#dr jonathan crane x oc

[fandomworldofdreams]

Hospital For Souls

"Baby, I wanna touch you. I wanna breathe into your well. See, I gotta hunt you. I gotta bring you to my hell. Baby, I wanna fuck you. I wanna feel you in my bones. Honey, I wanna break you. I wanna throw you to the hounds. Yeah, I gotta hurt you. I gotta hear it from your mouth. I wanna taste you. I wanna skin you with my tongue. I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna lay you in the ground."

-Meg Myers

Previous: Prologue, CHP1, CHP2, CHP3, CHP4, CHP5, CHP6, CHP7, CHP8, CHP9, CHP10, CHP11, CHP12, CHP13, CHP14, CHP15, CHP16

Warnings: RAPE, water boarding, drugging, physical violence, and some gore

Chapter XVII: Desire

Valeria had no idea where she was. All she knew was the floor she awoke on was cold and hard as fuck.

Opening her eyes groggily, she was met with an endless void. A vast display of darkness that seemed to have no end.

She tried her best to remember how she ended up here, but her head was still fuzzy. Everything in her mind blurred together causing a wave of nausea. Sitting up, she winced against the pain that shot through her head. A loud pounding and sharp pain that threatened to shatter her skull. Her neck ached from laying on the floor.

She had a feeling she wasn’t alone in this unknown place. She could sense another presence in the area. It was that feeling of being watched, the chill up her spine that set her nerves on edge. Her gut twisted in knots.

With shaky legs, she pushed off the ground to stand, a dizzy spell washing over her. Her ears strained to hear anything, but all that she could make out was a soft ringing.

Stretching out her hands in front of her, she took a step to each side, hands reaching for a surface. All she found was more empty space.

Tapping her foot out in front of her, she hoped eventually to find a wall and light switch.

A thud to her left had her whirling around, her whole body facing the noise, almost losing balance.

Don't be a cliche horror movie character, she told herself.

There was another sound. This time to her right and much louder. She jumped, her heart pounding faster.

“Who’s there?” she shouted, voice only slightly shaking.

Fuck, well that failed.

Something touched her arm.

A small caress, like a feather against her skin that had her hairs sticking up.

She yelped, turning to kick the spot and hopefully the offender. Her foot whooshed through the air and she lost her footing, falling to the ground. She scurried back, her tailbone vibrating from the impact.

She was terrified. She turned over on her hands and knees when she heard a faint click ring in the air.

She froze in fear. Her mind spirals with different theories.

The belt, the sound of it hitting her skin. Her back stung in pain at the memory. She couldn't do it again, her body would break if she did. Her mind would shatter this time.

Maybe it was a gun, someone finally coming to offer her a way out. Finally giving her mercy.

But it was neither. The hum of a string instrument reverberated off the walls, closing in on her.

The music increased in volume, then a voice that sounded misleadingly pleasant began a tune.

On the farm, ev'ry Friday

On the farm, it's rabbit pie day

So ev'ry Friday that ever comes along

I get up early and sing this little song.

“This is exactly what would happen in a horror movie,” she wheezed. Once again pushing herself up to stand, she crossed her arms. Gripping onto herself like there was a protection blanket.

Overstimulating her ears, the music was louder than ever.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run

Bang, bang, bang, bang goes the farmer's gun

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run, run

Panic sank in, filling her body with a sense of urgency and fear. Her breathing became short and rapid.

“Come out you fucking coward!” she screamed into the darkness.

Footsteps, loud heavy footsteps hurrying towards her. Somehow overpowering the music.

She resisted the urge to try and fight the person, instead she began running.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run

Don't give the farmer his fun, fun, fun

He'll get by without his rabbit pie

So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run

It wasn't that many steps before she ran right into a wall, smacking her head and barely managing to lean against it instead of crashing backwards.

The footsteps were on her and she couldn't help the scream that she released.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run

Bang, bang, bang, bang goes the farmer's gun

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run, run

Whoever it was was behind her.

She felt breath against her neck and a warmth. She spun around to face the unseen force in the darkness.

She attempted to even her breathing, trying not to panic too much.

“W-who are you?”

Click

A faint glowing light illuminated from the lighter's fire. She dared glance up.

The mask was burlap, resembling a scarecrow.

But the eyes . . .

The deep chuckle was all she needed to hear for realization to strike her.

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run

Don't give the farmer his fun, fun, fun

He'll get by without his rabbit pie

So run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run

“Dr. Crane, please don't do this.”

The song reached its end, when she was sure no song was coming after she felt a small part of her dread dissipate.

“Are you afraid of the dark?” His voice was gravelly. He leaned closer, the flame casting haunting shadows across his face and radiating heat towards hers. She shook her head.

“No.”

“Pity.”

He flipped the lighter closed, succumbing them to the darkness once again.

His hand came in contact with her face and she jumped. He caressed her cheek, wiping away a tear. She wondered if he could see her in this darkness. She couldn't even see his silhouette, he blended in, as if he was the darkness.

Just like the Boogeyman.

“My sweet Eria.” Her brain went into a state of hysteria at the nickname her parents gave her coming from his lips.

She threw her body to the side, away from him on the floor and started crawling on her hands and knees quickly.

“No, no, this won't end here.”

A bright, blinding light filled the room, making her flinch.

"Fuck," she moaned, her head pounding.

The light was too bright, her eyes burned as she strained to open them.

She was able to crawl far enough to feel a wall and stand on her feet. She squinted against the pain, trying to see where she was.

She stumbled forward, everything was spinning around her, what little she could see was obscured by dark shadows dancing in her vision.

"Valeria," a voice drawled, their tone far too soft. She swirled, trying to pinpoint its location, moving further into the room.

Footsteps again, that's the only thing she could hear. Every other sense is stripped of its usefulness. Her sight was completely overcome by the light. A cruel contrast to the previous darkness.

There was smoke in the air. Smoke that had her inhaling and immediately coughing. Her lungs ached from the assault, eyes teared up.

“My dear, what has you so frightened?” His voice was closer.

She could make out his steps. Softer taps now. He was circling her slowly, reaching out a hand to play with her hair, running his fingers across her skin. He was moving too fast for her mind to keep up with, she felt like was going to puke.

"Don't touch me," she whined, shrinking away from him. His touch felt venomous, like an electric shock through her system.

"My, my, look at you," his lips pressed against her ear. She could feel his breath through the mask brushing her hair and neck, sending goosebumps down her spine. The scratchy material of the mask pressed to her skin, "so reactive by just my mere touch."

He placed his hand on her shoulder, fingers trailing over her collarbone to engulf her neck with his hand. He pulled her against him, her back pressed to his chest. She could feel his warmth against her body.

"It makes me want to ruin you entirely."

"You taste exquisite, I cannot wait to devour all of you."

Her head fell back against him, too heavy to hold up. Too tired of fighting.

She tried to ignore the repulsion that surfaced in her with his touch.

“What happens now?” she asked bitterly.

“That is arbitrary, as of now," her eyes squinted at the figure approaching them.

His body a shadow outlined by the light. An aura of bright colors.

Dr. Lecter stopped before her, reaching out his hand to caress her cheek, much like Crane had done.

“Entirely dependent on your actions, my dear.”

Crane's fingers still circled her throat like a collar, controlling her movement.

“What do you want from me?”

“Honesty,” Lecter said. That word sounded abhorrent coming from his lips. She would have laughed, considering that was the first thing Crane ever asked of her with their deal.

“About what?”

“How did you find out about my involvement?” Lecter asked. She forced her face into one of confusion.

“You told me in the office. I had no idea you-”

Crane's grip on her throat tightened, cutting off her sentence. She gagged, her hands immediately reached for his wrist.

“You were wary of me even when you entered my office. I saw your hesitation and guard. Do not believe me ignorant. You were on edge, I could smell the fear.”

Crane's grip loosened enough for her to answer.

“I remembered the mushrooms and you throwing me in the room and blaming it on Dr. Crane. I remembered it.”

Mix the truth with a lie.

He gazed at her, weighing her words.

“You recovered this memory before our session?” She licked her dry lips, nodding.

“So it had nothing to do with the camera I found in my office?” Crane's strident voice asked.

She froze, unable to breathe. “No, I-I don't know anything about-”

His grip tightened again, a whimper escaping her.

“I was truly hoping you would not lie to us,” Lecter said, lips pressed together.

“As you have done to me?”

A playfulness entered his aura. “Valeria-”

She was fast.

Elbowing Crane in the stomach he lost his grip on her.

Run rabbit, run.

Her body reacted from pure instinct, hardly feeling their hands reaching out for her, missing by an inch.

She ran.

Adrenaline and fear pumping through her veins. Her feet carried her numbly. It took all the strength and focus she could muster to keep from toppling over or running into a wall.

Her mind was locked in, focused on the severity of the situation. Shadows danced on the walls, taunting her.

The bright light stretched only so far before she relied on flickering fluorescent lights to guide her path.

Whatever she was drugged with had not fully hit her yet, but that didn't mean she wasn't feeling it.

Her perception was utterly fucked. She was struggling to decipher how far and wide a turn was. Whether the hallway was straight or zigzagging.

Left, right, wall, left. She tried a few doors, all locked.

Hallway after hallway, turn after turn. It was like a maze.

Her stomach turned at the thought. The realization that this asylum was a haunted one. The walls screamed and bled with memories of the past and current terrors that occured within it. Tortured souls with nowhere to go, trapped.

She wondered how many had suffered at the hands of Crane and Lecter.

They knew the layout and environment, she didn't. These halls were unfamiliar to her. She was at a severe disadvantage.

Not to mention she was very out of shape.

She had to find a way to hide, or even a weapon to fight back if she stood a chance at all.

Her lungs burned, straining against each breath. She could hear her heart thudding in her ears.

She came to a door and desperately turned the handle.

Click

She could've cried at the relief that washed over her. She slipped in the room and gently closed the door, locking it.

Leaned her back against the wood surface she on catching her breath and not making too much noise.

The room was disgusting, under better circumstances she would have gagged.

The walls were lined with dirt, a singular hospital bed was in the center with clean sheets. A counter along with cupboards along the wall and floor. Finally, a metal tray stand was next to the bed.

She rushed to the cupboards, throwing them open in hopes of finding something.

Dust, grime, a stethoscope and gauzes was all she found. When she threw open the final cupboard she sighed at the sight of a knife.

A single knife, free of dust.

“One knife against two psychopaths,” she muttered. “Great odds.”

The door handle wiggled.

She pulled open the lower cupboard and crawled in, squeezing her body to close the door all but a crack, allowing her to peek into the room.

She focused on quieting her breathing more.

The door handle turned with a click, opening. No doubt a key was used.

Her knuckles turned white at how tight her grip was on the knife handle. She held her breath, afraid to even blink.

”They’re gonna get you, they're gonna get you!”

She hardly suppressed the way her limbs jolted at the sudden voice right beside her. A shrill female one that felt like nails against her brain.

A grotesque girl was somehow in the cupboard with her, dirt and blood stained her skin. Her face is a gnarled mess with pieces of skin hanging on loosely.

”When they get you, they're gonna rip you limb from limb!” she squealed.

Valeria couldn't see ghosts, that much she was sure of. Her mother had that gift, not her.

Despite her panic she couldn't see an aura of the girl beside her, nor could she feel any energy.

He had given her fear toxin.

She clenched her eyes shut.

It's not real, it's not real.

She opened her eyes. The girl was gone, sighing in relief she turned her attention back to the real monsters.

She could tell by their walk who was who. Lecter's steps were light, barely audible and cautious. Crane had a more arrogant walk, a waltz of his legs.

“Valeria, come out, child.” Crane's voice filled the room as he began walking around. It was less muffled, probably meaning he wasn't wearing the mask anymore. “We aren't going to hurt you.” He chuckled at his own lie.

Her body was shaking, especially her ankles which supported her crouched form, ready to react.

“Valeria, you have five seconds to come out,” Lecter announced. “Cease these meaningless antics, you know very well we will always find you.”

She almost considered it.

“Don’t make me punish you, dear one.”

This was already torture enough.

“Five.”

Crane threw off the sheets to the be. He crouched down to look under the bed.

She gulped as tears started streaming down her face.

“Four.” There was no irritation in Lecter's voice as he counted, quite contrary. He sounded almost pleased with the turn of events.

He was a puppeteer, she realized. He enjoyed mystifying people and using his strings to control them.

He shut the door, glancing behind it.

“Three.”

Crane kicked the metal tray, causing a loud bang. Valeria jumped, throwing her hand over her mouth to muffle any noise.

“Gonna get you, gonna get you!” the female voice was right in her ear this time.

It was not the girl from before, it was Emily now. A very tortured sounding version of her. Valeria didn't dare look away from the men.

"Two.”

She could still come out, still have it be less terrible for her. Maybe they'd give her a quick death or even the antidote. It would take her too long to run to the door and get it open.

Her legs wouldn't move, she was frozen in fear.

“One. . .”

Crane turned his body towards where she was hiding. He was quiet as he approached. He began opening cupboards. Slowly, as if to build suspense, incite more fear.

They had known where she was the whole time, just toyed with her. Lecter had probably smelled her.

She grit her teeth together, moving her hand to better grip the knife. She shifted quietly, so if he looked in he wouldn't see the knife.

When the cupboard opened she did not hesitate.

Aim for the femoral artery.

He was not crouched, like she assumed he'd be. She lunged with the knife, bringing it down.

He moved, quick enough that the knife did not lodge into his leg.

The knife sliced across his shin, instead. Slicing through his pants and his skin. She fell forward, rolling to the side. Hurrying to her feet to face them.

“Fuck,” he hissed in pain, falling against the wall.

Failed.

She held the bloodied knife out in front of her like a sword, her only form of protection. She did not feel like a valiant knight, though. She was the damsel, only no one was coming to save her.

Her breath was ragged as she looked at them.

Lecter was gazing at her in fascination, he seemed impressed. He made no move to help his companion who was clutching his shin.

“Put the knife down you stupid girl,” Crane spat. She shook her head, stepping backwards towards the door.

“I barely grazed you,” the words slipped out of her mouth. He glared at her.

Something moved in the corner of her eye, making her jump. She shifted her body to face it.

There was nothing there. A threat of her mind's own making.

“What do you see?” Crane's voice softened, any sound of pain in his voice vanished.

“How do I get out of here?” She ignored his question, turning back to them.

Lecter chuckled, stepping forward. She held the knife higher. “You don't. We have every entrance and exit locked down. You can't leave here unless one of us escorts you out.”

“I don't believe a word you say,” she snapped in desperation. “You two have something to get out of here, probably a key card. Give it to me.”

Amused, that was how they both looked. How comedic she must have looked to them, wielding a knife, threatening them. A jester playing her part.

Too weak, too emotional.

“Or what?” Lecter asked, intrigued. “You know as well as we do, once you lunge for either of us, the other will quickly render you powerless. If you do not believe we know our way around a knife, you have truly miscalculated.”

“I'm willing to take one of you down with me,” she said with fire in her eyes. There was a dead body on the bed, it was her mother's. Her eyes were missing. Two bloody sockets.

She did her best to ignore it.

“You’ve never killed anyone. Are you certain you wouldn't hesitate? You run the risk of doing it incorrect and allowing us both to live. Allowing us to return to our positions and your companions. Could you kill one of us, dove?”

“I wouldn't hesitate,” she growled, something feral.

His lips turned upward. “Good.”

”Just like you killed me, you'd kill the only two people that actually give a shit about your pathetic existence.” Her brother whispered in her ear.

She flinched, swinging the knife behind her. He was gone.

A pain shot through her heart.

She fell to her knees, the knife now held loosely in her left hand.

Weak, she was too weak. Had been too open with Lecter, they knew too much. Wherever she went, death was sure to follow. Standing by ready to mock her.

She brought her gaze up to them from her spot on the floor. She wasn't entirely sure if it was her decaying mind or the drugs, but they looked like God's above her. Holding her life in their hands. Playing at fate like one would a violin. As cruel as the Gods too, toying with her humanity.

Despite the way their faces flashed something truly monstrous.

