#jonathan crane x oc

[2-guns-b1tch]

Jonathan Crane x Ophelia Swan (OC)

Sometimes you need to take a break from crime to have a relaxing night with your spouse and pet crows.

[amor-godess-of-love]

During a haste at masquerade banquet, perfect place for Scarecrow, Mad Hatter and Riddler to get unoiced while wearing masks. Jonathan noticed his love, even with mask on, he could regonise her. Risking everything, he stop to at lest have this one dance, before he will be forced back into life of crime. Even if she didn't regonise him, he was happy to see that spark in her eyes as he impress her with his dancing moves. When music finally stop, he got ready to continue the haste, but his love stop him, with her hand on his cheek that pull him close, kissing his masquerade mask and pleading simple "Please, be safe", before letting him go. As he regonises her, she can also always recognise him dispite his masks.

[scorpiussage]

Written in the Stars (Jonathan Crane/OC)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane/OC

Summary: Despite what many may think, Jonathan Crane does in fact have a soul mark – he’s just not particularly thrilled about it. (Soulmates AU where a persons first words to you are written somewhere on your body) 

Warnings: Awkward shenanigans, smut

Jonathan Crane is seven years old when his soul mark appears. He’s huddled under a pew, locked in the old abandoned church by his grandmother for a sin he doesn’t remember doing. A sharp burning pain erupts on his forearm, different from the bruising lashes that decorate his back. He holds his arm up to the dim moonlight streaming in through the dirty window and tries to make out the words. 

Whatever he thought his soul mark would say, is no where close to what it actually says. 

…

Most people that know Jonathan Crane, also assume that he doesn’t have a soul mark. He’s bitter and mean and not at all what people look for in a soulmate. Despite these perceived flaws, he does have one. 

A soulmate that is. Somewhere out there and he dreads ever having to meet them. 

He’s never been very lucky, though. 

…

Jonathan is exhausted, injured, and coming down off of his own fear toxin. His hideout is on the other side of town, too far away to get there right now, so he seeks the first open establishment he can find. 

“Hi, welcome to Rats-O-Cheese, the pizza-play restaurant for kids. My name is Y/N-Mouse, what can I get for you?” Is the disinterested monologue that greets him when he enters the building. On his forearm the words he’s been steadfastly ignoring all his life burns. 

Fuck. 

Now, Jonathan is not actually sure what one is supposed to do with a soulmate. Probably not kidnap them, but that’s what he’s done. 

He glances over at the tied up, and very irate, waitress and tries to figure out his next steps. He winces when her muffled shrieks interrupt his train of thought. Despite the gag, she’s still hell bent on chewing him out. 

God, he’s exhausted. 

…

Jonathan is in high school when the restaurant chain Rats-O-Cheese opens up, advertising itself as a fantastical arcade restaurant for children. 

He spends the next several weeks trying to erase his soul mark out of embarrassment. 

…

“I’m going to take off the gag. You can scream as loud as you like, no one will hear you,” Jonathan informs his soulmate, and then adds under his breath, “for my ears’ sake, don’t scream.” 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” She snarls at him as soon as her mouth is free. 

He considers that question and notes to himself that he actually has a lot problems. 

Y/N, on the other hand, has a fairly average life. She’s an only child in a two parent, middle class household. She’s not top of her class, not bottom either, in both high school and college. Just average. 

Her near-neurotic obsession with being normal probably has something to do with her soul mark words. 

“If you fight or scream, I’m going to inject you with this drug.” 

Who the fuck says that to someone?

It sort of tracks that she’d end up with a psychopath for a soulmate, and not a very successful one at that if his injured, disheveled state is anything to go by. 

“So, like, what’s your thing?” She ends up asking after watching him putter around his grungy little hideout for a while. 

He pauses and looks over at her with a cocked eyebrow, “My thing?”

She nods, “Yeah, you know, your villain thing. All the weirdos in this city have one. Like that guy with the riddles!” 

Psycho-soulmate actually rolls his eyes at her and snarks, “Please don’t compare me to the likes of Edward Nygma and his ridiculous neurosis.” 

Y/N doesn’t really think this man has any room to be throwing stones, but she keeps that to herself. 

…

Statistics say that a majority of people meet their soulmates during their college years. It’s something the general population is obsessed with – making movies, music, and art about the phenomenon since the dawn of time. Jonathan, in juxtaposition, isn’t interested. In fact, he would prefer to never meet them. 

He’s never needed anyone but himself and he doesn’t see that changing anytime soon. Especially considering the, frankly, ridiculous words that are on his forearm. 

