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Whumpee is used to being the scapegoat. Whenever anything's wrong it's Whumpee's fault, and whenever people need someone to put the blame on, Whumpee is always there.
They are used to it by now, and it doesn't matter if they have a good excuse, or if they would never do half of the things they get blamed for. Whumpee is always the one to take the blame.
Whumpee gets to believe it is actually their fault.
Maybe if they were better. Maybe if they behaved better. Maybe if they could do a single thing right, they wouldn't be punished every moment of their life.
But what can they do? Whumper doesn't listen to their excuses. No one ever does. The best they can do is accept it.
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Katsuki glowers at absolutely nothing because he knows turning that glare on Shinsou is only going to make the present situation worse, but by the gods does he want to.
Shinsou is in a funky mood—has been for at least a few days now—and it's affecting the class in a way Katsuki never thought possible.
Everyone's walking on eggshells—not even just around him, but in general. The girls are snappish. Most of the boys are jumpy. Everyone feels as if there's an itch they can't scratch because no one dares to talk to Shinsou and Katsuki is sick and tired of it.
He thought he would get his head out of his ass and realise how his fucking mood is affecting literally everyone else—Aizawa included—but it doesn't seem as if Shinsou even notices, too caught up in his funky, depressed musings.
It's sickening, especially since Katsuki himself isn't unaffected either and he wonders if their class is just too fucking co-dependant for their own good, or if maybe Shinsou has a secondary empathy projection quirk or something.
Katsuki doesn't know, and quite frankly he doesn't even care that much either, but when Kirishima lets out an almost wounded noise when Shinsou gets up and practically flees the room the moment class ends he knows that this has to end.
And seeing as no one is actually talking to the tall idiot, it will fall to Katsuki to deal with this.
So as soon as Katsuki is back at the dorms himself, he makes his way over to Shinsou's floor and then he hesitates for a second when he finds Denki and Deku pacing the hallway, Deku wringing his hands nervously in front of his chest and Denki keeps accidentally setting off his quirk, making sparks dance all over his body.
"Out," Katsuki snaps at them after the third round of frantic pacing and they both scatter as if they are scared bunnies.
Well, Deku certainly is, Katsuki thinks, as he marches over to Shinsou's door and doesn't bother knocking. He lets himself in, firmly closing the door behind him and he's not at all surprised to find Shinsou face-down on his bed.
He makes an anguished noise before he forces his head around and glares at Katsuki.
"Get out," Shinsou grumbles, but Katsuki plants his feet firmly on the ground, determined to not go anywhere until he beat some common fucking sense into Shinsou's thick, stupid, dense head.
"I absolutely will not," Katsuki says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What's wrong with you?"
Shinsou pushes himself up into a seating position but he sits hunched over as if straightening out his back could kill him.
"Nothing's wrong," Shinsou mumbles with the most hang-dog expression Katsuki has ever seen and he wants to wipe that look clean off his face.
"Bullshit," he spits out and moves closer, until he can loom over Shinsou. "Spill."
"The hell is wrong with you?" Shinsou says and for the first time since Katsuki stepped into this room, an honest emotion shows in his face and even though it's anger, Katsuki gladly takes it.
Anger is better than this tormented bullshit that's going on right now.
"The hell is wrong with you?" Katsuki gives back—again, he might add—and Shinsou shrivels up even more.
"Nothing, it's fine," he mutters, staring down at their feet and Katsuki rolls his eyes and is then mad that he wasted that because Shinsou isn't even looking at him and for a second, Katsuki wants to strangle him for wasting his time like that but then he forces himself to take a deep breath.
"Look, eyebags," he starts and lets his arms hang down so he doesn't come off as quite so aggressive. "Something is glaringly, obviously wrong. So get it off your chest before someone gets hurt and then I'll leave you alone."
It seems that Katsuki said the exact wrong thing—story of his life, really—because Shinsou flinches as if Katsuki sucker punched him and he goes as white as a sheet as well.
"I wouldn't—never," he chokes out, leaning over as if he wants to curl up and make himself a smaller target and Katsuki blinks in surprise before he takes two steps back, which basically puts him against the opposite wall.
