there goes my mind

“You need to stop.” Caroline sighed softly, putting her head in her hands. She wasn’t March’s peer sponsor anymore, as far as she knew, but she still met up with him to see how his break had been. To make sure he was alright, really, after being exposed to the negative influences he surely had around him while the heroes were gone. And now March was…well, being March. It was already making her head hurt. “Remember how we talked about inside voices?” she said, trying to be patient still even though her throbbing temples were making it difficult. “I’m right here, you don’t have to yell.”  @madasmarchhare​​

“i do?” a tilt of his head, an act that march often did. it was less of an action by now and more so like a tick. simply part of him to ask so many questions as he could find, always tilting his head with his big blue eyes wide and looking for something new to ask about when he didn’t receive his answer. he didn’t understand caroline fully. she was strange. always chasing but never on time. she wanted to provide him, what was that word? HELP. but, march couldn’t recognize such a word. it wasn’t something that could apply to him. “but if i speak inside how shall you hear me?” he responded. “ah yes!! you are the mind eater!!!” how could he have forgotten? “don’t get lost.” march grinned. but i also like yelling. he thought, presuming she would listen. my voice bounces around the air and it’s quite a lovely picture though it’s unseen but aren’t those the most wonderous things? what cannot be seen? why shouldn’t i yell when it’s something so beautiful? 

emeli: right?

emeli: we're far too interesting for that

emeli: not that i think you could ever be boring, march

march: indeed dear emelia

march: to remark us anything other then eye catching is a CRIME

march: i would never be BOARing

💏 March …to give up control. @madasmarchhare​

“You’re… not who I thought you were.” Emrys whispered, partially to himself as he started to come to. Pulling back completely from the Hare and having a proper look at him. These hallucinations were happening far too frequently now. Coincidentally, this was the second time one hit him while he was having tea with March this week. “I thought the medication was supposed to help.” He complained, leaning his head against his shoulder in a moment of weakness. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you, okay?” His threat was a little softer now than it would normally be. 

“I don’t believe I quite ever am.” Many forgot who March was often, including March himself. Sometimes he felt the twirl of the wind, sometimes a stomp of footing, and other times a twitch of his nose. Neither any times he was quite sure of who he was, it was a great puzzle. Sometimes March wondered if solving it would be a crime, it would finish the puzzle and then what would be left of him? “Help?” He repeated the word quizzically. “That depends a good deal on what help you need.” Help letting go of reality? Grasping onto it? Who was to say? Emrys’s head fell against his shoulder and March’s heart lapsed into the kind contact, and the vulnerability to which his Emrys so rarely allowed. He held onto him as gently as March knew how. “Who would believe what a mad hare had to say?” If his words were a kindness March couldn’t tell (that was there intended meaning, but he had little experience in working his meaning correctly). 

@madasmarchhare …out of necessity.

Valentina rolled her eyes.  She needed to do this though, just so he’d shut the fuck up. “Fucking hell who let you in here.” she muttered followed by a slew of hispanic swears. She kissed the thing March held up to her  and resisted the urge to gag. “there happy now?” 

“Who?” March looked around, trying to search for her answer. “I believe it was I but I could be wrong.” People appeared and vanished all the time, sometimes through a door and other times through other things. He could never quite explain. A broad smile crossed into his features, holding the rose dearly to his chest. “A rose kissed by the red queen, how happier can I be?”

.

His eyes tightened close as he tried to navigate their conversation. Wondering what he meant or if- like Wonderland. Everything he ever spoke was nonsense for the sake of nonsense. There was a time March wasn’t always like this… when they were young and when March was new to their lives. His father told him to chat with March while he dealt with Jervis Tetch. He recalled a clear irritation in Ed’s tone. Something that The Hatter never seemed to pick up on. The Riddler didn’t exactly like working with Jervis. So his visits with March weren’t as long as as impactful as his visits with Martin. …But that didn’t matter. From his shorter visits, he could gage easily that March wasn’t always March. He was something else entirely before the insanity took over. He was someone normal. That was probably what he meant when he said ‘longer than March’.

He let March talk about how he saw Wonderland and he just listened to the nonsense picture his old friend painted for him. The sun and moon having eyes. Watching their every move. March might think it was friendly for them to have smiles, but to Emrys. It all felt sinister. Like March was under surveillance and he could never escape Wonderland. No door with a lock. No looking glass. No rabbit to follow. No way out. He didn’t want to be stuck like that. Trapped in his hallucinations for the end of time. Emrys wanted nothing more than to be sane. To be normal. Like his friend once was. So long ago. 

“So,” Emrys started, opening his eyes to finally look at March again. He was quite done with Wonderland and March’s little game, but he didn’t come back to reality like he’d hoped. His stomach turned as he noticed things seemed wrong in the corner of his vision. It looked as though the wall was moving. Crawling with ants. When did that start? He closed his eyes again and swallowed the lump that was starting to form in his throat. “Uhm…” His voice was a lot quieter. “This is all the time for you?” He repeated his question despite already having his answer. He could hear the crude sound of a chair being pulled back to their left. Drug along the ground. Someone settling into it. 

