight, he can’t even see the Warden yet, and yet he can feel how much confused agony he’s in. Hopefully it'll be somewhat less painful once he knows that Oncie came for him. Taking a deep breath he goes over to him, his feet picks up with a desperate need to be with him but also not wanting to startle him with sudden movement, and squats next to him. Then places a very light hand on the wardens shoulder and turns him over to face him.* Warden? It's me, The Once-ler. *Gulps, his mouth is dry and his heart is racing.*

Warden: *He's easily rolled over, and the scary thing is that he doesn't even flinch at the sudden touch. He's limp and docile even though he's conscious. He does, however, immediately wince and let out a small, pathetic moan when he meets Oncie's eyes and their brightness hurts him. Without any usual trappings - no hat, no glasses, not even any fancy clothing - he just looks like a crazy middle-aged man. Not a rich eccentric, or some wacky visionary. Just a very tired and sad old man. Still, he loosely smiles up at his saviour, even if it doesn't look like he believes the other man is really with him, and even if it almost takes him a moment to recognise him. It’d have taken longer though, if it weren’t for those blue eyes. More like he's humouring his own mental images.* Hello Oncie~ *He speaks slow, like he's having to concentrate in order to form words. He then corrects Oncie calling him 'Warden'.* It's Edmund.

Once-ler: *He can’t stand to look at what’s in front of him and just wishes this was an awful nightmare, his heart pounding in his chest, chased by horror so fast that it’s begging his brain to wake him up. How could they do this? He knows he’s unstable, he knows he has problems, but he still can’t imagine something so bad, so depressing, so directly out of the worse pages of the warden’s worst fate, happening to his little bunny of a boyfriend. He has no idea what the Warden is thinking or what’s going on his head but he can see that he’s been completely sedated by them, bound and left in a dark corner- the poor thing. Once he's corrected and been told to call him by his actual name, he gasps and swallows as his heart thumps with grief and worry. He doesn’t know what that means, what state of mind that means he’s in, but he holds himself together and grips the Warden’s shoulder a little tighter.* O- okay. Um- E- Edmund? H-how are you feeling? *He’s not entirely sure what the hell he’s meant to say here, but it’s worth asking the question.*

Warden: *His body can actually be felt untensing when Oncie touches him - as defeated as he is, Oncie is still his safe place. Apparently it's so deeply ingrained now that it's instinct.* It hurts. *Sounds a little pouty, but not in the usual joking, playful way. It's the pout of a real child who can't handle what's happened to him.* This jacket. *Gives a very half-hearted fidget.* And.... everything is very... dull. *Shuts his eyes tight all of a sudden.* And too close. *Curls up a little more, tensing up again.* Right in front of me. *He has no shield in front of his eyes. Those glasses are a barrier that have always kept the world out, and kept him in a nice fantasy world. Now he's clamped up in a ball, eyes scrunched up closed.* I missed you. *Now sounds slightly blaming. He's jumping all over the place because he can't hold a thought in his head for very long.* Where were you?

Once-ler: *Watches him with concerns and horror, but then that blame comes and hits him to his core. He completely blames himself for the position the Warden is in, the guilt is starting to drill a hole through his chest, he hisses at the grief and pain in his stomach, but having it directly pointed at him by the suffering man makes it all the more real. He messed up. He shouldn’t have let him go out alone, he knew he'd get into trouble and now he might have truly scarred him for life. Sure, the Warden might have been erratic, but he knows how his boyfriend was last time, and he knows his townsfolk, and the only reason why he let him go along was because he was too focused on work. Now he’s kicking himself for it. The business isn’t important, the money isn’t important, this is important! He leans forward and presses his face to the Warden's, sliding his arms around him and squeezing him into a close embrace. He feels cold.* I'm sorry. *He gasps and shakes his head* I’m so sorry. I- I'm here now though. I'm here. And I'm gong to get you out, okay? *He plants a slow lingering kiss on the Warden’s head, one protective and promising, as he feels his throat close up.*

Warden: *Another small, sad whimper escapes his throat and he shuffles forward as best as he can into the cuddling and kissing. He's not quite coordinated to kiss back.* I.... *For a moment he sort of drifts off, like he's lost focus, but then he returns with a small shake of his head - like a nervous twitch.* I always do this. *His voice is quavering and almost a whisper. His body is trembling, too, weakened and reacting unfavourably to whatever cocktail of sedatives they've given him. The scary thing is, though, that even if he weren't drugged he'd probably be just as still and broken.* Why... why can't I handle being Edmund? *Presses his face into Oncie's collarbone. He has this low-grade terror running through him for as long as he's without his glasses, but after a whole day of that he's snapped and this has somehow made him okay to talk while internally screaming.* They said there's no War... Warden... but I'm not good at being normal. S- *He has trouble getting the last word out.* Sane.