"I didn't mean that you would actively hurt someone," Katsuki almost rushes to explain himself and he wonders how he got into this situation in the first place because he's not the best one to do this here.
He expected to come in here and beat some sense into Shinsou and not that he'd have to play counsellor.
Katsuki is definitely not cut out for any of that feelings, you're-doing-so-well wishy washy stuff.
Maybe he should get Deku in here.
"Sorry," Shinsou gets out and it's probably worse to leave him alone right now so Katsuki stays where he is.
"Don't, just—tell me what's got you into a funk like this," Katsuki huffs out and he hopes that it's a person who said something mean to Shinsou so he can go punch that fucker and then be done with it.
Preferably Monoma, but Katsuki is not too picky about this.
"It's nothing important."
"It's important enough to make you look as if your dog died. It affects the entire class, so for everything that is holy, please speak the fuck up."
His words are followed by a long silence, but it's obvious that Shinsou is mulling something over, so Katsuki bites his tongue and waits him out until Shinsou lets out a rough breath.
"I wish I was special," he finally admits in a whisper, and for a moment Katsuki fears that he misheard him, but no.
Those really are the words that just came out of Shinsou's mouth.
"Special?" Katsuki scoffs because there is nothing worse out there than being special. "Special enough to have a power thrust upon you you are not prepared to handle, in any way? Special enough to get yourself kidnapped by the League of Villains? Special enough to be indispensable for a war against the worst enemy this world has ever seen? Special enough to have your heart exploded and your arms disintegrated and be expected to get up and walk it off cause you're not done fighting yet?"
Katsuki is over it—mostly. He's healed up, Deku is healed up, their classmates are safe and therapy has helped a ton but by the fucking gods has last year been a shitshow of trauma after trauma and Katsuki could have done without and of that.
Sure, he likes being important, he likes being the best, and he'll love being a good hero but he would have enjoyed all of that way better without the ever-looming threat of death hanging over them for a year.
"Because let me fucking tell you how it sucks to be special."
"No, not—" Shinsou's head flies up and he looks at him, really looks at him for the first time. "I'm sorry that happened to you," he says instead of finishing whatever he was going to say in the first place and now, that Shinsou is looking at him, Katsuki rolls his eyes extra hard.
"Yeah, well, I got over it," Katsuki gives back, more open than he really feels. "So tell me what the fuck's wrong with you so I can help you get over it, too."
"I didn't mean special in general," Shinsou admits after a moment, ducking his head again. "I meant special to someone. I wish I mattered to someone."
At hearing that, Katsuki can do nothing but stare at Shinsou because—
"Are you goddamn stupid?" he eventually blurts out and Shinsou does that horrible flinching thing again.
"Sorry," he gets out, apologising for nothing, again and Katsuki huffs in anger. "Forget I said anything, I know that's not—"
"People care about you," Katsuki cuts him off because what the fuck ever. "I'm here, aren't I? Asking what's wrong because I noticed and I care?"
Sure, he might be here mostly because it fucks up the class dynamic somehow, to have Shinsou be in these low spirits, but—Katsuki can't deny that he cares, too.
He might pretend that his crappy mood is because Deku is stressed, or that Shitty Hair was hurt earlier, but in all honesty—he cares, too.
Shinsou's one of them and therefore Katsuki cares about him.
"That's not—you don't have to—"
"Everyone's fucked up because you're not feeling well. Deku and Sparky were pacing in the hallway earlier, clearly distressed about your mood. Shitty Hair let out the most horrific hurt noise earlier when you just up and left. The girls keep snapping at everyone because you look as if you're going to burst into tears any moment now. Hell, even Aizawa stumbled over his words today because you looked like death warmed over in class. How can you think that no one cares about you?"
"What?" Shinsou breathes out and this time, when he looks up, there's a cautious hope in his eyes, so fragile and so precious that it makes Katsuki's heart squeeze in his chest.
"Gods, you're such an idiot," Katsuki breathes out. "We all care."
"You're all—because of my mood?"
