asylum meme

[alkali]

 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

Barry Allen | 63!Flash

[fastestalive]

patient, s1ish era

Fun fact: Barry's been in outpatient therapy, on and off, for over a decade now. It's not hard to see why, given how much time she spent trying to convince everyone that she saw something unnatural kill her mother. If she didn't know what she saw that night, that her dad didn't kill her mom... To everyone else, she really did look like a girl whose brain cooked up some crazy memory to protect her from the truth.

So why is she here now? The memories are kind of fuzzy still, but apparently, she was called in to examine a domestic violence crime scene and had what appeared to be a full-fledged PTSD flashback followed by several hours of catatonia. Barry kind of suspects some kind of metahuman influence, but what can she say? It wasn't really me, someone with superpowers messed with my head? So she's stuck here for at least a few days while they do a psych evaluation. Not that she couldn't run for it, but she wants to still have a job at the end of this whole thing, and it doesn't look too great if you escape from a psychiatric facility. So, yeah. Here she is.


patient, s4 premiere

After leaving the Speed Force, some well-meaning soul who finds Barry calls the police, who, in the absence of any ID, end up sending her to the psychiatric unit at a local hospital. The current diagnosis is schizoaphasia, thanks to her communicating largely in nonsense phrases that have little-to-no relationship to any conversations around her. She mostly keeps to her room, writing nonsense syllables in the notebook one of her nurses kindly provided her (partly so she would stop stealing pens and writing on the walls), but she comes out every now and then to wander among the other patients.

Right now, she's sitting in one of the common areas, completely fucking up a coloring book by drawing more symbols on it. She might not be much of a conversational partner right now, but it wouldn't hurt to try.

or choose your own starter!

s4 option?

[kid_flash_found]

Bart had gotten into the habit of reading through the news every morning, even the stuff buried way in the back. The public outreach piece about the strange symbols a Jane Doe kept drawing was what caught his eye, and, well, then he knew. It would take a few days at the earliest to get her transferred out, and he'd volunteered to hold down the fort on this end.

A nebulous backstory they'd created about his being a 'cousin' got him through security with a box of speedster-rated protein bars and hope. Someone had to help, even if just a little. The nurse that led him over was just relieved to have a name and a story to go with Barry, and he did his best to try to play his part as a worried-but-relieved family member so she'd just go away. When she did, he went over to kneel beside the chair his grandma was sitting at, trying to catch her attention.

"Hey," he said, dredging up a weak smile.

works for me!

[fastestalive]

"My dad has spent fourteen years in a six-by-eight foot cell for a crime he didn't commit." Her gaze flickers up for a second, like she's been startled by something, but she looks past him and then back down at her book, still carefully writing out the symbols over a picture of a giraffe eating leaves off a tree. "You know, at this rate, we'll be finished by Easter."

Jacob Johnson | A Nightmare on Elm Street | OTA

[burnedchild]

((CW: child abuse))

Jacob had checked himself into a mental hospital about a week and a half after the intrusive violent thoughts had turned into violent actions, and he might have put it off a little longer, if both hadn't started giving him almost constant panic attacks. His (now very definitely) ex hadn't gone to the police, hadn't told anyone else what had happened, and the only person Jacob had told was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality.

He wouldn't have really put it off that much longer, though, despite the fact that institutionalizing himself was a drastic step he'd thus far managed to avoid. But this time, he knew he'd exhausted the limits of what the therapists he'd bounced between on a road he never wanted to envision as his hunting ground could help him with, and if he didn't do it, he was only going to get worse. Violence was something he had a taste for now, after all, and there was only so long he could keep holding it back on his own. Still, he was determined not to give in to it, because as soon as he did that, Freddy Krueger won - and he'd sooner die than let that bastard beat him.