Once-ler: *Hugs him tightly and lowers his voice, because that’s all he can do to force it to be comforting and kind rather than panicking. It’s what the Warden needs, but his chest is fluttering and there’s a lump in his throat.* I shouldn’t have said- I didn’t mean- *He tries to smile, feeling guilty for asking him to act normal earlier that morning.* You shouldn’t have to be normal because you're special, remember? I told you, people can’t see that yet. All sane people are boring anyway. *He tries to let out a little laugh but he pauses for a moment as his nose becomes tingly and he wells up. He stuffs his face into the Wardens neck and clings tightly onto him.* You are the Warden, he is real, and so is Superjail, and we’re going to go back there the moment I get you out. I’m going to take you home. I promise. *He searches for the buzzer and presses it to call someone in.*

Warden: *He's too drugged to cry, or even feel much beyond the floaty, hazy emotions he's swimming through right now. But he does feel Oncie's tears.* Don't cry... *Sounds like he's attempting to be comforting, even with his voice sounding half-asleep.* You're not in trouble... *He sees Oncie press the button and foggily realises that people are going to come in and interrupt them. He gives a short, futile, struggle.* No... no don't call them... I need to- There's something I meant to say. *Falters, looking scared.* I think... I don't know. *Winces.* It's hard to concentrate... *Slightly begging sound, like he wants Oncie to fix his head.* Oncie...

Once-ler: *He places his hands on the Warden's face and looks at him with worry, feeling a jolt of sickness as the Warden begs him.* What? What is it? *He breathes in and out heavily.* I- Its okay. I'm still staying here with you. I wont move an inch, so then I need them to come to me because I won’t leave you, okay? *He pulls him into his chest again and cuddles him. He’s going to fix this. He swears on his life that he’s going to fix this.*

Warden: *Looks very troubled, but also like he's somewhere else. He's not able to fight the drugs combined with the protective fog his brain is trying to wrap itself up with. It won't let him come to his senses, because if he actually realises what's happened and where he is there's no telling what sort of damage that'll do to him. He's already been utterly destroyed- this is his mind's last-ditch defense effort.* It's just... I...

*At that point two nurses come to the door and hurry in. The door is swung open, and just as the Warden immediately sees them, he pushes his head into Oncie's shoulder, diving as heard as he can into his protectors arms for safety and in a desperate attempt to express how much he needs him. He's so scared of them.*

Warden: I LOVE YOU! PLEASE DON’T GO!

Once-ler: *His breath chokes in his throat. It's as if everything’s suddenly gone silent, like time has stopped. For a moment he really thinks he’s in a dream, some twisted thing that is part nightmare and part everything he’s wanted to hear. But it’s not. The Warden said it, and he said it during the most devastating and horrible situation possible. He said it because he's frightened and confused and desperate, desperate for Oncie, the only thing that he recognises and trusts and loves, to save him from the white-coat monsters coming to hurt him again. His heart skips a beat in that moment of the world pausing, and then suddenly races forward as he comes back to reality. Emotions soar through him, grief and love, guilt and gratitude, horror and hope, and he wells up with large flooding tears as he clutches his soulmate so tightly in his arms that they’d have to kill the Once-ler to pry the Warden from him. Out of his cold, dead, greedy fingers, like all of his riches, except this man is infinitely more valuable to him than any dollar bill or any shining jewel.* I love you too! *He gasps* I love you so much, Edmund! I’m not going, I’m never going! I’m staying right here with you forever and I’m going to fix this, I swear! *He suddenly looks over his shoulder and snaps at the nurses like a feral animal.* GET ME HIS GLASSES! Don’t you dare even think about denying me!! *He’s never sounded so furious and threatening before, but he could make their lives a living misery if he wanted to, and if they do not obey him right now then he will certainly rain hellfire upon them all.*

*The nurses gaze at him wide-eyed - at the whole situation, really- and then scatter like frightened gazelle. The Warden will be getting his damn glasses back. There is no question about that.*

Warden: *Has his eyes tightly shut, not at all scared of the way Oncie is shouting. But he's still overwhelmed by this whole situation and has no energy or lucidity left in him, so he clamps up and burrows himself as close as he can into that hug. His emotions are still dulled by everything, but hearing Oncie talking to him - saying that he loves him and is going to take care of him and that he's never going anywhere - is affecting him so deep down that he starts crying even when he doesn't directly feel the emotions he's supposed to. He doesn't wail or sob, he just wells up and the tears stream freely. The emotions are so deeply there that even when he can't think about what it means, or even consciously feel them, his body reels under the effects of it all. He knows what he’s meant to do here, what his body wants, and what his heart needs to express, even in all the brainfog. He sniffs heavily, and a small pant of crying does make itself heard. It's a single bleat, a shudder of his shoulders, and it's all his damaged mind has left to give. He loves him, that’s all he knows to be real when he has nothing left, that’s what the thing that makes sense and knows to stay, and he’s so relieved Oncie is here.*

Once-ler: *Strokes his hand through the Wardens hair and rocks him back and forth, his chin protectively hooked over his head as the tears stream down his face.* Okay- *Sniffs again and leans down to plant kisses on the Warden's head, talking into his ear and doing his best to deliver as much comfort and love to him as he can.* I love you too. *Kisses him again and repeating the words as a mantra.* Everything's going to be okay, everything's going to be oka- ay.