"I don't understand why you're surprised at this turn of events. You used suicide as a means of trying to gain attention from an absent parent who shows no remorse or interest in having you as a daughter. A cry for attention. Now you're getting the attention, is it not all you hoped it to be?” Crane teased. “Are you not enjoying this fun little game we've all been participating in?”

She shook her head. “That’s not it. I never wanted attention,” she whispered. Lecter glanced at Crane.

“Isn’t it?” Dr. Crane crooned, a cruel edge to his voice. “That is why you so hastily crumbled and clung to Hannibal, is it not? You see him as a father figure. Pining for his approval, getting everything twisted in that confused head of yours. Did you consider calling him ‘daddy’? Did the thought of it make you weak in the knees?” She cringed at his words, flinching in disgust.

He stepped closer with a slight limp. “Or perhaps, as your visions inferred, you wanted to call me ‘professor’? Authority figures excite you, don't they? Knowing you are powerless arouses you. The line between fear and arousal is non-existent.”

“How can you stand there and say such vulgar things to me?” she hissed. “You knew me as a child! Have you not beaten my spirit down enough? Have you not subjected me to your perverse ideals enough?”

He lacked any emotional regard as he answered. A shell of a human. “You are not a child anymore. Perhaps to a point you are to us. I have no qualms about your age. It's like seeing an experiment progress into maturity. Though you always had to be mature for your father and brothers sake. Perhaps that's why you remain untouched, there are too many issues that no one wants to unravel.” She looked at Lecter in betrayal.

“We are not like the others, Eria. We will not let you down. These are issues we have tried to help you understand.”

“You already have.”

“Let’s count, shall we,” Crane smiled, limping a little closer. “Kept you here longer, where you made friends, instead of allowing you to return home where you would have tried to kill yourself again.”

Closer.

“Getting you to eat, instead of allowing you to starve yourself.”

Allowing. A reminder that everything she was, everything she had, was because they permitted it.

“Offering therapy to allow you a path to better heal. Look at you now, most people would be immobilized by that amount of my fear tozin. But there you are.”

“Drugging me, locking me up, beating me with a belt,” she interjected.

“Disciplined you,” Lecter corrected. “Helped you in achieving a greater awareness of your own psyche and fears that hold you back. All we have asked of you is trust. You would take the blade to your skin on behalf of your father, why not the blade to his skin for his crimes against you? Flesh for flesh. Everything society has been teaching you is a lie. You do not need to hide who you are with us. You already believe yourself responsible for one death.”

She shook her head. “He’s not why I did what I did! It wasn't some act to gain his affection,” She snapped.

There was a hissing beside her, she glanced over to see the tail of a snake slither under the bed. Her mother was gone, but the dark figure she always saw in the corner was not. He was a constant demon when she was given the fear toxin.

“Then enlighten us,” Crane said.

“I couldn't take it anymore! I couldn't take the pitiful looks cast my way, the whispers. I couldn't take having to put on a fucking face to everyone and pretend everything was fine when I thought of ending it every single day. I never wanted to get out of bed or brush my fucking teeth. Everything was an obstacle. I was alone, drowning. While my father acted oblivious to everything. I failed as a daughter, I failed as a friend, I failed as a mother!”

She froze, realizing what she had said. “I failed as a s-sister.”

“It would make sense why you saw Lucian in that way. To him, you were a mother,” Lecter said. “His only protector in this cruel world. I too lost a sibling. My sister, I can understand your pain. It is an unimaginably difficult burden to bear.”

That made her pause. She reminded herself she didn't know him. Had no idea what either of their lives were like or how they'd grown up.

Probably not well to be this fucked up as they are now.

“Please, just stop,” she cried. She couldn't afford to feel sympathy. “Why won't you just kill me already? Make it end. I know I've been a constant thorn in your sides.”

“You are of more use to us alive,” Crane said. “Or have you not been paying attention?”

“I have also never led you to that impression. I have instead always reinforced how meaningful I find our bond,” Lecter said.

“Why me?” she snapped. Crane shrugged, eyes moving to the knife.

“Do you not recognize it?” His eyes shone with enough pride and mischief that she pulled her gaze from them down to it.

She studied it. The weight, the shine. It felt familiar in her hands and realization hit her like a brick. The reason why it had had no dust, they had planted it for her to find. She closed her eyes, gripping the handle harder, letting out a dry laugh.

“You planned for me to come to this room. I was a fool to think I stood a chance or had a choice. The fucking knife I almost ended my life with, how poetic.”

“It was rather easy to obtain,” Dr. Lecter said, stepping closer to her. “Your father didn't want the reminder. He was more than happy for me to take it off his hands.”

She opened her eyes, mouth dry, glaring towards him. “You went to my house?”

“To speak with your father, yes. He has been in a state of distress, so I offered him some encouraging words.”

The knife was heavy in her hand, a burden of remembering the pain she had caused. It was a reminder that she was the cause of all of this. She was the reason Teddy and Emily were in danger.

“Your room offered me more insight into you than he could. Very bare, aside from a few books and journals. There was still quite a bit of blood left in the house, your father hadn't brought himself to clean it up yet. Though, I gathered he isn't a tidy individual. Presumably why you have a need for control and neatness. It was all too painful for him. My belief is that he uses it to torture himself. To gaze at the blood and wish it were his instead.”

Her grip on the handle tightened.

It would be so easy. Just one swipe across her throat and it'd be over. No fuck up this time. No way to save her. Just the darkness, peace, like she'd always craved.

But who would they turn to fulfill their torturous desires? Jane? Sebastian?

She brought the blade to her neck, tears streaming down her cheeks.

So what if they found someone else? It wasn't her fault they were fucked in the head. She didn't have to be a martyr. Teddy and Emily would still work to get Jane and Seb out, even with her untimely death. Her death would change nothing.

“My dear, sweet Valeria,” Crane's voice was mellifluous. He slid closer, only two feet from her now. “You don't want to do that. Don't you think you've hurt Emily enough?”

She licked her lips, tasting blood.

There was a threat in his words, despite his sentimental tone. A warning, that if she tried, there would still be consequences. Her death would solve nothing. They knew where her father lived, what would stop them from going after him too?

Her death would change everything.

Her arm dropped to her side in defeat.

Dr. Lecter moved towards her.

Horns, blood, hooves.

She wasted no time, moving forward and lunging at him with the knife. He was quicker.

The knife stopped inches from his throat, her wrist locked in a death grip. His nails dug into her skin, eyes shone with excitement.

“That was rather rude and foolish, Valeria.”

She prepared for this, throwing her head forward to headbutt him. She heard the satisfying crunch or his nose and grew lightheaded. Her brain shifted in her skull.

He faltered only for a second before he twisted her wrist painfully, causing the knife to fall from her hand.

“No!” she cried, trying to claw him with her other hand.

Her other arm was grabbed by Crane. They both dragged her across the floor and to the bed.

She was no match for their strength. Her wrists and ankles were soon immobilized by leather straps at each corner of the bed.

She screamed, a high pitched noise that reverberated throughout the room almost busting her ear drums. Pulling against the restraints, a hand grabbed her chin, retching her face to the side.

Lecter’s eyes were dark, but the faintest pull of his lips cued her in that he was enjoying this. Blood dripped down his nose, just reaching his cupids bow.

“Who placed the camera?”

“Go to hell!”

The straps were too tight, she was trapped, confined. She couldn't move, her chest was getting tighter.

Crane stepped beside the bed, a rag and bucket in his hand.

Lecter held out his hand for Crane to place the rag in it.

Within seconds her face was covered by the fabric, her breathing strained.

The rag began to dampen, water cascading to her nose.

She held her breath, fighting against it.

But eventually, she breathed out and made the mistake of inhaling.

The cloth tightly clung to her nostrils, cutting off her air passage. She opened her mouth to scream, but the small action caused the cloth to suck in, choking her.

The water was freezing, the cloth was soaked now, water still raining down.

Panic, that's all she could feel. Sheer and utter panic. Her chest was tight, heart in pain, feeling like it was going to burst in her ribcage.

She was back in the closet, hands bleeding.

She pulled hard on the restraints, feeling her limbs began to strain on their own, twitching.

This did not imitate drowning, this was drowning. She was about to try and breathe in when the rag was pulled from her face.

She gasped for air, gulping lungfuls down. Lecter ran his hand through her hair in a comforting manner.

“Who put the camera there, Valeria?” he asked, tone soft.

A snake slithered up her leg, sinking its fangs in her flesh. She cried out, pushing her body deeper into the bed.

She shook her head. “I don't know.”

“Hm, what a shame,” Crane said.

The rag was back over her face. She tried turning her head to throw it off, but a hand gripped her jaw painfully, forcing her head to stay.

She couldn't breathe, this time she allowed the water to invade her nose. Coughing out, the rag sucked back into her mouth.

She held her breath.

Then the water crashed down, hard, heavy, and constant. Much more force this time.

Her body began spasming, toes curling so hard she felt the bones snap inside of her.

The water was in her lungs, drowning her, consuming her.

"You deserve this.” Emily whispered in her ear. ”I can finally be free of you. You are nothing but a burden.”

The world was bright again. She coughed, water forcing its way out of her mouth.

“Kill me,” she hissed. Her eyes flashed between the both of them. “It won't change that I don't know who did it.”

“I'm sorry we have to come to such measures, but you must understand we gave you options,” Lecter said.

“Go fuck yourself,” she hissed, eyes crazed. He looked at her disapprovingly.

Crane snickered. “What an interesting idea.”

She looked at them confused. They both undid the straps that bound her to the bed, she tried to scoot up to a sitting position, but Crane latched his hand around her ankle and yanked her to the edge of the bed. He placed his palm on her chest, pushing her back down.

His hands clasped around her wrists, pinning them down by her head.

He forced his legs between hers, prying them apart so hers were on either side of his waist.

“What are you doing?” she asked, panic entering her voice.

“The toxin should be setting in more now,” he grinned. “Why don't you and I have some fun?”

“No, no-”

He gripped her wrists. “Calm.” There was that fog again, clouding her mind, forcing her body to listen.

He forced his lips against hers. Not tenderly or with passion like Lecter had, with cruelty.

In pure desperation and utter fear, she bit him. He jerked back, anger flashed across his face.

He smacked her, hard.

Her cheek stung in pain, far from a normal pain. It was like the pain the belt had caused in its wake. Her head snapped to the side, a ringing in her eardrums. He moved his hands so one of his now held both her wrists.

His other hand roamed down her waist towards the waistline of her pants.

“Please, don't do this,” she cried. He tilted his head.

“But you look too enticing to pass up.”

Lecter reached out a hand to gently caress her throat. “From reading your journals it is my understanding you crave domination.”

“I never wrote-!” one squeeze and she quickly shut her mouth.

Crane's hand was in her pants, trailing his fingertips along her skin.

“You did not, but you wrote about past relationships. You wrote about how none of them rivaled you. They were all too passive. Perhaps that's why you came to favor the affection of Ms. Hart.”

Breaking, she was breaking.

“I don't-Ah!”

Crane shoved two fingers inside her. The raw feeling felt like fire. He began moving them in circles to build her arousal. She cried at the burning pain that tore through her body.

The dead bodies of Emily, Teddy, Jane, and Sebastian stood behind Crane. Looking at her with hate.

Disgusting, she was filthy.

“You are headstrong, Valeria. But you have had to be strong for too long. Let go. Let us control you. Give in to us.”

She shook her head vigorously. “Not this way, not like this.”

More snakes were crawling up her skin, their hissing filling the room.

Lecter leaned forward, lips brushing against hers, her breath caught in her throat. “Let us take care of you, pet.”

Crane stripped her of her pants and underwear and any dignity she had left.

Lecter removed his hand to strip her of her upper torso, before pushing her back down by her neck.

Crane unzipped his pants. She turned her head away, closing her eyes tightly shut.

She heard the echoed laughter around the room, voices taunting her. Dehumanizing and terrorizing her.

“Valeria, you are going to be beautiful to build up. Your darkness and true nature will shine fearlessly,” Lecter soothed, fingers still caressing her throat. “Look at Jonathan now, darling.”

She didn't know why, but she obeyed.

Crane's eyes were such a bright blue, like the sky, yet so full of malice. She sobbed.

“Please!”

Moving his fingers from her entrance to her clit to collect the moisture, he hushed her, lining himself up.

He pushed into her and the scream that tore from her throat was blood curdling, all the air forced its way out and she couldn't breathe back in. She was frozen.

He gave her no time to adjust. Pushing himself deeper and deeper into her body, she was being split apart, she felt her insides tearing.

She was bleeding, she could feel the blood pooling down her legs.

He was killing her.

“Stop! It hurts Dr. Crane!” she begged.

She couldn't see anything from the tears that flooded her vision. She was hyperventilating now, unable to catch her breath.

“Who placed the camera, Valeria?” Lecter asked.

She shook her head, unable to speak. Crane pulled out and thrust back into her. His hips smacked painfully against her skin. She could feel him in her cervix, he was destroying her. She tried desperately to wiggle further away, but he hooked his hands under her knees and forced her closer.

She was nauseous and dizzy. Her breathing did not calm down.

”Slut,” her father slurred in the corner.

“Shhh, shhh,” Lecter’s voice was an anchor to reality. She hadn't even realized her wrists were no longer restrained by his hold, instead stuck there by her own shock.

Both of his hands were now cupping her face, his thumbs tracing patterns.

“I did it,” she lied, her voice barely audible. “I placed the camera. It was stupid, b-but I got it from someone.”

Crane pulled out and slammed back into her twice as hard. She screamed again, praying to any deity that would hear to show mercy.

“Who gave you the camera to plant it?” Crane asked, voice strained. He knew she was lying, she opened her mouth but no words came out.

She rolled her eyes back as a wave of pleasure washed over her, bubbling in her lower stomach.

Lecter leaned forward, trailing his lips along the sensitive area of her neck. Shrivers ran down her spine and she involuntarily clenched around Crane.

“Fuck,” she heard Crane's strained voice.

Lecter moved his fingers onto her stomach, fingers barely brushing her skin.

“Who and how?” he echoed Crane’s question.

She whimpered, Crane now had a constant rhythm that had her fighting against her body's instinct to protect itself.

“What does it matter?”

“If you're going to lie, I'd prefer you do it well. Don't insult my intelligence, Eria.”

“Don’t call me that.”

His hand now cupped her breast, pinching her nipple between his fingers. She cried at the pain, finally finding the strength to move her hands to grip his wrist.

“Such brave words, dove. Are you truly in a position to be giving me orders?”

A rage consumed her, so strong that she almost forgot about the man fucking her without mercy. “Fuck you.” the words were spat with such venom she wasn't sure it was her own voice. “I fucking hate you both. You're just the same. Only Crane does all the bitch work you tell him to do.”

They looked amused again, like they knew something she didn’t. He stood, hands leaving her body. Crane and him shared a glance.

“I had hoped this situation would be under better circumstances, after all, losing your virginity can be a momentous occasion. I'm sorry it had to be a punishment. Perhaps in the future, you will keep this in mind.”

Crane pulled out and flipped her body over effortlessly, her front now pressed against the bed. He reentered her and somehow she could feel him even deeper.

She sobbed into the bed, clutching the sheets in her hands. His pace was ruthless as he slid in and out of her, she could hear him breathing heavily. The sounds of skin slapping threatened to send her over the edge.

A numbness washed over her and she moved her head to the side, staring at the wall blankly.

She gave into the disassociation. The figures in the room bled into the walls, staining them crimson. Blood pooled under her from the wounds on her back and the cuts on her wrists.

Crane leaned down digging his nails into her hips.

“Oh, my dear, none of that.”

She yelped in pain when a hand wound itself in her hair and yanked her head up. She used her arms to support her weight as she stared into the gaze of Dr. Hannibal Lecter. But it was Crane who gripped her hair, using it as leverage to pull her back against him.

“You’re not going to tell them we are aware of this escape plan. You will play along like normal. Do you understand, dove?”

“W-why?” she was breathing heavier now, a heat radiating through her body. The smell of him stirring something deep in her core.

“That is not for you to know.”

