Doodled A Tiny Hatter Because I’ve Been In A Peculiar Mood For A While. Do Excuse Me. And Have A Good

"How very true, especially with how antisocial quite a few of our colleagues are. As long as we stay out of their hair they stay out of ours, right?"

Chuckling Hare took a sip of her tea. Alright nothing to be concerned with, odd how mind control and murderous colleagues became a norm for her so quickly.

"If I recall you also work with hypnotics? How does yours work?"

Despite having first hand experience on what Tetches tech entailed Hare had no idea how it actually worked. Perhaps Meisters could give her an insite.

@themarchinghare

“Jervis? Are you here?” Music Meister poked his head through the doorway, looking around before stepping into the Hatter’s latest hideout. Between composing and organising his next ‘performance’, the maestro had grown bored and decided to visit his acquaintance. However he didn’t seem to be around at present.

drabble - jervis and his paper hat

He had his tongue partly out, curled up slightly as it stayed to the side of his lip. Focusing his deep maple gaze, upon the stripped newspaper configuration before him. He tilted his head from side to side; with his loose auburn curls scrunching to his face, to release with his movement and dance upon his shoulder again. All the while, his lengthy nimble fingers attended to his precious creation.

His handiwork was undoubtedly present, though the materials were lacking quite a bit. There was a small stack of newspapers laid before him, and a bucket of an odd mixture: glue, flower, and water; of which mocked the consistency of camel mucus. ‘Paste’ is what he was told lain before him.

Watching him work was something to be seen. Considering he didn’t seem phased by any of it, like that’s how he had made such things originally.

His brown orbs continued with deep concentration, as his delicate construction became more of a gentlemans formation. He made sure to keep all the pieces in their rightful places, and add extra glue upon the ends. Dunking his hand, or just a few fingers at times; into the paste, before returning again to the paper craft, before him.

Once the shape was then made, he stuffed some crinkled pages in the hollowed center, careful not to interfere with the delicately formed area. Flipping it then, right side up; he set it before him. Touching it up, here and there, as it dried slowly with in the air; attentively smoothing out spots that would crinkle, or applying glue to places that would lift or curl.

Then with his work finally completed and dry. He pulled the crinkled paper from the center, carful not to damage the surface made inside, and placed it atop his head with pride.

He then sat up straight, quite satisfied with himself; his hands were folded in front of him, and a smile cast like a cats mad grin.

He felt like himself once again.

after all,

how could one be a Hatter - without a hat of his own

my friends r so talented. rb if ur friends are talented

Rogues Gallery of Portraits Pt 3

Mad Hatter

His words out of a book, learned by heart. Perhaps he was someone else once, but now he is this being of paper trying to be a person of flesh. The world has one dimension too many in which he doesn’t fit.

There is little to say about his appearance, and what may be said isn’t flattering. His nose is the most remarkable part of him, large and bent. Everything else is forgotten, eyes drawn to his hat. He has many, that he wears for different occasions ; a green bowler hat for dinner, a grey béret for rainy days, a blue top hat for murder, a red tricorne for holidays… His favourite is the top hat.

He makes hats for others as well. Put them on their heads and they turn docile, obedient. The world follows the story better with hats.

He smells like Earl Grey and dust, like he is a forgotten book himself. He’s missing his main character, his Alice, which he looks for in the eyes of all women, in the way they smile and in the words they speak. It takes more than blonde hair to be Alice ; he can always dye the hair. There is an essence that he seeks. An essence he never finds. The women get scared, fail, or grow old ; flesh people, changing and decaying. He curses Time and what it does ! It flows between his fingers like a stream, taking away the Alices. The world moves without him, too fast for him to understand.

It’s always 6 o’clock at his table and in his heart. The quest for an Alice never ends.

mad hatter fans deserve like thousands of dollars in compensation. just every hour of every day. i will personally smite every weirdo writer who keeps doing the most evil things imaginable to that little guy

"I'm glad you like it."

Honestly why did she even worry, rogues always wear their favorite colors.

Oh well at least she knows now not to fret next time.

"Excuse my forwardness, but why are you here to see Tetch? Partnership, a debt anything?"

He's been nice so far so whatever needs can't be too urgent, however he's still a rogue and even if Tetch spoke good of him in the past, ot doesn't mean that's haven't changed.

@themarchinghare

“Jervis? Are you here?” Music Meister poked his head through the doorway, looking around before stepping into the Hatter’s latest hideout. Between composing and organising his next ‘performance’, the maestro had grown bored and decided to visit his acquaintance. However he didn’t seem to be around at present.

vILLAINZ Zz :0

scarecrow looking lankier than usual but i still love him anyway

@maestroofvillainy

SALTY ALMOND SYMPHONY CHOCOLATES

Alright who wants me to do a fanfiction of Mr.Wayne and Batman, ask and I'll do an au!?!?!?

There most be some fangirls in Gotham ship Bruce Wayne/Batman.