"Be honest with me, you have a mood influencing secondary quirk, right? Projecting your own mood onto those near you, maybe?" Katsuki guesses and he doesn't like the obvious confusion in Shinsou's eyes.
"No?" he weakly offers, clearly unsure about that answer himself and Katsuki shrugs it off because it doesn't really matter, though it might be something to look in to later.
For people who are interested. Like Aizawa and Deku.
"Okay, then the fact that everyone is so attuned to your mood is because everyone fucking cares about you and they hate seeing you like this."
"They?"
"Fine, me too, I guess," Katsuki admits and it really feels as if his own mood is lifting up, the moment a cautionary smile flits over Shinsou's face.
"And—Aizawa?"
Katsuki is just about to answer when they get interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Shinsou, I'd like to talk to you for a second, if that's alright?" Aizawa's voice carries through and Katsuki feels beyond validated.
"Case in point," he says and turns around on his heels to yank the door open. "He's all yours," he says into Aizawa's surprised face and then pushes past him.
He walks until he is around the corner, though he keeps an ear out for the sound of the door closing and then he stops. Katsuki trusts Aizawa to drive his point home better than Katsuki himself ever could, but he certainly laid the groundwork already.
Now it's only a matter of waiting this particular talk out and then Shinsou's mood should at least be a little bit better.
But—just in case, it’s probably best to wait around for a while. Though Katsuki forces himself not to pace.
~*~*~
It takes Aizawa over an hour to come back out and by then, Katsuki has definitely paced. A bit.
He's at Shinsou’s door before Aizawa is even fully out and he doesn't wait to hear how it went, he just pushes in past Aizawa and closes the door in his face.
Rude, but Katsuki doesn't care.
"And?" Katsuki demands to know because if Aizawa fucked this up then Katsuki will have to do some ass kicking.
"You were right," Shinsou says, his voice full of wonder and Katsuki lets out a smug breath.
"Of course I was fucking right, troll doll," he says but he can't deny that seeing that happy, almost content look on Shinsou's face puts him more at ease than he'd like.
"Thank you," Shinsou sincerely says and for that, Katsuki sneers at him.
"Don't ever thank me again," he snaps, unable to handle this gratitude bullshit and that's enough talk about feelings for a day. "See that you remember this today," he warns Shinsou because like fuck is Katsuki going to do this again but Shinsou only smiles at him.
"Sure. And when I inevitably forget, you'll remind me, right?"
"Go ask Aizawa or fucking Deku for that," Katsuki grumbles, but to think that Shinsou would come to him for that makes him almost feel proud of what he achieved today. "Just. You're good now, right?"
"Yes," Shinsou says, voice firm and full of conviction. "Thank you for caring."
"Oh fuck off," Katsuki breathes out and leaves Shinso to his own devices.
He interfered enough and now it's on Shinsou to remember that people do care about him and that he is special to someone.
And he guesses, if Shinsou does forget again in the future, then he'll just have to beat that knowledge back into him.
- Arthur Fleck / Joker: A man struggling with his identity, grappling with mental illness and societal rejection.
- Reader: A supportive friend who believes in Arthur's potential for change and seeks to defend him against societal judgment.
- Harvey Dent: The prosecutor, trying to establish Arthur as a dangerous criminal.
-Judge: The authoritative figure presiding over the courtroom, tasked with making a fair judgment.
Trigger Warnings:
- Mental illness
- Stalking- Criminal behavior
- Courtroom drama
- Themes of societal neglect and injustice
Masterlist
Word Count: 2559
This was a request from @pedroschka. I am very happy to have been given this honor of writing this^^ I truly enjoyed it and I hope you enjoy it too!
The courtroom was a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos Arthur Fleck had come to embody. He sat at the defendant's table, his Joker attire making him an imposing figure, yet inside, he felt a mixture of anxiety and defiance. He had fired his lawyer, determined to speak for himself, but the weight of the accusations hung heavily in the air.
As Harvey Dent rose from his seat, the courtroom fell silent. “I call the witness, [Your Name], to the stand,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension. You walked up, heart racing but determined. This was your chance to speak for Arthur, the man behind the mask.
