#cranetm

[aston1sh1ng]

@cranetm : when does a man become a monster?

Greens pause and glide to take a good look at Jonathan Crane, mirth of old dug out of them by the betrayal of knowing who he is, now, yet not completely gone. Like it stands to reason not to despise the man. "He doesn't." It's never a matter of becoming a monster. Never to Scott. "A man is a man. If he does something terrible, he's a horrible man. Calling him a monster makes it sound like any of us aren't capable of the worst. Makes it easier to just keep doing bad things." Or maybe that's just him - maybe that's just because he knows that othering evil from mankind only really allows it to grow and fester in the hearts of those inclined to say that 'well, I'm evil. But I'm not a monster.'

"But if you ask me what makes a man become the worst possible man he can be -- that's a simpler story. Hurting children. You do that, you're irredeemable."

[uplus003f]

@cranetm gets a moodboard !

[bullsh1tterz]

🗣️ !

Send me 🗣️ for incorrect quotes of your muse and mine : : @cranetm

ONE.

Adam : I know every song to ever exist it doesn't matter if it's from the past, present or the future. Crane: Oh yeah? Then continue this. Crane: I don't cook I don't clean- Adam : So let me tell you how I got this ring. Adam & Crane: ….. Adam & Crane: GOBBLE ME, SWALLOW ME-

TWO.

Crane: banging a pen on the table out of frustration Adam : Stop that. How would YOU feel if I banged you on the table? Crane: I— Crane: I don’t know the correct answer to that question.

THREE.

Adam : I did it! I memorized everything in the book! I'm gonna ace this test! Crane: Ok, Adam , I'll give you one more question before you go. What ended in 1918? Adam : 1917. Crane: …You're ready.

[s0fias]

@cranetm said: there's no part of you i can't see.

Being exposed is not unfamiliar to Sofia. Let's just say, her stay at Arkham didn't so much as pop that particular cherry as it slaughtered it. In Arkham, nothing belonged to Sofia. Not her mind, definitely not her body. She was a thing to be experimented with, to be played with. To be manipulated then sent back to her cage when the good doctors deemed it to be time. So now, she has teeth sharper than an animal's claws.

And yet, she hates the sliver of fear that runs down her spine at Crane's words.

How much weakness can she still possess? And why does she still carry it around? Why can't she shed the layers of skin that no longer serve her? ❛ Guess I'm just glad there's still something inside me that's left of you to see. ❜ There's the truth for him. Because more often than not, Sofia worries there is NOTHING left inside of her. Nothing.

[talescfshadows]

" betrayal is a matter of perspective. it's nothing personal. " | [ 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝙼𝙴𝙳  𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂. ]  𝚝𝚑𝚎  𝚊𝚛𝚝  𝚘𝚏  𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚊𝚕 | @cranetm

He burned with the rage coursing through his veins, a silent vow to get his revenge now spinning around in his mind. They were supposed to be partners, working together to rid the world of the putrid and put the fear of God back into the people of Gotham. At least, that's what John had thought they were doing. If he had known that the addicts he took from the streets to punish had become a part of Crane's experiments, he never would have allowed Crane anywhere near them. More fool him for believing that Crane shared his goals when he'd asked to take a few of the lost souls John had taken off of his hands.

At the very least, he'd known Crane was trying to create some sort of fear toxin that would put people in their places. However what they saw as people's proper places were clearly very different. Crane didn't believe in God...no...he saw himself as God and only wanted people to be afraid of the 'Scarecrow'. This wasn't about a matter of perspective, it was a matter of integrity and evidently Crane had none. "Sure, and it won't be anything personal either when I crush you like the scrawny bug you are."

[jewelstole]

starter for @cranetm

there were few as frightening as crane. his extremities knew no bounds. " i don't know what you want .. but let me set things straight , i don't have it. "

[bullsh1tterz]

: : @cranetm : :

[hahaheehooha]

@cranetm sc.

They go into the scrawny man’s shoulder, the strong fingers of (who?- uh) Gambol’s men stuck hard in his jacket before throwing him forward. No fiery pops bursting from small autos. No screaming, or quick or slow con-sequences. The harbour past midnight’s a quiet lump of bodies receiving an endless stream of barrels from one of the containers, loaded into lorries and sent away.

