I need more unhinged Richard quotes, like the whole “[coc*ine when you’re young vs when you’re old]” thing or I may simply pass away
Hi Hello 🤗
This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while, but now I finally come around to compile some more quotes from Richard's interviews (here is 'Part 1' so to speak).
Off to another tiny little round of stuff Richard says (some are interesting, others a little weird or downright unhinged):
I think the quote you mean is this one [from this audio interview]: "It's like, you know, it's like you know when you were young and could do coke for a fucking month and nothing, y'know? When you get old you need to recover from fucking one week." (and the interviewer is seemingly quite lost: "haha..true..👀")
Now, on to the Fellfrosch gem [interview]:
Interviewer: Perhaps the disgust at the bitter aftertaste is really just a problem of overly careless personal hygiene?
Richard: "Tastes change too. Much of what seemed too bitter to us in childhood tastes good to us today. On the other hand, we usually find the sweets from the past too sweet. Every fur frog tastes different. Pure question of taste. There is no judgment in the text. We’re not saying it stinks."
His readiness to try out his talents with on-screen eroticism some more [interview]:
"After I shot some erotic scenes for a video the other day I could also imagine doing an entire film in that direction. I was quite nervous in the beginning, but the longer we were shooting the more fun I had. Erotic, mind you, not pornographic."
in the same interview, he discloses the two main activities which bring him relaxation:
"I love lying in bed, smoking and watching good movies more than anything. That is the only thing where I can really switch of other than sex. Lots of both, please. [laughs]"
And another quote from said interview regarding in which time period he would've liked to live and about his affinity to the middle ages (which for me as a history geek is so lovely to see that he is into that period as well): "I guess the sword and blade time as I always call it. Knights templar, 11th century. I can answer that this well, because I like to watch even stupid movies when they deal with that period. I just have a huge affinity to it somehow and would love to find out how things were going back then."
The way he pressurized/threatened (?) Jonathan Davis to sing a high note for the song "Silent so long" (man Richard must be such a nice fellow to work with 👀) [interview]: "But there was a high note in the chorus that Jonathan couldn't quite get right. So what to do? He said he couldn't sing that high. So I grabbed the receiver and whispered the following into his ear: "Watch out, Jonathan. This is the German way! Now take both your hands, grab your balls and squeeze until you get that damn sound."
Touring is hard, but partying is even harder [interview]:
"Touring is not the problem, but partying is. If you went straight to the hotel after the show - no problem. But if you party until six in the morning, it's getting increasingly more difficult to get out of bed."
Being super vague in moments where we need more facts from him like in this interview, about the "Bück dich" performance of Till and Flake: "If Till had to do it to me… I would probably you know, like… uhm.. I'll do… something."
this whole feverdream here: an interview for the promotion of the first Emigrate album back in 2007, where Richard and his alter Ego "Mister Emigrate" answer the questions 'together'. It's has a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde vibe to it but is kind of cute ✨
On a more serious note, here he talks about the effects of drugs on him: "I took a lot of cocaine. You reach dimensions that you could never reach otherwise. You can edit a bass drum for eight hours."
Thank you for your interest in even more stuff Richard says 😌
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(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (pt. 2)
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Tw: N/A
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Pt. 1 here) - (Pt. 3 here)
(Masterlist/subscription post)
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It was a beautiful morning. Somehow, against all odds, the sun was shining through the thick smog perpetually covering Gotham.
And Danny hated it.
He was in pain, he was exhausted, he was grieving, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least a week.
In an act of celestial mockery, the sun shone regardless.
After around twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep, Danny gave up and pried himself out of bed.
He stumbled through the hallway and into the living room, staring openly at every splash of color he saw in the small apartment. He hadn’t forgotten what color looked like in the time he was in the lab, but it was comforting to see.
Someone cleared their throat. Danny whipped his head around, eyes falling on a scrawny, gangly man sitting down in a worn armchair, hunched over a laptop. He was looking at him with a dull, bored expression.
Right. Scarecrow.
His escape.
The chase.
His mom.
“You look a lot less terrifying without the mask,” Danny blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call my normal appearance frightening,” Scarecrow hummed, focusing his attention back onto the laptop, “that’s what the costume is for, after all.”
“Oh.”
After a brief moment of excruciating silence, Scarecrow spoke.
“You any good with computers, Danny? Hacking, and all that?”
Danny jolted. Scarecrow needed his help with something! This was great! Now, he’d have more of a reason not to get rid of him!
“Oh, uh, yeah! Not as good as my friend Tucker, but I think I’m pretty good.”
“And you’re familiar with the GiW’s systems specifically,” Scarecrow continued, beckoning him over. Danny complied, shuffling over awkwardly. “Right?”
“Well, I guess? My friends and I got into their stuff a couple of times before they…”
“Wonderful,” Scarecrow said, standing up with a stretch. He shoved the laptop into Danny’s hands and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. “Then you can hack into their system and extract whatever files you can find.”
Danny stared at the man like he’d lost his mind. He looked back at him expectantly.
Danny sat down.
“Yeah, I-I can do that. Tuck and I built a back door into their system ages ago,” he said, checking the screen. It was clear that for all the skills that Scarecrow had, hacking was definitely not one of them. “But, uh, don’t you have someone else that usually does this sort of thing for you? Not that I’m complaining!”
Scarecrow scowled, and Danny felt his heart fall into his ass.