Taking your place at the stand, you felt all eyes on you. Harvey leaned in, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “So, [Your Name], you were friends with Arthur Fleck, correct? You’re aware of his… obsession with you?”
You straightened, meeting his gaze with resolve. “Yes, I was friends with Arthur. And yes, he struggled with his feelings. But that doesn’t define who he is.”
Dent raised an eyebrow, feigning disbelief. “Isn’t it true that his fixation on you led to stalking? Wouldn’t you say that makes him dangerous?”
You took a deep breath, steadying yourself against the gravity of the accusation. “He didn’t intend to hurt me. He was lost, confused, trying to make sense of his feelings. It wasn’t about malice—it was about desperation.”
Arthur shifted slightly, the bravado of the Joker flickering as he listened to your words. You could see the internal struggle within him, the mask of confidence beginning to crack.
“Do you feel safe around him?” Dent pressed, hoping to elicit a more damning response.
“I felt safe with Arthur,” you replied, your voice firm. “He was always kind to me. He just… needed help. The world turned him into someone who felt he had to be something else to be seen.”
As you spoke, Arthur’s expression softened, the mask of the Joker slipping further away. You continued, “He’s not just the Joker. He’s Arthur Fleck, a man who has been tormented by his circumstances. He deserves compassion, not condemnation.”
The judge’s interest piqued, eyebrows raising at your passionate defense. Dent faltered, momentarily caught off guard by your perspective.
“So you believe he’s a victim of his own mind?”“Yes,” you said, nodding. “He’s been pushed into a corner, and it’s a tragedy. He’s not just a criminal; he’s a product of a society that failed him. We all deserve a second chance.”
“Do you think he’s capable of change?” Dent pressed again, trying to catch you off guard.
“Absolutely,” you insisted, looking straight at Arthur. “He’s trying to navigate this world, and the only thing he needs is understanding. Everyone makes mistakes, and Arthur’s mistakes don’t define him. They’re just a part of his journey.”
The judge leaned forward, intrigued by your testimony. Arthur’s eyes shimmered with something unspoken, a flicker of hope that perhaps he could be understood.
As you finished your statement, Arthur’s gaze locked onto yours, and you could see the gratitude reflected in his eyes. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt seen—not as the Joker, but as the man he once was, the man you remembered. His cocky demeanor faded away, revealing the softer side that had been buried under layers of pain and anger.
You could feel the courtroom’s attention shift. Whispers began to spread as people witnessed the transformation. Arthur, no longer the theatrical figure he had played, was just a man grappling with the repercussions of his actions.
“Your Honor,” Dent said, regaining his composure, “are we to believe that Arthur Fleck is merely a victim of circumstance? That he has no responsibility for his actions?”
You took a moment before responding, your heart racing as you faced the judge. “Everyone has a choice, Mr. Dent. But it’s important to understand the context behind those choices. Arthur was driven to madness by the very society he lived in. He didn’t wake up one day and decide to become the Joker; he became the Joker because the world told him he was nothing else.”
The judge leaned forward, intrigued by your testimony. Arthur’s eyes shimmered with something unspoken, a flicker of hope that perhaps he could be understood.
As you left the stand, you caught Arthur’s gaze once more. There was a spark of recognition in his eyes—a flicker of hope that maybe he could still be more than what the world had defined him to be.
“Thank you,” he mouthed, a small smile breaking through the facade of the Joker. In that moment, you both knew that despite the storm ahead, you would face it together, with the understanding that there was always a choice.
Then, unexpectedly, Arthur leaned forward, his voice a mix of bravado and vulnerability. “What do you really think of me, [Your Name]? Am I just a monster in clown makeup to you?” He attempted to keep his Joker persona alive, but there was an earnestness in his question that cut through the theatrics.
You paused, searching his eyes. “Arthur, you know I see you. Not the Joker, but you—Arthur Fleck. The man I once knew.”
He scoffed lightly, trying to mask the hurt behind his playful demeanor. “Oh come on, we both know I’m not worth saving. I mean, look at me!” He gestured to his costume, a mockery of the figure he had become.