Crane dropped her head, then snaked it around her throat. Crane pulled her against him, thrusting in and out. Lecter leaned back, watching them intensely.

His grip was cutting off her windpipe.

“P-p-please,” it came out as more of a breathy whine than she intended.

He pressed his lips against her ear, his breath warm. “You wanted this from the beginning, didn't you? That's why you always acted so difficult towards me. You wanted me to put you in your place and fuck you senseless.”

She couldn't shake her head, though she tried. He chuckled, his voice husky.

Just as everything was beginning to go dark he loosened his grip, allowing her air before tightening it again.

Pain, pleasure, and fear. They all walked a thin defining line, not a non existent one.

The light was back, flickering in and out of her vision, accompanied by a ticking sound.

Valeria stopped fighting, feeling her body take over and begin to twitch as she stared into Lecter’s eyes, clenching around Crane.

“That’s it, dear. Show me how much you crave it.”

She knew this would not be the last time.

Black spots danced in her vision. She leaned against Crane, eyes rolling back, savoring his warmth in the freezing room.

He moved his other hand to grip her breast.

She felt her walls flutter. A euphoric feeling passed over her as she came, barely able to think while her own body betrayed her.

Crane soon followed, bending her over the bed, keeping deep in her as he rode out his own high.

She could see Lecter's bulge in his pants as he crouched down to look into her eyes.

She felt nothing.

“As the light flickers, imagine a flame, the ticking crackling of the wood. Hear my voice and tell me what I wish to know. You are safe, Valeria.”

Hannibal’s voice led her into a deep trance.

“Safe,” she whispered.

She was never going to escape this place.

She was never going to escape them.

They were all doomed.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt 4 | Jonathan Crane x fem!character

summary: Crane plans to return to Gotham with the young detective. Their relationship has changed from enemies to lovers, to partners in crime and it strains their ability to trust one another. Will their relationship be able to stand the pressure of Gotham's crime community? And will Crane stay sane enough to protect her?

warnings: recalls back to drugging and violence, fighting, guns, physical violence, betrayal, trust issues.

word count: 6368k

Bury a Friend- Billie Eilish 🎶

More parts to come!

Recap if needed ( I did lol):

Detective Y/N Y/L/N was one of Gotham’s finest until she overstayed her welcome in Dr. Jonathan Crane’s lab one night. After a lesson on fear and desire, Dr. Crane couldn’t let her go and introduced her to his partner in crime, Ra’s al Ghul. After being with Crane, the young detective could no longer deny the insatiable criminal desire brewing in her and decided to join the men of the League of Shadows. When she and Crane are betrayed by al Ghul, Crane falls back on his backup plan and they escape to his childhood home outside of Gotham city. A night alone together with the ghosts of his past come back to haunt them but bring them even closer together. Secrets are exposed and bonds are cemented as Crane reveals to the young detective her true identity. Learning that she was the daughter of the Arkhams who founded Arkham Asylum but were murdered by Thomas Wayne, she adopts the name her parents gave her when she was born and becomes Matilda Y/N Arkham. She learns that Crane has his own ties to the Wayne family, bringing them even closer together. And piecing her past together gives her the confidence she needed to be her own person and leave her original naiveté behind. She emerges from this conversation as Lady Arkham and agrees to return to Gotham with Crane. 

i 

Her eyes snapped to his as he explained his strategy, his face dangerously close. 

“Ra’s failed. It's all over the news now. Batman swooped in and saved the day,” he pursed his lips. “I even got an honorable mention. ‘Dr. Jonathan Crane of Arkham Asylum escapes Gotham during mass hysteria, his whereabouts unknown!’” He donned a commercial accent of a newspaper man and went back to his desk, pulling out a pair of silver-rimmed glasses, a backup that he kept in his desk in Crane House. When he put them on she couldn’t mistake him for anyone else any longer, he was the infamous Dr. Jonathan Crane.

“Any news on Ra’s? What happened to him?” She folded her arms across her chest and puffed a strand of hair out of her face. 

“They believe he went down with the high speed rail as it carried the micro-wave emitter into a different sector of the city but who knows?” He smiled and shrugged, a hint of his old Scarecrow mannerisms came back into play as he talked. The slip in sanity or just the cool, steely composure that Crane usually donned was exciting, she felt that rush again like the night at Arkham when he had been drugged. He was the Scarecrow again even without the toxin. “They know me, of course, but you,” he pointed down at her chest, his finger brushing her sternum, “they have no idea what you’ve done.” 

“Does that mean we’re going back to Gotham city, Scarecrow?” 

“Yes, it does.” He nodded and paced the room for a moment, his forehead now creased in concentration. 

“Then what do you need me to do?” She smiled and perched on the edge of the desk, crossing her legs and leaning forward to listen. He stopped in front of her and cleared his throat, changing characters. 

“You will return to Gotham and stumble into the hospital, dazed and bewildered, still feeling the effects of the fear toxin. You will be treated and Sgt. Gordon will hear that you have turned up and change your missing person status to found,” he talked as if he were teaching a class. She recrossed her legs and he gave her a warning glance, ‘wait until he was finished,’ it said. “I will get the folders of your birth certificate and evidence to you once you leave the hospital and after a few days, you will show them to Sgt. Gordon. When he asks why and how you were able to find this information-”

“I’ll tell him that I discovered the cold case while helping the city restore their records after the chaos.”

“And by some miracle, you uncovered the truth after a little extra digging.”

“But what if Gordon doesn’t want to dig up old controversies? What if he still has a soft spot for the Waynes?” 

“If he does, take the records to the hospital and get a DNA test and run it alongside the medical records the hospital had at your birth, it's all there.” He gestured to the folder beside her and cleaned the panel of glass in his glasses before restoring them to his face. 

“And that will rightfully reestablish me as Matilda Y/N Arkham.” 

“Heir to the Arkham fortune- Arkham Asylum, which finds itself in need of a new director, one with a solid, law-abiding reputation.”

“And a good name.” She added. “Though I like yours better.” She flirted and he chuckled. 

“Then you can have it,” he cocked his head, “but only if you do this well.” 

She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not but it turned her on nonetheless. 

“That sounds manipulative to me.”

“You’d know if I was manipulating you,” he smirked darkly. 

“And that sounds like gaslighting.” 

“No, it's a lesson on basic psychology,” he licked his lips, “Now pay attention,” he scolded her and she forced herself to be quiet as Crane continued with his plan. 

“When you become Arkham’s newest director, our work will finally begin. I have some people I want you to meet but the time will come for that and first, we need to focus on getting you back to Gotham.” He smiled with a wild look in his eye and she shivered… Scarecrow. 

“Is it safe to fly back? Won’t people see us” Matilda looked down at the watch on her wrist. They both knew that it wasn’t dark enough outside to return unnoticed. 

“We aren’t going to fly back.” 

“Then how…” she trailed off. Crane crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the large desk behind them. His crazed face ignited a strange excitement in her and suddenly, she knew exactly what he had in mind. The sewer lines. 

“Because we dried up the main waterline in Gotham, we’ll be able to travel through the empty sewers… back into Gotham.” He smirked haughtily and launched himself off of the table with the subtle quickness of a cat. 

“He was right,” Matilda smiled. Crane cocked his head to the side but before he could ask her what she meant, she answered him. 

“Ra’s. He called you a criminal mastermind that night in your apartment.” 

Crane rolled his eyes and laughed tightly, “I hope that was the only thing he was right about.” 

“What do you mean?” She furrowed her brow. Crane looked back at her and shrugged his narrow shoulders slightly. His eyes traveled down her body and then back up. 

“It all comes down to trust, detective.”

She lowered her head and nodded at her feet. She didn’t know how to respond to something like that. The topic of trust had come up countless times over the past few days and yet, could they ever really trust each other? She thought so. Crane noticed her change in behavior and clicked his tongue affectionately. “Ra’s didn’t know anything about trust. The man couldn’t even trust himself. I’ll admit, I didn’t trust you in the beginning, not even until last night, but right now in this very moment, I realize how much I’ve relied on you over the past few days. You are my sole reason for survival and I understand that now.” 

Matilda smiled and kissed Crane sharply across the mouth. Her teeth caught his bottom lip and he encouraged her by pulling her face closer to his. His fingers were pressed so harshly against her cheek that he could nearly trace the lines of teeth in her jaw. They broke apart and rested their foreheads together, exchanging breath. 

“Are you ready to earn your new title, Lady Arkham?” Crane smirked and handed her the file from his desk. 

“I’ve already earned it, doctor.” 

ii

She didn’t pack a bag, that wouldn’t make sense in case she was busted by Gordon on her way back into the city. Instead, she changed into what she had worn the day before: black slacks and a navy sweater. She fastened her gun back into its holster around her waist and looped her police badge around her neck. The collar of the sweater managed to hide the thin necklace of bruises from where Crane had choked her while under the influence of his own fear serum. 

In her moments alone, Matilda mulled over her recent revelations. Never once could she have guessed that her parents were actually the Arkhams and in charge of Gotham’s most notorious asylum before they had been murdered. Thomas Wayne had taken everything from her and done the same to Crane. The Waynes would take and take and take until the entire city was desperate, damaged, and deplorable. Thomas Wayne had made the city like this, a place where someone needed to be the hero, and what had his son become? Bruce Wayne was a socialite and the golden boy of Wall Street locker-room talk. Who needed a real hero when a spoiled, chauvinist jerk could use haughty architecture to distract the masses? 

She would avenge her parents one way or another and she didn’t even need Crane’s help to do it. Ever since he’d introduced her to his fear serum, it had unlocked a part of her psychosis that complimented his criminal genius too well to be a coincidence. He’d seen this part of her since the very beginning, in his eyes, she’d already proven herself, she’d already become Lady Arkham. The cruel find each other and the vengeful do too. Gone were the days when she questioned the morals of Crane’s methods, now she would join him in resetting the precedent. Together, they would make a new Gotham… or tear it apart. She hadn’t decided yet. Fuck it. 

Crane wore all black, turning himself into a shadow or the hard edge of black onyx. He slipped a pistol into his front pocket and slipped his scarecrow mask into a safe place along the lining of his jacket. There were dark lines beneath his eyes and a twitch in his smile: both symptoms that his sanity was starting to slip. Ra’s had betrayed him but looking on the bright side (as if), it had provided a new perspective. He could turn his attention to a more important foe, the one Gotham called Batman. 

“I know you’re there,” Crane called out, interrupting his own thoughts.

Matilda stepped out from behind the cracked door. Crane was fixing his jacket in the mirror and brushed off his chest. 

“Why do you still feel the need to spy on me, detective?” 

“Call it a kind of kink, whatever you want, but it's an instinct at this point. Years in the Gotham police department makes you into a great eavesdropper if you want to stay informed.” 

“I’m not one to judge by any means, darling, but lurking in the shadows? How… unsettling.” Crane clucked his tongue in mock-pity. 

“Do you have a diagnosis, doctor?” She leaned against the doorframe with her hands at the small of her back. 

“I’d have to do an examination.” Crane met her at the door and brushed his pointer finger against the edge of her jaw. 

“Kinky-”

Crane rolled his eyes and switched off the light in his room, having to reach over her shoulder to do so. 

“Oh… you have no idea, detective,” Crane’s dark whisper greeted her in the dark room as he pressed his body against hers. He took her hands from behind her back and pushed them up above her head. His tone became serious as he addressed her. 

“You’re a smart girl, detective so I’m sure you’ve already surmised how important this is. Do as I say and we’ll both get back into Gotham alive, alright?” His voice was curt, like a stern warning but his lips were occupied, whispering across her cheek but never kissing her. “I’d like you better alive.” He added and pulled her through his bedroom door into the bright hallway. 

“Then keep me alive.” She retorted and blinked away the brightness of the room. She could hear Crane’s quiet chuckle behind her as she raced ahead. 

They left out the grand front door. She paused to look back at the large and beautiful house behind them, its windows dark and uninviting. She hoped she’d be back. 

“What did you tell Hobbs that we were leaving? Does he know?” She hurried to keep up with Crane who was already a few paces ahead. He paused to chuckle and shake his head, his dark hair shifting in place. 

“Your concern for others is touching, truly. They know but they don’t know everything. They know what I want them to.” 

“Do you think we’ll come back here?” She asked as they maneuvered through the high grass. Brambles snapped against their pants and she struggled to keep herself from slipping on rocks hidden in the dark ridges of Gotham’s countryside. Crane stopped in his tracks and turned to her abruptly, his eyes reflecting the light of the gibbous moon. 

“Would you like that?” He raised an eyebrow. The house had offered him no comfort before, only bad memories and nightmares, but with the girl, maybe he could learn to live with the ghosts of his past. But could it be possible? Did she like Crane House even after seeing its cold interior and brittle bones? She came to a stop and tried to catch her breath. 

“I would, yes,” she nodded and glanced back at the house, its outline barely visible without the interior lights. “I think the house is the key to understanding Dr. Jonathan Crane…” she smiled and fixed a strand of gelled hair out of Crane's pale face. 

“But do you mean it?” Crane caught her hand and held it, his heart was pounding. Honestly, it was embarrassing. She’d never seen him so desperate before. A piece of him was down on his knees before her, begging for commitment and affirmation. Even the toughest of men will break before a good woman. Matilda gave Crane a small smile and nodded. 

“I do.” 

Crane released a short breath and cleared his throat. She bit her lip to keep from giggling. Had she flustered the great Dr. Crane? 

“Well in that case. I want you to come back and live with me after this is all over.” Crane told her calmly, not asking. 

They passed the hill with the scarecrow but Crane didn’t even notice. Matilda looked over at his pace face, glowing in the offcast light. He was a villain, he was not bred to be trusted. Could she live with someone that she’d always question his loyalty? That didn’t seem like a very healthy relationship but honestly, that wasn’t the worst of their problems. Remember the lab table? The dubious consent? Whatever, she could change him. 

iii

They approached the mouth of the sewer offshoot in cautious silence. Crane pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose but the beads of sweat dripping from his hairline acted against him. The tunnel was dark and ominous like a large open mouth ready to close at any sign of movement. Crane pulled a long flashlight from his jacket and shone it into the mouth of the tunnel. The light barely pilfered the massive darkness, making Matilda shake her head in disbelief. 

“Why do I feel like this is a very bad idea?” She whispered with a wary smile. Crane chuckled darkly and lowered his light slightly, illuminated the ground. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark, detective?” His smirk was unmistakable even in the dark. She felt old pangs of annoyance rise inside her from dealing with the old Crane back in Gotham as a detective. She sighed curtly and pulled the gun from her holster. 

“Not scared, just careful.” 

“Well you can stop being careful now, darling. You’re playing with the big boys now.” 

“Shut it, Crane.” She shushed him and aimed into the tunnel with her gun. They slowly walked into the open sewer system and left Gotham’s countryside (and pleasantry) behind them. They tried to dampen the sound of their footsteps by treading softly but the acoustics betrayed their every move.

“While we’re down here, I should tell you a little about my friends,” Crane broke the silence with a lowered voice. Matilda could just make out his silhouette in the flashlight’s glare.  

“You have friends?” She deadpanned back and Crane sighed, shaking his head. 

“Don’t push it detective, I’m the one who knows the way to Gotham. You’d be lost down here without me.” 

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“You’re feisty today… I like it,” Crane broke into a large, devilish grin and laughed despite himself. 

They continued down the series of dry, empty passageways until they reached a large rotunda. The light from the flashlight was useless in lighting the whole room but it didn’t matter because Crane switched off the light, dropping them into sudden darkness. 

“What the fuck?” She whispered but Crane didn’t respond. She could hear him walking away but the darkness and echoes disoriented her and she couldn’t tell which direction he had gone. 

“Crane,” she hissed but still no response came. And one more reason why she couldn’t fully trust the man/criminal mastermind. She imagined for a moment that he was actually leaving her in the dark. Why would he go through all of that  just to abandon her down here? That is to say unless there was a reason why they were there in that specific room. Matilda shook as she raised the pistol once again to her eye level and waited for any sign of danger. She’d prepared for this in the police academy. She’d graduated first in her class. Some hide-in-the-dark game wasn’t going to distract her from her talent as a police officer in Gotham. Whatever the hell was about to happen, she was ready. 