Warden: *Nods pathetically into his front, trying to believe him that things will be okay, because the only hope he can hold onto now is that he trusts Oncie. His facial expression is blank, even though so much stuff is churning up inside of him. Oncie smells so familiar this close, and that particular sense is a vivid experience in his current state. Fresh grass, butterfly milk, sweet flowers, the forest- with a hint of smoke and copper from his factory, and a faint smell of the signature cologne he wears for business. It’s the most perfect scent in the world because its his, and it’s a lifeline for his muddled synapses to cling onto. He never wants to be let go from from this.*

*The nurses scurry back down the corridor for the glasses, they didn't even ask permission to take them from the front office - they just want to swipe them so that they can hand them back to the frightening man - but run straight into the doctor who brought the Once-ler here. He frowns and shakes his head - no. They're not giving an unknown and dangerously unstable man anything that can be broken into shards. It's policy. One brow raises up from behind his thick glasses, reminding them that this is their job, and they're not just here to placate the guy making the loudest demands in the room.*

*Besides, he thinks. They're just glasses.*

*The nurses twitter amongst themselves, because nobody wants to go back in there and tell him. As they twitter, one sneaks past and dashes for the front office because maybe if she can smuggle them in, the Once-ler won't fire her at least.*

*She gets to the front desk, reaches for the glasses stacked on top of the filing cabinet, but is then stopped by a wiry hand with sharp nails. Jumping a mile, she looks up into the eyes of a very severe-looking woman with horn-rimmed glasses, a grey beehive hairstyle, and a long, pristine white coat.*

Female Doctor: What do you think you're doing?

Nurse: Th-there's a very upset patient who needs them, Dr. Zazzerzump! And... *she hushes her voice* Mr. Once-ler demanded we get them!

Doctor Zazzerzump: Mr. Once-ler 'demanded', did he? *Her birdlike face hardens like thunder.* Is Mr. Once-ler the Medical Chief of this hospital?

Nurse: N-no Doctor. But none of us want to be the ones to go in and tell him-

Doctor Zazzerzump: Oh, for goodness' sake. *She storms past the nurse with clipped, high-heeled strides and heads straight for the secure wing.* And Dr. Snickberry-Shoo? What did he say about all this?

*She walks straight past Dr. Snickberry-Shoo as he continues to berate the nurses for trying to get past him. But when he sees his superior come striding past, he takes a step back away from her.*

*This might be the Once-ler’s city, but this is her hospital, and he can’t just waltz in and take a patient from one of their cells like the man belongs to him. His name is on their paperwork now, he’s in their branded straightjackets, he’s in one of their cell rooms, and he has a long, tiring schedule of tests, medication and treatments already being prescribed and planned that’ll last him years until he’ll be allowed to be released. Once he’s proved to be mentally unfit for the outside world, he’ll be institutionalised here, and then he’ll belong to her and to the system.*

*Although relief floods through The Once-ler to finally have his beloved safe in his arms again, this isn’t the end of the road like he hopes. He doesn’t realise the approaching battle coming on the horizon. He doesn't realise what a terrible ending they might be met with if he doesn’t win it. He doesn’t realise, that in a cruel twist of irony, the Warden might finally become the Prisoner.*

To be continued...

#the-once-ler-in-superjail #superjail #the once-ler #the warden #wardler #the lorax #thneedville #wardenler #comic #chapter 35 #part1 #the asylum #tw mental illness #wiggybe #wiggy #self-made-madman #self made madman #ilpentamerone

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vickyvicarious · 1 year ago

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Okay, so this is one of several (I believe?) timeline errors in Seward's accounts. It happens in a few other places but I think nowhere so egregiously as here, with a week of time added in since yesterday's date. I recall that last year there were theories about Dracula affecting Seward's mind in some way, similar to how he affects Renfield and Lucy. While those can be fun to play around with, I'm certain the 'official' explanation is simply that Stoker got mixed up on his timeline and failed to notice that he'd added a week between the 19th and 20th.

All that's backstory though. Because it has only been a day for us, it's perhaps easier to miss, but if we assume the timeline mentioned in the actual text of the entry is what Stoker was envisioning, then... Renfield has seemingly been chained to a wall and in a straightjacket for a week straight:

For the first week after his attack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to himself: "Now I can wait; now I can wait." The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at him. He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the padded room, but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something of their old pleading—I might almost say, "cringing"—softness. I was satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved.

That's... I didn't really put it together last year, too caught up in the actual dates we're given, but. That's horrifying.

I love the delivery of Renfield's "now I can wait." But something about the amount of time it took makes it so creepy and so sad. He's been raging and fighting for a week, and it's only now when he can finally calm himself enough to go back to his more strategically placating approach towards his captors. (And it seems the moon has prompted this change within him... more thoughts on that later.) Indeed, only when he does so does he regain any semblance of his former freedom.

"They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The fools!" It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself dissociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the others; but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together; or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well-being is needful to him? I must find out later on. To-night he will not speak.

I think this passage proves how Seward's view of Renfield is very tied to his own personal feelings, and is thus anything but professional and objective. In the past, he's been overly indulgent of Renfield when he wants to discover a new madness that he can put his name to, and has even been tempted to go further; in his previous entry he felt hurt by Renfield ignoring him and then escaping, and lashed out with dismissive assumptions of delusions he must be having, and locked him up/restrained him. Apparently, kept him restrained until he resumed his former more placating behavior. Seward is fascinated by Renfield partially out of ambition, and partially out of this idea that they have some kind of bond or he has some unique understanding of Renfield.