Not that he could tell anyone about Krueger - not, he assumed, without being treated for schizophrenia, which he definitely didn't have, and a diagnosis of which would derail getting treatment for his actual issues. So, as far as the doctors and staff knew, he was a victim of childhood sexual abuse, who had been forced by his abuser to act as bait to lure in other victims. It was close enough that he didn't have to omit much, and it fit his symptoms.

There had been, however, one phenomenon involving him that no one could adequately explain, and that was the how his fellow patients with uncontrollable night terrors or pattern nightmares - even the patients with whom he wasn't personally acquainted - had started reporting him showing up in their dreams to protect them, to take them out of the nightmares and into more pleasant dreams, or stop them from dreaming if it got too bad. All of them insisted that they weren't cured, that they had only gained more time to explore treatment options, but a couple of them were now off suicide watch.

Jacob's first instinct was always to help where he could.

[justpurecreation]

Ariadne was fidgeting. It wasn't something she usually did, but then, she also usually got to go outside for a while, something that always impressed her a little, because most people didn't have that kind of workmanship in natural scenery and as soon as she found out who was behind it she was going to congratulate them. She'd had a bee land on her a few days back, and had been able to feel the individual feet as it walked along her arm before taking off again.

But with the inclement weather, she was stuck inside, and for the moment was sketching a run-on skyline all the way around the edge of a sheet of paper, working meticulously to keep it all one line, she'd fill in the details later, but the actual buildings, the shapes of them, had to start with a single line, that was always easiest to build from whether as a drawing or as a construct.

It took her a moment to actually notice him, but when she did the sketching stopped short, her brow creased just a little, realizing that not only was he the one that he'd heard some of them talking about, but that she'd actually seen him before.

Which was exactly what she said by way of greeting: "I've seen you before."

Quorra | TRON: Legacy | OTA

[quorrious]

No one really knew where she'd come from, all they knew was that her story of having been inside a computer had to be wrong and that maybe she'd seen the Matrix one too many times.

She'd had no ID on her when she'd been brought in by a good Samaritan, and they could only guess she'd been isolated for most of her life, or had gone through some sort of trauma, but no amount of time talking with the therapists had done any good. She stuck to her story and wouldn't be swayed from it.

She was in the library, curled up on a windowsill seat, watching the rain outside, book open in her lap.

[withinherlight]

It had been a no-ID sort of week. Another patient, flaming hair knotted back and yellow nails chipped, was roaming the shelves restlessly, running fretful fingers along the spines. Noticing the woman in the window seat, she stopped, eyes falling inquisitively on the pages of the book.


[[hi fellow computer inhabitant? :) ]]

[quorrious]

It was an illustrated copy of collected Jules Verne stories, one that was probably considered 'illuminated' and not just 'illustrated' due to the starting letters of any chapter being illustrated in and of themselves.

She was so enraptured by watching the water gathering and running down the outside of the glass that it took her a moment to realize she wasn't alone, startling a little and blinking over at the other woman before a cautious smile emerged, followed by a quiet: "Hello."

[Hiiii, still not sure if she's actualfax!program just got lost, or if she's human and constructed the story as an escape from whatever happened to her IRL. But it's one of the two!]

Hanna | movie of the same name | OTA

[aptoautmorior]

On the good days, Hanna was one of the hospital's more amiable patients. She took her medication, she ate her meals and she went to bed.

The only problem was that she also had bad days, prone to fits of violence -ones that she almost always seemed to regret afterwards- or daring escapes. She'd made it all the way to the outer fence one night, and all the way to the roof another time.

The woman who had brought her in, posing as a social worker, had spun a believable enough tale of being raised in isolation in the arctic, possible abuse, certain conditioning and obvious trauma from witnessing the brutal death of her caretaker. Hanna, for her part, had given up trying to argue that none of it was true except for the last part, and that Marissa, the woman in question, had been the one who'd killed him, people told her she was confusing the facts and she couldn't be expected to remember something like that through the shock. She still knew what was true and that was what mattered.