She felt it before she knew what hit her. 

A fist slammed into her gut, knocking her off-balance. She regained control quickly and stabilized herself, panting. The size of the hand was larger than Crane’s. Someone else was with them in the dark. She anticipated his next move which came from the side, so she ducked and used the opportunity to kick her opponent wherever she could. A grunt told her that she had been successful in landing her blow. She rolled to the side and barely avoided a kick to her ribs, nearly squealing in surprise. The gun was swept out of her hand and she could hear it skid across the crude concrete floor. It was too far away now, she’d have to fight with her fists. When she jumped to her feet, she danced around in the dark, quick on the balls of her feet to outrun whoever her attacker was. 

“This isn’t a fair fight, you know.” She growled out. She was met with frustrating silence. Where the hell was Crane? She could smell the body beside her so she threw a punch and yelled out when her knuckles came into contact with ribbed steel. It felt like a machine of some sorts but it was connected to the thing she was fighting. Shaking out her wounded hand she tried to duck the next punch but it still caught her in the shoulder. Anger was welling up inside her as she tried to dance around her opponent. She was ready to fucking kill whoever this person was. There was no way she’d die in a sewer so soon after she’d learned about her true identity. That wasn’t going to happen, not to her. 

She screamed as she punched the figure beside her, striking a bare chest and knocking the man back. She followed him as he moved backwards, landing punches against muscle and an armor-like material. He shoved her backwards with impressive strength and she fell to the ground, cringing.

When she stood, she sensed a flurry of movement and braved a blind punch. It landed but the body was different. 

“You must be kidding me, there are two of you fuckers?” She hissed and landed a second punch where she believed a jaw would be. She missed, and as her fist sailed through the air, a well-placed kick hit her between her hip and her last rib. She screamed out in pain and lashed out, punching the figure. The figure coughed from the blow but quickly recovered. In his defenseless moment, she grabbed the man’s shoulders and raised her knee to his groin, striking him with a swift movement. Unlike most men, the attacker merely hissed and cursed beneath his breath. She knew the sound of that voice. 

“Jonathan?” She whispered in disbelief. 

“You really need to stop using that mint shampoo. I can tell exactly where you are, even in the dark.” His voice was strained as he was obviously still coping from the pain. 

“Oh yeah? Then why didn’t you see that coming? Hurts, doesn’t it?” She growled and raised her fist to punch him but his hand stopped her. She could feel his body inches from hers, a familiar chemistry sparking between them. 

“Why are you doing this?” She whispered, his hand still grasped around her raised fist. Crane sighed and drew in a long breath. She could nearly feel him shrug his shoulders before answering. 

“You need to learn how to fight anyone when forced too… even me, darling.” Crane pushed her back and smiled as she fell back. “It may surprise you to hear but hand-to-hand combat is one of my many talents. Now get up and punch me harder.”

She could hear the condensation in his unmistakable voice. She rolled to the side before crouching. Crane tried to kick her but she had already moved, giving her an opportunity to elbow a tender place on his back. He cursed and swung around hitting her jaw. She covered her mouth before she could scream out in pain and alarm. Was he trying to kill her now? 

“Fuck you,” she spat and launched herself onto him, knocking him flat on his back on the floor. She was trying to hold down his arms as he smirked. 

“You already have, remember?” 

His sentence caught her off guard, giving him the last opportunity he needed to shove her off.

“If you’d turn on the fucking lights we could fight properly, you bastard,” her lip curled up as she spoke. She wiped sweat from her forehead and tried to catch her breath. 

“Good point,” a man with a strange accent grunted somewhere beside her. In the next second, large industrial lamps suspended from the tall ceiling were turned on, blinding her after so long in the dark. She tried to look around for the man but her eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough in the sudden light. She scrambled to her feet and shaded her eyes. 

Before her she saw a man of unbelievable size. He was tall and grotesquely jacked, muscles straining against his skin. On his face he wore a dark machine with ribbed metal cables fitted to the front and connected to a tank in the center of his chest. His head was shaved, a pity really, and he wore little more than a tank top and heavy cargo pants. The large man shifted his dark goggles off of his eyes and sighed deeply. 

“You were right, Crane. She’s got potential.” 

“That’s my girl,” Crane walked out from behind her, replacing his glasses onto his face and rolled his sleeves back down. She was still breathing heavily as she looked between the two men. 

“You both need some serious couple’s therapy,” the other man observed and laughed quietly to himself. His laugh was deep and unsettling. She didn’t laugh back. Instead, she wiped a layer of blood from her lip and spat a wad of bloody saliva on the ground.   

“I appreciate the concern,” she quipped sarcastically to the stranger and turned to Crane, “ but what the hell was that? If you wanted to fight me why not do it in the light?” 

Crane nodded, acknowledging her point and smiled slowly. 

“I can answer that,” the man interjected before Crane could respond, “Your boyfriend here has been working with me for a few years now. He contacted me to inform me about a young woman who could fill one of the recently-made-available roles in our organization. However, before I could formally meet you, I wanted to see what kind of potential you had.”

“You also needed to be able to attack me if required. Personal relationships are dangerous in our line of work, which is why we cut the lights. We didn’t want you to be able to see me.”

“This is insane,” she ran her hands over her face, still fuming. She didn’t even know who this other man was. What the hell was Crane thinking?

“I know,” Crane smiled widely, his plump lips pulled back into a manic grin, “and wasn’t it fun?” 

Matilda peeked through her fingers at Crane and then moved her gaze to look at the terrifying man beside him. 

“Oh I’m sorry, where are my manners? I should introduce myself.” The man slipped his hands beneath the straps of his tank top, supporting the weight of what appeared to be a respirator. “My name is Bane.” 

“Matilda… Arkham,” she managed to reply.

“There’s a few more people you need to meet before you go back into Gotham.” Crane cupped her injured cheek and wiped the remaining blood from her chin with his thumb gently. “Remember what I said? Hmmm?” 

She looked at him with narrowed, pissed-off eyes. What kind of game was he playing now? Crane chuckled when she didn’t answer and reached behind his back. He withdrew her gun and pressed the handle into her sternum, between her breasts. 

“You’re playing with the big boys now,” he whispered against her ear.

What had she gotten herself into? 

iv 

They escorted her into a different room inside the network of underground tunnels. Much to her surprise, they had converted many of the abandoned tunnels into hideouts for members of The League of Shadows. As they entered the next room, she saw half a dozen other men in various styles of dress and disguises. She was the only woman, and even though she hated Crane at that moment, she stuck close to him. 

“Don’t be scared, darling. They’re my friends.” 

“I know, that’s why I’m worried,” she growled but still stayed close by his side. He chuckled quietly and placed a protective hand on her lower back. 

“You’ll be fine.” His voice feathered against her neck, warming the core in her navel. They really did need couples therapy. 

“Ah my friends!” Crane smiled darkly and extended his free hand to show her off to the semi-circle of criminals around them. “Welcome the newest member of the League… Lady Arkham.” 

The title on his lips sounded so perfect. She was Lady Arkham. 

The men in the room nodded. 

“She used to be one of Gotham’s ‘finest’ and now, she’s one of its worst,” Crane’s grip tightened around her waist. “She’ll be going back into the city tonight and working undercover for our cause. She’s our best and most important weapon. No one knows who she is… yet.” 

“But that is going to change,” Bane’s loud voice boomed beside them. “Soon everyone will know who she is and what kind of people she represents. Her collaboration with the police and important officials in the city is crucial to the sanctity of our plan for Gotham. That being said, she will hold her own just like any one of us, but her survival is necessary… for the meantime at least,” he cleared his throat. 

“Thank you for that vote of confidence. I’m just here for vengeance,” she addressed them all with a curt voice and small shrug.

“Oh, but darling, aren’t we all?” Crane smirked and gestured to the criminals in front of them. “You question our motives so let’s make it very clear. We’re all here for vengeance. Anything else is just a lie.” 

“Then what’s the plan that I’ve already been added to?” She raised her eyebrow. Bane sighed loudly, his respirator acting as a microphone. 

“You don’t need to know that yet, all that matters now is that we have big plans for Gotham and all of your old colleagues.”

Matilda smiled slowly and nearly started to laugh. She hated the bastards down at the police station, the ones who never believed her, supported her, or even paid attention to her. For all the men that treated her like she was a worthless addition to their force, she’d make them pay. That sounded good to her. 

“I think she likes that idea,” Crane smirked and trailed his hand up her back to a lock of hair. He tugged it gently but she felt it and was comforted by the gesture. 

“Good, then let’s get on with the introductions shall we?” Bane announced and gestured for Crane to begin, “Dr. Crane?” 

Crane nodded his head, his expression returning to a serious state of business. He let go of her and paced slowly down the line of men. 

“You’ve probably heard of most of these names from your time in Gotham, detective, but now you finally get the chance to meet them. This is the remaining roster of members after Ra’s unfortunate passing,” his lip curled and his nose scrunched as he spoke.

“The Penguin, Two-Face, Killer Croc, two of Bane’s men, and of course, the Joker.” 

Hearing the Joker’s name came as a shock to the detective. She’d been hearing his name for months. Robberies in the era had been connected to the mysterious criminal nicknamed the Joker after the playing card he always left behind. But what startled her the most was the man called Two-Face. It wasn’t his appearance but his face which was so recognizable. 

“Harvey Dent…” she heard herself whisper. Two-Face grinned and placed a hand in mock-admiration to his chest. 

“Aw, you still recognize me?” His voice was too hard to be kind but she still nodded and swallowed slowly. 

“Of course. You were supposed to be Gotham’s ‘White knight,’ it's saving grace.” 

“And who says I’m not? I plan on saving Gotham in my own way, not like Batman.”

Crane looked between Matilda and Harvey Dent, a sour expression tugging at his face. He really needed to work on his jealousy problem. Seeing Dent speak to the girl was almost more than he could handle. 

“We’re going back into Gotham tonight. Police Chief Gordon needs to see that she’s alive. Once he does, the plan begins. Understood?” Crane addressed the crowd of criminals who all nodded, except for Dent. 

“Pity, I had plans to kill Gordon’s family tonight,” Dent clucked, his half-burned lips pursed. Crane kept his expression straight and unchanging. 

“Try not to let your personal needs interfere with our work, Dent.”

“Sure thing, doc.” Dent hissed back and flipped a coin, “damn,” he whispered when he checked the face against his palm. Crane didn’t  bother to ask what he was flipping for and nodded at Bane who opened up a path for them to leave. Crane walked ahead of her and practically pulled her from the underground chamber and into the next one.

“I was flipping to see whether or not I should have gone out with the girl.”

 When they had turned the corner and were back on their way into the city she spoke up. “What happened to him?” 

Crane didn’t look over as he answered, his jaw clenched tightly in anger. 

“He lost his fiancee in a fire that was intentionally set.”

“By whom?” She interjected. 

Crane paused for a moment and sighed through his nose, “the Joker.” 

“The Joker tried to kill Dent?” 

“It’s a long story.” 

“When did this all happen?” She pushed, an eyebrow raised. “He’s Harvey Dent, I should have heard about something like this.” 

“Your department covered it up because Gordon was involved. He was the one that picked up his fiancee and took her to the place where she died.” 

“Surely he didn’t know…”

“Look,” Crane shoved her against the wall, his face inches from hers as they both panted from the startling action, “you need to decide here and now which side you’re on. The faster you realize that the people you used to know are just as corrupt as we are, the faster you can realize your potential with us… with me.” 

“It’s not that fucking easy, Crane.” She whispered harshly and struggled in his strong grip. 

“Isn’t it? Tell me where your trust lies.” 

“Well it certainly doesn’t lie with you anymore,” she freed her hands and shoved Crane away from her body, “you fucking attacked me and you let Bane attack me. I mean look at me! I’m bleeding, Crane. You did this to me,” she pointed at her busted lip. “How can I trust a man who changes so quickly, who doesn’t let me in, who doesn’t tell me things like this.”

“You were the top of your class in the police academy, you could fight anyone you wanted to. You were made to be one of us, you can’t deny that. This is what life is like in the League, you can’t trust anyone… but me. You can and need to trust me.”

Matilda shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “No,” she whispered and fought away Crane’s hands as he tried to catch her. 

“Look at me, detective. Look at me,” Crane caught her harshly in his arms and held her again against the wall. His tone was gentle though his hands holding her against the wall were rough. Slowly, she looked down at his face, half hidden in shadows. His brow was furrowed as he licked his lips and spoke.

“I only did what I had to do, detective. I would never have done anything else to seriously hurt you. I took your gun so Bane couldn’t use it, he still tried however. I hit you where it would hurt but where you could still take it because I need you to be here with me. If I wanted to kill you, detective, I would have done it the day I met you. You mean too much to me now.”

Crane cupped her face not-so-softly in his hands and turned her face up to his, pressing his mouth to her ear. 

“Listen to me, Miss Arkham…” he hissed against her cold skin, “I love you.” 

He couldn’t believe that the words were leaving his mouth as he spoke them. Every chemical compound in his body was screaming against it. Bonds were broken and reactions triggered as he confessed. Finally admitting his love for her both relieved and frightened him. It would no longer be just him, now he had a woman that he loved who required his protection, love, intelligence… But it was all true, everything he said and felt. He loved her.

Her heart leapt at his words like an electrical impulse flaring to new life. She had never expected him to say those words, the man who’d never loved before. When she looked into his eyes, she could tell that he was telling the truth because for the second time, she witnessed fear in them. When he pulled away she touched her nose to his and looked up into his sterile, silver-blue eyes, her feet finally touching the ground. 

“Are love and trust the same thing?” She asked breathlessly and Crane clenched his jaw and pursed his lips.

“They have to be.” 

They stared at each other in the yellowish light of the gas lamps suspended like flashlights above their heads. Crane’s black suit jacket and blood stained shirt looked so out of place in the tunnels. She could only imagine what she looked like in her slacks and a ruined blue sweater. The disloyal detective and the (actually) criminal psychiatrist, a match made in whatever the hell Gotham was - - heaven or hell?

“So where does your trust lie, Matilda?” Crane whispered, breaking the silence. She took a deep breath, not breaking eye-contact, and tilted her head to the side. She looked stunning in the yellow light, even with her lip busted and her jaw bruised. He could feel deep bruises developing on his own body and felt a sense of pride that she’d been the one to do that to him. She was the only one who could truly hurt him.  

“With you, Crane, and no one else.” 

With a breath of relief, Crane stepped closer. Their lips were millimeters apart as Crane cupped the back of her head with his hands and pressed against her hip with the other hand. She exhaled shakily before Crane finally kissed her, gently at first. Their eyes closed and their mouths molded together into that familiar space where everything else faded away. Crane pushed his tongue into her mouth and she moaned softly in return, melting into the cement behind her. They twisted their lips against each other as they moved their heads, wanting to taste every part of one another. He pulled her into his chest and she grabbed the back of his jacket to steady herself. His kiss hardened as she bit his lip harder than she needed to, a small act of revenge and affection. He knew that she knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold back if they kept going the way they were for much longer. Even with a pair of slacks in the way, he’d take her if given the chance and enough pent of desire to fuel it. Drawing up all the strength he could to pull back, Crane broke the kiss and met her eyes once again. 

“Gotham awaits, detective. Let’s get you home.”

...

end of Pt 4 :)

[cyberfox123]

Heart to heart

And to whomever is reading this. You deserve to be loved too. ^-^

[inkcoffeee]

Thinking about Scarecrow...

These last two are a lot older >.<

[sketchnskribbles]

Accessory of Amorous Impulsions

Ya'll ever wanted a Love Potion AU romance with our lovely Dr. Crane? Haha, I knew you would~

Here's some memes to celebrate! Go read, my fellow Gotham Rogue lovers🤎🧡

Chapter 3 Memes

Summary Below:

Not having lived in Gotham long, Elaine Hensley finds herself finally settling in. The decision to move to one of the most crime ridden cities in America hadn't been the most thought out one. She didn't regret it more until one fine chilly morning, Elaine found herself bagged and dragged off by a woman in pigtails.

