#ScarecrowWeek 2022

[enigmatic-robin]

Monster Mash/Creature Crane

Day 3 of Scarecrow Week

Can be read as Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma OR close friends

Words: 1230

-

“Pamela, you don’t want this.” Edward muttered nervously, backing away as she stepped toward him. “I’m not here to do any harm to your plants”

“Why else would you be here? You don’t seem the type to just stop and smell the roses” she shot back, a large stalk forming behind her. Tendril-like vines split from it, splaying out and creeping towards The Riddler.

“Please, you do not want to do that. I don’t mean you any harm, but harm could be done by someone I do not control trying to protect me. Just- please?”

That gave her pause. The Riddler, begging. Not a common occurrence. He was worried- extremely, if he was driven to beg. Nonetheless, she continued on.

Edward stopped moving away, giving a concerned look, but she didn’t stop. A vine reached out for him.

The only warning was a low rumble before something jumped, sharp teeth the size of her hand biting down and severing the vine. Edward flinched back, but didn’t move as the creature placed itself between them.

It switched from four legs to two, staring menacingly through milky blue eyes as it let out a clicking growl. It snapped at another vine, which jerked back too late.

Ivy’s mind reeled as she tried to figure out what she was seeing, pulling her vines back for their protection.

“I’m alright, I’m not hurt.” Edward insisted, his voice seeming to relax the creature. It made a chuffing noise like a tiger, turning to him to look him over.

“Safe?”

“I’m safe, Crane. not even injured.” Edward confirmed.

“What… is that, Edward?” Ivy interjected with a hiss.

“Professor Crane. Mind you, with cosmetic changes, a bit of brain fog, and much more instinct and emotionally inclined. Blame Oswald. We’re just here because we really needed the outside, but without the public.”

He put a hand out, letting the creature- Scarecrow nudge his face into it contently. Ivy fought back a slightly hysterical laugh.

“This was your best idea?”

“You were in Toxic Acres, didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Bullshit! you knew I’d mind. You just didn’t care.”

“Well that could also be true.” Edward admitted, leaning on the much larger creature. “But this doesn’t happen often, if you have issues with it, take it up with Oswald. You think Jonathan wants to be a large, hulking, terrifying creature? I mean- wouldn’t put it past him, but I’m sure he’d like to be lucid for it.”

“You’re really lucky I don’t want to fight…” she made a vague gesture at Jon.

“The Scarebeast?”

“… Sure, Scarebeast. You’re spending the minimum possible amount of time here, understand?”

Edward offered a charming grin she didn’t like in lieu of an answer, but she took it as an acceptance, since refusal wouldn’t end well for him anyways. She left before she’d have to hear another word from Edward.

—

“You did wonderfully” Edward praised, petting Jon’s clawed hands to soothe the ache this form had on his joints, getting a chuff in return. He laid down by Edward, large and imposing even curled up as he was.

The Scarebeast was something to behold.

A powerful, bear-like body allowed the creature to easily stand on two legs or all four as it pleased. Its skull was shaped like a lion or tigers, with teeth as long as a human hand. Long, clawed fingers ended in deadly points, and toxin poured from its nares when it was angry.

It was magnificent. Or it would be, if it didn’t cause such agony in Jonathan.

Whatever Oswald had done to him couldn’t be stopped immediately without shocking Crane’s system, possibly killing him. He needed to be weaned off it, slowly. At least one day every two weeks until it was stable, then they’d move it to three weeks, then four, slowly.

Impossibly slowly.

At least it seemed they’d found a place they could use- probably a few times, Ivy didn’t seem keen on confronting Jonathan like this.

-

The first thing Jonathan was aware of when he woke up was the pain radiating through his body. The aches settled over his entire body like a blanket, making him wish he could just fall back asleep and be unconscious to the pain again. Unfortunately, his discomfort would never allow it.

A hand ran over his upper arm, pressing lightly in a clear attempt to try and soothe his aching muscles.

“I can see your eyes moving behind your eyelids, Jonathan. There’s no shame in accepting help while you’re conscious.”

Jonathan opened his eyes begrudgingly, taking everything in with the bleary part of his mind not tired or in too much pain to concentrate.

Jonathan was in his own bed with a light blanket draped over his body, likely for modesty. Painkillers and water sat on the nightstand with a bag of pretzels, a weak attempt to lighten the hit that the calorie-burning transformation would have on his already emaciated body.

And of course Edward, as always, was sat in his desk chair that had been pulled up beside the bed. He looked put together, only the discoloration of the skin under his eyes suggesting that he was in anything but perfect shape.

“Morning. You look dreadful.” Edward stated matter-of-factly, holding the painkillers out. Jon sat up slightly, just enough to swallow them and chase it down with the water.

“You alright?” Jon asked, as he always did. And as always, Edward became clearly exasperated.

“No, you didn’t magically change your mind and start attacking me. I’ve told you, you’re quite loyal in that form. In fact, Ivy came around and you protected me. So I’d appreciate it if you stopped asking that question.”

“Ivy?”

“Mhm. I think she’s intimidated by that form. Good, better for us that she is.”