“Arthur,” you said softly, drawing his attention. “You’re worth more than all of this. You’re not just what you’ve done. You have a choice to be better, to be you.”
“Really? You think I can be someone different?” he asked, his façade cracking further. “Someone who’s not just a punchline?”
“I believe that, yes. You’re more than your pain. You’re more than the Joker.” You stepped closer to the defendant’s table, your voice steady and sincere. “You once showed me kindness, compassion—the man I care about is still there, buried deep beneath the laughter and chaos.”
His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his features. “But what about the stalking? The obsession? How can you still care after everything?”
You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his past hovering between you. “Because I know you were lost. You were searching for something, someone, to understand you.
I know what it feels like to be invisible. I was never afraid of you; I was afraid for you.”Arthur’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and vulnerability washing over him. “You really think I can change?” he repeated, almost as if he needed to hear it again.
“Yes,” you said firmly, your conviction unwavering. “And I’m here to help you remember who you are. The world might see the Joker, but I see Arthur Fleck. The man who deserves a chance to be happy.”
As the realization dawned on him, Arthur’s act faded, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a genuine smile. For the first time, he felt something shift within him—a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could embrace who he truly was.
The courtroom, once a place of judgment, transformed into a space of understanding. And in that moment, surrounded by the chaos of his life, Arthur Fleck took a step closer to reclaiming his identity, not as the Joker, but as the man you believed in.
---
As the courtroom settled into an uneasy silence, the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air. The jury deliberated, each member acutely aware that they were deciding the fate of Arthur Fleck, a man teetering on the edge of madness and sanity.
You could see the tension etched on Arthur's face as he sat at the defendant's table, anxiety creeping back into his demeanor. You reached out, your hand brushing against his, offering silent support as you both awaited the jury's verdict. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, and you could feel the eyes of everyone in the room, including the judge, locked on the jury forewoman.
After what felt like an eternity, the forewoman rose, her expression solemn as she prepared to deliver the decision. “We have reached a verdict,” she announced, her voice steady yet laden with gravity.
The room held its breath as she continued, “In the matter of Arthur Fleck, we find the defendant… guilty.” A gasp rippled through the courtroom, and Arthur's heart seemed to drop.
But the forewoman paused, raising her hand to quell the murmurs. “However,” she continued, “while we acknowledge his guilt in the crimes committed, we also recognize that Arthur Fleck was not himself when these acts occurred.”
You felt Arthur tense beside you, his eyes wide with disbelief. The room was still, every ear eager to hear the next words.
“I plead for the court to understand that the Joker is not who Arthur is,” she stated, her voice rising in conviction. “He is a man who has suffered greatly, a victim of circumstances beyond his control. The chaos that he unleashed was not a reflection of his true self.”
Arthur’s gaze flickered between you and the forewoman, the facade of the Joker fading as a glimmer of hope ignited within him.
“He deserves compassion, not the electric chair,” she concluded, her gaze unwavering as she faced the judge. “We recommend that he remain in Arkham, where he can receive the treatment he needs. We must acknowledge that the man before us is not the monster the world has painted him to be.
”The judge nodded, considering the jury's recommendation. Arthur’s breath hitched, the reality of the moment sinking in. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was seen—not just as the Joker but as Arthur Fleck.
As the tension in the courtroom shifted, you squeezed Arthur’s hand, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and hope. The judge’s gavel came down, and the murmurs in the room faded into a hush.
“Let it be known that Arthur Fleck will remain in Arkham Asylum, where he will receive the care and evaluation necessary to address his mental health,” the judge declared. “This court acknowledges the complexities of his psyche and the impact of societal neglect that led to his actions.
”In that moment, Arthur’s shoulders relaxed, the weight of the world lifting just a fraction. You could see the gratitude in his eyes as he turned to you, no longer the man burdened by the chaos of his alter ego. He was Arthur Fleck, a man given a chance to reclaim his identity and navigate the path toward healing.
As the courtroom slowly emptied, you knew this was only the beginning of a long journey, but for now, you felt a sense of victory—a chance to help Arthur find himself again, beyond the shadows of the Joker.
