#wrrenching

     Working at the asylum was a strange thought, in itself. The notion of having stable employment (if it could even be called that) seemed surprisingly tame, even in such an institution — at least until he ventured into the more.. questionable wings. But someone had to keep the place together, get it started, let it grow— and so he intended to keep to his job. After all.. it would lead to far greater things. The Joker had found the city full of anarchy, already. Out of control. 

     Breaking patterns always did help.

     “Why, hello there.”

     He found himself faced with a new recruit. The guy looked young, at least in comparison to other workers, but that would surely make things all the more interesting. Glancing over him, the Joker idly reached to run gloved fingers through his hair, tugging wavy green locks aside. His stare didn’t move away. “Welcome to paradise.” Already, he was on a roll. No time for introductions, Graham knew full well who he was, and there was no time to be wasted. “Look, I know you just got here, so.. it’d be good.. if you got a look at the place, hm?” Moving past the blond, Joker glanced back at him — before immediately waving him along.

     “C’mon, there are some things you’ll wanna see.”

Age: unknown for sure; early/mid 20s

Address: y-6

Wanted position: Guard

Experience: He’s been a bodyguard to prominent members of well-to-do mafia families. While he’s never worked in any formal institutions, his loyalty to his bosses ensures that he does his best to not fail, lest he disappoint someone. He’s also a mechanic, but that’s neither here nor there!

Skills: Well, guarding, keeping people safe if need be (on the other hand, harming people if ordered to), breaking/disassembling things (whether it be inanimate objects or people), and remaining fiercely loyal. Also, his skill with the large monkey wrench he always carries is kind of incredible; as his main weapon, he’s handy with it, and can use it to dislocate people’s joints, immobilizing them quickly.

Reason for applying: He’s a little bored and a little broke, seeking out something to both entertain him and help his finances flourish a little. He’s in the moral gray area with little official work experience, so this kind of thing is opportune!

Abilities: Even though he’s a normal human, his strength is nothing to laugh at. He’s on par with even some of the supernatural in his series and his usual mindset allows him to use that strength against pretty much anyone/anything.

Extra notes: he’ll talk the patients ears off probably?? maybe that’ll drive them crazy too

     "Hm. Fancy.”

     “Good to know we’ll have some backbone to this place. Welcome to the asylum, Mr. Specter!”

Send me “alt!” and I’ll introduce you to a character I’ve RPed in the past, want to play in the future or are currently playing somewhere else!

   “As a weapon, it is my duty to protect people. However, I seem to be growing attached to others. I started out as a simple machine, but I would like to believe I am something much more than that now.” She blinks a few times, processing her next statement carefully. “It’s almost as if… I am human.”

   She smiles, something that was programmed into her. Something that wasn’t programmed into her, though, is how it’s filled with sorrow.

   “But, I am still just a weapon. I cannot truly feel anything you do. I cannot feel tired or hungry. Nor can I feel the much more important things, such as happiness, pain, longing, sorrow…”

   Her eyes glide towards the other, her head slowly craning to get a better view.

   “And, most importantly, love.”

visitor: what creature visits your dreams most often?

“Last time I checked my dreams were my business. Not yours.”

rosaline doesn’t dream very often and when she does, they aren’t very consistent. but more than once she’s had a dream about a very tall creature wreathed in fire, which could very well represent her charizard father.

chimes: what sounds are your favorite?

“Mm. I’d say silence is golden, but it makes me antsy if it goes on too long. I guess there’s something soothing about listening to someone work in a kitchen.”

“Ahahahahaha!”

In the always happy, not scary or dreary at all Sector 3 danced the monstrosity of the Mogekos. However, what she was doing was not a simple dance for fun or for fans. With each step, came a squish or a snap. Puddles bounced and splashed as she stepped in them. These puddles however were not ones of clear water. Instead, each was filled with a thick, crimson liquid, that most people usually preferred to be inside their bodies.

“Mogegegege! Moge-ko looooves you aaaall! You’re suuuch good toys for Moge-ko! Keep on coming and running and screaaaaming! Moge-ko’s gonna love you a whooole bunch!”

However, as she splished and splashed, hopping around the slumped over, unmoving lumps she’d finished ‘playing’ with, she stopped. Her ears twitched like a cat’s as she stood, the red liquid having a chance to drip slowly down her clothes.