Edward passed the pretzels over, and Jon took them without argument, knowing by now it was useless.

“I suppose it suits us just fine.” Jonathan agreed, pulling himself into a sitting position and taking the clothes he’d laid out yesterday in preparation. He didn’t bother to ask Edward to turn, knowing full well that there was no way he’d gotten Jonathan all the way back to his own bed without seeing more than enough.

“We should be fine using the botanical gardens for some time. If you start thinking we’re close to upsetting Ivy again, I say you tell Harley. Her good will towards you meshes well with Ivy’s inability to say no to Harley.” He pointed out, checking Jonathan over as he dressed to make sure he hadn’t been injured at all in the night.

“I’ll consider it.”

Edward nodded, knowing better than to push him more.

“Try to get some more rest now that you’re more comfortable. Hopefully those painkillers will kick in when you wake up and we’ll actually get you out of bed.”

Jon was all too happy to lay back down, sprawling out in a mess of thin limbs wordlessly. Edward smirked, shaking his head.

“Rest well, alright? I’ll be here when you get up.”

If Jonathan leaned slightly into the hand that brushed his hair back, Edward was mercifully quiet about it. He nodded, earning a small smile as Edward made himself comfortable in his chair.

“Rest well, I’ll see you soon.”

Jonathan allowed himself to be pulled into unconsciousness, allowing a reprieve from the conscious pain.

He’d be safe, with Edward here.

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Thanks for participating in ScarecrowWeek everyone!!

I still have entries to reblog and may reblog some tomorrow or the next day, as I have several fanfic to read. I promise to reblog every entry tho!

thank you all <3 have a spooky October~!

[wolvenjay]

Scarecrow Week 2022 Day 2 - Friendship with the Rogues

They're probably talking about psychology... nerds.

[enigmatic-robin]

Friendship with rogues

Day 2 of Scarecrow Week

Jonathan Crane & Harley Quinn & Edward Nygma

Words: 1036

-

“It’s all black and gray, there’s no color!” Harley huffed, leaning on Jonathan dramatically.

“It’s a Halloween puzzle, it’s supposed to be dark,” Jonathan pointed out, affixing two orange pieces in the shape of a pumpkin. “That’s why we have Edward doing the part that’s all the same shade of black”

“Well how is he managing to do it so fast?”

Edward looked up from his section, which was a hill in shadow. All the same shade of black, but still further along than the other two.

“It’s because I’m the Prince of Puzzles, could you really expect less from me?”

“It’s because he’s autistic, he exhibits pattern seeking behavior. And he’s been doing these all his life for tactile stimulation” Jonathan explained, picking up a piece and handing it to Edward.

He snatched it, mumbling something about ‘fucking psychologists’ as he placed it.

Harley chewed her pumpkin-shaped cookie contently, passing an orange piece to Jonathan.

“To be fair, I could’ve piled on top of that but I didn’t, it’s not so much ‘psychologists’ as just Jonathan”

“Wh- how would you add onto that?!”

“Puzzles are an activity that can be done alone. you were a lonely child, you had plenty of practice.”

Edward turned pink, scowling.

“… I asked for that, didn’t I?”

“Quite literally” Jon confirmed.

He just grumbled, continuing his section.

Harley grabbed another cookie, shoving it in her mouth and passing one to each of her friends.

“Sorry Eddie,”

“Not your fault, I did ask for it.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Jonathan interjected. “You’re very well adjusted for your childhood.”

Edward chuckled, shaking his head. Harley snorted, and Jonathan himself couldn’t manage to suppress a smile.

“Thank you for your absolutely egregious lie, Jonathan, but I’ve embraced my lack of adjustment. If I was well adjusted, I wouldn’t be here with you guys”

“… I think he’s finally lost it completely, Harley” Jonathan muttered conspiratorially, making her burst into a fit of giggles.

“I think that boats long sailed for all of us, Professor”

He shrugged, connecting his section to Edward’s now that it was constructed enough to do so.

“Can you turn the TV up? It’s about to get good.”

Harley turned up the volume, but Edward just looked at him.

“… you’re faced away from the TV.”

“I know this movie, Edward.”

“You mean to tell me that you have memorized Tim Burton’s A Nightmare Before Christmas to the point you don’t even need to look at it to know how far into it we are with the volume all the way down at five?” Edward pressed.

“Hey, as far as I’m concerned it’s Henry Selik’s, the ‘Tim Burton’ at the beginning was just added so more people would come see it, he didn’t do shit for that movie. You know when they did the test screening for him he threw a tantrum? He kicked a hole in the wall, a grown ass man! This ain’t his movie.”

“… Damn Jonny, tell ‘em how you really feel” Harley piped up, passing him another cookie, which he ate graciously.

Edward shook his head, muttering under his breath again, though he was smiling this time.

“What was that, Eddie?”

“I said you’re lucky I found that rant endearing and I don’t hit you with my cane”

“No, I heard him!” Harley interjected. “He said that was actually pretty impressive”

Jonathan smirked, watching Edward try to find a way to deny it without calling Harley a liar.

