Asylum Meme

[deadguysjr]

Meme, Interrupted



"People ask, How did you get in there? What they really want to know is if they are likely to end up in there as well. I can't answer the real question. All I can tell them is, It's easy."


Well, you've really done it now. You're in a mental institution. Maybe it's a modern facility with a therapy garden, compassionate staff members, and a warm environment meant to help nurse people back to health, or maybe it's a glorified dungeon where the government shoves people they don't want to deal with and patients are abused by staff. Regardless of what it is, you're there, and it doesn't look like they're planning on letting you out any time soon.

Maybe you're actually not supposed to be there and you're trying to arrange for your release. Maybe you actually are meant to be there and you're struggling with your illness. Maybe you're not a patient at all and you're just there to visit or earn your paycheck. It's up to you.

Rules:

1. Post with your character's name, canon, and your preferences on the subject bar, and set up the situation.
2. Tag other people. Are you a visitor? A staff member? A fellow patient? A hallucination? It's your choice.
3. Have fun!

Comments

Fujishiro Nageki | Hatoful Boyfriend | OTA

[carrierdove]

[OOC: Bird version available on request.]

A

He was once a patient. No longer.

Fujishiro Nageki was a sickly young man committed a long time ago. Under suspicious circumstances, he burned himself alive, taking half of the asylum with him. They renovated and rebuilt the burnt wing, but now the patients--and some of the orderlies and doctors--can see a young man with green hair and blank gold eyes wandering around, usually after dark with a nose buried in a book. He is an unobtrusive presence. Unsettling, yes, but never hostile or dangerous. If people try to strike up a conversation, he will even talk back with them.

The administrators refuse to believe a ghost wanders their halls. That is okay by Nageki. He doesn't like a lot of attention anyway.

Tonight, he walks in the halls, carrying Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse under his arm, searching for a nice place to settle down and read.

B

Nageki is easily one of the least social patients. He's covered in healed burns, making his movements stiff and making it difficult for him to turn his head all the way to the side, but that doesn't seem to bother him. He doesn't need to move much to read, and that's all that he seems to do. Read and get sick a lot.

Today, he struggles with a respiratory infection. He keeps his wheezing as soft as possible while curled up in the corner of the tiny patient library that had been set up, reading through one of the most recently donated books.

When someone stumbles in, he doesn't even look up from his book before saying, "Quiet in the library."

B

[upyour]

Gekikara was one of the less pleasant patients to be around. She was violent, and liked to see the other patients (and staff) cry. She should probably be locked up most of the time, but once in a while a foolish doctor got into his or her head that she needed to be around people to learn how to keep her blood lust in check. It usually didn't work, and she was moved from asylum to asylum as the staff became unable to handle her any longer. She was still new to this asylum, and when she wandered into the library with a big stuffed animal -the only items she was allowed here were soft, and she had received this one from a friend on the outside- dragged behind her by the ear, she ogled the man with a smile that would make anyone uneasy.

"Are you mad now?"

Bruce Banner | MCU | OTA

[honeyibrokeharlem]

Scenario A

Maybe it was the gamma radiation. Maybe it was exposure to Loki's staff. Maybe someone drugged him.

Regardless of how it happened, Bruce woke up in a mental institution, and he was told he had been committed after a suicide attempt. He remembered that part. He had gotten low again, withdrew from what few friends he had made and gone back on the run when the SHIELD leak happened. The military had been poised to grab him, to dissect him, to weaponize him. He thought he could take their resource away by overdosing on morphine. Maybe it would slow his heart down enough so that the monster wouldn't come out.

Instead, he woke up here. They didn't believe him when he said he was Bruce Banner. They didn't believe him when he said he needed to leave, that it was dangerous for him to stay there, that the military was after him and he couldn't get angry.

They said that he wasn't Bruce Banner. That he was an unknown man found during an overdose. That he was a junkie. That he was on suicide watch.

He kept himself from getting angry, kept himself from transforming. He passed the time by teaching other patients basic physics. A lot of them were homeless and high school dropouts, but he enjoyed teaching.