She woke up to a situation that she even she couldn't have ever been able to predict.

~~~

In other words: Here's a Gotham-approved Rom-Com featuring our favorite burlap antagonist!

[cyberfox123]

Omg! I love these so much! My first Scarecrow x Cyberfox fan art. And my first STP fanart. 🥰😍

Okok it's still Christmas!! (Thank fuck this is technically a 2-day holiday!) So have your present @cyberfox123

What better way to celebrate the holidays than with CRIME?! :D/hj

Thanks for being a dear friend.

But...I am still on a stp kick so have this second gift!

The Narrator:

"The interior of the cabin is...gone. A vast open field of some type of crop stands before you, the stars above barely illuminating where you stand. Across from you is an ominous wooden archway, with a sign saying "ENTER" written in what looks to be "red" paint. The only other furniture of note is the broken lantern hanging loosely from a hook, and a barrel, with a Pristine Blade perched on its edge."

Voice of the Hero:

"It changed again...this isn't even a cabin anymore"

Voice of the Paranoid:

"She's in there! Waiting for us! I just know it!"

Voice of the Hunted:

"Stay alert. She has the advantage now. All that thick foliage makes for great camouflage"

[fkmarrycill]

Tumblr ate my original post, which only exists as a reblog that I can't edit. 😫😭😭😭 So, welcome to take two 🎬🎬…

Here are my stories for Cillian and some of his characters, also tagged #fkmarrycilllibrary. The most recent stories are listed first for each category.

These are mostly, but not all, smutty reads, noted by this handy symbol: 🔞.

I typically write one shots and drabbles, rather than chapter stories. Character stories are pretty true to canon, unless otherwise specified. Unless otherwise specified, RPF stories are AU in the same way--Cillian is single, with no kids.

I tend to not take requests, only because I am not the fastest of writers, and I don't want to leave anyone hanging. 🙃 But do send an idea if you have one--I've sometimes dropped everything to pursue a juicy idea. I'm chaotic like that. 😉

For more of my work, check out @brownskinsugarplum76 for Robert Plant (Led Zeppelin) stories, and @iggy-licious for Iggy Pop stories. We love a niche music fandom. 🥰

Last, please check for my perpetual reading list by searching #cillianwriterfam .

Thanks for stopping by and reading! Please feel free to comment or reblog! ❤️

Cillian RPF

🔞One Shot: Weekend in Bed

🔞One Shot: Pre-Gaming (Cillian x reader)

Cillian kiss drabble

Tommy Shelby, Peaky Blinders

🔞One Shot: A Small Favor (Tommy x reader)

🔞One Shot: At Ease (Tommy x OC)

One Shot: The Promise of Spring (Tommy x Lizzie)

🔞One Shot: Bad Things (Tommy x May Carleton)

Jackson Rippner, Red Eye

🔞Touch Me Tease Me Collection, Part 1 (Jackson x OC)

Dr. Jonathan Crane, Nolan Batman Trilogy

🔞WIP (Jonathan x reader)

[sl-newsie]

Behind Masks (Dr. Jonathon Crane x OC) Ch. 24: Love You To Death

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/744620213809594368/behind-masks-dr-jonathon-crane-x-oc-masterlist?source=share

It was all a lie. Dr. Crane gets the last laugh after all.

My heart drops into my stomach as a guard grips my arms behind me and forces me to stand. I’m led out of the echoing courtroom to the back door. The alley. Where they put bullets through skulls. And now it’s my turn. 

Congratulations, Prentiss. You finally went all the way off the deep end. How could I be such an idiot? All this time I thought… It doesn’t matter now. All I can think about now is how much I hope this will be quick and painless. As painless as being shot in the head can be. 

“On your knees!” The brute orders and kicks me down.

My knees scrape against the pavement. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.

“Any final comments, Reaper?” The guard taunts.

He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 

“Hello? Are you still here?” He pokes me and I feel the gun press to my temple. “Whatever. Say bye-bye-”

“Stop right there.”

Crane’s voice makes me want to bash my head against the ground. He makes me feel so naïve! If I could work my will I would rip his black heart out and then tear out my own shriveled heart. I hear his footsteps get closer until he’s standing right next to me. I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my broken spirit. Just pull the trigger already.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Crane kneels down next to me and I feel his breathing against my cheek. “Hold your breath and count to ten.”

Hiss! 

The familiar sound of a canister clicking open sends my body reacting on autopilot. I sweep my leg under the gunman, tripping him and sending him crashing to the ground as the fear gas spreads over him. Jonathan helps me to my feet and we watch with shared delight as the man spasms in terror.

“No- No! Get away!” 

Jonathan grabs my hand and I want to scream a million questions at him. Was this a trick? Is this some sort of rescue mission?

Crane pulls me back from the hallucinating man. “Hurry! Before someone-”

“Hey! What the Hell is this?” Another voice yells from down the street. 

A group of citizens wanders into sight. When they see the man screaming on the ground they begin to charge. Crane and I break into a run but he’s too slow. In the corner of my eye I see him get snatched and I turn around to see the mob pin him to the ground. 

“Wait-!” I gasp.

Thud! Thud!

The raging citizens kick at his ribs and Jonathon lets out a muffled cry. The sound makes my blood run cold. Not from the sight of the blood gushing from his mouth. But from the pained gasps and the horror seen behind his piercing blue eyes. An all-too-familiar feeling creeps across my skin. Fear. And this time I react differently.

I grip my knife and slice through one of the people. Blood gushes from the wound and they crumple to the ground. But I don’t stop. Stab. Stab. Cut. Cut. My body stiffens and all I can do is push the wounded citizens off of Jonathon’s limp body. He’s breathing. He’s still conscious. That alone helps to calm my pulse.

What does not supply relief is the pile of bleeding people moaning in pain. Guilt pools in my stomach. So much injury caused by such a small blade…

“C-Calico,” Dr. Crane stutters, clutching his side on the ground behind me. 

It snaps me out of my trance. “Come on. More will come. I will be hunted for dead once they see what I’ve done. And what you committed as well.”

I gently grip his shoulder and help him stand. He is in no condition to flee. Instead I’m forced to lean his nearly limp body against my shoulder to carry half his weight, leading Crane back to his penthouse. 

By the time we get to the bottom of the building’s stairs he’s gripping me to stay standing. The whole way up the stairs Jonathon spurts out gasps of pain. Each tortuous breath makes my heart race even faster. Gone is the man who did not hesitate to mock my weaknesses. Instead I am carrying a man who looks as if life has nearly been pushed out of him. 

I kick open the penthouse door and drag Jonathon to the couch. When he lies his head on the cushion his eyes fly open to stare at me.

“Calm your breathing,” I finally speak. “More than likely your ribs are bruised or broken so it will only make things worse.” I pause a second and swallow my jumping nerves. “Was that- Did you do that to save me?”

Even though he’s wincing in pain Jonathan still rolls his eyes. “Not really a rescue mission so much as a beating.”

Despite his attempt at a joke I cannot relax. I shakily take his hand and stare into those calculating eyes. 

“Remember when I said there’s nothing you can do to change my fear?” Crane nods slowly. “You did. I no longer fear failure. First I thought it was the fear of being loved, then it was fear of being alone. But now the greatest terror my mind can conjure is seeing you hurt like this. The fear of being alone without you.”

Something changes in Jonathon’s face. The shadow of doubt. “You must be in shock.”

I shake my head. “We all wear masks, Jonathan. Some… less obvious than others. Sometimes we’re trapped behind them, sometimes we hide behind them. Use them to lie, cheat, love…”

“How can you love someone behind a mask?” Dr. Crane murmurs.

A hint of a playful smile crosses my face. “You should know. You’ve been witnessing it first-hand.”

It clicks. Jonathan immediately catches my confession and pulls his head back. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real. This is all a hallucination…”

His disbelief saddens me. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I can’t love you,” Jonathan whispers and brings a hand up to touch my scraped cheek. “My obsession is fear. I can’t… but I want to.”

This is what we’ve been circling around. His obsession with fear and my spiraling mind. I guess the pressure of my fear set me off and Jonathon’s helped me to pick up the pieces. Why do our passions need to separate us when they are what caused our attraction in the first place?

“Being insane doesn’t make you incapable of love,” I reason.

Jonathan scoffs. “Clearly that’s proven by Quinzel and the Joker.”

My eyes narrow. “You’re basing this off of them?”

“Right. Good point. We’re much more civilized.” His eyes soften and begin to scan me. “I respect the mind’s power over the body. It’s how I do what I do. And right now my mind is trying not to dwindle on your intriguing mind... and your body too.”

I can finally admit it to myself. I’ve fallen in love with Dr. Jonathan Crane.

“No matter how hard I study it, no amount of books or research can help me understand romantic involvement.”

“Is this a new fear I see, Prentiss?” Jonathan asks, fascinated. “Philophobia, perhaps?”

I arch a brow. “Are you really going to mock my confession when we both know I’m more than capable of punching your teeth out right now?”

He licks some blood off his lips. “You can do that after I kiss you.”

And I let him. Jonathan leans in and captures me in the same mesmerizing feeling as before. Despite the metallic taste of blood the touch of his lips still makes me go limp. He pulls me closer until my upper half is lying on the couch next to him. I want to allow his embrace but don’t want to risk hurting his ribs.

Jonathan pulls away and leans his forehead to mine.  “Who knew my favorite patient would be my downfall? The death-obsessed Reaper.”

I give a small chuckle. “Sounds like a new method of murder. Do you think I’m going to love you to death?”

He lets out an annoyed groan. “As cheesy as that sounds, that wouldn’t be such a bad way to go if it was coming from you.”

“Are you going soft on me, doctor?” I tease and move a strand of his hair from his face.

“My mind is still wild enough to keep you guessing, Dr. Prentiss,” he smirks. “It is my ribs who have gone soft.”

Right. His injuries. “Would you like me to examine them?” I ask in a more serious manner.

Jonathan’s smile widens. “Darling, you never have to ask to examine me.”

I roll my eyes and tug away his shirt, ignoring his pained grunt. The bruising on his chest looks like a rigid pattern against his pale skin. This is the first time seeing him nearly shirtless and I can’t say I’m disappointed. There’s no question that he’s as skinny as he appears. Some girls might find this unappealing but it’s not his scrawny physique that attracts me. It’s his ‘wid mind,’ clever wit, and those eyes that stare at me as if I’m the center of his universe.

“Are you still here, sweetheart?”

My head jerks up. How long have I been staring- er, examining? Jonathan’s looking at me like I’m a child caught stealing a cookie from the jar.

“I- I’m still here.”

“That bad, hm?” He looks down at his wounds.

“No, it’s worse. You are still Dr. Crane,” I joke and playfully nudge his shoulder. “You’re fine. It looks like only bruising, no broken ribs. The best I can do is suggest bedrest and possibly dig up some narcotics around here. I don't know how long until someone comes looking for us but we'll cross that bridge when it appears. Sit tight. I’ll get a cloth to clean off the dirt.”

I sit up and begin to stand-

“You’re tending to me? After what…”

Jonathan trails off and I sense a touch of guilt in his voice. He must be talking about what transpired in Arkham.

“You’re right, Dr. Crane. If it weren’t for you I might still have half of my sanity left.” He hangs his head and I change to a more caring tone. “And if it weren’t for you I never would have believed I could fall in love. You made me into who I was supposed to be and you love me anyway. You’re in love with a killer and I’m in love with a mad scientist.”

Jonathan’s guilty face softens. “I suppose we’re both damaged. You know, Dr. Prentiss, you attract what you fear.”

I press another kiss to his cheek. “I guess I won the fear lottery.”

[mandrakebrew]

Whumptober Day 25: Surgery

Pairing: Dr Palmer x Jona.than Cran.e Words: 628 Rating: T Content Warning: oc x canon, medical

Masterpost 💉 Whumptober Post

Summary: After almost dying at the hands of Ki.llar C.roc, Scar.ecrow is rescued by his partner.

Everything hurts. That’s all Jonathan Crane, The Scarecrow can think when he comes too. He tastes blood in his mouth. He feels wet earth underneath him. He must have washed up onto the shore, or managed to get himself there, somehow. He hears crows, no, ravens nearby. They’re extremely loud, upset over something.

“Jon?” A voice cuts through the bird’s cacophony. Phoenix. Clearly he was hallucinating, some dying dream his mind conjured up.

He thinks this as he fades away again.

-

He’s in his cot inside one of his hideouts. At least he thinks. He can’t see out of one of his eyes, and he’s more preoccupied with what’s happening to him.

Gauze wraps around his head, including over his mouth. With his tongue he can feel stitches around what remained of his lips.

There’s IV bags hanging by him, one must be a painkiller of some kind because he doesn’t hurt anymore. At least not as much.

At least until he feels his leg, his mangled one, being harshly pulled on. He cries out in response. It’s a pathetic little sound.

“Sorry, I need to try to set the bone.”

Phoenix. So it wasn’t a dream after all. They found him.

He loses consciousness again.

-

When he wakes again, it’s silent. Still in gauze, still covered in stitches, and, thankfully, still no pain. He turns his head, as he can’t seem to manage to sit up at all, and spots Phoenix. Asleep, head resting on their folded arms on the desk next to his cot.

He looks at his leg, now bandaged and elevated. It’s still in a shape that no human leg should be in. Though given what he went through, he shouldn’t be surprised Phoenix couldn’t fix all the damage. His condition goes far beyond first aid.

Scarecrow turns again, and attempts to call out to them. A small airy noise comes out. Not nearly loud enough to wake them. He tries to raise his arm to touch them, but it’s broken as well, a surge of pain races up it when he tries to move it.

Goddammit.

He gives up, too tired to keep trying. Sleep calls him back again.

-

Phoenix is next to him, wrapping a bandage around his head. Must be a fresh one, how long has he been out of it?

They make eye contact with him, seeing he’s awake. “Jon?”

He attempts to respond, but that same quiet sound comes out again.

“Can you understand me?”

He nods, his head still in their hands at the moment.

“Good,” They lift one finger in front of his face, “Follow my finger.”

He does, tho he can’t see it when it goes too far to the right.

“Okay, that’s good at least. I can only tell what’s physically damaged right now, though.” They explain, looking apologetic.

Why are you here? He wants to ask. Phoenix does a lot of things he doesn’t understand.

He’s eternally grateful that they are, though.

“I was really nervous, doing the casts, you know. I know you can kill someone if you put them on too tightly, so they might actually be a touch too loose. Sorry about that.”

Better than him dying when they get removed, he thinks. He can only nod to let them know he understands.

“I shouldn’t be doing any of this, I’m not a medical doctor, I-” They voice catches, and they stop speaking.

He brings up his unbroken hand and touches their face. Phoenix places their hand over the top of his. “You’re alive, you’re okay.” They’re speaking more to themselves than anything.

They have to comfort themselves right now, he can’t talk them through it. He knows they’re strong, but he still wishes he could say something.

Taglist:

@cybotgalactica @devilzfruit @tulaytullahs @alice-nineteenth @hexusproductions @deregirls @frozenhi-chews

[brooklynislandgirl]

10 Fandoms / 10 Characters / 10 Tags

Tagged By: my loves @kylo-wrecked and @tangleweave Tagging: Anyone who feels like they need one more Sunday this weekend.

~*~*~*~

I. Marvel: Beta-Ray Bill, Eddie Brock/Venom, Doctor Strange, Phil Coulson, Vision, Groot, Spider-Man {Peter Parker}, Gambit, Doctor Morbius, Bucky Barnes. M'Baku {Hate the moniker of 'Man-Ape'}. Magneto. Loki. Night Crawler. Frank "Punisher" Castle. Colossus. Danny "Iron Fist" Rand. Foggy Nelson. Ghost Rider {Both Johnny Blaze and Robbie Reyes, "Caretaker" Carter Slade}. I know that's more than 10. Whatever, I do what I want. >.> II. DC: Lex Luthor, Nanaue {King Shark}, Martian Man Hunter, John Constantine, The Joker, Jonathan Crane, Morpheus {Dream of the Endless}, Death of the Endless, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Swamp Thing, Green Lantern. Cisco Ramon. Hunter Zoloman.

I absolutely blame @nightmarefuele for at least two of these.

III. Star Wars: Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader. Admiral Piett. Kylo Ren. Wedge Antilles. Kit Fisto. Han Solo. Chewbacca. Jocasta Nu. Darth Rivan {not to be confused with Darth Revan}. Jos Vondar. Jango and Boba Fett, and of course, all my 10,000,000,000 Clone children. No I will not be taking questions.

IV. Star Trek: Worf, Martok, Gowron, Chancellor Gorkon, Kurn, Dr McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Chekhov, Chris Pike, Ortegas, Nurse Chapel, Geordie La Forge, Riker, Data, Lore, Chief O'Brien, Q, Benjamin Cisco, Garak, Gul Dukat, Quark. V. Firefly: Mal Reynolds, Jayne Cobb, Hobun Washburne, Zoe Washburne, Shepherd Book, Kaylee Frye, YoSafBridge, Adalai Niska, Badger, Jubal Early Take my life, take my land, take me where I cannot stand. I don't care 'cause I'm still free, you can't take the sky from me. {{My coat has always been a little...brownish.}