Yesterday had been one of the bad days, and she was still sporting a bruise from where she'd headbutted one of the orderlies and had ended up rolling herself into a table. But, alternately, today seemed to be one of the good days, as she was just sitting in a chair in the rec room, knees drawn up to her chest, watching cartoons.

[livedforthejoke]

"I love this one. You know the new cartoons can be really good? But a lot of the ole Looney Tunes just never lose their punch."

A blond woman in a doctors coat sat down next to her. She had red and blue pigtails and was wearing the same boring clothes the other patients wore but the labcoat looked clean and crisp like it was fresh from the laundry.

"Got any favorites? I'm a Daffy Duck girl myself."

Ariadne | Inception | OTA

[justpurecreation]

The thing with Somnacin was that it wasn't traditionally addictive. Or, rather, wasn't addictive in the same way things traditionally were. Of course, it altered brain chemistry the same as any other hallucinogen, and with long-term use it suppressed the ability to dream naturally and, occasionally, led to paranoid thoughts that the real world was just a dream-state that one only had to wake up from to be free.

Which was what had happened to Ariadne, her business partner -who had gone through that experience once before, with his previous partner and said partner's wife- recognized the signs and had been the one to check Ariadne into the facility in the first place.

Ariadne herself was incredibly lucid, even reasonable aside from her conviction that this was all a dream. That conviction was the reason she had an ankle monitor that sounded an alarm if she went any higher than the second floor because she had tried to drop herself off the roof, and not just once, but twice. Her explanation had been that everyone knew that to wake up from a dream that deep you had to die.

That conviction was also the reason that she was on suicide watch, even though she didn't consider herself suicidal, and hadn't tried any other routes besides the long fall. But as had been explained to her by a very patient doctor when she'd protested, just because she hadn't yet didn't mean she wouldn't later.

Frisk ♥ Undertale ♥ OTA

[dustless]

Patient:
Nobody knows where they're from, or what their name used to be. They were found trying to climb one of the most dangerous mountains in the area, though they didn't struggle once they were caught.

They're called Frisk, and they don't think they're real. They believe they need to go to where stories say monsters are, 'cause those aren't real either. Everyone should keep an eye out to make sure they don't escape, either outside or into the more dangerous wards, but they're docile for the most part.

Hallucination:
There's a kid nobody else can see or hear, and they're always there. Even when you don't see them, you feel them, standing just out of your sight.

Well. At least they're a nice ghost--or hallucination, like the doctors (and maybe your family) keep trying to convince you.

[brotherkiller]

Aha~ So this is where you've been hiding, partner?

[ What's real and what isn't, who can really tell? One way, for certain, is how those around you act. Like the child the doctors can see and touch. And then there's the other child, the one who's invisible and intangible. The one who speaks and the one who's silent.

But which, do they wonder, is which? ]

Do you think you can escape? You should know, it's far too late for that.

Chara 🔪 Undertale 🔪 OTA

[brotherkiller]

a; they always seemed so happy

[ Chara was the perfect, cutest little darling the doctors had ever seen. They couldn't fathom how the child had ended up in their care, what could possibly be wrong with one so cheerful and mature? But, there had been insistence, and so, they took the child in, knowing this would be nothing more than a week or two evaluation and disregarded the warnings given to them by the ones who had this sweet angel committed.

Until the first night, when a nurse had to be rushed to the ER from a pencil through her neck. They found the child, still cheerful, smiling brightly like an angel, laughing as blood dripped from its hands where they had tried to tear the wound.

Chara's not allowed out of their room much anymore, not without heavy guarded supervision. But perhaps, you don't see it either. Why anyone would shove around this poor, innocent sweetheart who has a bright smile for everyone who passes by, waving even as they're being tied back in a straight jacket and sent to bed. Do you really want to know? ]


b; it's only the wind, right?