The rest of the time, he spent trying to convince doctors he wasn't crazy.

Now, he was just playing a game of chess by himself, pursing his lips and glancing out the window as he went. He had been there for a couple weeks. He was afraid the military was coming for him.

Scenario B

Dr. Banner was a kind psychiatrist. A good one. A pretty handsome one too, some of the patients would giggle to themselves. He always spoke softly and kindly to them all, even though his eyes were always sleepy and sad.

And now he was walking towards you, making eye contact and giving a small smile as he clasped his hands in front of him. "Time for our appointment."

[womanofiron]

[ooc: OH HEY I am totally not thinking of sending anyone else at your Bruce too because that would be silly. Pssh. Also, Obadiah Stane may or may not secretly be paying someone to fuck with her meds so she stays unstable OKAY LET'S GET THIS TAG ON THE ROAD.]

Natasha Stark. Everyone knew about her. Genius heir to Stark Industries, started attending MIT at 15, multiple PhD's. The words crazy slut had been applied to her more than once with varying degrees of accuracy. No one was really surprised when she nearly died of a drug overdose. Since she hadn't been seen in the public eye since then, it's widely assumed she's in rehab, getting clean.

They're sort of right. She had a nice little folder full of issues. Her suicide attempt, of course, but also an eating disorder, bipolar II, and possible schizoaffective disorder. She'd been under the hospital's care for almost a year now but was switched over to Bruce recently.

She had no problem with that. Tasha had been scribbling some designs out when he came up, but she quickly stopped and flashed him a too-bright grin. "Bruce! Got a present for you."

B

[ff_red_turk]

Vincent Valentine only briefly turned away from his contemplation of the world outside the window, before he turned away again.

He'd arrive a few weeks ago. And his file read like textbook PTSD, with some extra trauma thrown on top. Former Special Ops returned to civilian life, with a girlfriend and a baby on the way... and then the girlfriend had lost the child and committed suicide and he'd snapped. He'd been found prostrated near her body almost two weeks after she'd died. The self-mutilation he'd inflicted on himself had left him covered in various scars, and he was still on suicide watch himself.

But mostly, he seemed to have lost all interest in life itself, retreating inside himself to ruminate his loss. He barely ate, drank only when prompted too, and slept only when knocked out with sedatives. He'd already hurt several nurses, not on purpose, but simply because old reflexes had kicked in after someone had touched him in a certain way, and he'd felt so guilty afterwards he'd retreated even further inside his shell.

But the doctor didn't want to leave him alone.

"I don't have anything to say to you," he said flatly.

Bart Allen/Kid Flash II | DC Comics (AU from pre-reboot) | Patient | OTA

[kid_flash_found]

There was one rule with dealing with Bart Allen. Never let him get a hold of news media. Even outdated magazines fed into his obsession that the world was somehow wrong, that it had been changed and only he could undo it. It was the only way they could keep him from his attempts to keep his indecipherable notes. They kept him from pencils, paper, far too many things were denied him, but it was something that he had started to get used to.

He was not used to the lack of powers, lack of everything except his mind. He still remembered everything he saw, every experience, but it was different from being able to record it. He kept track of things, but organizing them was a lot harder without being able to put it where he could look at it.

Which just meant that he spent a good deal of time staring into nothing. Well, he was paying attention on some level, just not the one that was trying to organize the world into the right patterns so he could save it. That was why he blinked at the face in front of him.

"Did you say something?"

Malia Tate | Teen Wolf | OTA

[clatrans]

[Malia's familiar with mental institutions. The last one she was in? Had sucked. This one was no different. If it wasn't because she'd been a coyote for most of her life, or because she'd eaten her sister and mother, or generally because she lived in Beacon Hills, she's back once again. Hopefully this time no one tries to kill her.]

[aarj]

Mornin'. [Stiles sniffs and rubs at his arm, red scratch lines from his trimmed-down nails already racing down the side as he sits next to her. He'd only just taken his meds so he has to wait for them to kick in, and the twitches stick until they do.] You sleep okay last night?