I know you’re only twelve. But I dissected frogs at your age… It’s almost the same thing. He could hear his father’s voice clearly in the room with him. Although, he was sure March couldn’t. Finally he opened his eyes again to see him there. The Riddler. Seated beside them, slowly removing blood stained gloves and placing them on the table. His apron that he normally wore to cook them dinner was soaked in blood and one of his lenses was smudged with it. Emrys placed a hand over his mouth as the memory struck him. His father looked like he did the night he taught him how to dispose a body. 

He quickly glanced away and tried to focus instead on March. Feeling ill again, only this time it was from the memory. “Have you ever gotten it to stop?” He asked. “Wonderland.. I mean?” 

𝑀.

For whatever could become of them, March wondered. He had never met anyone willing to open their mind to Wonderland as Emrys was, not even March himself. He had not invited Wonderland into him, but rather been swallowed by it. His father had walked him in, guided him with a hand down the rabbit hole, and eventually it became all he’d ever known. The March by another name was left behind, and the only remnant of him remained the same face in the mirror. Yet not even the eyes were the same. The old March’s eyes were lucid, a strange color if March said so himself, he proffered his current color that changed with the frequency. So much funner that way, to keep changing and never become familiar. Familiarity was stability and who needed such a cruel mistress? 

Sometimes he tried to recall the before. Curious of what his land looked like without the wonder, and yet the memories repulsed him away. As if every time he stared into that mirror, tried to see through the glass, it broke. The reflection afraid of what he had become. It was not very kind of it, but March continued because there was little else to do. If the past March broke under his stare then that was hardly a concern. After all, what was a concern if not something to ignore? You ignored your concerns and it created a beautiful world full of surprises and screams and new colors and new people and new roles. Everything became nonsense, just as it was supposed to be. March failed to understand why no one else leaned into the chaos, it was so much easier then anything else.

Emrys opened his eyes and for the first time, March was sure his friend could truly see. So many paraded through this world utterly blind without knowing what they didn’t see, and yet in closing his eyes Emrys had truly opened them. His friend was gleaming a new understanding of the world so many lacked, March would call himself proud if he knew what pride was. It was too solid of emotion for him however, not airy enough to fly with, so he didn’t hold onto it. Instead he decided he was pleased. It was close enough, was it not? “It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards.” He quoted the words that ran aimlessly in his head. “There is no forwards so only now remains.” Now, where everything stood in motion and changing. Far more important then the memories that were left in the lurch, the ones of the other March that didn’t want to be seen. That didn’t want this March looking in. 

Once more, Emrys’s eyes shut and open. He was somewhere different then March was, he was quite sure. Yet they were also the same. Different continents on the same country. Same space, same sky, but different in the little ways that mattered hardly and completely. Emrys appeared scared. Usually other’s fear gave him comfort, for fear was something March understood in it’s in and outs utterly. Yet, seeing it on Emrys didn’t please him as it normally did. He didn’t like it. It wasn’t correct on the other man’s face. It felt like a tug at his side, the displeased feeling he never usually partook in. It was unfamiliar, it was rude, and March wanted off with it’s head (not Emrys’s, of course, but rather the feeling that felt like a thorn in his side-- and she wasn’t even here). 

Wonderland to stop. It wouldn’t be kind to laugh and yet it bubbled in his throat. For some reason, unlike usual, March felt like choking on the laughter rather then letting it breath. “I’m mad.” He told him, and unlike usual there was a somber weight to his tone. “You’re mad. We’re all mad here.” There was no stopping to Wonderland, it haunted him. It was simply the choice to drown with a laugh or a scream. 

she never knew if she should correct him with her name, but it looked like he enjoyed saying her name like that. and she might, maybe, slightly like it.  “thank you very much march.” she said with a soft smile. “unbirthday? i like that sound better than death.” she replied. she wasn’t a fan of thinking about it. “oh come on march i already got up don’t leave my hand hanging.” she said keeping her hand towards him. 

“you are welcome my dear.” he responded without little hesitation, though he failed to recall what she was thanking him for. perhaps the tea? did they have any tea? probably. maybe. who was to say? “they may be quite the same and quite different,” he mused. “close enough to touch but enough to cross.” he let forth a cackle into the air at the dangled hand for him to grab. “if i must.” he took her hand and grasped it to bring himself to his feet, hopping into the air like a hare. “and where shall we go next?”

@madasmarchhare​​ – from here

“You need to call an emergency meeting.” Ginny knew better than to actually drink the tea March offered, so as soon as the words left her mouth, she only pretended to sip from the china cup. “I mean it, dude,” she said. “I gotta go. You should call the Cheshire Cat and the Dormouse. You don’t want to waste all this tea.” It was definitely a good idea to waste all this tea. “Unless…” Her eyes widened theatrically. “Do you think the flowers are thirsty?”

