Fic Entry: Solitary
Title: Nothing
Universe: Gen
Genre: Angst?
Rating: G
Characters: Mad Hatter/Ventriloquist + Scarface
Word Count: 495
Summary: Guh xD I meant to write about other characters - but this happened anyway. Like I said before, I like writing for two very under appreciated characters - I just can't help that they work well together.
Edit: Now with MOAR crappy illustration. I got the natch to doodle. (if mods don't approve of this -- I'll gladly remove it. S'how I like to envision the two)
Hours upon hours alone in a perfectly measured cell for his own good. How was this supposed to help cure someone's insanity? Obviously the doctors at Arkham had never heard of a little mental illness called Cabin Fever. It was a good thing he was already mad - or The Hatter would have gone so months ago.
“You can't very well have less than nothing,” he told the glass; the lumpy bed and the stain on the floor. None of which were very good listeners but that didn't stop Jervis from chattering, “yet nothing I have hordes of! What ever shall I do with my bounty of nothing? I could knit myself a cowl of nothing and wear it like a hat!” said whilst jabbing a finger into the mess of graying orange atop his head to emphasize.
His audience of nothing choose to say just that - nothing.
Disgruntled, Jervis walked toward the glass and stared out to the cell across from him. What he caught a glimpse of made his fists curl and his teeth grit in utter rage.
The Ventriloquist, who resided across the way, was currently tucking Scarface into the bed that was meant for the little man to sleep in. It always seemed the puppet got the better of all this nothing they were offered. And though Jervis could not hear anything between two slates of glass and the noise of his own uneven teeth grinding together, it was still easy to tell the Arnie was singing - SINGING to the blasted piece of kindling.
It was completely unfair. That in all his madness. All his loneliness. All his deepest wants and needs for someone. All his nothing - that right across the way NOTHING and MADNESS had found a way to never be alone at all! It wasn't deserved - not one bit!
Scarface, he meant of course, as the undeserving one! Stupid wooden cur! Spiteful useless log! To having someone like Arnie. If only Jervis could have someone like that to sing songs to him. So kind, so meek, so polite and caring and and and oh -oh -OH.. OH FRABJOUS DAY! Jervis clapped his hands just thinking about it!
The white haired man turned and looked towards him at that moment; those big circle glasses reflected harshly as he did so. Oh! Attention at last? The Hatter grinned widely and placed one hand on the smudge up glass in greeting.
Arnie blinked and looked toward the lump on the bed before he took one small step toward the glass. He started to raise his own hand only to shiver full bodily as a growl echoed loud enough for even Jervis to hear. There was a soundless apology and the Ventriloquist flomphed to the floor and buried his head in his arms to go to sleep.
“We don't want you with us,” Jervis quoted meekly to all his nothing and bumped his head against the glass to shed a bitter tear.
Universe: Gen
Genre: Angst?
Rating: G
Characters: Mad Hatter/Ventriloquist + Scarface
Word Count: 495
Summary: Guh xD I meant to write about other characters - but this happened anyway. Like I said before, I like writing for two very under appreciated characters - I just can't help that they work well together.
Edit: Now with MOAR crappy illustration. I got the natch to doodle. (if mods don't approve of this -- I'll gladly remove it. S'how I like to envision the two)
Hours upon hours alone in a perfectly measured cell for his own good. How was this supposed to help cure someone's insanity? Obviously the doctors at Arkham had never heard of a little mental illness called Cabin Fever. It was a good thing he was already mad - or The Hatter would have gone so months ago.
“You can't very well have less than nothing,” he told the glass; the lumpy bed and the stain on the floor. None of which were very good listeners but that didn't stop Jervis from chattering, “yet nothing I have hordes of! What ever shall I do with my bounty of nothing? I could knit myself a cowl of nothing and wear it like a hat!” said whilst jabbing a finger into the mess of graying orange atop his head to emphasize.
His audience of nothing choose to say just that - nothing.
Disgruntled, Jervis walked toward the glass and stared out to the cell across from him. What he caught a glimpse of made his fists curl and his teeth grit in utter rage.
The Ventriloquist, who resided across the way, was currently tucking Scarface into the bed that was meant for the little man to sleep in. It always seemed the puppet got the better of all this nothing they were offered. And though Jervis could not hear anything between two slates of glass and the noise of his own uneven teeth grinding together, it was still easy to tell the Arnie was singing - SINGING to the blasted piece of kindling.
It was completely unfair. That in all his madness. All his loneliness. All his deepest wants and needs for someone. All his nothing - that right across the way NOTHING and MADNESS had found a way to never be alone at all! It wasn't deserved - not one bit!
Scarface, he meant of course, as the undeserving one! Stupid wooden cur! Spiteful useless log! To having someone like Arnie. If only Jervis could have someone like that to sing songs to him. So kind, so meek, so polite and caring and and and oh -oh -OH.. OH FRABJOUS DAY! Jervis clapped his hands just thinking about it!
The white haired man turned and looked towards him at that moment; those big circle glasses reflected harshly as he did so. Oh! Attention at last? The Hatter grinned widely and placed one hand on the smudge up glass in greeting.
Arnie blinked and looked toward the lump on the bed before he took one small step toward the glass. He started to raise his own hand only to shiver full bodily as a growl echoed loud enough for even Jervis to hear. There was a soundless apology and the Ventriloquist flomphed to the floor and buried his head in his arms to go to sleep.
“We don't want you with us,” Jervis quoted meekly to all his nothing and bumped his head against the glass to shed a bitter tear.