“I- no I just- don’t we have a puzzle to finish?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure if we don’t finish it you’re gonna have an aneurism trying to hold back from finishing it yourself” Jonathan muttered, sounding more fond than snarky. He added another completed area to what he’d already attached with a click.

“Thanks for giving me the colored parts. I dunno how you guys are matching those colors, they’re so alike.” Harley finished putting Jack Skellington’s face together, adding it next to her completed moon.

“You know, you can put your glasses on. We’re not gonna judge you. It’d probably make this puzzle easier”

She groaned, overdramatically draping herself on the table.

“But I look so stiff and boring with them!” She whined, her performance losing some drama as he reached for another cookie.

“We’re both currently wearing glasses, Harley.” Edward pointed out.

“I don’t have a pair with me.”

Jonathan sighed, standing up and heading to his desk. He rifled through for a moment before pulling out a case and tossing it over.

“Professor, I doubt we have the same prescription.”

“We don’t, they’re yours. You’re getting predictable.”

“Your face is predictable! I just don’t wanna look like a nerd.” She huffed, sticking her tongue out at him.

“You don’t want to look like Harleen”

She looked at Edward incredulously, who just mouthed the word 'psychologists’ and leaned back in his chair.

“… Close that can of worms right now young man.” She demanded, and he raised his hands defensively.

“Closed, it’s closed. You’re gonna give yourself a never ending headache if you keep skipping out on contacts, though.”

Harley put the glasses on, tossing the case at Crane’s head. He let it hit with a soft noise and land on his lap.

“… if you were anyone else…”

“Mmmhm, but I’m not” she hummed, finishing her side of the puzzle. Jonathan reached for his pieces, batting Edward’s hands away from them.

“True, you’re not. And for that you should be very grateful”

Harley grinned, taking one last cookie before jumping onto the couch.

“I’m always gonna be grateful to have you guys”

Her words were earnest in a way Jonathan himself could never express. In the end, however, he knew the feeling. He also gravitated towards the couch, immediately having arms wrap around one of his as Harley decided where on his bony body had enough meat to be a pillow. Not to be outdone Edward took Jonathan’s other side, draping himself over his thighs.

It wasn’t the most comfortable way to watch the rest of the movie, no, but when did they ever do things the easy way? Never. But this?

If there was a right way, this was it.

[enigmatic-robin]

Hideout Hijinks

Day 5

Stephanie Brown, Jonathan Crane/ Edward Nygma

Words:1428

—

The chains hanging from the ceiling of the warehouse swayed, the hook at the end suspending Spoiler upside down by her leg, much to her clear annoyance. Her mask shifted up, covering more of her nose as she swayed with the chain.

“If I promise to be a good little damsel and all and don’t make any escape attempts while you do so, could I get you to get me down and right-side-up? I’ll stay totally complacent, I’ll even let you like- chain me to a pipe or whatever.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Crane groaned, pacing back and forth. “You’re gonna stay right there til I decide what to do with you. Sneaking around in my warehouse when you think I’ve gone off somewhere, putting your hands all over my things- awful disrespectful.”

The vigilante groaned, wiggling in her binds again.

“Don’t you want me to be alive to suffer? Can’t you pass out from being upside down?”

He sighed, letting the chain a bit lower.

“Positional asphyxia might end our fun too quick, I’ll concede.”

He didn’t undo any binds, simply lifting her off the hook and letting her fall to the hard ground. She made a noise of discomfort, but didn’t say anything.

He circled her, making sure nothing was on the ground around her that she could get her filthy purple gloves on.

“You know what? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it I suppose. How about we go back to the classics?”

The blond girls vision was still spotty from hanging upside down for so long, so she didn’t see anything until there was a breathing mask over her face. She had no time to think about the use of a mask vs just releasing it before her pulse began to race, and she was lost to the hallucinations her own mind betrayed her with.

Stephanie came to with a dull ache in her head, pulling herself up into a sitting position immediately after her mind caught up to the fact that she was feeling the after effects of a substance.

“Ah, there you are. Worried I might’ve given you a bit more than you could handle.” Scarecrow’s voice rasped, irritating her headache noticeably.

“It’s a shame I had to leave you, couldn’t watch you fall victim to your own mind. What’d you see?”

She wobbled slightly, spitting in Scarecrow’s direction. He chuckled, meeting her glare.

“Eye contact. Gutsy.” He mused, grabbing her hair with an ungloved hand. “You know I gotta keep you here til I can relocate all my important shit, right? And that I can’t keep you lucid when you’re alone? It’s just business, I don’t want to scar you irrevocably; you seem like a clever girl, lots of charisma. But, well, I didn’t make you break in.”

He looked at her for a moment before releasing her hair. He picked up a water bottle from behind him, offering the straw to her. She begrudgingly drank the offered water, knowing she’d likely screamed herself raw under his toxin.

“There we go, stay hydrated. You lost a lot of moisture with your crying and sweating. Can’t scream with a dry throat.”