The Joker turns away from it.

‘   A—nother VISIT, doc - tor?   ‘      

‘   You’d know what a real backbone is.   ‘

[aston1sh1ng]

@cranetm : you're imagining things.

It staggers his train of thought - the feel of inhaled toxin rushing to his brain, begging it to succumb. An unexpected bout of terror, he would soon come to recognize. He doesn't know yet. Doesn't know yet what lies beyond the smoke and stench. A blur, fog, something clogging his vision before a bright ring slits the sky open.

He recognizes the pattern. Strange's portals. An omen, at times, and pure reprieve at others. That pure magic he's never managed to fathom with his scientific mind bursting into the scene when you least expect it.

Scott's eyes snap wide, mirth so quick to come to his face as he sees her so clearly. Cassie, light of his life, dearest daughter he thought he'd never see again, brought to this new world. And then she's impaled. Hard, quick, entire chest taken by something so vague out of the portal. Blood implodes, feels like it's travelled all the way across, beyond the window, and slapped him solid in the face. Red, red, red, and then it takes it all with it - the anonymous impaler - portal shut in its wake and Scott dropped to his knees on the floor. His hands are red. Why are his hands red? There is no corpse, no sign, nothing for him to gently cradle and weep over. If only she had been close. If only he could have reached her. But, no. Nothing but the blood and a termor reverberating through the sum of him. Chest is sealed shut. No breath. He can't breathe. Maybe he shouldn't breathe. Maybe he doesn't want to breathe.

Words don't feel real. Intangible little things that have never truly mattered before because they cannot express. The horror, beyond which is sadness nestled in the one thing he can manage to impart. That click in his chest. Rage.

Saltwater fights its way through reddened eyes, form shoved up and before he knows it, with little memory of motion - shrink, jump, kick. Punch. Punch harder - there is a pressure upon his hand.

No, not upon. Within. He holds a porcelain throat and pulls up, tighter and tighter. A face that mattered to him attached to the one thing he's managed to see in the blur, that throat.

And then he hears it. Words that contradict the red in his hands and what he had just witnessed. Words, not in the projected voice of the villain, but in that of a man who's wronged him beyond blooming friendship and stepped on his goodwill without second thought.

You're imagining things.

"What did you do to her?" A beat, quirk of tightly knit brows, something settling clearer in his mind. Grip is still firm, but now not lethal. Merciful, as Scott himself is, and perhaps considerate in how it decides to give the heinous traitor a chance to speak. "How did you do it?"

[uplus003f]

HE SITS IN THE CORNER of his cell, waiting for steps to become their owner. @cranetm, in all of his hilarious glory.

Crane will find him crouched, comfortable, looking up at him with eyes that everyone knows should not have been created so wide and sweet. "I've been waiting for you." He tells him, unfolding legs as he slowly rises, a smile revealed from where it used to be tucked. Irises trail - up, then down - examining his temperament, guessing where he keeps the cheap stand-in for fear. Manufactured terror. Most intriguing, most awaited.

He steps to him, but doesn't yet invade his space. "Let's not waste our time. Echo's outside." A dip of head, again, to display those hollows in all of their death and decay. Crane's shadow is cast upon him, but it only seems to serve those irises in their corruption. "Not for you. For the guards. We wouldn't want to be disturbed, would we?" He chokes a giggle - lets it bubble beneath the rest of his words. "I promise there are no cheap tricks here. I'm not the joker." Never. Never. He spits his name out like acid amidst the honey-laced lull of his voice. "No immunity, nothing. Not even a clue. How I act will be a surprise to the two of us. Brand new."

Only then does he find his space, step too close. His voice is lower, almost sing-song like a lullaby. "Bet you've been wanting to do this a long time. Bet you think I'll look so pathetic." Wide smile becomes wider. Too, too wide. Wrong. "I will."

[bullsh1tterz]

: : @cranetm : : GETS A MOODBOARD. ( Crane && Adam )

[vitalphenomena]

@cranetm said: if we are to tame darkness, we must first face that it exists.