[ Doctors and patients alike must have heard it. The whispers through the halls at night, the faint laughter, a child's mirthful giggling. Running footsteps down the halls when there are no lights, the creaking of windows and doors opening and closing as if a child trying not to disturb the silence thinks they're being sneaky.

Or the whispers in their ears. Kill them.

Kill them all.

Make it quick, make them suffer.

Poison them, no one would know.

Rip out their jugular with your teeth, it would be so easy.

So much fun.

Come play with me~

Most can ignore the disturbing childlike whispers, the gleeful tones that beg for murder and destruction. Always, always accompanied by sweet, innocent laughter. As if it's nothing more than a game. Do you want to play? ]

lorna dane / polaris | the gifted

[mutants]

pre-canon (age 24~25)

The second month in the care centre is easier than the first, just because the a-holes in scrubs have stopped remarking on how lucky she is to end up here and not in a jail cell. That's not really what all of them are saying, of course. Few things change within these walls so the cadence of individual voices is unmissable, and she's been considered "the enemy" for so long, she automatically tunes in to log who the bigots are. The ones who are actually telling her where she belongs, where they'd prefer she'd be, where they have the means to contain her. In this under-funded, three star facility, all they can do is discourage staff from wearing metal near her and hope she plays nice.

She does, since she's not getting locked up and cut open over a few dozen micro-aggressions. She isn't the only mutant there, but the scariest one, evidently, as they don't allow her to interact with her brothers and/or sisters. Her allotment of time outside and in the recreation area is fair, yet Lorna prefers to stay in her room and spin her metal token, that she is absolutely not allowed to have, and definitely not allowed to toy with as comes naturally. There's no one watching her there, waiting for the live wire to writhe and lash out. They want it even more than she does, feels like. A reason to up her dosage, even though she plays dead in public areas and therapy sessions. She doesn't take the meds but she did once, a long time ago, and remembers the "side-effects", how they dampened everything, turned it flat and dull. Like this place is normally.

Lorna doesn't get visitors but she is allowed them, even in the privacy of her room. Apparently when the worst is expected of you, a little good behaviour goes a long way.

[ feel free to come with another starter, any setting, AU's, grimdark, power-stripped, whatever! ]

[malesiren]

No one there, at least no one on the staff, knew what Henry was, because there had been no reason to test him, given as how he'd been brought in for being recalcitrant, something that was -surprisingly- still on the books as a legitimate reason to have a family member committed.

It had been used once upon a time for girls who didn't want to get married off, at least in general, and could, it seemed, still be used for family members who were posing 'a moral danger' to others even despite the fact that he was legally an adult. He still had the same address as his grandfather, the preacher, and that was all that mattered. Grandad couldn't have him arrested for anything legitimate, and so he'd done the next best thing.

Not that any of that really mattered, because Henry knew what he was capable of, and soon enough so would Lorna, if only because his escape plan worked better with two people, and from what he could tell, she didn't deserve to be there any more than he did.

Which was to say that after his own brief stint outside that day he made a not-quite beeline for her room, detouring only far enough to charm a couple of pudding cups off of one of the kitchen staff, knocking lightly against her door twice before just leaning against the doorjamb, not about to come in until he was actually invited, "Hey."

[homo_superior]

Lorna had a visitor. An old man, unassuming in the way he dressed, if a touch old-fashioned. They'd taken him to her room and left him there with a word to call out if she suddenly became aggressive towards him.

Erik stood there, watching Lorna for a moment, before saying something. "You really should learn what they want from you and make it easier for yourself." What was not being said was the fact that Erik had quite a bit of metal on him. The question of how he'd managed to get it past the staff, well, Magneto always had his secrets.

John Constantine | Hellblazer/DCTV | OTA

[hellboundheart]

To the Rescue... Sort of. It's the best that could be done at 2am, okay?

Those magically inclined might have seen through the trick, realised that it was a charmed playing card that the Englishman held in his nicotine stained hand. Those that were not saw an American Psychiatric Association identification card. Even with the shoddy trench, unshined shoes, pulled down tie - they had the urge to trust him.