And yet that idea upsets him too. He knows that he himself is abnormal in some way, perhaps is very conscious of or worried about this fact, and kind of scoffs at/dismisses the idea that Renfield might view him as someone who is on the same 'side' or understands his perspective. It sort of feels like Seward wants Renfield to be open with him and confide in him but only in a respectful way that acknowledges him as mentally/status-wise superior. If Renfield treats him as equal to the attendants, that is failing to acknowledge his superior status and intellect and training. If Renfield treats him as an ally opposed to the attendants, then that implies the two of them are of equal status and that Seward's being viewed as mentally on a level (and thus mad at least to an extent) rather than superior. Even as it partially soothes his hurt feelings the idea kind of upsets him, and he kind of scoffs at it.

The last possibility he brings up is that Renfield is using him. But Seward tests that right away and it doesn't seem to go anywhere yet: the cats that previously were Renfield's greatest desire today do not interest him in the least. I keep feeling like there's a weird balance of Seward being very willing to see Renfield as very calculative and secretly harboring murderous plans, but at the same time not having much ability to recognize when he himself is being manipulated by Renfield. Like this pleading/cringing behavior. On the one hand he has definitely noticed it is a deliberate action in the past, but at the same time he seems to consider it an indication that Renfield can be 'managed' again and set loose from his padded cell/restraints. (Not that I think releasing him is a bad idea, but it is an interesting disconnect from how Seward has kind of looked at it in the past, I guess?) Seward often notices when Renfield is trying to get something from him but doesn't necessarily refuse it, or still lets his own emotions/ambitions influence his response. I feel like it comes down to a lot of ableism in his faith that he is smarter/more able to see through and manage Renfield, and thus can afford to sometimes indulge Renfield's efforts to use him. Meanwhile I feel like Renfield has deliberately played into that at least sometimes in order to get his own way, and Seward doesn't recognize how clever he actually is.

Happy thought! We shall to-night play sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help; to-night he shall escape with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow in case they are required….

I love the way he pauses and then says "happy thought!" He truly is just having a sudden idea, and his curiosity is overwhelming his ethics/common sense here. Honestly, in this entry? It reminds me a lot of Dracula once again. I can easily see Dracula thinking this to himself with a few minor changes.

Perhaps on May 15th, before reminding/taunting Jonathan never to sleep outside his own rooms. Or even better, on June 29th when Jonathan asks to leave right then and he gets his wolf idea:

Happy thought! I shall to-night play predator nerves against prey ones. He tried to escape before without my help; to-night he shall have the chance to escape with it. I shall show him the door, and have the wolves ready outside in case they are required….

...look, I'm just saying, Seward is super creepy this entry.

#dracula daily #renfield #jack seward #count dracula #re: dracula #i don't think i'll be able to answer my asks/get any other thoughts out tonight #just been too busy today and no time

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phightinghottakes · 4 months ago

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Hello Chat. Back here to rant about Subspace this is gonna be a slightly long one

I wanna start by saying that I will probably just completely ignore the redesign because I'm at the point where I've already dissected his personality and have several alternate universes all adding little minor changes to the very core of his character. And if the redesign/new dialogue chooses to make him a cutie that could never harm anyone I literally just will not care. I've already separated myself from the game, and at this point from the fandom? So to hell with trying to keep canon-accuracy.

I only have one Subspace that sticks to the canon and I absolutely despise him because canon Subspace is... Such an odd concept. I can absolutely get the whole "Pretends to be sane around others" facade stuff, but the in-game dialogue just does it so weirdly. It sounds more like he's unaware of the damage he's causing and like he's some sorts of Broker-esk-happy-go-lucky-madman-having-fun character. Then at the same time, it sounds like he's completely aware of the damage he's causing, because there's no way someone like him so messed up and twisted in the head could go around talking like that being unaware of what he's doing. So then which one is it?? Well I have no idea!! I have to assume the developers were just going for "acts silly, is having fun being evil, is messed up" but then leaned a bit too much into the evil for Medkit's backstory which turns Subspace into just a tool for Medkit's lore which means Subspace ends up being just Broker but from Blackrock and more childish.

Personally I prefer interpreting him as more of, the err.. Capitalist CEO that'll put up any facade to the outside world then commit the most vile stuff while no one can catch him. Thusly how the whole Medkit incident happened. Also I think he'd care about his looks a lot, dunno. Why else would he dress like that and cover up all the rot? Cause sure it'd hurt slightly more without cloth but when you think about it putting a sleeve on around his rotting arm would barely help, if not make things worse. So he's probably just using it to cover how he looks? Which in a way kinda feels like a metaphor for covering up how rotten to the core he really is with some fancy, superficial attire.

Either way. TL:DR Subspace's dialogue in-game is stupid, the developers might not know what they're doing with him yet, and I'm done with this game's canon. If you have anything to say in response to this please do

-🐊

#phighting hot takes #phighting!#phighting roblox #roblox phighting #phighting #hot take #subspace phighting

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wolfsbanesparks · 2 years ago

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Bouncing in here like a madman again

Do you think Captain Marvel (seperate from Billy) considers the Wizard SHAZAM as their father as a sort of creator and creation relationship? Giving room for Billy and grandpa wizard relationship kinda?