Spoiler took all the water she was offered, barely even noticing the off taste until her anxiety spiked, making her choke on the straw. Spiked. Shit. She had to be real out of it to fall for that. A less concentrated dose, most likely because most of his dosages were geared towards Batman, who had at least a hundred pounds on her. a straight shot of all of the liquid in one of his syringes would probably cause a heart attack in someone her size. She’d die, alone and cold on a warehouse floor-

Her second rousing wasn’t much better than the first, leaving her with a worse headache. She just groaned, rolling face down.

“I don’t mean to kill you. Not today, in any case”

She looked up, disoriented, eyes fixating on a glint of something shiny-

“Is that a fucking wedding ring?”

Crane tensed slightly, reaching into his pocket for his gloves.

“You’re focused on a ring, of all things? You hit your head trying to escape whatever you were seeing? What was it you were seeing? You were mumbling ‘bout your father-“

“Tell me someone didn’t marry your neurotic ass.” Stephanie interjected, trying not to smirk as she began to get under Crane’s skin.

“You wanna go back under already? I was gonna be a kind host and give you time before you strained your vocal chords again.”

“No no, we’re having a conversation. That’s why you used the breathing mask, isn’t it?! You didn’t wanna release the gas and worry about it affecting them.”

Spoiler was lifted by the front of her cloak, hanging limply from Scarecrow’s surprisingly strong grip.

“You’re really pushing your luck, blondie.” He snapped, only to turn when the sliding sheet metal door was pulled open enough for a figure to slip out.

“Darling, I’m not putting the cat in the carrier until you explain what’s-“

Spoiler wheezed, looking at the man in disbelief.

“The fucking Riddler?!”

Scarecrow dropped her, letting her fall into a heap on the floor.

“Oh, you have company. Is that Spoiler? She’s a clever one. She solves riddles for the bats and the birds, but never gets close enough to fight me or the girls herself.” The Riddler mused, using the toe of his boot to tilt her chin up.

“Why is that? You hiding something?”

“What, like a marriage?” She huffed, weighing the pros and cons before deciding the embarrassment was worth it. She leaned forward, knocking her mask a bit more askew so she could use her mouth and biting down on the redhead’s ankle hard as she could, earning a sharp kick to her lower jaw.

“Since when was anklebiter so literal?”

Scarecrow huffed out a laugh, earning him a sharp kick to his own ankle.

Edward rolled his eyes, crouching down next to the blond and holding her face still while he looked her over. He examined her for a moment, before Spoiler noticed, to her horror, a glint of recognition cross his face.

“I know those eyes, that hair.” He whispered, too quiet for Scarecrow to pick up, almost too quiet for Stephanie. He looked her over again to confirm. “Covering the bottom half of your face too- you’re daddy’s little mini-me, aren’t you?”

Before she could answer, he raised his voice.

“I haven’t ever really gotten Spoiler before. Any chance I can borrow her alone, love? Since apparently you’ve been having fun without me?”

Edward smiled at Crane, who sighed, backing up.

“Ten minutes, Edward. Ten.” He repeated, leaving the way Edward came.

It was quiet for a solid second before she spoke.

“Why not tell him?”

“What, and tell everything I know? You know I’m still an individual even in a relationship, right? I can keep my deductions to myself if I want to.” He insisted, turning her away from the door and tugging her mask down. Her heartbeat sped up as she stared him down, bare-faced.

“You’ve gotten so big, Stephanie. I can see my time in your home made you more clever as well. I should’ve known the blond puzzle solver who never got close enough for a good look would be our own little junior Cluemaster.”

“I’m nothing like him.” She growled, trying to sit up, and he helped to her surprise.

“No, you’ll be better, won’t you? Now, call me sentimental, but I’m a bit fond of you. You have until my husband comes back to get out. You tell any Bat where we are in the next… to be safe, let’s say three days… your identity becomes public knowledge. If you survive that, you’ll spend the rest of your life being compared to daddy dearest. You’re quiet until we’ve moved hideouts? we’re both home free.”

Stephanie’s mind tried to wrap around the offer as Edward undid her restraints and helped her to her feet. He resecured her mask over her face, and pushed her lightly. She stumbled like a newborn deer before finding her footing and pulling her grapple gun out. She caught it on the open skylight on the ceiling, and she was gone within seconds.

Edward sat down, thinking through what he’d tell his husband. Not that he’d be able to stay mad long, he simply adored Edward far too much. Either way, though, He’d make it up to him somehow.

The Scarecrow was not a man you wanted to be indebted to.

[enigmatic-robin]

Crows (Free Space)

Scarecrow Week day 7

LAST DAY!

🎃HAPPY HALLOWEEN🎃

Words: 1271

CW: child neglect, speech impediment caused by neglect, injury of an animal (natural injury)

—

Friends were hard to come by in Arlen. In such a small community, there weren’t really ‘unlikely’ friends, or anything like that; new people really didn’t filter in, so one knew everyone around from the time they were able to comprehend socialization as a toddler. Friendships formed early and lasted lifetimes, and the same would happen in the next generation, and the one after that, for however long the little town would remain standing.