A Southern accent twisted through John's voice, one that he had found charmed most people, especially night shift nurses that had seen enough ugliness to last them a lifetime. "Doctor Montgomery Thames. I was called in to help with the special case that came in an hour ago?"

A touch of hypnotism and John Constantine was left standing in front of the a metal door that was just like the others in the dimmed hallway.

"If they're wearing flannel, call that Bobby bloke with the fake FBI. Any costumes, then it's Bats or Supes," he muttered to himself as he lifted the metal panel that would let him see who was in the padded cell. Getting a call out to the local bin for some supernatural, fuzzy or magical incident hadn't been high on John's list for the night, but here he was. He'd done a favour a year or so ago for the charge nurse, and she let him know when certain 'cases' came up. Like this.

He paused, mentally sorting through the other options. Beyond the brother that might be in flannel or any superheroes, he was on his own if it was Dracula or the Wolfman. Get them out and away from humans. Same went for angels. Demons? He'd deal with that if needed. "Please let it be Strange," John said to himself as he lowered the panel to see who was in the cramped padded room.

The Sorcerer Supreme owing him one would be brilliant.

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

Things like this happen when you have a lot of enemies. (Someone help John option)

His head lolled back, blond hair crackling. Cheap shampoo left it that way, and this asylum wasn't up on the whole big budget thing. This was more the kind of place that enemies put others to forget about them. A modern day oubliette.

The strait-jacket wasn't keeping John Constantine down. He could be out of those in a few seconds given his experience with them. The sedatives coursing through his system did the trick instead, severing him nicely from his magic as well. Casting even a simple spell in his condition would have been bad. At least he knew that much as he stared blankly up at the ceiling.

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have taken the piss with Papa Midnite. But John did have to acknowledge that on the good side, he hadn't been left for dead with a bunch of rats while covered in honey or something else Midnite could have inflicted when feeling inspired. This was just getting him out of the way for awhile. Soon enough someone would slip up, and John would escape. Soon enough Chaz or Zee or someone might figure out he'd been missing for awhile.

Someone would find him. A drug-stupid laugh came as John struggled to sit up some.

"Can't have a proper jailbreak without shoes. I miss my shoes."

Thus the wisdom of John Constantine.

To the rescue, and it's good to see you around! I hope this is alright.

[levelofrestraint]

As luck would have it, the man in the padded cell was neither magical nor wearing flannel. And he certainly wasn't Batman or Superman. Neither was he wearing a costume, although if anyone referred to what he usually wore as one, he'd have considered throttling them. But as it was, his usual attire had been replaced by a straitjacket, a thing he looked none too happy about.

How he'd wound up here was something of a long story, and some of the details had gotten jumbled up in the process of being brought here. Of course, Oliver Queen had been through the ringer, and most of what he'd lived through and seen would be enough to send anyone to a mental institution. But there was the part about how Oliver claimed to be resilient and built of stronger stuff because of the things he'd been through. So, slightly jumbled brain or not, something didn't seem right here.

Still, there was nothing to do but wait and see what his ultimate fate would be.

option two (I have no idea what I'm doing and it's entirely possible she's a ghost)

[the2ndthing]

If there was one thing Rocket knew, it was that there was always a way out of a place like this, and maybe you needed a multi-part plan like some kind of bank heist, and maybe you just needed light fingers and a trusting candystriper.

She wasn't sure yet what it was going to be here, but she suspected it would be more of the first than the second, which was why she'd started out on her best behavior, because that would give her just a little more leeway in learning the lay of the land. She hadn't expected that it would also land her the position of delivering meals, however intermittently, to the patients that most of the orderlies didn't want to deal with.

It was on the way back from making one of those rounds that she heard the statement, and while she didn't think that it had been meant for her, there was really no one else around, and she was familiar enough with rambling lines of thought, she just asked: "Yeah? What size?"