I've had a lot of sugar today, so I'm not sure how that sounds, but I kept thinking about your fic, "Split", and how if things took a different turn and Captain Marvel revealed he existed because of the Wizard, would the JL come to the assumption that the wizard was his father/Billy's grandfather?

Or if things took an angstier turn, if Captain Marvel let slip accidentally that he didn't believe that the death of Billy's mother (and actual father) was a genuine accident/had suspicions about it, how would they react? Would they suspect the wizard bc of all the suspicions they're having? Also, I'm not sure if I remember, but did the JL get to have a conversation with the wizard?

Kinda factors into that one ask I sent before, where the gods killed the parents of the champions of magic to challenge and prepare them without them knowing, which might include the wizard, too. (Sorry, I re watched the Guardians of the Galaxy 2 recently and it's been doing numbers on my little mind)

In all seriousness you could write an AU for your fics and we'd eat it all up and ask for seconds because your writing creates a universe of wonder for us.

That was a lot, wow :0

Okay first of all you are so sweet! It's driving me crazy (in a good way) that I can discuss AUs of my fics!

I think that the Wizard already plays a sort of wise grandfather figure to Billy (in my preferred version of him) regardless of Captain Marvel's feelings towards the Wizard.

But I think it's totally logical for Captain Marvel to think of the Wizard as a creator figure, especially in his current incarnation since it was just Shazam who made him instead of a full Wizard's Council. There's respect between them, but Marvel also wants to make Shazam proud, wants to prove he's a good Champion. And I think that can translate to a father-son type dynamic even if it's a lot more complicated than that.

If we're talking Split in particular, the JL "met" the Wizard but Shazam didn't bother talking to any of them so their many confusions and suspicions didn't get brought up to him directly.

But if they had reason to believe Shazam was Marvel’s father, Flash in particular would have been having a freak out because the Wizard would have gone from possibly sketchy mentor to controlling and possibly abusive father/grandfather. He might have even had more people on his side if that was the case (especially if we add in the idea that the Batsons were killed as some kind of test of Billy’s pure heart).

There would still be those who insist that they shouldn't get in the middle of their complicated and potentially messy family situation. But there would also be those who wonder if Marvel had a choice in becoming a hero if his father was the one who imbued him with his powers because it was his "destiny". I can definitely picture Marvel bluescreening if someone asked him if he'd had a choice in being a hero (he didn't, and Billy didn't either) or if he'd ever wanted something else for himself (it had never occurred to him that he could be anything else because he was created to fight evil). His answer would definitely send up some red flags to whoever he's talking to.

There are so many cool ways having people think Shazam is Marvel’s father could play out and it would be so fun to explore that.

And since you mentioned it, while I don’t currently have plans to write an AU of my fics, I AM completely open to other people writing AUs of my fics if they are inspired enough to do it! So long as you credit me as the original author/check the Inspired By box when you post, I encourage you to go for it!

#ask me whatever you want y'all #shazam #billy batson #dc captain marvel #fanfic asks #this could have been a really cool extra layer to the mess that was the misunderstandings in that fic #the JL would have had a whole new set of rumors to sort through #and Zatanna would have completely freaked out at thinking there was some sort of strange family legacy thing going on with the Champion #this is so fun to think about

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quiddityg · 1 year ago

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KLOKTOBER 2023

Day 4: favorite headcanon

I don't rlly have any super favorite headcannons? So I just kinda tossed some general headcannons I have for each character lawlz

More about each character cause some of the headcannons are rlly vague lawlz

Nathan:

Hes on the Aromantic spectrum, where although he wants a romantic relationship, hes never rlly comfortable in relationships. Hes heteromantic though, where any romantic feelings he may have are only for women, and he generally find women way more attractive than men, but he still has those moments where he finds a guy rlly sexually attractive (cough cough pickles)

Also hes so autism coded it's like not even funny. He probably has the worst sensory issues when he eats chips and gets all that residue on his fingers.

Pickles:

Transgender!!!! I like to think he got top surgery as soon as money started rolling in for the band, and he probably also got bottom surgery also so he can fuck groupies without having to worry about them outing him or smth. That or hes a classic strap on man, which would also be super real of him.

This man is totally bi, he doesnt rlly have any major preference, but just goes for women more often.

I also like to think hed got ADHD but thats also me projecting like a madman cause mwehehe

Toki:

I like to think he's pansexual but like, kinda doesnt rlly realize it? Like, he generally finds all sorts of people attractive, but doesnt elly act on anything, especially with other men cause he thinks it's too gay or something. All around he doesnt have a preference, and his attraction to people isnt bound by their gender.

I also like to think hes nonbinary, in the sense where he doesnt consider himself to be innately masculine or feminine at his core. That being said, hes like never heard of nonbinary people before, and hes comfortable enough as is, and knows who he is that he doesnt rlly care to put labels onto himself in that way. If he cared about pronouns, hed probably go by he/they/she

Hes also totally autistic, maybe audhd but idk

Skwisgaar:

I'm sorry, I cant see him as anything else but straight. I mean, I could see him fooling around with other guys, but I dont think he would have any real sexual attraction to them, it would just be for fun. (I know skwistok shippers are not happy with me about this but IM SORRY I JUST CANT SEE HIM DOIN THATT)

That being said, I also kinda see him falling under the aromantic spectrum, specifically where he may experience minor amounts of romantic attraction, but sees no real importance in either engaging in it, or being in a romantic relationship in general.