Jonathan was set for failure from the start. He had to start schooling a little later than his peers- only by a half a year- due to a speech delay. He wasn’t a slow learner by any means, but he was understimulated. At home, he wasn’t as much talked to as talked at. So the speech delay made sense.

Unfortunately, so did the stutter that appeared when he started talking. Between friendships having already been cemented by the time he’d come in and the fact that no one wanted to wait around for him to finish a sentence, he didn’t have a chance. He spent his time alone, and that was just the way it was, so he accepted it with as much grace as he could.

He was alone at home as well, at least emotionally. He couldn’t remember when he’d started being sent into the decrepit church to atone for things he’d done- was there ever a time when he wasn’t? He supposed it didn’t matter. There was no sense of time there, the attacks coming so quick but seeming never ending from the sharp talons and beaks of the crows roosting inside. Granny didn’t provide any solace, any comfort in his distress. Only the crows ever came to him, and all they brought was pain.

For that reason, Jonathan was always alert in parts of their property the crows frequented. Oddly, they never attacked him outside the times he was sent into the church, but they were present elsewhere, staring down from wherever they chose to perch with sharp eyes that made Jonathan’s heart speed up. They all stayed in a large group, a murder, his mind supplied unhelpfully, on the property, generally remaining quite close to each other. Generally.

The sun was beating down hard against Jonathan’s neck as he passed the birds, shoulders tense as he tried to ignore them in favor of searching for the hoof he’d hidden in a box tangled in tree roots, where it couldn’t be taken from him. He remembered the general area but no exacts, nothing that would lead him straight to it.

And then came the noises.

Loud shrieking caws rand out, filling Jonathan with terror as he threw himself to the ground and wondered what he’d done for them to attack him outside. However, nothing came for him, and the noise continued. He pulled himself back to his feet hesitantly, searching for the source of the sound until he found a group of crows flocking around, making angry noises and lashing out at something. He didn’t know what it was that made him immediately run over to aid whatever they’d been attacking, sending them flying in different directions to clear his path. Maybe it was kinship, or a moment of bravery. All he knew was that he had to help. He knelt down, flinching when he saw what it was.

It was another crow. It laid on its side, breathing rapidly- maybe it wasn’t rapid for a bird, he didn’t know, but it looked like hyperventilation to him- and bleeding. He reached out, fingers twitching nervously until he lifted the bird, who barely shifted.

It couldn’t hurt him, it couldn’t even move much. It wasn’t scary at all. But it was, he realized, weak. It wouldn’t make it on its own. He knew there were hawks in the area, and he knew crows would abandon weak or sick members of their group if they thought they would be a liability and attract predators, so he had a pretty good idea of what happened; it must’ve been attacked, escaped, but was now unable to keep up with the group and had to be pushed out.

He could sympathize with that.

“It’ll be- it’ll be ok” he soothed quietly, holding the juvenile bird close to his chest as he brought it back to the house. It was empty at the moment, meaning he wasn’t as scared as he could’ve been as he climbed up onto the counter, opening the high cabinet and taking out the red wine. It was the only alcohol in the house as far as he was aware, and placed the bird in the sink. He gently poured some in the bird's open wounds, disinfecting it as best as he could without using a noticeable amount of alcohol. He then wiped the excess away as he lightly felt around the area.

The bird flinched away as he ran his hand over one area, giving him pause. He unfortunately had to repeat it, feeling over the area again and noting the odd bend in the wing. That wasn’t good.

He bandaged it tightly in a makeshift splint, taking his time to carefully take care of the wounded bird and bandage it up gently as he could. He took a handful of peanuts from a large container in the pantry and held the bird close, cleaning the area before taking the bird up to his room.

He placed it in a box, un-shelling the peanuts and placing them in the box with the bird. He tossed the shells out his window, then sat down in front of the bird to watch.

It was helpless, wasn’t it? It couldn’t protect itself, it was rejected by those around it. It relied on Jon right now.

It felt nice to be the most capable one in a room.

—

The bird got better in the month Jonathan had kept it with him. He would sneak out onto the roof some nights, bringing it to get fresh air with him. He snuck fruits or peanuts up regularly, letting the bird eat as much as he needed.

He watched the wing mend.

It was wrong.

Because of the structure of a bird’s hollow bones, they were not the easiest to set correctly. A bird's wing is very specific in formation, evolved in the right shape for the bird to fly. Birds with broken wings that didn’t heal right, for that reason, often don’t fly right after.

Jonathan really had hoped he did well enough, but when he brought the bird outside, it was only able to fly about 20-30 feet before landing again; not far enough to be able to get its own food, or escape a predator, or keep up with a family. But maybe enough to live in a sheltered area on the property, enough to live in comfort with Jonathan bringing food for the bird.

He wouldn’t have to leave. He wouldn’t have to say goodbye to his friend.

Maybe this injury didn’t have to be a horrible thing, he decided. Maybe they were meant to take care of each other.

“Well, you- you need a… nuh- name then.” He mused, looking down at the bird. “What d-d’ya reckon?”

The bird looked up at him and hopped closer, making a noise.

Craw! Craw!