VI. The Walking Dead: Shane Walsh, Daryl and Merle Dixon, Michonne Hawthorne, Abraham Ford, Glenn Rhee, The Governor, Bob Stookey, Ezekiel, Dwight, Aaron, Morgan Jones. VII. Justified: Raylan, Boyd, Ava, Art, Rachel, Tim, Dewey Crowe, Johnny Crowder, Loretta McCready, Robert Quarles, Ellstin Limehouse, Mags Bennett, Devil, Jean Baptiste, Boon, Willa, Carolyn, Sweety... oh so many. VIII. Yellowstone: John, Jamie, Beth, Kayce Dutton, Rip Wheeler, Jimmy Hurdstrom, Thomas Rainwater, Mo Brings Plenty, Lloyd, Colby, Teeter, Jake, Ethan, Angela Blue Thunder, Malcolm Beck. IX. Law & Order- Alphabet Soup: Captain Cragen, Lenny Briscoe, Mike Logan, Anita Van Buren, Jack McCoy. Rey Curtis, Ed Green, Arthur Branch, Cyrus Lupo, Kevin Bernard, Frank Cosgrove, Jalen Shaw. Elliot Stabler, Olivia Benson, Odafin Tutuola, John Munch, Chester Lake, Melinda Warner, Amanda Rollins, Rafael Barba, Dominick Carisi, Peter Stone, Bobby Goran. I have seen literally every episode of the American Law & Order franchise Original, SVU, CI, OC, etc...with the first three watched multiple times. While I often wouldn't call it my most favourite show...it's probably my most favourite shows.

X. The Lord of the Rings: Boromir and Faramir, Éomer and Éowyn, Theoden King, Theodred, Gimli, Pippin, Sam, Meriadoc, Fangorn {Treebeard}, Beorn, Celebrimbor, Bard the Bowman, Dwalin, Celeborn, Denethor, Gil-Galad king, Fingolfin, The Watcher in the Water, Maedhros, Finwe, Manwe...and I could go on for years. My first true fandom as we know it {probably Arthurian Legend was my first and truest fictional love}, and one I have been faithful to for over 25 years. Honestly never please talk to me about it, because I have rabid opinions about literally everything. And lastly, I only included tv/movies here because books and rpgs would require an entire three or four Long Ass Posts all of their own. Much Love.

[fandomworldofdreams]

Hospital For Souls

"Early this morning

When you knocked upon my door

And I said hello Satan, ah

I believe it is time to go

Me and the devil walkin' side by side."

-Soap&Skin

Previous: Prologue, CHP1, CHP2, CHP3, CHP4, CHP5, CHP6, CHP7, CHP8, CHP9, CHP10, CHP11, CHP12, CHP13, CHP14, CHP15

Warnings: self harm, drugging

Chapter XVI: Me and The Devil

There was a stone in Valeria's stomach.

At least, that's what it felt like. No matter how many times she emptied her stomach into the toilet, it was still there.

‘The Devil’ That's what her cards had called Dr. Lecter. She finally understood it wasn't Dr. Crane. She was just too naive to see it.

“Stupid, useless.”

She wished it was just rage she felt, instead of a sinking feeling of despondency. Instead of trying to clasp the reality that was now hers.

There was so much of her that she had been transparent with him about. She had opened up so much. He had, in return, desecrated her mind.

She tried to remember anything, but all that came up was blank. An empty theater where Lecter ran the projector.

There was a part of her that wondered if he was doing it just because Crane asked, if maybe he would stop once she knew and feel remorse.

What if he had done worse things that she couldn't recall . . . What if he had . . .

She threw her head back into the toilet, retching.

Her cards had warned her about a betrayal.

“So fucking stupid,” she hissed to herself, moving away from the toilet to curl up on the cold floor.

A few more days, that's all she needed to last.

In that time, together, the two of them could do so much damage to her.

She wondered if this was a sign. Maybe she was meant to die when she tried to kill herself. Perhaps Emily wasn’t supposed to come to her rescue.

She pulled her sleeves down to gaze at the scars.

She longed to be in charge of her own pain, not a conduit between two psychopaths' experiments.

She raised her fist, bringing it down to her thigh as hard as she could. She repeated the action, allowing her anger to channel through her fist. The noise that tore through her throat was a mixture of rage and defeat.

“Just a few more days,” she whispered. “Then you can finish what you started.”

She didn’t move from her spot on the floor, digging her nails into the palm of her hand, she closed her eyes and begged sleep to make the ache in her chest vanish.

When Valeria entered Dr. Lecter's office the next morning, she was surprised to find a chess board set up at the table between their seats.

Two cups of tea and glass containers of food were also at the table.

Dr. Lecter smiled at her as she sat across from him and wrapped her arms around her knees protectively.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Truite Saumonée Au Bleu,” he announced, removing the lids to the containers to allow the aroma of fish to fill the air. “I find the trout to be a very Nietzschean fish. Trials of his wild existence find their way into the flavor of the flesh.” It smelt divine.

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her as they began eating. “Neitzschean was a German philosopher, right? He believed the world was full of suffering and had no meaning or purpose.”

“He also believed that our power and character developed from how we handled those hardships in regards to suffering. The morals we create for ourselves.” He looked impressed by her knowledge on the topic.

She hesitated, “I enjoyed philosophy while I attended college.”

“Your records show you were a very good student. You even took a couple psychology classes.”

“Had to be able to battle the skeptics, especially the overzealous God-loving type. They always believed metaphysics was demonic and evil.” She paused, contemplating her next question. “Are you religious?”

“Each religion has its beliefs. I'm not particularly compelled to any of them, though I find the notion of an almighty being amusing. Particularly one that takes attendance and who's malicious acts are praised.”

“Do you believe in good and evil?” her voice shook slightly when she asked.

“Good and evil have nothing to do with God. A church collapses. The structure fell on sixty-five grandmothers during a special Mass. Was that evil? Was that God? If He’s up there, He just loves it. Typhoid and swans, it all comes from the same place.”

“That wasn't my question.”

“Wasn’t it? What did Nietzsche believe about good and evil?”

A test.

“I know he believed that the concept of good and evil we know today came from Judeo-Christian ideals.”

She couldn't remember anything else, her mind was racing.

“For Nietzsche, good and evil was based on the resentment that slaves in the Roman Empire felt towards their masters. In this new slave morality, good came to be everything that the slave was. Passive, submissive, humble, meek. While, conversely, evil came to be everything that the masters were. Greedy, strong, violent.”

“That’s one philosopher's view.”

"How do you perceive good and evil?"

"I know evil people kill and harm others."

"Does God not do the same?"

"I don't believe in God and you know that," she said in frustration.

“Good and evil are just social constructs, Valeria. The ancient times of human sacrificing to appease the deities were seen as good. Indulgence is viewed differently amongst varying cultures. The ideals and beliefs you hold and practice are viewed as evil by many.”

She bit her lip, picking at the skin on her fingers.

He fixed her with a stare, assessing her face. “Do you prefer to play black or white?” He gestured to the chess board.

She gulped, what had brought her excitement now felt like a game of cat and mouse. A battle of wits.

“I prefer black.”

He chuckled to himself. “Why is that?” Her heartbeat sped up at his words.

She forced a shy smile. “Nervous to make the first move I suppose.” He turned the board so the white pieces were on his side.

He concentrated, studying the board before reaching out his hand and elegantly moving his e2 pawn to e4.

She knew immediately what he was trying to do, she just wanted to confirm.

She mirrored his move, moving her e7 pawn to e5. Their pawns were in front of one another.

He moved his queen to h5.

He was trying to scholar's mate her. Checkmate in four moves if she moved one of her knights. He was a more advanced player then he let on.

She pondered whether to let him win. If losing would set him off.

It was another battle of wits, he knew that scholar's mate was very particular, relied on her making specific moves.

She bit, moving her knight to c6. He moved his bishop to c4.

She moved her pawn to g6, threatening his queen and foiling his play. He moved his queen back to f3. It all came down to this.

“Do you know what I believe?”

She paused at the interruption in her focus, glancing up at him confused.

“I think you play black because it gives you an opportunity to assess your opponent's first move, instead of them seeing yours. You can tell a lot in a first move, whether someone is more defensive or offensive, whether they take risks or play it safe. Usually people prefer the upper hand having the first move gives. It gives you the opportunity to mask yourself in accordance with them. You see it differently, clever girl.”

She couldn't help the blush, cursed herself for it. She nodded in thanks and they continued to play in silence. Wits matching one another's.

She reached for the teacup and brought the brim to her lips, pausing. The faintest smell of mint sent her mind into a trance.

"Have you ever heard of psilocybin?"

"Mushrooms?"

"Some believe that altered states can be used to access traumatic memories."

"That is the last thing I need," she laughed bitterly.

"If we can create a positive associative state with these memories, they would not hurt so much. You would be under my supervision, of course."

“Is everything okay?” Her mouth was dry.

She lowered the teacup back onto the table.

“Mhm.”

She tried to extinguish her anger, but the more she tried, the more it grew.

She remembered him bringing her to that room now, where Crane and him had locked her up together.

"You seem troubled today. Is everything alright?" She moved a piece, her mind far from present.

“I'm fine.”

“Alright then, checkmate.”

Her eyes snapped to the board in surprise. He had her cornered.

"The rope you hang on to in order to stabilize yourself is rather precarious."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked.

He smiled, leaning forward in his chair. "My dear, did you think I wouldn't catch on?"

Blood rushed to her ears, she felt her heart in her throat.

"Catch on to what?" Her hands started to shake.

"I know about your plan to escape." Time froze. She had to slip her hands under her thighs to stop them from shaking.

“I-I don't know what you're talking about.”

To what extent did he know, she wondered.

“My office has a recording, I listened in on you and Emily's discussion.”

“You spied on us?”

“You don't seem very surprised.”

Slipping, she was slipping.

She realized with an unforeseen clarity, she truly had no idea who the man before her was or what his motives were.

“Have you told Dr. Crane?”

“Not yet.”

He was something else entirely, an enigma that couldn't be solved. Perhaps even worse than Dr. Crane.

“Are you going to?”

“I haven't decided. Why don't you drink your tea? It will calm you.”

Her mind screamed at her not to, but she needed to play the game. She needed to choose her moves carefully or else he would find out they were onto him.

Obediently, she reached for the teacup and sipped the smallest amount, setting it back down. His lips quirked.

“That little isn't going to do very much for you.”

They stared at each other. Yet another test.

Valeria realized the man before her had never wanted her to get better, his intentions were not for her to heal. He intended to break her and rebuild her in the image of her darkness. A darkness that would cater and yield to him.

She caved, drinking the rest of the tea before relaxing into the chair.

For Emily, for Jane, for Sebastian, for Teddy. She chanted it in her head over and over.

He tilted his head at her and reached out a hand to touch her hand. She somehow resisted the urge to flinch.

“Emily told you to be wary of me. Do you believe her?”

“I believe that I have no idea who you truly are.”

Add in truths with lies to make it seem more believable.

“Not many do.”

Then there was this darkness that entered his gaze. A playfulness she had not seen before.

“Would you like to?”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “I'm not sure.”

His whole persona had been nothing less of a facade. A carefully sculpted and chiseled piece of artwork.

“What will it take for you not to tell Dr. Crane about the plan?” she asked. He looked at her with intrigue.

“What can you offer?”

Nothing, there was nothing she had that a man like that would want. She opened and shut her mouth, unsure how to answer.

“You have no freedom, no money or possessions, you're already chained by your deal with Dr. Crane-”

“How do you know about that?”

So many tests. To see her reaction to things, to trick her into giving away information.

“Jonathan and I talk.”

“And you just let him get away with these things?” she snapped.

“Are you assuming I don't enjoy it?”

Her face drained of color. She could feel the fog settling in her mind.

“You killed the nurse,” she asked softly. “Didn’t you?”

He regarded her closely, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “What brings you to that assumption?”

“She was the one who didn’t tell you I requested your presence.”

He hummed, tapping his fingers on the armrest. “Her behavior was rather disdainful.”

“That wasn't my-agh.” She keeled over as it hit her all at once. Her head was spinning, nothing was staying still.

It was the feeling of drinking too much to the point you get sick.

He didn't reveal anything about his reaction.

She was so dizzy, so sick, so tired. “What did you give me?”

He didn't answer, even as she stood and crashed into the bookcase, knocking over items.

A vase broke and shattered to the floor, glass raining everywhere.

She reached for a heavy object, a small bookend and turned to him. But he was already in front of her.

He was fast to grab the item from her hand and toss it aside. She was pressed against the bookshelf now. He only moved closer, positioning his knee between her legs.

She immediately tensed. "What did you give me?" She asked, shakily.

"Just tea. Mint tea."

He moved his knee up. The friction caused her to shudder, an overwhelming wave of arousal ran through her. A wave that was not her own.

"Do you like when I touch you like this, Valeria?" He was mocking her now. She gritted her teeth together.

"What did you give me?!" She repeated.

He clicked his tongue and ever-so subtly began moving his knee in a circular motion.

More, she wanted so much more. She gripped the bookcase, pushing away the urge to grind more into his knee.

"Just something that will make you calmer. You've been very naughty, Valeria. What's to be done about that?"

She was panting now, the aching was killing her.

He grabbed her face with a gentleness she no longer believed he possessed.

"Sleep now, dove."

With a fraction of his might he slammed her face into the bookshelf making everything go dark.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 9: The Scarecrow & The Shadow

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Worried about the potential consequences of either of them getting arrested, Vanessa presents Jonathan with a proposal.  

Word Count: 2,360

Notes: I know that technically very few states have self solemnization in real life, but we’re just going to pretend that Gotham has its own special laws regarding that because this is what I always envisioned for them. Warnings for references to sexual content.

Previous Part • Series • Next Part

Vanessa watched from the entrance as the police car pulled away, hands stuffed into her pockets, frowning. Beside her, Jonathan sighed, taking off his glasses and cleaning them before sliding them back up his nose.

“Come on, let’s get out of the rain,” he said, making a move to go back inside the asylum. When she didn’t follow him, he stopped. “Nes?”

“Coming,” she tore her eyes away from where the police car had just been, going to follow Jonathan back inside. Neither of them said much as they went to the elevator, Jonathan punching the number for the floor of their offices. Vanessa followed him into his office, closing the door behind her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, head tilted while he adjusted the cuffs on his shirt.

“That was close.”

“Not really,” he shrugged.

“We’ve had too many incidents here over the past few months. People are going to start to get suspicious.”

“Most people already believe that the asylum is cursed or haunted or both.”

“Jonathan,” she said sternly. He sighed.

“The cops around here are dumber than a box of rocks. They couldn’t solve a case if the answer was written out for them at the crime scene in blood.”

“That Jim Gordon is smarter than the others,” she said, lowering herself onto the couch. “I think he’s been suspicious of us since we got rid of Dr. Arkham.”

“Hm,” Jonathan hummed, looking out the window, lips pursing as he considered. Straightening, he came to sit down beside her. “So what do you want to do? Get rid of him?”

“That will only make them all more suspicious,” she shook her head, sighing. “I don’t know.”

He reached across to take her hands, rubbing over her knuckles with his thumb. “We’ll be fine.”

“We should prepare for the possibility that someday, someone might figure out what it is that we’ve been doing here.” 

Jonathan’s ice blue eyes searched hers carefully, before nodding. “Okay. You have anything in mind?”

“Not right now,” she admitted. Her mind was spinning with undeveloped ideas; but nothing concrete. There were so many angles to cover, it would take some time.

“Well, we can both mull it over at least. Talk about some ideas after work,” he checked his watch. “I have to get downstairs to an appointment.”

“Okay,” she let him go. He kissed her tenderly on the cheek before rising from his seat.

“It’s going to be fine, Nes.”

She nodded.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