The dyslexia bit is kinda canon knowing how he has music dyslexia with sheet music, but I also like to think he struggles with reading in general. That being said, hes probably rlly good at counting knowing how amazing he is at guitar.

Murderface:

How I see him, hes a closeted bisexual, and I mean CLOSETED!! Hes probably entirely oblivious about everyone elses queer identities and sees his attraction to men as an aberration of sorts. I also like to think he may find men more attractive, but would never admit it as long as he lives.

Charles:

I fought demons here cause I legit see Charles as just, gay. BUT, after some thought I was like, erm, maybe he would take interest in some women?? So I just said he was bi with a major preference for men.

I also see Charles falling under the asexual spectrum, specifically where he does experience minimal sexual attraction, and isnt against having sex, but he doesnt see any importance it and is way too fucking busy. He has better things to do, basically.

#Metalocalypse #dethklok #kloktober2023 #nathan explosion #skwisgaar skwigelf #pickles the drummer #toki wartooth #william murderface #charles foster offdensen #dethklok headcanons #traditional art #my art #metalocalypse fanart

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blackjackkent · 11 months ago

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We do get some more chat with Jaheira and Minsc before sleepz though!

"I think you might have made a terrible, terrible mistake. Chasing rumor halfway around the city and back. Crossing the Guild, wading through filth, defying the one creature upon whom your very life depends. All for a madman and his rodent."

"The Absolute threatens thousands - the entire Coast - and still you risked much to help one man. I should berate you, but... I can only say thank you."

"Your reasons were your own, but whether you meant for it or not, your fight is our fight. Both of us. To the very end."

Aw. <3 Jaheira is so fkn great, and look at the big grin Hector gets when she says she's with him to the end:

He really likes both Jaheira and Minsc a LOT to be honest. Jaheira reminds him a little of some of some of the older monks at the monastery (well, older when he was a young man; he was just starting to become one of those older monks himself when the nautiloid hit); she's wise and experienced and does not wear her heart on her sleeve, but she's also very kind, clearly feels things deeply under the surface, and believes strongly in the work that they are doing. And Minsc is... well, Minsc. I think on some level he reminds Hector of Karlach - intense balls-to-the-wall fighter with tremendous energy and a kind heart - and he would clearly put himself between any of them and danger in a heartbeat.

No matter what Jaheira says... it was worth it to help them both.

Amusingly, one of the dialogue options here is "Hm. None of that was a thank you," but like. It literally was? She literally said the words "thank you" two lines ago. XD

Instead, Hector just teases her gently - as I've noticed he's now done several times; it's not entirely characteristic of him, and speaks to the fact that he feels very comfortable with her and the sort of person that she is.

"Don't go getting sentimental on me, Harper," he says with a slight smile.

She laughs, and to his surprise he does hear a hint of a catch in it, a slight tremble that hints of tears. It is honestly rather touching; all of a sudden there is nothing of the frustration that came out earlier in the conversations, none of the sardonic deprecation or fear for the road ahead. She is tired; they have reached the end of the day and Minsc is safe - for all that he should never have been in danger in the first place, she has been worried for him for so many months... and now it is done, and he is safe. He is not another friend she has had to see into the ground.

"Ah," she says ruefully. "Those misty eyes are just age. Yes, I feel myself growing older as we stand here. So... lead the way. We are yours to command."

The message is clear; whatever tangled cocktail of emotions she is feeling at present, it is none of his business and she does not want to talk about it. He can certainly relate to that. But the understanding is between them, all the same.

-----

"Fine lodgings you have found, my friend! Boo is already in negotiations with the guardian spirits of this place. In Baldur's Gate, they are likely to be rat-formed and eager to charge rent. But Boo shall secure safe slumber for all! Now - what do you need of Minsc?"

I love him, your honor.

I also love the mental image this conjures of Boo sitting up guard and judo-chopping any rats that try to crawl out of the sewers.

"I'd like to know a little more about you."

"There is more than a little to know, I think. I am huge!"

Lots of fun back-and-forth to be had here. Annoyingly it's one of those conversations where I can't ask all the questions at once, so I had to reload a number of times to get everything. I'm not going to write all of it out, but some highlights:

He told Hector about Rashemen, described the "telthors, guardian spirits of every root, rock, and tree. Here in the Sleeping Lands, they are silent, but in the far north, they know how to speak still."

Apparently he went back to Rashemen for a while after BG2 (yay, my fic was unintentionally correct XD ); the "Iron Lord" there told him that his dajemma was done and he should work for the lord, but Minsc disagreed because Dynaheir was dead and he felt his dajemma could never be over. The Iron Lord felt disrespected, challenged him to a fight, and lost (obviously), at which point the Council of Witches told him he should probably get out of Dodge.