In what universe would he ever step foot into a Rats-O-Cheese?

…

Psycho-soulmate determines after several hours tied up, that she’s no longer a flight risk and unties her. He does give her a stern look though, and tells her, “There’s no where you would run that I couldn’t find you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t run – got it.” 

She uses her newfound freedom to wander about his weird warehouse/hideout. There’s a very disturbing lone medical examination table with metal restraints that she edges around. Apart from the few pieces of actual furniture (a couch and a futon) it looks like a stereotypical horror movie science lab. 

She approaches a mannequin that’s dressed in a frayed suit and that has a burlap sack-mask over its head. Ohhh, so this is his thing, creepy scarecrow. 

She remarks as much out loud and Psycho-soulmate makes a loud clattering noise behind her, dropping whatever he was doing in surprise. 

“It’s for science!” He snarls, his ears turning pink in embarrassment. 

“Yeahhhh, okay.” 

Then she turns back around to look at him, “By the way, what’s your name? I’ve just been calling you ‘Psycho-soulmate’ in my head this whole time.” 

He gives her a dry look for that remark and introduces himself. Man, that name sounds awfully familiar. 

Then it hits her, “Oh! You’re the guy that broke everyone out of Arkham!” 

“Well, yes, but it was a dire set of circumstances.” 

He’s busied himself with his chemistry set again and as Y/N looks more closely at him, she notes that he’s very handsome – the kind of face that would sell well in a boyband line up. He’s also lithe in way that reveals how much time he spends hunched over his experiments. She has to wonder how a guy like that ends up as Gotham’s latest super villain. 

He sighs loudly and sets down the beaker he was currently fussing over, “I can feel you staring at me. Just ask your inane questions.” 

“No questions, just bored is all.” 

Jonathan’s eyes roll heavenward, as if he’s praying for the irritation to end. Well, hey, he’s the one who kidnapped her, he gets to live with those consequences. 

…

Jonathan is, surprisingly, a gentleman and offers her the futon to sleep on while he takes the couch. He only has a few changes of clothes here so she ends up sleeping in one of his button down shirts. She waits until his back is turned before she brings the collar up to her nose and inhales his delicious, masculine scent. 

She has no idea what cologne he uses but goddamn does she love it. 

A sort of pattern settles over them after a few days there. Jonathan will make the trek in the early hours of the morning to get them both breakfast, waking Y/N up with the clanging of the door when he returns. 

Once they’ve eaten, he immediately dives into his experiments and leaving Y/N to her own devices. All he has to do in this place is read his vast array of medical textbooks and journals, so that’s what she does. 

After nearly a week of this, she finally snaps, “When can we fucking leave?”

“Language,” Jonathan remarks, carefully finishing his task of measuring out chemicals before turning his attention to her, “Why would we leave?”

“Uh, because this isn’t an actual livable place and there’s nothing to do?” 

“Of course I have a child for a soulmate,” he grumbles before getting up, “We won’t be leaving. But, I’ll see if I can procure more suitable entertainment for you.” 

Honestly, that’s better than nothing. 

And she does not squeal in delight at the stack of romance novels he returns with the following morning, she’s just excited to be able to read something that isn’t about psychology. 

…

The phenomenon of soulmates is a fascinating one, Jonathan notes. One he’d be more than interested in studying if his research into fear wasn’t so pressing. 

Hell, even Edward Nygma has a soulmate–Julian Day. 

Jonathan’s own soulmate is interesting to say the least. She’s annoying and childish and loud, the opposite of himself in every way possible. 

She might be growing on him. 

He has a bit of an accident while mixing up a new batch of fear toxin. In those moments, he found himself far more concerned for Y/N than himself. Worried that he may have injured her by mistake. 

He hates it. 

He’s never wanted a soulmate and certainly never the feelings that come along with one. 

If anything were to ever happen to her, he would burn the entire world to the ground. He can no longer imagine his life without her in it and it’s driving him insane. 

…

It’s on a particularly quiet night, months into Y/N’s captivity, that Jonathan breaks out his stash of very expensive whiskey. He’s never been one to drink, but he finds that he’s agreeing with Y/N, he’s so bored lately. 

The flush of alcohol looks pretty on her face in the warm, dim light of the warehouse. He can almost pretend that they’re out on a date, enjoying each other’s company like normal people. 

It’s her that kisses him first, though. 