“A meeting of emergency?” He inquired in return, a different confusion then usual lighting his face. “For what emergency do we call?” He mused the thought. “I could start a fire, that’s the easiest no?” His eyes light with excitement as she mentioned his kitty and mousy. “Ah yes! This is very true, I should give them quite the call. Do you think they’d prefer fireworks or an explosion? Both could be fun. Maybe at once?” He bounced in his step. “Of course they are! Those poor flowers, drowning without a drop! Yes, we shall be the answer to their thirst~”

-

Peter was surprised when March grabbed at his hands, but he didn’t pull away. He knew plenty of people were put off by March, to say the least, but mostly he just felt empathy for him. How could you expect someone to be remotely healthy if they were raised by Jervis Tetch of all people? Being from Gotham, and his parents being who they were, he had experience with Tetch. He definitely wasn’t suited to be around children. “That’s true,” he said, with a little smile. “But not everything needs a hole in it.” He cupped March’s jaw and gently closed it again. “Okay, no crust,” he said. “Let’s go back to my dorm, I’ll make you a sandwich and I’ll make sure to cut off the crust.”

It was unlike the usual Alice’s not to scream, slap, push, or run when the Mad Hare took their hand. So March took advantage, swinging their hands together in a rhythm with glee. He didn’t think about it often but he did indeed enjoy the touch of another being, it almost felt grounding (or as close as March was capable of being grounded, which wasn’t terribly close). “How else does the heart breath without a hole?” He asked, eyes terribly big and curious for the Alice’s answer. The impulse to bite at the hand swayed in his mind but March decided against it. He needn’t bite at the moment, he had food to bite soon! “That sounds agreeable.” Did he agree to it already? March failed to remember. “Would you tell me which way I ought to go from here?” That depends a good deal on where you want to get to, his mind supplied.

.

Martin looked over the other he might not have been the brightest bulb in the bunch but the Mad Hatter had his uses or so his father used to mention whenever he’d see some form of a tea party created. “Marteen Cobblepot is my name, I’m sure you’ve heard of the surname before.”

“Cobblepot, ah yes the bird!” He remembered the tiny funny man his father used to call a Dodo. It was unlike how March himself used the term with endearment, his father used it in a different way. “A pleasure to meet another cobble of the pots.”

emeli: I’m not interested in being polite or heterosexual.

march: both those things DO sound drab

red, you can say so many things about someone’s favorite color. she looked at him for a second and released how it fits him, passionate, romantic, curious, old spirit, odd? she thought to herself. “ i really like orange.” she replied, there was something about that color but she never could understand why she loved it so much. “ nobody said, i wake up everyday grateful i get to see another day.” she replied. “ we need to stop thinking about death march.” she added. “ carrots? you got it. you wanna go make it?” she said standing up from the grass and cleaning her clothes. 

“ORANGE!” he belted the name of the color loudly and with fondness. “what a wonderful color, a wonderful choice alexandria.” then again all the colors were bright and beautiful, it was black and white that was boring and plain. everything else POPPED. “one needn’t see another day when they could smell it or feel it.” he mused. “i chose which days i see, you see, much funner that way.” march preferred his choice of day then what those silly papers said. “what is wrong with death?” he asked earnestly. “it’s simply another unbirthday.” another march. he remained laying on the ground for another good moment. “another moment.” he begged of her. “i must remember the feeling of grass for later march, they’ll appreciate it.”

.

Martin could feel the headache coming while talking to the March Hare, this kid was too much like the Mad Hatter for his liking. Maybe he just took after his dad but Martin often had a low tolerance for a certain kind of person. “Your ramblings are all over the place and you’ve just repeated the name I once called you before you told me that wasn’t your name from now on I will only refer to you as March Hare”

“Please do!” He exclaimed with a jubilant nod of his head. “That would be what I am, very correct of you!” Not many people had that level of correctness often of the time, no one was 100% always correct. Only March was, of course. “And what are you called?” 

-

Peter chuckled softly, taking hold of March’s hand in a gentle grasp to keep him from ruining his clothes further. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Don’t you like that shirt? You can wear it for longer if you don’t put holes in it.” Another soft laugh left his lips. “I think it’s just Swiss that has the holes in it,” he pointed out. “But you’re right, that’s good cheese.” Peter reached out to gently steady March by the elbow as the other man swayed. “Mhm,” he agreed patiently. “I was thinking a sandwich. How do you feel about peanut butter and jelly?”

The touch made the rabbit startle. He forgot all Alice’s had hands too, they were naturally lost in their own wonder. He often forgot as well, their hands were warm. How interesting. He took Peter’s hands into his own, staring at them like he was investigating them. “What is the matter with holes?” He asked him with true curiosity in his tone. “Our heads have holes yet they are plenty fine.” At least he believed so, perhaps what March believed was wrong? Naw. “There are holes in many things dear Alice!” He exclaimed. “Just look at people.” He opened his mouth wide as to show off the hole of his mouth. “Jelly and Peanut Butter.” He mused the words. “It tis acceptable. But no crust!” 

“If we do, wont be as cushy as landing on one of the training mats here soooo…” Selene trailed off before she laughed. “Because is there any other way to say it the way the goodies here say it? Of course I mean trouble as in fun but to them its the completely opposite.”