He did mention Aerie too! Hector commented that he seemed to toss the Wychlaran title around pretty freely between Dynaheir and Jaheira, and he answered: "You suggest that Minsc uses the term lightly? Simply leaps from Dynaheir to Jaheira, with no caring for the custom itself? An unworthy thought - and WRONG! In between there was also Aerie, my second witch. She needed a protector, and Boo suggested that it might as well be Minsc. And when she went her own way, Minsc and Boo set to thinking - there is power in the wychlaran bond. Far too much to be wasted on weeping. To use that power to serve the living does not sully the dead - it honors them." The way this is phrased seems like it could be read to imply that Aerie is also dead, but she is definitely not. However, it does concur with the assumption I made in the previous post, that Aerie basically was doing her own thing with Caden and no longer needed a protector and set Minsc free, more or less.

Hector pointed out, very carefully, that when Minsc described why Jaheira should be his new witch, he seemed to be just describing... friendship. Minsc thought over that for a minute... "Hm. So. Duty, camaraderie, help in troubled times - what I call the bond of a wychlaran, you simply call... friendship? I think I understand your meaning. Then Jaheira is my wychlaran. And so are you! You are my wychlaran! And Wyll is my wychlaran. And Astarion is my wychlaran! And Gale is my wychlaran! And Shadowheart is my wychlaran! And Halsin is my wychlaran! And Karlach is my wychlaran-- or, no, Karlach is a berserker, so... perhaps Minsc is *her* wychlaran? My thanks to you, wychlaran. You have given me much to think on - and should some enemy blow knock it loose again, Boo shall remind me." LOL. Minsc is not a subtle man but I honestly think he's fucking with Hector just a smidge here. (Or at least, to be honest, I hope he is; Minsc knows what a friend is, and his relationships with Dynaheir and Aerie are significant to him on a different level. The BG3 writers are doing fantastic with Minsc for the most part but this line, while funny, doesn't really play well for me exactly.) That said, I think Hector has a point that Minsc latching onto Jaheira specifically this way is him taking her friendship and trying to make it into this other important thing that he is missing, because he doesn't know how to handle being without a witch entirely. (Probably also a BIT of coping mechanism for having been teleported forward in time a hundred years, even though he doesn't actively claim he's bothered by it.)

Hector asked if Minsc knew anything about what deal Roah was striking with the false Jaheira and the Stone Loard; Minsc had no clue, unsurprisingly. Boo then piped up with quite a lot of agitated squeaking, which Minsc interpreted to mean that Boo thought he should open his mind up via the tadpole so that Hector could view his memories and perhaps understand elements that Minsc didn't. Minsc was clearly uncomfortable with the idea, though, and Hector isn't keen to use the worm more than strictly necessary, so he just told Minsc they'd find another way.

Hector asked about Boo and Minsc told Boo to explain himself. Boo squeaked. "Clear enough?" asked Minsc. XD Hector asked a little further and Minsc told roughly the story I was already aware of; he received a head wound from bandits and Boo showed up as he recovered. It is neither clear nor, I think, meant to be whether or not Minsc actually understands him. (Though I'm curious to see whether we are able to Speak With Animals with Boo on my druid playthrough. XD )

He talked a little about his experience getting turned into a statue. (Hector mentioned that Jaheira had told him about it; not sure if I missed a dialogue somewhere or that was supposed to have happened off-screen). He doesn't seem to know much about why it happened; just that he was ambushed while doing "cleanup" work in the city's underbelly and then woke up in the Wide a hundred years later when someone cleared the petrification.

And finally, some longer bits actually worth writing out -

Caden references! He cheerfully told Hector about fighting alongside "the Bhaalspawn" ("Gorion's Ward," etc... he has a NAME, Minsc! XD ) and fighting off evil. Hector, whose only exposure to a Bhaalist is Orin, was kind of skeptical: "How did you come to trust the spawn of such an evil god?" Kind of fun to see how the dialogue dances around making any specific assertions about the past game player character. In this case, Minsc goes off on a tangent: "A curious question. Are a child and his father always alike? Take Minsc! He does not have a clear memory of the face of his father, but he does remember tugging on the thick, red whiskers that sprang from his chin. A beard for the ages! Boo could have nestled there happily through even the harshest of Rashemen winters. Now - look closely at Minsc, and what do you see?" Hector, patiently, grinning in spite of himself: "You don't have a beard." "Correct! There are more whiskers on Boo's tiny face than on the mighty chin of Minsc! If Minsc did not inherit the flaming red hair of his mother, or the bushy red beard of his father, why would the spawn of Bhaal inherit his wickedness." Hector looks kind of impressed. "That's... surprisingly insightful." Minsc grins brightly. "I have many more thoughts about beards to share! I did not know you cared to hear them!"

-----

"I'd like to know your thoughts on our companions."

"You hear that, Boo? Your keen skills of observation have not gone unnoticed! Our friend wishes to consult your wisdom."

Hector blinks a few times rapidly but rolls with it. (Yet again he is quite like Caden in some ways. XD ) "Yes, Boo, I'd love to hear your opinions."

"So small is Boo that he is often mistaken for a pinecone, and many secrets are spoken in h is hearing! He will tell what he knows - but Minsc of course will translate."

Astarion first: "Oh, the pale scoundrel has his charms, it cannot be denied. But my friend, it gives me no pleasure to tell you - Astarion is not what he claims to be. Just last night, Minsc was dressing one of his many heroic wounds in camp when Astarion stumbled upon the scene. I tell you, he grew pale as death itself. He licked his lips and trembled so violently that Minsc thought he might faint on the spot! The truth is painful but undeniable. Astarion... is a coward. How can he fight the battles to come when he grows soft at the first sight of blood?"