“Usually, I do,” Scarecrow huffed, “but I chose to leave my most recent job with the Penguin early, so now there’s no way that he or Eddie will help me with anything until I make it up to them somehow.”
“Oh,” Danny said.
He had no clue whatsoever who Eddie was.
Danny got to work quickly, hoping that if he ignored the gangly man, he would leave him be. Luckily, he did just that, leaving to go work on something in another room.
Danny checked the laptop’s security before continuing Scarecrow’s progress, making sure that the GiW wouldn’t be able to grab their location.
It was…threateningly good. Whoever Eddie was, he had somehow crammed the functionality of a top-of-the-line PC into a tiny, beat-up old laptop. It almost reminded Danny of Tucker and his terrifying competence with his PDA.
Tucker.
Amity park.
Home.
Danny snapped himself out of his thoughts, tabbing back into the application Scarecrow had up and began to work his magic.
He had near full access to the entire GiW database within half an hour.
Mumbling out a quick thank-you to Tucker, he called Scarecrow over to appraise his work.
“Fixed up some food for you while you worked,” the rogue said, handing him a bowl of oatmeal, taking the laptop into his lap as he did so, “didn’t know how well you could eat, considering you’re recovering from… surgery, so I decided to stay on the safe side.”
Danny had no clue what this guy’s deal was.
He definitely did not tear up at the first genuine thoughtfulness he encountered in weeks, and he did not look away as he ate so that Scarecrow couldn’t see his face.
At least Scarecrow was too focused on the laptop to notice or care.
Or, maybe, he was just mercifully ignoring him.
Either way, Danny ate slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. He allowed himself to absentmindedly look around the room for the first time, taking everything in.
It was strangely homey. The space was filled with warm browns and yellows, a few splashes of color on the wall in the form of (obviously gifted) paintings. There was a beat-up bookshelf against the wall, clearly second-hand, filled to the brim with psychology books. On every available surface there was a different colored candle, all at different stages of use, clearly collected over the course of years.
Danny knew that the man next to him was a crazed, murderous criminal, but his home was oddly reminiscent of Jazz.
He was not about to cry.
“Danny,” Scarecrow hummed, snapping him out of his spiraling, “can you explain this to me?”
He looked over. The rogue was pointing to a new report, seemingly posted only a few hours ago.
Nodding, he took the computer into his lap, pouring over the contents.
He read the report again.
And again.
And again.
Danny swore loudly, crumpling like a wet paper bag, head in his hands.
“What?”
“It’s…” he swore again, glancing back at the laptop, “they…since you became liminal from synthetic ectoplasm, when we’re within about 500 meters of one another, our ectoplasm signatures resonate, and they can’t track us with any of their technology.”
“How is that a bad thing?”
“If we’re not that close to each other, they can track us down from anywhere in the world.”
Scarecrow went dead quiet. After what felt like the single longest minute of Danny’s life, he let out a truly exasperated sigh, slumping over in his seat.
“Yeah, me too,” Danny mumbled, utterly miserable.
“…I’ll have to move my plans back a little,” Scarecrow sighed, “I can’t drag an injured child with me when I attack the Gotham GiW base, you’ll just get in the way.”
“Oh come on,” Danny whined, “I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Batman brings kids with him to do dangerous stuff all the time, and he’s fine!”
“Might I remind you that the second Robin died violently,” Scarecrow snapped, “and that Batman most likely has more traumatic brain injuries than all of the Gotham rogues combined. That really isn’t the winning argument you think it is.”
Danny paused, trying to think up some way to win the argument. Then, he realized what he had ignored before.
“Wait, Scarecrow, you’re gonna attack the GiW?”
“That’s the plan,” he nodded, “and call me Dr. Crane. I’m only Scarecrow when I’m in the mask.”
But,” Danny sputtered, “Sca—uh, Dr. Crane—that’s insane! The weapons they’ve got- they’ll rip you apart!”
“Not my first time,” Crane said, making Danny wince. “Besides, I have plenty of experience avoiding gunfire. I’ll live.”
“You…” Danny was silent for a while, trying to think of something to say, “fine, but you have to take me with you wherever you go. As soon as they see either of us on their radars, they’ll hunt us down.”
Dr. Crane sighed.
“…Fine. I need some time to plan anyways. Now, you’re going to help me download these files, properly format them, and send them out.”
“…Why?”
“Well, some of the other rogues might appreciate the heads up, and I’d quite like them to be indebted to me. Besides, I still need to pay back the Penguin for ditching him, and he loves knowing things that other people don’t.”
Danny paused.
“That’s an awful idea, no offense. If any of the rogues know our weaknesses, they—”
“Danny, we’re censoring everything. The only things they need to know about are the GiW specifically, and any sort of laws surrounding them.”
Danny snorted.
“You care about laws now?”
“Yes, because if we get taken to Arkham, they’ll hand us off to the GiW the moment they ask, and it’ll be completely legal.”
Oh. Danny had honestly forgotten that Arkham was an option.
“…Ok. I’ll help you. Who are we telling?”
“I don’t think you really need to know,” Dr. Crane said, the faintest shadow of an amused look on his face, “but I’ll humor you for now. We’re sending the files out to the Penguin, Riddler, Poison Ivy via Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and Red Hood.”
Danny nodded. He could live with that.
“Alright, then let’s get to work.”
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