He laughed softly, bending down and letting the bird perch on his hand.

“Craw? Well Craw- Craw it is, then.”

The bird looked at him oddly when he said it, making Jonathan laugh again.

It’d be nice to have some people to talk to, sure. But it was nice to at least have one friend.

[enigmatic-robin]

Teenage years

Day 6 of Scarecrow week

words: 1333

WARNINGS: Bullying, child abuse, religious trauma. The Crane trifecta, if you will.

—

The Georgia sun beat down hard on Jonathan, only partially blocked by the stalks growing high above his head. Even still, they provided cover from something else.

He could hear footsteps somewhere nearby; other boys, yelling and taunting from behind as he tried to meander through the densely packed plants, trying to track the noise of his pursuers over the beating of his own hammering heart.

Jonathan kept running, doing his best to evade the boys following him. He was, however, not particularly perceptive of his surroundings. Focused on trying to figure out where the boys were, he didn’t see anything in front of him until he was already aching on the ground, lip smarting something awful. He looked up, trying to focus his eyes as best he could.

He’d run into a scarecrow post.

He froze, staring up at it nervously as he realized the hit disoriented him, and he know longer had any idea what direction he came from, or where the boys would’ve been.

Jonathan scrambled to his feet, backing up against the corn stalks he’d been running through until a hand landed on his shoulder and threw him to the ground.

At fourteen, many of the boys in Jonathan’s class had changed over the school break. They’d filled out, gotten stronger, more proportional. Jonathan on the other hand with no baby fat in him for his body to distribute, just got skinnier.

It cemented the dynamic between him and the other boys. No, he wouldn't be able to match them when they were older. They’d always be stronger and healthier, and he’d remain emaciated and low on energy with no calories to burn.

He couldn’t fight them, and he couldn’t run for long. A horrible betrayal of his own body, as far as he was concerned.

His only choice was to take it, and he didn’t even get a say in the matter.

A hand closed around his wrist, holding on tightly in a way that was likely to bruise. Jonathan was pulled back up to his feet, barely registering the words of the boys around him.

“Hiding with your own kind, huh?”

“Looks more like a skeleton than a scarecrow nowadays-“

“Nah, he’s a scarecrow. Messy hair, stick arms, nothin’ in that skull of his but hay”

A fist knocked on his head pointedly. He flinched away, but a hand tangled in his hair tightly to keep his head in place.

“Hey, why don’t we switch ‘em out? One scarecrow for another, take that one down.”

They wouldn’t, would they? Surely whoever put up the scarecrow would be upset.

Except they were taking it down. He kicked, he flailed, but the hands holding him in place were steadfast, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop them when he was held up against the post.

The nails that held the scarecrow up were removed, then reinserted through the boy’s shirt to hold him up in much the same way.

When the arms around his torso let go, Jonathan went limp, held up by the sleeves and collar of his shirt and the belt loops of his pants. Nothing that would hold long, but it was enough for what it was intended to do. It scared and humiliated him.

The boys laughed amongst themselves, surveying their work for a moment before disappearing back into the stalks around them. There was no reason to stay once Jonathan stopped reacting.

It didn’t take long before a soft sound similar to a zipper came from behind him, a sound he identified as the collar of his shirt starting to tear where he hung from it. With the main support giving out, the sleeves pulled against the nails while attempting to hold his body weight. They too began to tear under the pressure, dropping him to the ground onto his hands and knees.

Jonathan pulled himself to his feet, running his hand over the belt loops that were attached to the lowest nail. They were ripped, as was his shirt more than likely. He had the feeling he was bleeding from where he hit his lip on the post as well. Well, there was nothing to be done about that. He glanced at the scarecrow on the ground again, before delving into the corn stalks around him.

By the time he finally found his way back home, the sun was touching the horizon and darkness was setting in. He was late, wasn’t he? The possibility sent a jolt of anxiety through Jonathan. Maybe he’d make it, the sun was just going down early- but no, that was unlikely. A little hope was good, but too much- past the point of realistic- was just setting himself up to fail.

The door opened quietly, quietly enough that for a split second he thought he could get away with it- act as if he’d been upstairs the whole time. The lights in the sitting room, though, were on. She was in there, then, which meant she’d likely seen him coming up the road, waited for him.

If he lied to her, it would only be worse for him, she’d know.

Jonathan closed the door behind himself, gathering his courage as he walked into the sitting room. He curled inwards on himself slightly, feeling small despite his height next to the frail woman sitting in an armchair.

“You’re late, boy.”

Her words were sharp, making Jonathan shrink in on himself further.

“I got lost. I’m very sorry, it won’t happen again.” He muttered, barely above a whisper.

She stood, hand coming up

To his face, thumb resting right under where his lip hit the post. Her finger came back bloody.

“You been starting fights? Ignoring your duties to give in to your sinful true nature?”

She pressed on the wound hard before taking her hand away, causing a sharp jolt of pain in his lip. He winced but fought back any noise of pain.

“No Granny, I just fell into something, I swear.”