HARRIS KNOWS DARKNESS. He's seen humanity at its worst. Dr. Kingsley Harris beat and brutalized him and the other Wolfgang soldier boys into fearful submission. Harris doesn't feel as if he's ever been a child.

All that to say: he's never going to let anybody else take advantage of him ever again. He will never be kicked to the ground, spat on, made to feel inferior. He killed his makers, his brothers in arms. He'll kill this fucker, too, if it comes down to it. He's not entirely opposed. The pretentious, patronizing quips are starting to grate.

"Do you want me for a job, or do you, ah, want to be my philosophy professor?"

[archaievist]

were you eavesdropping?

"If you have to ask you already know," she says without looking up from her writing. Of course she was, information is valuable. Even if she isn't going to use said information it might be useful in other ways. "If you want conversations to be private I don't suggest having them outside in the hall."

[volucerrubidus]

[ lonely ] (but in a menacing way lol)

Non-Verbal Angst Prompts || Accepting

The hairs on the back of Tim's neck stand to attention when he hears the footfalls of another person approaching where he hadn't expected to find one. Likewise, the silhouette sends static down his spine when he whirls to face them.

It's supposed to be hard to sneak up on Red Robin...

Slowly, more details become visible by the scant light in the defunct lab space, filtering through dirty, broken window glass. Dark hair, light eyes, tall stature. The glint of eyeglasses. The posture of someone who notably seems to lack fear.

The air itself feels tense, as Tim stands off with one Dr. Jonathan Crane.

He wets his lips before speaking quietly, "If I dust for fingerprints, will I find yours on this equipment?"

[pv55y]

“suffering? you haven’t seen anything yet.”

          CATWOMAN NARROWS HER EYES, EXPRESSION DEFIANT & DISDAINFUL     [ SO, WHAT ELSE IS NEW? ]     FACING HER ADVERSARY, LIPS BEGINNING TO QUIRK INTO SOMETHING PLAYFUL ( —CURIOSITY KILLS, BUT SO DOES SHE ) AT HIS WORDS as they hang in the air. But she is no stranger to threats; SHE WANTS TO LAUGH,     ❛❛     SUFFERING ?     ❜❜     a painful echo, from the chest, heavy as it lays thickly between them; a rotting thing, her voice, HER EYES flicker between something dark ( unhinged, even ) & pain.     ❛❛     Suffer-ing, suffer, to suffer; funny how if you use a word enough times, it loses its meaning? Funny how that works, huh?     ❜❜     

          PUPILS SLIT AS THEY NARROW AS SHE GATHERS HERSELF; like a rubberband all but ready to snap, her body stiffens as such, whatever play she’d been previously exuding now gone from her system     [ LIKE IT WAS NEVER THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE ]     THE BUZZING, the sounds around them are driving her bonkers; the hum of the lights, leather sliding harshly across his chest, the breathing…     ❛❛     You think you know what I’ve been through ?     YOU THINK YOU CAN SCARE ME WITH YOUR LITTLE TOXINS & NIGHTMARES ?     It’d be PARADISE compared to what I’ve gone,     ❜❜

The Catwoman deliberately steps closer with as much grace as predatory; lips now curling, deforming into something rabid. THE KITTY WANTS TO BITE !     ❛❛     I’ve clawed my way out of hell more times than you can imagine, Crane. Fear & suffering? We’ve gotten acquainted well,     ❜❜     DANGEROUS PURRING, RUMBLING OF THE CHEST, A LOCKED GAZE ; she doesn’t care what he sees in her, whether he believes her to be genuine or not, REAL OR NOT,

          ❛❛     BUT YOU ? You’re just another man hiding behind a mask, trying to control what you don’t understand. SO GO AHEAD, TRY TO SHOW ME WHAT SUFFERING REALLY LOOKS LIKE. But be careful Doctor; CATS DON’T DO WELL WHEN CORNERED,     ❜❜

[jewelstole]

cranetm asked: " that's a lot of blood. " blood, blood, gallons of the stuff !

her mask is cracked. a few fresh corpses are at her side. " .. meow. " she says , licking her wounds. " it's hardly my fault .. they put their hands on me. "