Her lips are soft and she tastes like the whiskey they’re drinking and he can’t seem to get enough. The euphoric feeling that comes over him is even better than his fear toxin, he thinks. He wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her closer and onto his lap where she fits so perfectly that it’s no wonder the universe chose her for him. 

She breaks away from the kiss, peppering his jaw and neck with follow up ones, “God, you’re such a freak, but I really, really like you.” 

The admission makes him more feral, gripping her impossibly closer and yanking at her clothes. He needs her in a way that he’s never needed anyone before. He feels like he might die if he doesn’t get her naked. 

She helps him remove her top, her breasts already bare as she’s forgone wearing a bra. He groans and buries his face between them, licking and kissing up her sternum back to those addicting lips. Her hips are grinding down onto him, lining up her core with his erection with unerring accuracy. Even through the layers of their clothes, he can feel how wet she is, how warm he knows she’ll be. 

He pushes her down onto the cushions of the couch, slotting himself between her legs and yanking at the button of her jeans. Her hips lift helpfully, allowing his hand to slip them down her thighs. 

He was never a very sexual being, always preferring the company of books rather than people, but he can see in this moment what he’s been missing all these years. There’s something so electrifying about touching and being touched by another person, something that sends delightful shivers all up and down his spine. 

He wants to own her entirely, and for her to do the same to him. 

Her deft fingers slip down his torso towards his groin, cupping his cock in her hand sweetly. He groans and the feel and his hips stutter down to grind against her palm. 

“Can I see?” She asks him, and it hits him in that moment that she never does anything without confirming his consent. He’s never had anyone do that for him before, his body always being the subject of either outright abuse or covetous leers. He helps her open his pants, letting those pretty fingers of hers slip past the hem to wrap around him. 

His eyes roll back as she grips him firmly, pumping his cock better than he’s ever done himself. 

Once he gains some coherency back, he makes quick work of removing her pants and underwear entirely. 

She’s bare before him, her most intimate place glistening and beckoning him forward. He’s never once had the desire nor fantasized about going down on a woman before, but he can’t stop himself from getting a taste. He runs his tongue between her lips, gathering the slick from her hole and dragging it up to her clit. 

He groans against her as the flavor registers, he already knows he’s never going to get enough of this, of her. Her essence is all he’s ever going to think about from now to the end of time. 

Her fingers bury themselves into his hair, tugging and grasping as he devours her. His name is being chanted, spurring him on to torture that little bud at the top of her sex. 

He can literally taste her orgasm as it gushes out of her, coating his lips and chin and it about makes him finish himself. 

Sitting up, he fists himself, hurrying to line himself up with her opening. Still coming down from her high, she mewls as he sinks into her, the walls of her cunt sucking him in as if it’s welcoming him home. He doesn’t think he ever wants to part from her, doesn’t ever want to draw his cock away from her. He pushes himself as deep as possible before drawing back and pushing back in. 

Her arms wrap around his shoulders, tugging him down so that their foreheads press. Somehow this is far more intimate that literally being inside of her and it makes him flush with how flustered it makes him. 

He doesn’t last long but he forgets to be embarrassed about it because he’s never felt so good in his life. He never wants this feeling to end.

He settles beside her, keeping himself firmly tucked into her tight heat. 

On her ribs, right beneath her heart, are his words and proof that they were meant for each other. 

[themxcrane]

(OC: Tony - They/him)

I completely forgot I had a Tumblr

Anyways, y'all fuck with selfshipping? (Yume shipping in my case)

🌾🕸️🌾🕸️🌾🕸️

[anonymousmink]

Some more KatCrane art because I’m feeling SUPER self indulgent this month and honestly - why not?? The world is terrible just let me live in my weird brain space for a while.

Reblogs are loved but please don’t repost!

[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.

[gorbo-longstocking]

THANK YOU @cebwrites FOR THIS VERY AWESOME ART I AM FOREVER IN YOUR DEBT

oc is zee from my scarecrow x oc x riddler fic wolf, made for slaughter AND THEY LOOK SO GOOD IM SCREAMINGGGGGGGG IM SO EXCITED TO LOOK AT THEM FOREVER AND ALWAYS

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

Scarecrow and the Bride WIP (update)

Ah, finally got to update on this! I am halfway done inking my Fall collab with my friend, so that's taking priority. In the meantime, I got a bit of a late shift so I'll prop won't get any requests done, but I made some progress on this piece!