She scrutinized him for a moment before noting the way his shirt collar stuck up oddly. He knew, as he turned around to let her see, that this was it. He wouldn’t be going to his room tonight.

“Look at what you’ve done.” The holes in his shirt were pulled at scornfully as she spoke. “Disrespecting what I’ve provided you from what the Lord provided us. The blatant callousness for what you are given will not be tolerated in my home. Do you understand?”

Jonathan curled his shaking hands to his chest, voice coming out slightly cracked.

“Yes, Granny. I understand.”

“You must pray for your wicked soul, for your salvation. You will not eat or sleep until you repent. Understood?”

He nodded silently, not moving as she went to get her his suit. Just because he knew how she did it didn’t mean he could avoid it. He’d tried once. After his growth spurt she could no longer drag him to the dilapidated building with her own strength, and he’d refused. He’d felt big for a moment, but only a moment. That was when she’d started denying necessities to make him go willingly- or at least complacently. Four years from adulthood and still treated as a naughty child, because he’d always be a child of god. He didn’t want to think about what that meant- if the torment would continue well into adulthood.

It didn’t matter in the moment, though, he’d realized when she’d come back and handed him his suit- almost exactly the same as his childhood one, just made to accommodate his bigger, lankier build. Because adulthood was years away, and this was now. It was happening now.

And it would continue to happen, he supposed as he went to the restroom to change into the clothes he’d been given. Because maybe one day he’d be able to say no, but today was not that day. Today, he would pray for his salvation.

Just as he was told.

[enigmatic-robin]

Doctors Office

Day 4 of Scarecrow Week

Jonathan Crane & Harleen Quinzel, implied future Pamela Isely/ Harleen Quinzel

Words: 1626

-

Many, many things could be said about Dr. Jonathan Crane. He was an eccentric, some of his choices weren’t the sanest, and maybe he was a bit off-putting.

It could not be said, however, that he wasn’t very protective of those he liked. The number of which was very, very low.

He enjoyed his job- and the ability it gave him to play with the minds of patients no one would believe- at least enough to notably show distaste for those who didn’t. That was a good portion of Arkham’s staff.

Harleen had been his student first- then he’d been forced away from teaching, only to have one of his star pupils join him years later. Now able to talk as colleagues, without much of a power imbalance, they got on like a house on fire. Whether that was a good thing, however, remained to be seen.

The graveyard shift at Arkham always guaranteed to be either the most drudgingly long hours with all of the patients sleeping, or a horrible chaotic mess. No one ever really knew which it’d be, but either way many people found it more trouble than it was worth.

Harleen and Jonathan worked the night shift together often.

The night was proving to be long and horribly uninteresting to the point of driving Harleen to count every dot on a polka dot patterned mousepad, counting slowly and carefully so that it would keep her occupied longer. Jonathan was reading beside her when the door opened.

Batman’s figure loomed in the doorway, dragging something behind him purposefully. He paused for a moment before half-tossing what he’d been dragging on the ground in front of him. The Joker made a noise but showed no sign of being able to get himself up-or of being fully conscious.

“I think you misplaced something” Robin quipped beside the Bat, grinning despite his scratched up elbows and knees. Batman just nodded and put his hand on Robin’s shoulder somewhat affectionately.

Jonathan sighed, hitting the security button, as was protocol for Joker, and watched as security came and swiftly drag the clown out. Robin seemed mildly amused, before looking up at Batman.

“Did you see the kick I got in? Right in the throat, I think I knocked his diaphragm outta place.” He did a little reenactment kick, knocking over a chair in the process. Batman just looked at the chair for a moment, then at Robin, who sheepishly put it back in place.

“Right. I trust you’ll take it from here?” The Bat asked, and Jonathan nodded.

“I suppose we will”

“Have a good night then. Robin?”

“Yeah, B!” He put his hand out for a high five Batman awkwardly and stiffly met, and with that they were out the door.

Jonathan relaxed slightly after they left, turning to say something to Harley before he noticed the look on her face.

“Something got you down, Dr. Quinzel?”

“I just… hate seeing other people like that.” She muttered, looking the way Joker had gone. “I know he’s done bad things but- all battered and bruised like that, it doesn’t feel right.”

Jonathan had no such problems, but nodded in sympathy as if he understood completely.

“Unfortunately we need him immobile to be here. It’s not safe for anyone to touch him while he’s lucid. Trust me, I wouldn’t support it if it wasn’t necessary.”

He must’ve been convincing, because she sighed and nodded, leaning in slightly so he could pat her shoulder. Physical affection always calmed her down, and she was starved for it at all times. She was lucky, he figured, that he was the only one who took advantage of that. The slightest bit of affection made her malleable, eager to please. He used this to keep her content, shielded. He protected the drive he saw in her that reminded him of himself.

If another man found that weakness of hers and tried to use it to change her, well, she could take believing she was ghosted, or that he’d moved.

He barely realized she was talking until he tuned back in.

“-to Dr. Leland about seeing if I could have a trial session with him, he switches Psychologists often, I doubt it’d be an issue.”

Jonathan’s mind quickly ran through what context he had, staring blankly as his mind caught back up.