“There’s always a choice,” you whispered to him as the two of you stood to leave. “You just have to be brave enough to take it.”
---
~A few Months later~
---
The atmosphere in Arkham Asylum was heavy with an air of tension, but for you, it was a place of hope. It had been a few months since the trial, and in that time, Arthur had begun to change. He was undergoing therapy, and although the road was long, you could see the glimmers of the man he once was. The Joker's grip on him had weakened, and Arthur was beginning to reclaim his identity.
Today was a special day. You were finally allowed to visit him, and excitement bubbled within you. You had been waiting for this moment, eager to see the man behind the mask, the man you had defended in court and believed in wholeheartedly.
As you entered the visiting area, your heart raced. The sterile environment felt foreign, but your thoughts were solely on Arthur. The moment you spotted him, your breath caught in your throat. He was sitting at a table, looking more at peace than you had ever seen him. His hair was a little longer, and there were still shadows under his eyes, but his smile was genuine—a stark contrast to the dark persona he once wore.
“Arthur!” you called, rushing toward him. His face lit up at the sound of your voice, and you felt warmth spread through your chest.
“Hey,” he replied, his voice softer than you remembered. He stood up, meeting you halfway, and you threw your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. It felt right—like home.
When you pulled back, Arthur looked at you with a mixture of gratitude and affection. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, his voice filled with emotion.
“I promised I would be, didn’t I?” you replied, your heart swelling. “I’ve been thinking about you every day. How are you holding up?”
He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “It’s... been hard. But with the therapy, I’m starting to feel like I can breathe again. Like I’m not just the Joker.” His expression softened, revealing the vulnerability beneath his usual bravado.
You smiled gently, reaching out to cup his face in your hand. “You’re Arthur Fleck. You’re not just the Joker. You’re so much more than that.”
A flicker of hope danced in his eyes, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of the man you had known before everything spiraled out of control. “You really believe that?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
“Of course, I do. I’ve always believed in you,” you replied, your heart racing as the distance between you shrank. “I’m here for you, Arthur. I care about you—just you.”
His gaze softened, and the walls he had built began to crumble. “I don’t deserve your kindness,” he murmured, his voice tinged with self-doubt.
You shook your head, stepping closer. “You do. You deserve all the love and happiness in the world. You’re not the monster everyone thinks you are. You’re capable of so much good.”
The sincerity in your words reached him, and in that moment, the connection between you both deepened. Arthur’s hand brushed against yours, sending a spark of electricity between you. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said, his voice steadying. “I’ve missed you.”
I’ve missed you too,” you confessed, feeling the weight of your emotions come to the surface. “I’ve been waiting for this moment—to see you like this.”
As you both sat down together, the conversation flowed naturally. You talked about everything—the therapy, the progress he was making, the little things that brought him joy. With every word, you could see Arthur relax, the tension leaving his shoulders.
When it was time to leave, you stood up reluctantly, wishing you could stay longer. Arthur caught your hand, holding it gently. “Promise me you’ll come back,” he said, his eyes earnest.
“Of course,” you replied, squeezing his hand. “I’ll always come back, Arthur. You’re not alone anymore.”
As you walked away, glancing back at him one last time, you saw a flicker of hope in his eyes—a hope that had been buried but was now beginning to blossom. You knew the road ahead would be challenging, but you were determined to stand by his side, helping him navigate through the darkness.
After all, he was Arthur Fleck, and you were ready to embrace every part of him.
---
Author's Note:
Thank you for reading! I hope it offers a fresh perspective on Arthur Fleck's character and the struggles he faces. Again thank you for the opportunity to write this. Your feedback is welcome, and I appreciate your support as I continue to write about these compelling narratives.
Should I go back to therapy or try some medicine to gain some courage? Whenever I see a person that does worse than me in their life but they still feel so confident about themselves I feel like shit. I can never even fully be myself because I'm afraid of the judgement and ashamed. It doesn't help that my environment is pretty judgy. Waiting until they accept the real me will do nothing because they won't change. It's probably me that needs to change to prove myself and them that I can do what I want and I don't care. The problem right now is that I actually care and I hate it.