The Nogitsune | TW | OTA

[mygame]

Patient

"Someone better alert Sheriff Stilinski that we just brought in his son. What the hell was he doing out in the Preserve at this hour?"

The Nogitsune barely heard the attendant as it found itself bundled into a nicer than most padded room. Restraints locked down the limbs of the stolen copy of Stiles' body, keeping it immobile. It wanted to snap and bite, threaten and kill these humans. Unfortunately, the human flesh was weak with whatever the hunters had shot into it.

If the Nogitsune saw Chris Argent anytime in the near future (after it recovered from the drugs in its system) it was going to do terrible things to him. Those 'terrible things' would be defined later when it had sobered up enough to have an imagination. Twisting itself to the side, the Nogitsune gave a too fox-like bark of distress when it couldn't move. Soon... soon it would be able to and every human would suffer. Soon, it promised itself.

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

[Or feel free to set the scene if you'd like a chaotic spirit to open your character's cell door.]

Magneto | X-men

[homo_superior]

Considering the life Erik Lehnsherr had lived, it was inevitable that at some point he'd end up here. He'd lived a long hard life and anyone would have cracked a lot earlier under the pressure than he had.

For the most part, he was a good patient. He took his meds and gave the orderlies no trouble. The only frustrating thing for the doctors was how staunchly he held to this delusional belief that he was a mutant with the power to manipulate metal. He'd concocted an entire life's story where he had fantastic powers. He'd even included people from his real life in it, his friends Charles and Raven playing prominent roles.

Most everyone assumed this was the precursor to some form of dementia starting to crop up, considering his age, but then there were odd things that happened around him. Chairs that seemed to move across the room even when he didn't move from his own, pens and coins that mysteriously vanished from the nurses' pockets, and then there was the infamous time that the security fence had bizarrely been twisted into a pretzel shape after he'd gotten extremely angry. But it was all just in his head......wasn't it?

[Could be a full-on no powers AU or just someone trying to mess with his mind. Dealer's choice!]

Someone's messing with the timeline

[calmestmind]

[also it's been forever and a day since I've played him, so forgive the rustiness.]

Charles didn't mind this place so much, it was one of the better ones he'd been in, and he'd bounced around quite a few of them when he was younger. The staff actually tried here, and that was, sadly, the best he could ask of anyone.

There was also the fact that if he wasn't having a good day, if everyone's thoughts were too loud and overpowering and he couldn't get ahold of his own thoughts through the tumult and just needed to stay in his room where it was quiet, no one tried to make him socialize.

Though today wasn't so bad, in fact, it was quiet enough -probably due to an adjustment in his medication- that he was in the recreation room of his own accord and he stopped short upon seeing Erik, having scanned right past him on his first visual sweep of the room. He crossed the room to sit across from the other man then, stating: "I know you." And then, brow creasing slightly: "Or I will. One of the two."

Loki Odinson | MCU | OTA

[wearenotdoinggethelp]

The young man had come out of nowhere, to the close vicnicity of the hospital, accidentally, one day, a few months ago. He was... running away from somebody, that much was clear. His hair, still more on the short side than long, was unkept and wild, he was rather dirty, and bloodied, and his fingernails? Well, they've seen better days. He healed remarkably fast, that was a blessing, at least.

His mental progress also seemed incredible. When friendly neighborhood strangers checked him into the asylum, he seemed quite in a bad shape, but after just a few weeks? He was a model patient, really. As long as nobody mentioned torture, he was very decent, very polite, very sweet. Very sentimental, too, the nurses and doctors would say, as the man - Loki, he called himself, and as he had no ID, everybody humoured him and called him that, too, that apparent sweet mythology buff, heh. As the man would often call the asylum 'his shelter' or 'the place where the Black Order won't find me, so, I'll put up with this and not kill all the doctors, for now'.