Annie Cresta | The Hunger Games | OTA

[annieisntokay]

[District 13 hadn't known what to do with her, after the rebellion. They'd tried to care for her, but the young woman was completely a mystery to them. The death of her husband had hit her harder than they could have imagined. Subsequently, they did all that they could do, placing Annie in the care of the doctors in the Capitol. Once more, Annie Cresta had been pushed to the side, forgotten.]

Joanne Joestar | JJBA (AU)

[atruelady]

one;

[they'd told Joanne she had a nervous disposition which had led to a mental breakdown over her failing health, quite common in young ladies. they'd told her that she was lucky to have a brother who was so concerned over her health to make the painful decision to commit her; when she insisted to the contrary and refused to stop arguing they'd sedated her.

since that first day she's been a relatively agreeable patient, slowly recovering her health with an almost grim determination. but she refuses to take any visits from her family, and as her strength has returned she's begun to make almost constant escape attempts. she always apologizes when she's brought back, but it doesn't stop her from trying again.]

two;

[a very sweet nurse whose smiles never seem to meet her melancholy eyes. she doesn't like to talk about her life outside the asylum, or why she keeps her hair cut so short despite how much the other nurses gossip.]

1

[theyounglover]

[Wirt wasn't a troublesome patient, all things considered. His first weeks were spent insisting that his brother was kidnapped by woodland creatures, sure. But by this point, he'd pretty much decided to keep to himself. Conversations were kind of nerve-wracking.

Despite this, he finds his curiosity getting the better of him. The frequent escapee was kind of fascinating in how much determination she seemed to have stored up. Wirt cautiously stepped over to her table, debating sitting next to the older lady.]

Uh. Hi? Is this seat taken? I could, uh, I could sit somewhere else. Somewhere... less in your personal space? If you mind. Do you mind?

Éponine Thénardier | Les Misérables | OTA

[jondrette]

[ canon possibility

They asylum needed bodies, and the Thénardiers needed money. It was simple. So the girl was handed off, and Thénardier walked away without a second thought, eager to spend the paltry sum he got for his eldest daughter. Hysteria, he'd said, and they'd agreed. Eponine was a wild-cat, not the sort of girl fit for fine company. It was better to get her off the streets, least she hurt anyone. Of course, the Thénardiers had plan to return for the girl. No, she was there until she was cured, or her death, which, given the living conditions, shouldn't have been long.]

[ modern possibility

Eponine always said she was the problem child. But having found her overdosing, pulse faint, it was apparent that yes, indeed, she was a giant problem. Suicidal, drug-addled and an alcoholic, Eponine spends her days causing more trouble than she's worth.]

Bucky Barnes ( MCU ) | OPEN

[winter_ruin]

He didn't really like the hospital, but he knew this place was supposed to help him so he tolerated it. At least he was left alone much of the time, except when doctors or nurses came to bother him. Bucky preferred it when they left him alone. When people were around, sometimes he felt agitated and confused.

What was he supposed to do? Small talk them? Tell them he had improved?

This place was probably safer, at least. He wasn't out hurting anyone here. Not killing anymore. And he knew he was being watched carefully, should anything prompt him to escape.

[morethanadream]

This was a special evening. As the sun set, the sky was still lit up with what looked like vines of gold spreading across heaven like a web of churning, glimmering veins.

The doctors, orderlies, and even many of the patients didn't seem to notice this. Only a minor fraction of the patients commented on the sky. Some muttered about the Sandman and dreamers and exchanged knowing, slightly off smiles while the orderlies shook their heads, but since none of the patients seemed agitated by the change in the sky, there was never any move to take them to their rooms.

Then one of the churning gold tendrils spiraled down from the sky and through the window, curling through the room. The patients who noticed them in the sky all reacted, whether by giggling or humming or smiling, but the others didn't even look up at the whispering gold above them. It looked like it was made of magical sand of some kind.