“I do have an idea,” she said, nervously swirling her wine in her glass, watching the deep red liquid swish around and around and around. Beside her on the couch, Jonathan shifted, arm wrapped around her shoulders. Vanessa was leaning up against his side, her legs stretched out on the remainder of the couch not occupied by either of them. It had been a long day at work; both of them more than content to just curl up on the couch together with a bottle of wine, Chinese food, and a horror movie for the evening. 

“Oh?” Jonathan asked curiously, pressing pause on the movie. “What is it?”

Bringing her wine glass to her lips, Vanessa swallowed down the remainder of the alcohol in a nervous gulp, leaning forward to set it down on the coffee table in front of them. Taking a deep breath, she twisted her hands together, glancing at him anxiously.

“Now, listen…you can say no, if you want,” she started. One of his brows kicked upwards, but other than that, he didn’t say a thing. “I’ve been reading up about laws, about certain options for immunity if one of us gets caught. And, um…” she stuttered around the words, utterly unsure of how he would feel about what she was going to suggest. “The most sure way for a couple to prevent being compelled by a prosecution to testify against one another is through marriage.” 

Jonathan stiffened against her, pulling back to set his wine glass down on the end table and look at her more fully, eyes wide. Vanessa swallowed hard as she stared up at him levelly.

“Vanessa,” he said, very slowly, and she could see his mind working a mile a minute behind his beautiful blue eyes. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“I–” she felt her cheeks flare with warmth. “Only if you want to.”

He let out a sharp laugh at that, sitting up more fully, encouraging her to do the same as he tucked some hair behind her ear and clutched her hands. “If I want to…” he cradled her face, kissing her on the mouth.

She smiled, leaning closer to him, until their noses bumped, closing her eyes and resting her head against his palm. When she opened her eyes again, he was staring at her with an analytical expression, though the softness with which he often regarded her was still there. Turning her head, she kissed the center of his palm. “I love you.”

Jonathan’s eyes softened further, throat working as he swallowed, leaning in closer to kiss her again. Then he pulled away, standing while still holding her hands.

“What are you doing?” she asked. He pulled her to her feet.

“Doing this properly.”

“What–” her eyes widened as he sank down onto one knee in front of her, heart jumping into her throat as she blinked hard at the sudden, unexpected tears springing forth into her eyes. “I thought that you didn’t care about being traditional.”

“I don’t,” he rubbed her knuckles with his thumbs, cracking a smile. “But I’m willing to make an exception for this,” he cleared his throat dramatically and she giggled, squeezing his fingers. When he spoke, his voice was deadly serious. “I love you. You’re my favorite person in the world,” his fingers flexed around hers, his cheeks turning pink. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” she jumped when he lifted a hand to caress her cheek, wiping away a few tears that she hadn’t even realized had fallen. “And I would very much like not to be forced to testify against you if we ever get arrested.”

She laughed at the unexpected joke, the hand he had on her face returning to clasp her fingers in his.

“So,” he drew in a deep, nervous breath. “Vanessa Charlotte Sullivan, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” she said, almost instantaneously, and he surged up from where he was kneeling, arms going around her waist as he kissed her. She beamed against his lips, hands cupping his cheeks, laughing joyfully as he pressed her down firmly into the couch, lips salty form the combination of their ecstatic tears.

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Vanessa made an appointment with the county clerk’s office that weekend, and they headed down there first thing Saturday morning, hand in hand. They were dressed nicely, but not over the top: Jonathan in just a dark suit while Vanessa wore a lacy black dress she had yet to find an occasion to wear.

Neither of them had ever been particularly interested in the idea of a wedding. It all seemed rather ridiculous and over the top to them. Not to mention that neither of them had any other real friends or even acquaintances to invite to a wedding, had they decided to have one. 

At the end of the day, they both agree that self-solemnization was the best course of action for both of them. No religious fuss to get Jonathan’s hair to stand on end, nor witnesses or an officiant staring at them as they spoke deeply personal words to each other to make Vanessa feel all violated and twitchy.

Gotham was one of the few places in the country that allowed self-solemnization. And made it a surprisingly popular place for eloping couples. Vanessa didn’t particularly care why Gotham allowed self-solemnization when the rest of the state didn’t; she was just thrilled that the process involved as little fuss as possible. 

“You two been together long?” the clerk asked as she checked their photo IDs and began to doll out the paperwork they would need to fill out.

“Since college,” Vanessa said simply. 

“That’s lovely,” the clerk smiled at her sweetly. She just nodded, fingers squeezing against Jonathan’s arm as they filled out the paperwork and handed it back.

“And just sign your names here,” the clerk presented the paper to them. Vanessa wrapped her arms around Jonathan’s waist as soon as the clerk had retreated away to give them some privacy.

“Last chance to change your mind,” she whispered in his ear, pressing a kiss into his cheek. It wasn’t like either of them were all that invested in any form of a traditional lifestyle. Had it not been for the possibility of one or both of them getting arrested at some point, they probably would have forgone marriage all together. Neither of them needed a slip of paper to know that they would be together forever.

But still, there were benefits of that little slip of paper that neither of them could dismiss. Not to mention the peace of mind it would bring her. It would do good to have all their ducks in a row; should shit one day hit the fan.

 Jonathan snorted, turning his head to nose at her hair affectionately before scribbling his name down on the line and handing her the pen. She reluctantly let him go to take it between her fingers, laughing as she felt him hug her from behind, kissing her temple and hooking his chin over her shoulder. The pen scratched against the paper as she signed her name, heart jumping as she looked down at the two near illegible doctor’s signatures side by side on the paper.

Glancing over her shoulder at Jonathan, she smiled at him with lowered eyes, stroking his cheek. “Hi, husband.”

His laugh vibrated against her back, leaning closer until their foreheads touched. “Hello, wife,” he purred, pressing his mouth against hers. The kiss was deep and heated; a far cry from the usual quick pecks that they usually shared in public. Like he was trying to tell her without words just how happy he was; how much he loved her.

Once they broke apart, she cradled a hand at the back of his head, keeping him close as she hummed in happiness, nuzzling at his nose. Finally turning away, she picked up the paperwork, and together they took it over to the clerk, holding each other’s hands. 

“Anything else?” she asked the clerk as she took the paper.

“No, that’s everything. I’m assuming that you would like to file right away? There’s no waiting period in the city of Gotham.” 

“Yes, please.”

The clerk nodded. “Then you’re all set. Congratulations, both of you.”

“Thank you,” they both said, heading to the exit.

“That was much easier than I thought,” Jonathan commented.

“I thought that surely they would give us more shit about it,” Vanessa commented, hugging his arm. Their apartment wasn’t all that far away, and the moment that they were inside and the door was shut behind them, she pressed him up against it firmly, chuckling at the little yelp he let out as she crowded into his space and kissed him.

“Mm…what’re you doing?” he chuckled as she moved her lips down to his neck.

“There’s still one thing left that we have to do,” she purred into his skin, enjoying the way that he shivered and tilted his head back against the wood of the door.

“Is that so?” he teased, eyes shining mirthfully behind his glasses. Vanessa nodded, hands smoothing out along his chest as she tilted her head up to kiss him again, grinning as his hands landed on her hips and he started to walk her backwards.

“At least we won’t technically be living in sin anymore,” she said dryly. Jonathan snorted.

“Granny would be so thrilled,” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I’m sure that we can come up with many other things to do that would have horrified her to her very core.”

“God, I love you.”

Laughing, she wrapped her arms around him, letting him scoop her up into his embrace, both of them kissing enthusiastically as he carried her into the bedroom.

Later, much later, they were curled up in bed with an opened bottle of champagne that Jonathan had bought earlier in the day, licking grease from the pizza they’d ordered off of their fingers. Vanessa stretched, the soft material of Jonathan’s shirt riding up her bare thighs, smirking to herself when she caught him staring. Not that she could blame him, as she allowed herself to appreciate how he looked in his boxer shorts and nothing else.

With a hand on the small of her back, Jonathan drew her in closer until she was pressed flush to him, one of her thighs hooked over his hip and her palms on his chest.

“I like being married to you,” he admitted, dropping his head into her neck, spreading kisses down it and then moving onto her shoulder. Vanessa wrapped her arms around him, heart squeezing happily at the words. Even though they’d technically gotten married for the immunity, she couldn’t say that the idea of him as her husband didn’t make her feel a little giddy; all warm and fuzzy with affection. 

And she did love him. More than anything. And she knew that he loved her; no matter what she did. What atrocities she had inflicted; or that had been inflicted upon her. Vanessa knew that her mind was sick. Twisted and torn, probably beyond repair. Just like his. They were the same in that way too, true equals in every sense of the word. It was incredibly soothing, to know that he loved her without expectations, without limits. No matter how much of a monster she became. 

 She supposed that in a way, at least in her mind, they had already been married. 

“Mm. I like being married to you too,” she told him, grazing her lips along the shell of his ear. Jonathan just hummed in deep agreement, and pulled her closer.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[cyberfox123]

Scarecrow X Cyberfox

I worked hard on this 🥰 He is my favorite I always thought he was cute. The crows name is Nightmare. 🧡 He calls Scarecrow daddy and Cyberfox mommy. He was raised as a hatchling by them. After the nest was knocked down. By accident from Batman and Scarecrow fighting.

[icariathebard]

The Arkham Hellion: Year One

Chapter 1: The One Where Everything Worked Out (Part 3)

Characters: Connie Inviglio (oc), Dante Spectre (oc), Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow. Emril Griffith (oc, mentioned), Connie Inviglio x Jonathan Crane (slight)

Warnings: Language warning, dark themes, psychoanalysis

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: okay i know i tagged this as Crane x Connie but like it only sets the foundation for it here

———————

Connie stopped by her apartment first. She had thirty minutes until she had to be at the station, and she needed to feed her dog. Bilbo came bounding towards her, his fluffy tail wagging with excitement. Her shift at GCPD ran from 3 to 8, mirroring the hours she worked at Arkham, from 9 to 2. She was going to get home late tonight, so she fed Bo half of his dinner early. As she looked at her calendar in between shifts, she realized that her shift ended at 8 (way past when her parents would be enjoying dinner) and that right after she needed to get to the university for her class. A lot of her credits came from her work with the police and at the Asylum, but there were still a couple of classes that would help round out her degree and assure her future doctorate. Her class would be at nine, end at ten, she’d be home at ten thirty, and she could sleep. 

Today was Thursday for Miss Caroline Inviglio, which is why she had her night class with Dr. Crane. In the morning, she’d have to get up early to attend her positive psychology class, work her shift at Arkham, but she wasn’t needed at the station on Fridays, so she instead had a lecture, a self defense class, and the evening to herself to complete school work. Saturdays had no shifts, another self defense class and a kickboxing class, but then she’d have the rest of the day. Those were the days she’d take Bilbo out for walks, go to the park or maybe visit a cemetery and leave flowers at each grave. Sundays were more classes, more lectures, another walk, and then work would resume on Monday. 

Connie worked hard. She took her pills, minded her diet, and crammed as much effectiveness into her independent life as she could. Once upon a time, she was trapped with a family with animosity towards each other, surviving through mental illness and before that, living paycheck to paycheck in uncertain households. She never would have seen herself with the life that she had now. A dog, steady work, an abundance of education and the willpower and time to train her body to fight. Rest may have been limited, but she earned every bit of it, and didn’t regret the life she had. 

At 3:01 pm, Connie had parked her car, and five minutes later, she had her ID on and had checked in at the front desk of the Gotham City Police Department. 

"Ms. Inviglio?" a voice asked, and upon turning around Connie was faced with one of the most attractive men she had ever met.

"That's, uh, that's me." Her mind raced to keep calm, but very attractive people, men in particular, had a way of causing her common sense to falter. Women she felt more confident around, more encouraged to impress and befriend, but men were intimidating.

He had odd features, not the kind one would typically describe a perfect man- no square jaw, chiseled features, sharp nose, or piercing eyes. Quite frankly, his features could almost be described as soft, with a rounded jaw and no overly pronounced chin, thin lips and dark brown eyes. When he extended his hand for a handshake, she gripped it with a firm and confident shake, despite her trembling. The softness of his hands caught the hopeless romantic that Connie was off guard. 

A tattoo of a sun or star, some design that looked pagan but she wasn't familiar with, was tattooed on the side of his neck, and delicate symbols and shapes were tattooed on the back of his hands. A large windbreaker-type coat swamped his broad shoulders, and underneath that he wore a black shirt and a gold chain. His hair was shaved on the sides and slicked back. 

The man may have had gentler facial features and pianist's hands, but his time as a detective in Gotham wore him into the focused, grizzled and bitter cop before her. His eyes were dark and shadowed, and his thin lips were pulled into a hard line.

"I'm Detective Spectre; Commissioner Gordon said you'd be arriving. You're our intern?" Even his voice was pretty, and Connie struggled to compute how to maintain social etiquette. 

"I'm, uhm, yup. That’s me. I’m doing criminal profiling, yknow, ha..." Her father was an attorney and before that, a soldier. She gained a lot from growing up under him, and one of them was the lift of her chin, the squaring of her shoulders and her hands resting stiffly at her side when she was faced with a superior. 

The detective regarded her carefully. "I'm told you work with Dr. Griffith?" 

"Yes, sir." 

As the detective lead her down to her place in the forensics lab, Connie used her inhaler. Her hammering heart and nerves did not help the scratch and ache in her lungs. It confirmed a theory she had once told a friend - that attractive people were bad for her health. Once Dt. Spectre explained his expectations for her work on his case, he left, and Connie’s focus returned. 

Connie did see her dad when he came by the station to receive evidence; and she also noticed how it came from the Commissioner himself. It wasn’t hard to see the truth- that Batman was involved. In almost every aspect of her life and career, he was. Maybe, she’d get to see this fable of a man for herself, but until then, she regarded him as a resource for the criminal-justice system, and kept neutral opinions on the morality of his existence. Michael and Connie exchanged a hug, and Connie apologized that she would have to miss dinner to complete her work and make it to her class. Returning home was rescheduled for Saturday, when her mother Seanna would make her famous red rice.

Work went smoothly from there. As a forensic, she assisted a witness in Dt. Spectre’s case in sketching a depiction of the criminal. If the GCPD wasn’t so understaffed, Connie wouldn’t have any involvement in forensic art, but she was more than qualified to provide the service. As the witness struggled to describe her assailant, she shook, stammered and contradicted her own statements. Connie had to calm her down repeatedly. Connie then had to write out a rough description of what kind of person would be inclined to commit certain crimes - profiling. The assailant for Spectre’s case was the most interesting, because Connie deemed him to be a complete sociopath, and what behaviors and mannerisms he’d exhibit. Once Connie submitted her report and finished up other necessary paperwork for other cases, she finished her shift at 8.

Cold barbecue pizza, feed and pet the dog, double check on the plants, grab your lanyard. Four things, just a quick stop at her apartment, and then Connie was heading out again. Leftover pizza was not the most nutritious dinner, but it would tide her over for her class. She technically didn’t need to take this class, but of all the classes that could have given her credits, this one was the most interesting. A lot of students didn’t like Dr. Crane or his class, and found him creepy, but Connie gave him the benefit of the doubt and deemed him an eccentric; additionally, in a class about fear, creepy things would inevitably be the topic of discussion. 