Yes, he had such murderous texts sometimes, but that was, the personnel unimously decided, because the poor sweet young man had surely escaped some strange organisation that was a mix between a mafia and a sect, or at least, his brain falsely insisted that he had escaped such an organisation.

The young man had a mother he still cherished, apparently, and a very beloved older brother, seeing as once, after the doctors prescribed him (and sedated him to make him take it) a large dose of medicine... well, when they finally managed to make dear 'Loki' to take it, he mentioned family for the first time. Mother, whom he confusedly (that myth loving again?) called 'Frigga', and elder brother, 'Thor'.

The doctors began searching for 'Loki's' family. After all, this nice, polite, sweet, troubled Scandinavian youth deserved a family visit, and it could do wonders for his mental progress, they were certain. He once also mentioned a father, but that relationship seemed strained and a root of some complexes, so that visit might actually worsen Loki's mental progress, his main doctor decided. No, mother's visit would probably work best, and then, maybe brother's.

If they actually existed and weren't figments of 'Loki's' imagination, that is. He had a very rich imagination.

However, some of the torture he supposedly suffered, was not imaginary, as

Also, his body temperature control was... well, broken, one doctor called it, and they had sent 'Loki' to a hospital to cure him of that, but, well, that wasn't the best idea. He escaped from the hospital and it took a week to find him, subdue him, and back to the mental hospital with him.

And when back in asylum, he insisted that he met 'Thanos' again, and there were traces of new torture.

Self-harm, the doctors decided. It wasn't really possible that the mafia/sect found him again so quickly, the doctors thought.

However, since that day on, he stopped calling the hospital 'shelter' and stopped seeming to trust doctors and nurses to 'keep him away from the Black Order'.

That was very upsetting. Many younger nurses cried after hours, muttering, "I wish my sweet imaginary Norse prince would trust me again, like he used to." and others "I wish he'd kiss my hand again. It was a bit cold, but so... ah, like a fairy-tale."

The doctors had to give him much larger doses of medicine from that day on and sedate him more often, which was a shame. Still, they continued to search for his family. After all, Frigga, Odin, and Thor? These could be internet handles or something of the like.

"They think me dead, I want them to think me dead, I want them to mourn me", 'Loki' once said, after some medicine, but, still, it couldn't be denied that the family was an important topic to him, that whenever he became worse off or completely unresponsive, talking about his family invigorated his brain without fail. And so, finding his family could be a key to his mental recovery and the end of his self-delusions, even if his family was as pathological as it seemed from some of his tales.

Failing that, finding some friends from that 'Asgard' village, at least.

[hamm3rtime]

Having heard from both Heimdall and Frigga, that his baby brother was alive again, Thor had gone in search of his adoptive twin. They'd given him the destinations elsewhere in the city that Loki had escaped to, but of course when Thor had arrived, Loki wasn't there to be found.

So of course he took to the media of the area, introducing himself as Thor and asking if anyone had seen his little brother who had taken ill. What he was ill with went unmentioned, of course, to spare Loki's feelings, but Thor was desperate to find him.

The asylum staff, not having correctly anticipated the likelihood of an alien older twin with a flying hammer, were nonetheless fairly well assured that this may have something to do with their patient, returning the topic to Loki, that they thought they may have found his brother. Whether Loki wanted to meet him was legally Loki's own decision. Which he'd only agreed to while sedated into oblivion, and probably didn't even remember.

Two days later, Thor showed up and the doctors informed Loki that his brother had arrived. Upon first meeting him, Thor did seem to know a great deal about both Loki's appearance and past. He seemed gentle and concerned, but admitted thay'd physically fought before and had to be told to leave his giant flying hammer locked in a therapist's office momentarily.

Stepping in more quietly than he felt was appropriate for such an overwhelming meeting, Thor shut the door behind himself with a barely-audible click. "Loki..." Oh how he wanted to embrace his little brother! But he checked to make sure Loki wanted such a thing first.