Then a tiny man alighted on the window sill. A tiny golden man, dressed in a toga that seemed to be made of sand, with yellow eyes and tufts of cotton candy-like hair that sparkled with pieces of sand.

He surveyed the room with a sleepy smile, greeting anyone who looked in his direction with a cheerful smile and a silent wave.

Claudia Donovan | Warehouse 13 | OTA

[strippernameserendipity]

She remembered being in and out of hospitals ever since she lost the last of her family. This last time, she'd apparently gone into a complete fugue, insisting her sister and brother were both alive, and that she worked for some kind of organization. The kinds of things she'd fought.

Claudia Donovan was insane. She was trying to come to grips with reality, denying stuff that she'd tried to believe before this, a much happier and wierder life. And yet, if this was the truth, she was alone. She knew that much, besides the fact that she had to heal, to get to where she'd see was things that were real. The drugs kept her from falling back into those imagined things, and she wasn't allowed to stray much. Routine grounded her.

[lotsoflaughs]

Gabriel had no idea where Claudia had gone. She just disappeared one day during one of the times he wasn't home. His first stop after not searching her had been Hell. After he was quite certain that Crowley was absolutely serious about having no idea where she was or what had happened, he started the search again. It was far harder to find her than it should have been, but he finally did it with a tip-off from one of Crowley's demons.

"Found you." He appears in the same room as her and pulls her close to himself to fly her somewhere away. He takes her to a forest for now, it's out in the middle of nowhere and no one would know to look for them there.

Stiles Stilinski | Teen Wolf | OTA

[aarj]

I don't want to. I don't. I don't know what it is, okay, thank you, shut up. [He's leaning against the wall, biting his nails as you walk in. He's pale, cold, dark circles under his eyes because he doesn't sleep and he tries not to eat, because everything sounds like flies buzzing in his mouth on the bad days and that's when the food comes back up.

He has good days. Days where he's almost back to his old self, all sarcasm and clumsiness and an eager to be noticed and appreciated. There's still the spark of an intelligent boy left, more than a spark, more than a shadow of someone who just wants to protect his friends and family, but this kid's got a reputation. He's the one who bombed the police station.

He knows there's a darkness inside of him and he talks to it to keep it from talking to you. He has to keep it entertained or it'll find ways to entertain itself...and use him to do it.

His eyes snap up and find you across the room.] Hey. Hey. I need a riddle. You know any good ones?

[viscerally]

[Derek's got his own reputation. He suffers from clinical lycanthropy, and a rather severe case of it too. Besides that, he's withdrawn and aggressive and as a result under surveillance the few times he's allowed to be around the other patients. Needless to say when he responds to the question directed his way without growling at the kid, the nurse just a few feet away is clearly surprised.]

Riddles aren't really my thing. [There's a pause, though, thoughtful, and he continues a moment later with,] You're in the woods with owls and wolves. There are 22 eyes and 32 legs. How many owls and wolves are there?

Ophelia | Hamlet (modern)

[mermaidlike]

[Ophelia's always been a nervous girl, perfectionistic and prone to fits of anxiety about seemingly trivial details that most don't worry about. Her father pushed her into modeling at an early age (which means that while she hears she's pretty often, she also hears what's wrong with her often) and has always kept close tabs on her, monitoring her relationships and keeping her sheltered from the worst of celebrity culture unless pushing her into it suits his purposes. There are rumors about her romantic entanglement, all of them variations on the them of her being the naive young ingenue stepping out with a known bad boy, none of them entirely confirmed.

So there are any number of reasons that she might have swallowed too many of her Xanax and washed them down with a glass of scotch from the hotel minibar before going to soak in the bathtub, fully dressed; by the time the story broke, she'd already been checked in to get some rest, in the cagey language of publicists, but she's been here at what amounts to a spa with more powerful drugs a couple weeks now and she still hasn't said much of anything.]

[agraveman]

[Celebrity culture was a bitch. Okay, so Merc tried to use it to his advantage, being good friends with a few princes, and related to the prince of Italy really helped you have good social standing. But he was on the fringe, a famed party boy. A famed party boy with a drug and alcohol problem.