“Absolutely not.” He snapped, making her flinch.

“And that’s why. You can’t show any kind of weakness with him. I trust you Harleen, I really do, but I haven’t even given him a shot. Please understand I will not stand by while you’re put into a room with that man.”

She looked down, worrying at her lip as she thought it over.

“You don’t think I can do it?”

“I don’t think there’s a person in this world who could, or I’d give it a shot. Hell- I will give it a shot if you’re so worried, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting Joan assign him to you without a fight. I’m sorry Harleen, I really am, it’s not you I don’t believe in.”

“… You’re right” she whispered, twisting her hands in the material of her skirt nervously. “I just… I want to make a difference, I want to make someone’s life better.”

“He’s too far gone, there’s no hole in him he’s trying to fill. He enjoys what he’s doing. He doesn’t even remember what sanity looked like for him. There’s nothing for him to revert back to.”

“You’re right, Dr. Crane.” She agreed quietly. He sighed, deflating slightly. Harleen looked somewhat dejected, an expression he was quickly finding himself very weak to.

He pulled a notepad towards himself, scrawling something down and hoping he wouldn’t kick himself for it later.

“What’s that?”

“A suggestion to a colleague,” he admitted. “There’s… a patient of mine. She hates Joan and she barely works with me due to a mistrust of men. I think you could be good for each other.”

He passed the note to Harley, who looked it over curiously.

“Isely?”

“Trust me,I just want the best for you ”

She looked at the paper again and smiled softly.

“Thank you! I should make sure the plant on my desk doesn’t need anything.” Harleen kissed his cheek, patting his arm before she was off to her office. He smiled fondly for a moment before he started towards Joan’s office to leave the note on her desk. He walked through the corridor between patients' rooms, finding himself idling by one.

“Can I help you, Crow?” Ivy asked sarcastically, glaring through a window with little holes in it like a lab rat’s cage.

“I might’ve got you a new psychologist. Figured I’d let you know.”

She raised an eyebrow, deep frown set in place.

“And why would you let someone who knows your secret go to someone else?”

“I know you won’t hurt her. Well- couldn’t. She wanted to help the Joker but my toxins don’t work on him- got nothing to threaten him to keep docile with. I do, however, have a strain especially for you and Swamp Thing. ‘Sides, knew you’d be more comfortable with a woman, and Harleen’s a ray of sunshine. Long as you’re good to her, you’re gonna be comfortable here.”

That… wasn’t too bad a deal. In fact, it was preferable to being stuck with Crane.

“Fine. She must be real special to have the merciless Scarecrow looking out for a ‘ray of sunshine’”

“Oh, I assure you, she is.”

—

The office was much lighter than Crane’s, that was immediately apparent. Ivy complied as she was pushed into a chair, offering her hands to be cuffed to the desk as she looked around. She was left alone for a moment, giving her time to take in the sunlight coming through the window with sligh desperation. She didn’t even realize she wasn’t along until she heard the door -that she hadn’t heard open- shut with a click.

“Oh, did I startle you? I’m sorry. My footsteps aren’t as loud as Dr. Crane’s, even in heels. I’m Dr. Harleen Quinzel” The blond woman apologized, an awkward smile on her face. She took the seat across from Ivy, and immediately she could see that this had not been a good idea on Crane’s part.

Her eyes, behind her glasses, were the same deep blue as a Love-in-a-mist flower, blonde curls that hadn’t been within reach of her ponytail framed her face in curls like the petals of a platinum blond dahlia. By the time she realized she’d been staring, Dr. Quinzel looked concerned.

“Harleen? With your accent it almost sounds like Holly, like a holly flower. Have you ever seen one?”

She shook her head, but motioned towards a pot Ivy had somehow missed.

“No, just have these.”

Ivy went to touch them, but was pulled back by the chain. The doctor looked almost more pained than Ivy, picking up the pot of flowers and placing them between them.

“I’m sorry, if it was up to me you wouldn’t be chained to the table.”

“That’s quite alright.” She insisted, once again reaching out, running her hand softly over the white and purple flowers.

“African violets… immaculately well taken care of.” She noted in surprise.

“Yeah, I’ve been known to get a little emotionally attached. I’d feel awful if I accidentally killed them so I do the best I can not to.” She admitted, placing the pot back where it was to get just the right amount of sunlight.

Crane was going to regret this, because if she stayed this endearing, Ivy was going to fall hard and fast. Or maybe that was his plan all along, she didn’t care. Either way, he’d never know how thankful she was.

—

For bonus points: which Robin was in this?

If you get it wrong that says more about my writing than your deduction skills I promise.

[wolvenjay]

Scarecrow Week 2022 Day 1 - Liquid Fear Fear toxin seemed too easy, so have Y1 right after the comic.

[wolvenjay]

Scarecrow Week 2022 Day 4 - Doctors Office

Jon, you aren't that kind of doctor.

[wolvenjay]

Scarecrow Week 2022 Day 3 - Monster Mash Crane

Not actually sure how much this fits the prompt. I just saw "monster" and "Crane" and went 👀