Connie took this class despite its reputation, because understanding the psychology and behaviour centered around fear would inevitably assist her work at Arkham. It certainly helped Crane, who also worked at the asylum; his office was just down the hall from Dr. Griffith’s. She found Dr. Crane attractive in a way, but he was strange and intimidating, so it was much easier to dismiss, but she still found herself admiring him. He was dedicated to science and his work, and he had succeeded in his career. That gained her appreciation far more than his elegant features and cold blue eyes.

She made it to the campus early. After walking across the courtyard of Gotham University, going up a flight of steps and walking across the building, she found Dr. Crane’s classroom. Twenty minutes to go, and the door was closed. Not wanting to disturb her professor before he opened the door, she found a seat on the floor against the wall, and checked her phone. There were too many texts, messages, emails and notifications waiting for her; over ten hours since she was able to really check her phone, and Connie marveled at how work now distracted her from the device, and not vice versa. 

Several of the messages were from Camille Gutierrez, her friend from before Connie moved to Gotham, who moved there as well pursuing her acting career. Most of it was videos that Cam found funny, and others were updates on her life. Connie took the time to respond as appropriately as she could. 

“Hello, Caroline,” a voice said suddenly, and Connie jumped, jerking her eyes upward and swearing under her breath. Her gaze landed on Dr. Crane, thin and cold as always, looking down at where she sat. As her heart rate settled from the jump, Crane smiled. With one thin finger, he pushed his clear glasses up his nose, and regarded his frightened student with a remote intrigue.

“Dr. Crane!” Connie finally said once her thoughts were gathered. “Excuse my language.” 

Connie stood and gathered her bag, brushing herself off and straightening her shirt. 

“You’re early.” 

“Traffic wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.” 

Connie squirmed nervously in Crane’s presence, which brought him a mild form of delight. 

“No need to sit in the hall. Come inside.” 

Crane turned back into the classroom, and not wishing to be disrespectful, Connie followed. 

“How have you been enjoying my class, Caroline?” Crane asked as he walked to his desk. This was the most one on one discussion she had ever had with him, and her social anxiety crept in on her. She found her preferred seat in the class, a desk towards the front of the room where she could better see and hear the professor. It wasn’t directly next to Crane’s desk, but it was close enough that Crane could engage in conversation with her.

“I’m enjoying it,” she replied, clearing her throat. “I’m finding it insightful on behavior.” 

“Is that so?” He hummed. “Fear, I have found, is the most potent of neurological reactions. It is stronger than any other instinct.” 

“Even love?” Connie blurted, and when Crane looked up at her with an unamused expression, she regretted it. 

“What good is love to survival? And don’t say reproduction, because love is not needed for that.” 

“For other animals, love and reproduction coexist for a purpose, but not for humans.” 

Crane adjusted his glasses once more before looking at his computer. 

“Not exactly, of course,” Connie rushed to correct herself. “Love is objective and it’s not entirely known if animals feel love, except for like dogs, or maybe dolphins…” 

She laughed uncomfortably under her breath and sat back, curling in on herself. 

“Then tell me. Why do you suggest love?” 

“It- it gives people purpose. Without purpose, there is insanity. I think, uhm, at least. This is more philosophical, though…” Connie reached for her inhaler as she cleared her throat again. 

“And you think the need for purpose is stronger than fear?” 

“I think without purpose, there is no reason to fear anything.” 

Crane looked up at Connie again, leaning forward. 

“Interesting.” 

Silence fell as Connie’s mind raced and Crane studied his pupil. 

“What do you love, Caroline?” Crane asked carefully, breaking the silence. 

“I, uhm. I love my dog, for sure. And my family. And my friends.” 

Crane rolled his eyes. 

“Only living things that give you some sort of validation?” 

“I love my dog because seeing it happy makes me happy.” 

“You keep mentioning your dog.” 

“He’s not human. And I have nothing negative to connote to him.” 

“Do negative connotations negate love?” 

Connie thought over all that had happened in her life, the conflict and divisions and the fighting amongst her family, the distance and grief at missing her friends, the conflict and chaos that tore at her heart for years. At that moment, her pain of the past killed her social anxiety, and she winced.

“I’d rather not go over it. My dog is just an easy example.”

Her family was a weak point, and Crane took note of that. 

“Does your dog give your purpose?” 

“No,” Connie replied reluctantly. “But my dog makes the pay off of work sweeter.” 

“Then what gives you purpose?” Crane gave her one of those strange looks that only he seemed to give, that other students despised. 

“Helping others,” Connie replied steadily. “I can’t heal the world, but there are good people who don’t deserve to be in pain all the time.” 

“Like lunatics?” Crane smirked in amusement. 

“Like the people of Gotham,” Connie shot back, as politely as she could. “If I can understand fear, I can help others overcome it.” 

This elicited a small laugh from Crane, and he slowly removed his glasses. 

“Very well.” 

Other students began to arrive, and the rest of the class went on without anything unusual. She returned home, showered, took her medicine, and went to sleep. With her loyal Bernese pup curled up at her side, she felt safe, and at peace. Things were normal.

That was, until the next morning. She heard it on the news:

Harvey Dent had escaped Arkham.

Taglist: @arts-and-sharks @burnthashbrown27 comment or ask to be added to the taglist!

[screentones]

this is a COMICS MULTIMUSE toned by nami ! featuring CYPHER & WARLOCK from X-MEN

hiii i'm 22, i'm a 2d animator who also does freelance on the side. i'm very busy so this and the rest of my blogs have sporadic to low activity. for more in-depth rules check the main blog, but honestly just be nice, have fun, and general rp etiquette!

a little about my comics knowledge: a lot of these muses are heavily headcanon based or i am actively learning more about them to better write them. i am also taking comic requests so if you think there's a comic i should read, let me know!! and i'll put it on my list >:)

muse list below cut

MARVEL

primary/featured // DOUGLAS RAMSEY // CYPHER // headcanon based

primary/featured // WARLOCK // headcanon based

primary // GENESIS // evan sabahnur // headcanon based

primary // UNIT// headcanon based

primary // DOC SAMSON/SASQUASCH // LEONARD SAMSON // immortal hulk based

seconday // AMARANTH // comic/headcanon based

secondary // VIVIAN VISION // VIV // headcanon based

secondary // BENNET DU PARIS // EXODUS // headcanon based

secondary // RIGELLIAN RECORDER 451 // headcanon based

secondary // DR GREGOR // ALIA GREGOR // headcanon based

secondary // QUAKE // DAISY JOHNSON // headcanon based

tertiary // PHILLIP J. COULSON // AGENT COULSON // headcanon based

tertiary // ALEX SUMMERS // HAVOK // headcanon based

tertiary // MAYDAY // MAY PARKER // earth-6160 based

tertiary // STRANGE // JEANNIE // earth-928 based

request only // THE WARLOCK // ADAM WARLOCK // marvel rivals based

request only // JONATHAN OHNN // THE SPOT // atsv based

request only // CAPTAIN BRITAIN // BETSY BRADDOCK // headcanon based

request only // LOKI LAUFEYSON // LOKI // headcanon based

request only // MISTER FANTASTIC // REED RICHARDS // headcanon based

request only // THE MAKER // REED RICHARDS // headcanon based

request only // ADRIANO TOOMES // VULTURE // atsv based

request only // KINGPIN // WILSON FISK // itsv based

request only // BEAST // HENRY "HANK" MCCOY // comic/headcanon based

request only // BEAST // HENRY "HANK" MCCOY // foxverse based

request only // DARK BEAST // HENRY "HANK" MCCOY // earth-295 based

test muse // EGO // EGO THE LIVING PLANET // insanely headcanon based

test muse // DIRECTOR FURY // NICK FURY SR // headcanon based

DC

primary // ARTEMIS CROCK // TIGRESS // young justice based

secondary // JONATHAN CRANE // SCARECROW // headcanon based

secondary // KLARION // WITCH BOY // young justice based

tertiary // VICTOR FRIES // MR. FREEZE // batman&robin based

secondary // HUGO STRANGE // headcanon based

primary // KON-EL // SUPER BOY // headcanon based

test muse // TERRA // TARA MARKOV // headcanon teen titans based

test muse // BROTHER BLOOD // SEBASTIAN BLOOD // headcanon teen titans based

test muse // RAVEN // RACHEL ROTH // headcanon teen titans based

test muse // TRIGON THE TERRIBLE // TRIGON // headcanon teen titans based

OTHER MEDIA/OCS

primary // SHOCKWAVE // idw/headcanon based

secondary // MISTER PEACE // WARREN PEACE // headcanon based

secondary // ABE SAPIEN // ABRAHAM SAPIEN // movie and comic based

test muse // CECIL // CECIL STEDMAN // cartoon based

[elk96]

~I'M HERE TO HELP YOU~

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Warnings: mild violence, mentions of injury, mentions of symptoms of ptsd, angst, mentions of murder/death, and english is not my first language.

Word Count: 1563.

Summary: Jonathan is locked up in an asylum and Ellen, an old friend of his confronts him to try and comfort him.

Ellen walked through the corridors, the sound of her footsteps echoing through the shadows. Almost intuitively, she found her way to Jonathan's room, facing two armed guards as she took the last turn. She clenched her jaw and breathed out heavily.

-You cannot enter, said one of the guards immediately as they blocked her way.

-I'm Ellen Johnson she replied coldy. -I was asked to come see dr Crane.

The guards exchanged a hesistant look and they moved to the sides of the hallway. Their eyes took her all in, from her messy short hair to her worn out red snickers.

She took a deep breath trying to compose herself and showed them her medical ID.

-You are not allowed to enter the room dressed like that miss. You must wear your uniform.

-If you knew what i must and must not do, you'd be the one being sent in there, she said in an authoritative tone. -Open the door.

-We have to wait for mr Campbell to arrive.

-Let her in Maximus, echoed a raspy voice and soon Ellen found herself facing a man in his 50s, with grey hair and a pair of eyes she immediately disliked. As she had disliked his voice, the moment she heard it through the phone. Casting a cold gaze upon him, she braced herself to meet the notorious Scarecrow.

-And remember, miss Johnson, Campbell warned her, no physical interaction is allowed.

-Fuck you, she mumbled under her breath, and immediately closed her eyes firmly, struck by the vivid, white light that spread throughout the room.

The smell of sweat and blood hit her at the first second, causing her to frown. The sound of a ragged, quick paced breath made her open her eyes again anxiously.

Jonathan was sat on the floor, his feet tied together, his arms locked around the legs of his bed. His eyes were fixed on the white wall against him. She spent a few minutes pacing up and down in the room, so as to give time to Jonathan to familiarise with her presence.

-Hello Jonathan, Ellen said lightly. -It's been a while, right? I'm sorry we meet again under these circumstances, she added making her way across the room. She stood next to him, 5 meters or so between them.

She tilted her head observing him, with curiosity more than anything else. His hair was filthy, falling on his face. His cheekbones were more prominent than ever, his eyes red and always fixed on this damn wall, wide open with... fear.  A large cut sat through his forehead, covered in dark, thick blood. A feeling of sympathy crawled inside her and reached her face as he tried to shift his position slightly, gasping from the pain.

-I heard that you got injured , during an incident with the guards. I heard they took you shouting and cursing on the inside room. I must say you look much more sober now,  she murmured sitting next to him. Her hand rested on his shoulder, but he flinched away from her touch immediately.

-It's such a pitty, you know, having you tied up like this. I could have brought you a couple of books or some food, they would have let me if you hadn't lost control of yourse-

-I'm in control, Jonathan whispered with a ragged voice. -I'm in control.

-Funny enough, I remember you shouting that to the officers as they were arresting you, back then when you'd killed your father. But not much has changed since then, has it Nathan?, she whispered, lowering herself to his eye level. -You're again trapped in a small room, just as you were before.

-I will escape, he growled, clenching his teeth. -I will leave this shithole and you will all see h-

-See what?, she cut him off. -See that you're still under the control of a person long gone, under the control of fear?

-I'm the master of fear!, he shouted with glowy, paranoic eyes. -I'm Scarecrow.

-No Nathan, you're still a boy crying in a dusty chamber, don't you understand that?,Ellen asked, pacing up and down on the room.- Fear, phobias, isn't that what your dad's research was all about? You've just taken his obsession one step further, ruining yourself, ruining others! What are you trying to prove?, she whispered kneeling in front of him, her brushing ever so slightly against his. - What are you trying to prove Jonathan?

Her smile was ironic but the forrowing of her brows, her soft tone failed to hide her concern. She didn't try to, anyway, hoping that her eyes could reach somewhere inside Jonathan's mind.

His breathing was still shallow and uneven, small drops of sweat hanging above his eyebrows.

-I don't give a damn about Scarecrow, I don't fear him or his cologne. I want you back. You. Nathan, not Scarecrow. I want to help you.

-You work for them, he blamed her. -You want nothing different than all of them, who haven't even let me get two hours of sleep with those damn lights!

-Is it the lights or the chaos in your mind that doesn't let you sleep?

Jonathan stared at her blankly, taking in her familiar features, her eyes, the little scar beneath her eye. He'd grown to trust her, love her very fondly all those years before she left Gotham.

-You work for them. And they picked you because they though I'd talk to you.

-I don't work for anyone. I am my own boss, having my own office, just how we wanted it to be 10 years ago. I started a cooperation with the asylum in an attempt to help them take better care of the inmates. And I came here because I wanted to see you, Ellen answered, as she untied the straps on his legs. Her fingers moved to the rope around his hands, praying on the inside that they wouldn't be interrupted. 

Jonathan groaned rubbing his wrists together, while hugging his bad shoulder. He couldn't help the tears running down on his cheeks, a combination of relief, pain, uncertainty and gratitude.

-I can arrange your medication progr-

-They're not putting anything in my blood!, he screamed and Ellen bit her lips. She'd lost him again.

-I won't have them putting anything in my blood, he started whispering. -They won't do it, they won't, they won't, -I won't let them!

-It's ok, she said softly, her fingers brushing against his. -I'll just bring you some painkillers, okay? I'll do it myself, for the pain. To ease your pain, right? To help you.

Jonathan left out a bitter laugh, groaning right after because of his deep cut. -You can't help me. I don't need your help. You will see, you will all see...when I'm out of here.

-Hey, look at me, Ellen said lowering herself as if she was talking to a little kid. -You don't have to prove anything to anyone, we all know who you are. You were the best student in University, you are the best phsych -No! Scarecrow is no-one, hiding behind a mask, she cut him off before he spoke. Her hands found his in a hopeless touch, and this time, Jonathan didn't shy away from her. He tilted his head to the side, casting  a searching look at her.

-They just want to know what he is going to do next, he said, curious for her answer.

-Yes they do. I won't lie to you, that's why they sent me here. But I'm here for you, I'm here to advocate for you, and, honestly, if you tell them, that would mean a lot. I might even be able to get you out of here.

-Hm, I can get outta here on my own, Jonathan answered childishly.

-Well, yes, the same way you could do the study at University on your own, but it was much more fun sneaking into the library together.

-Tha was a long time ago, Jonathan answered with a smile that sent tingles down to her heart.

-Not too long though, Ellen said and sat besides him. -Relax, she urged him placing a soothing hand on his back.

-I can't relax. He's always there. If I slip, he'll get me.

-He can't do that Jonathan, he can't get in here.

-He can reach everyone.

-Yes, but then he'll have to deal with me, she answered and a short smile flushed through his lips. Then his expression turned distant again, his eyes locked on the wall against him.

-What did he do to you Nathan?

-He...He had developed his own toxin, he began to say, but a loud noise interrupted them. A small scream of surprise left Jonathan's lips as two men barged into the room with loaded guns, followed by a man in a suit, Campbell right behind him.

Ellen jumped to her feet infuriated.

-What the hell are you doing?!, she shouted at the man.

-You were supposed to make him confess, not fucking untie him! Get out. Get out now!, the stranger ordered pushing Ellen harshly. Flooded with fear and anger Ellen tripped over her own feet, giving a last desperate glance at the men who sere tying up Jonathan again, and they were not gentle.

-I'll come back!, she told him, hoping for dear life he  would hear her.