Oh, and the fights. Lots of fights.

He was put here, because, unfortunately, it was this or jail. Obviously, pretending to get rehabilitated was a whole lot easier than surviving in a hideous orange jumpsuit, so here he was. Biding his time, trying to find something fun and interesting to do.

Oh, hey, look. Another fellow celebrity.]

Phia! Hey, girl.

Kain Highwind | Final Fantasy IV / Dissidia 012

[dragoon_pride]

[So he'd finally snapped. That was what they said anyway. Kain had been through a lot of mental and emotional ordeals, and it had all left him... a bit unstable. In the end, the effects of the mind control and the darkness it had awakened had driven him to madness. Sometimes he believes himself another person entirely. It's been hard for his companions to watch.]

[So he's been brought to this place. He's kept under strict watch at all times, considered a very dangerous patient. So when he finally gets a chance to roam around, Kain definitely takes it, wandering the halls and wishing he were somewhere else...]

𝕭𝖆𝖑𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖟𝖆𝖗 | 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖊

[lickin]

[ He'll be paying you a visit, demons don't tend to get locked up in asylums - that would be pretty counterproductive. ]

[acausal]

[ Ravenscar, North England.

It's dreary, homey, even -- and on the occasion, entertaining, when you counted its patients in their various stages of illness. The deranged and the mentally broken never really are as the movies and the various television shows would have you believe, especially in much-maligned institutions like these. No psychotic chainsaw-wielding murderers just biding their time, no screaming from half-baked jail cells and straitjackets. All the screaming, he supposes, are the ones he'd induced on his own.

Out in the boonies in a godforsaken spit of land, this setup works just fine for John Constantine. It works as a distraction and an escape, half-discovered science and a pointed lack of the arcane. A vacation, where the horrors are much more mundane and significantly man-made.

He thinks of the little girl he'd lost, and toys with the tag around his wrist. Guilt is a close companion these days, the horrors of it clear as day in his mind, untouched by the drugs and the electroshock that he'd encouraged the doctors to prescribe. He doesn't sleep, tonight, and sits by the window, the steady swing of the metronome a steady rhythm to his thoughts. The ever-present stench of sulfur, however, is what catches his attention. ]

You lot never change, eh? Still stinkin' up the damn place.

Winter Soldier || CA:WS || OTA

[soviet_assassin]

[Bucky wasn't used to this hospital but he knew it wasn't the usual one you got in cities. This wasn't a place to help injured people but one for those who had lost their minds. An asylum. Had he finally lost the ability to fulfil his uses as a killer? He had a split personality and knew of this.

Dead men's faces haunted him each night in his nightmares. Those men he had been ordered to kill. To see their last breath be ripped from their throats, as he silenced them.

Looking around and the sterile environment, he narrowed his eyes. He was angry. No, furious. This was no way for a soldier to end up. It was a disgrace. He was not ill. He could kill and that was what he wanted. Not to be looked at by doctors and nurses.]

flycatcher | twau | ota

[woodlandfrog]

( a. hallucination; flycatcher is a strange creature. appearing either as a lanky ginger janitor or a talking frog, he holds no ill will towards those who envision him; in fact, he spends most of his time trying to comfort the staff and patients who think they can see him. he enjoys telling stories, long, beautiful tales about princes and princesses, fantasy kingdoms where everything was happy and good, and if he isn't stopped, chances are fly could go on forever after the beautiful princess he once met a long time ago.

b. patient flycatcher has been in the asylum longer than anyone. there are rumours that he doesn't age, stories about him being some kind of immortal spirit haunting the asylum for a laugh; neither of which are true, but fly hasn't had a chance to correct anyone yet. being committed after the murder of his wife and children, he tries to distract himself from the terrible memories by obsessively cleaning wherever he goes, however he doesn't mind stopping for a quick chat, so long as nobody brings up his past. )

Kaito Kuroba | DCMK (Magic Kaito) | open

[whiteofcrime]

A Mad Thief?
When the authorities finally caught up to the Phantom Thief, Kaitou Kid, no small number of people were surprised when his identity was finally unmasked as Kaito Kuroba, son of the world-renowned magician, Touichi Kuroba.