[LOUD SQUEAKING FROM BOO] "...Just one moment." [MORE SQUEAKING] "You are sure? And you could not have told me this before?" [SQUEAKING] "...Minsc may be mistaken. Boo presents compelling evidence that Astarion may in fact be a vampire."

Hector finds himself once again fighting the urge to grin; this seems to be his default state when dealing with Minsc. "I know. But don't worry, he largely gets by on rats."

"Minsc has met many vampires and never one whose smile did not hide treacherous teeth. But... as you say. It is good that we do not have any friends who could ever be mistaken for a rat, eh Boo? If the sun can bear to look upon Astarion's monstrous face, then so can Minsc and Boo! For now, at least."

(Wonder if he is thinking about Hexxat and their battle with her in the crypts of Athkatla, so many years ago...)

Wyll next: "Ah, the great Blade of Frontiers! A fine name. Minsc has no idea what it means, but it suits young Wyll's air of mystery well. It is good to know the city did not go unprotected while I wore pigeon droppings on the Wide. Jaheira did her part, of course, but she prefers to scowl from the shadows. The city needs a name. A face! Preferably a furry companion, too!" [LOUD SQUEAK FROM BOO]

"He has a companion, all right," Hector says dryly. "Her name is Mizora."

"Mizora. This is... some manner of exotic bird?"

"Close. A cambion, bound to him by an infernal pact."

"What? Wyll, the Blade of Frontiers of whom I heard, is no man to deal with devils!" [SQUEAKING] "Ahhh, Boo speaks sense as ever. There is goodness in Wyll; we have seen it! If there be a devil on his shoulder, then Minsc and Boo will sit astride the other! He will not be long in coming back to himself, I think."

Gale: "I do not wish to speak of the wizard." [SQUEAK] "I could not have said it better myself."

"Gale's great - what's your problem with him?"

"He came to me one night with a little book of mischief, full of words and their meanings. 'Posterior,' he says. 'Can you say posterior?' I refused! Minsc does not need to know the language of wizards!"

Hector, swallowing yet another smile: "Posterior isn't wizard-talk. It's another word for butt."

"It is an inferior word! Far too long to use in a battle cry, which is where a butt belongs! Gale would do better to educate himself in the ways of sword and steel than to throw these pointy words at Minsc. Ah - yes, Gale also owns a cat! A cat with wings! That is most unnerving for poor Boo!"

"You should give him a break - he's only trying to help."

"Never! If he is not careful, Boo will shred his books and use them as bedding!"

And finally, Halsin: "Who is Halsin?"

"The elven druid."

"Oh, the tiny puny elf with leaves in his hair and dirt under his fingernails. His name is Halitosin? How very unfortunate."

"Halsin," says Hector patiently.

"That is what I said."

"You're both giant hulking do-gooders; I thought you'd get along."

"Pah. Minsc saw the druid chasing himself in circles and sniffing his own butt last night! He has spent too long as a wolf and not enough as a man." [LOUD SQUEAKING FROM BOO] "NO, BOO! THE DRUID DID NOT BEAT MINSC AT THE ARM-WRESTLING! IT WAS NOT A FAIR MATCH, AND HE TURNED INTO AN OWLBEAR HALFWAY THROUGH, AND THERE WAS GREASE ON THE TREE STUMP!"

-----

"When our minds mingled, I saw some... strange things."

"Oh? The mind of Minsc is a simple place. Of what strangeness do you speak?"

Narrator: The memories resurface, a lifetime of battles blurring into one. The single constant is Minsc, launching into the fray no matter the foe - be they god, monster, or man. It seems just the barest glimpse of what the man before you has ssen and done, but enough to know that he has no right to still be alive."

"Ah! Wait! That look in your eyes - I know exactly what visions of Minsc you have seen, to cause you such wonder..."

"My pants! Thrice-laced in the Rashemaar style, so that a berserker might split skulls without fear of splitting britches too. They *are* fiendishly complex, but fear not for Minsc! With training, he has learned to master the many little knots."

"Never mind your pants," Hector says firmly. "You've walked between planes, fought gods!"

"Well, as have you, no? Do not forget that when you gaze into Minsc, Minsc also gazes into you! We both fight evil, wherever it is found. The who and where are less important than the hamsters you meet along the way. On this matter of sharing memories - I see no reason for us to worry at one another's worms. If there is more we wish to know, we can simply... ask, no?"

Hector is very okay with this; he does not want to use the tadpole at all if he can help it. "Of course. A warrior speaks their mind, instead of reading others."

"Exactly so! If I must peer into the mind of my enemy, I use an axe. For friends, there is ale. No, my friend. If you fear you have a question that Minsc cannot answer, then you can simply ask Boo!"

I repeat: I love him, your honor.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #holy shit i thought this was just gonna be a short camp convo but minsc had SO much to say!#and i was just gonna do highlights but then i realized it's minsc and it's ALL highlights #he doesn't miss #realistically this post is like 95% just for #springagainafter #so she can experience all the minsc and jaheira content vicariously XD #hector is really happy they're both in the party now though <3

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