Of course, there were some who knew, some who had suspected. Kaito was a magician after all. That he was skilful enough to play the part of Kaitou Kid was an easy leap to make, for those who knew him. The revelation shattered many of his personal relationships, but the true distancing came when the police interviewed him to learn of his motives. 'Pandora', the gem of eternal life, said to weep its tears under the light of a full moon when a certain comet passed over the Earth. This was the reason Kaito eventually gave, under pressure. As unbelievable as the tale sounded, he refused to change his story no matter how often he was pressed. There was also a mysterious organisation, he insisted. An organisation who were also hunting for Pandora. He had been trying to stop them by getting to the jewels first.

Well, they said, the death of young Kaito's father must have unhinged him. There couldn't possibly be such a thing as a gem that wept, or gave eternal life for that matter. With that in mind, they granted him leniency and sent him to a mental institution. He was to remain there until he'd recovered from his delusions. Assuming they were delusions...

You wouldn't think that such a charming teenage boy could be suffering from mental trauma though. He's the one who keeps the other patients happy. The one who delights them with his little magic tricks, using whatever he's allowed to have. Despite the atmosphere of the place, apparently it's not enough to get the former Kaitou Kid down. The only time he goes quiet is after a session with a psychiatrist, becoming oddly withdrawn and uncommunicative with others.


Other ideas: (too tired to write out at the moment)
- He is disguised as a staff member to break someone out of the institution
- A visitor (works better with canon mates, I think)
- Hallucination (for those who, for whatever reason, hallucinate a Lupin-esque figure?)

Tohru Adachi | Persona 4 | OTA

[denialism]

[You know, when you tell the cops you were able to murder people with magic, they might tend to think you're insane. Not that he is. Or he doesn't think so. He doesn't feel insane, but don't they say that people who are insane don't know it?

Ah, it's not worth thinking about. People are going to think you're insane if you have a different way of thinking about the world. That's just the way it works.

He wonders if this place is worse than prison. In prison, he probably wouldn't have to talk about his feelings. But the prison food could be worse. Not that the food here is great. Adachi is picking at his lunch now, frowning at it critically, ignoring the other inmates. He tends to keep to himself.

He doesn't expect to be interrupted. And he's not expecting any visitors, either, but it could happen! He's been on his best behavior, a model patient, so he is allowed to have visitors. There just aren't that many people who want to visit him.]

Poison Ivy || DCU || OTA

[mayqueen]

It doesn't matter how she drew attention attention to herself. Slaughtering a board of directors; destroying a toxic chemical plant; bringing justice to those on pedestals higher than the reach of Gotham's infamously corrupt legal system. It's the cops, or a SWAT team, or a vigilante or two. Either she surrenders or she's knocked unconscious or she's drenched in herbicides.

All roads lead to Arkham.

The asylum is ready for her now. The air in her cell has a constant low-level mist of defoliants; the energy she'd use to break out is spent on healing herself, on simply keeping alive. It's inhuman, but there's no sympathy for that to be found. The guards she'd complain to are the same who'll cop a feel while accompanying her to therapy, or attempt to barter extra freedoms for sexual favours.

Her access to sunlight and water are tightly monitored. They give her drugs - antivenoms, antidepressants, antipsychotics - at elephantine doses, in the hope of their having some small effect. They don't.

Nor do the talk therapies. Her shrinks are either too frightened of her to push, or looking too far into their future - press articles and book deals, How I Cured Poison Ivy - to be effective in the present. Either way, they only last a matter of weeks. They fall under her spell, bit by bit; most lose their jobs, or their minds, or their lives. But at least the sessions get her out of her cell.

It's mid-morning. Her most recent stay has lasted almost two months, and she's growing restless, enough to start paying close attention to every possibility of escape. When the guard comes to the door and buzzes his presence, she straightens up on the narrow cot that is the cell's only furniture.

"Dr Isley." It rankles. Poison Ivy isn't a nom de guerre; Pamela Isley isn't her 'real name'. She was one thing and became the other.

"You've got an appointment."

She can't remember for the life of her what that appointment might be. Therapy, the GCPD, the rare visit from the outside - life in Arkham becomes a meaningless blur. Regardless, she allows him to (pointlessly) cuff her hands and lead her along the featureless white hallway.

[ooc: An non-powered AU is also available: Dr Pamela Isley, a talented botanical chemist who was institutionalised in her late twenties after a string of poisonings. She was apparently used as a human guinea pig by her former employer and lover, Jason Woodrue; while she survived his experiments, they seemed to have contributed heavily to a psychotic break. She's a cooperative patient, most often found in the therapeutic gardens, who seems genuinely interested in recovering but doesn't seem able to take responsibility for her crimes.

Prose preferred, cross-canon lovely, f/f for anything potentially shippy but OTA for gen.]

Toothless | How To Train Your Dragon

[lastnightfury]

There's a dragon stalking the corridors of the asylum. He's black enough that when the lights are out, he can hide easily in the darkness, so long as his eyes are closed. His tail lashes in agitation, knocking over a garbage can. He jumps at the crash, and shoots the offending can a contemptuous glare. Dragons, after all, do not belong inside, let alone asylums, and Toothless isn't entirely sure how he got there, or how to get out.

Of course, he could merely be a figment of someone's imagination, but if that's the case, he certainly has no awareness of it.

Hoping cross canon okay.

[hands4healing]

She wasn't suppose to have been here. Winry had politely but firmly tried to explain this numerous times, only to have been injected with medications to subdue her strength and the volume of her voice, or wrapped in jackets or strapped to beds to hold her still.

She lay in a bed with a door open, the straps holding her down. She'd given up on shouting or crying, but her mouth was so dry. She couldn't remember when she'd last had something to drink.

Hearing a crash outside the door, she started, turning her head. "Hello?" Her voice croaks and cracks, barely audible. "Water? P-please?"

Red Hood / Jack Napier | Earth 3 / BBATB

[sickjoke]

I'm not him.

[ It's been the mantra of the day. He's not the Joker. He's a world-tossed traveler who came to the wrong place at the absolute wrong time. He's tired, he's battered, he's bent under the weight of the sins of another man. ]

[ He's also in the high security wing at Arkham Asylum. Insisting his innocence, of course. Insisting he's someone else. No one believes him. Not even after the first escape attempt where he didn't kill anyone. Not even after the second where all the wounds were nothing more than bumps and bruises. He's downright gentle... the Batman's been harder on Arkham's staff in the past than this not-Joker is. ]

[ But the drugs and the captivity are taking their toll, and the reflections of all his friends, warped into monsters, drags him down. God knows if he'll be sane by the time he gets out. And he will get out-- it's only a matter of time, and of how far he's willing to go for his freedom... ]

Let me know if you're not cool with cross canon

[extirpations]

That much is quite obvious.

[Kimblee settles down opposite Jack comfortably despite the ever-present shackles on his wrists designed to keep his hands from touching. He's fascinated by the other prisoner. The man looks so much like the Joker on the surface until you look into his eyes. Then the difference is obvious. This one doesn't have the eyes of a killer. Not yet.

It's rare for the two of them to be allowed out of their cells at the same time. The staff at Arkham are justifiably wary of both the man they think is the Joker and the one who can cause explosions with just a touch of his hands. Kimblee has had to be on his best behaviour the past few weeks to get this chance.]

However even if they believe you none of them care. Who wants to admit they locked up the wrong man and the true danger still roams free?

[The man's growing desperation in the wake of his failed escape attempts is obvious. How much more will it take before he closes the gap between him and the real Joker? It's an intriguing question and one he's certain the asylum itself will answer given enough time. Still, there's no harm in giving things a nudge to hurry them along.]