I am trying to get as much done, so I can focus on the following weeks and october on the small short story. I do got lot of time, but since I am a busy individual, I often don't get the luxury of time.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Series Masterlist

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Broken, traumatized, and more than a little insane, Vanessa Sullivan and Jonathan Crane's childhoods were steeped in horror and loneliness. But when they are assigned as lab partners during their time in college, they realize that they may not be as alone in their madness as they'd both originally thought.

Word Count: 88,917

Notes: While all fics can be read as standalone pieces, those listed here are interconnected and can also be read as one long series. Please heed the warnings the can be found in the notes of each individual fic. All works are listed in the order I recommend reading them in.

✽ Indicates works with multiple chapters.

Part 1: How to Make a Monster ✽

Part 2: Late Night Study Session

Part 3: Bedside Manner

Part 4: Mask

Part 5: Torn to Pieces

Part 6: A Tale of Two Monsters

Part 7: In the Shadows of the Graveyard

Part 8: The Doctor Is In

Part 9: The Scarecrow & The Shadow

Part 10: They Scream & They Cry ✽

Part 11: Your Greatest Fear

Part 12: Destined to Do This Forever

Part 13: The Victim You Want Me to Be

Part 14: Agents of Chaos

Part 15: Watch the World Burn

Part 16: Why Do We Fall

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!

[hanawrites404]

Okay...I couldn't help it.

I made some more 'My OC as' for my other Cillianverse characters. (I will soon elaborate them in the future. I promise lol)

Vanessa Martinez

(Watching the Detectives)

Marie

(A Quite Place II)

Meera Khan

(Sunshine)

Dolores Young

(The Edge of Love)

Rose Grant

(Oppenheimer)

Jean Harper

(Batman Trilogy)

Yuna

(The Delinquent Season)

Jolene Sherry

(Red Eye)

Moon

(28 days later)

[elliehallers]

the darkest moon.

[2-guns-b1tch]

Just something I did because I found this cute reference pic and I was feeling in the mood to draw something soft

Jonathan Crane x Ophelia Swan (oc)

[inklingoffear]

There is no reason why therapy shouldn't continue, despite the change in their…arrangement.

[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!

[thesquishypenguin]

hoping and praying i dont spot anything wrong w this after uploading

IM KISSING THEM UR HONOUR IM KISSING THEM IM-

[fandomworldofdreams]

Hospital For Souls

"I want to hold you close, ekin pressed against me tight. Lie still, and close your eyes girl. So lovely, it feels so right. I want to hold you close. Soft breasts, beating heart as I whisper in your ear, 'I want to fucking tear you apart.' "

-She Wants Revenge

Previous: Prologue, CHP1, CHP2, CHP3

Warnings: force-feeding, violence

Chapter IV: Tear You Apart

Valeria glared across from the desk at Dr. Crane, who looked unfazed at her anger.

There was a faint bruise on his chin, his lip had a visible enough crack. That gave her some satisfaction.

"Ms. Gray, I need you to understand something. I'm only comfortable discharging patients when I am fully confident they are ready for it. Considering your disregard for the intensity of the situation and the fact you show no inclination to change, that is why I did what I did."

"You don't even know me," she hissed. "We talked for maybe thirty minutes and suddenly you know how I think?"

"That Is indeed my job."

"So far I can't say you're top tier."

He smirked. "You have been here three days and have yet to eat anything."

She tensed. "I didn't realize I was being watched constantly."

"I have to keep tabs on my patients to ensure their well-being."

"I'm not hungry, especially not for that shit you call food."

Dr. Crane sighed, removing his glasses and meeting her gaze.

She stared right back. His eyes reminded her of ice, an appropriate match to his soul.

"What is your favorite food?"

She looked at him confused. "I suppose hamburgers or sushi." He smiled softly.

"And your least?" She paused.

"Broccoli," she lied.

He reached into his desk and presented an apple to her. "I am going to give you one more chance to eat something before you regret it."

Valeria clenched her jaw. "Fuck you."

To her surprise he smiled at her. "I'm also aware your father finally came to visit."

"Were you also aware you worked together?" Valeria asked

"He mentioned that."

"Mentioned? You spoke with my father?"

There was a shift in his aura as well as his body language. He leaned back, knowing he held all the cards.

"I did."

Valeria was filled with anger. "What could you possibly gain from speaking with him?"

"Insight."

He was toying with her and she knew it. She took a deep breath before neutralizing her expression. "Well I do hope that the man who couldn't notice my mental decline, let alone tell you my favorite color offered a good look into my psyche."

Dr. Crane stood and walked behind her, leaning down so she could feel his breath against her ear. She shuddered.

"It gave me everything."

He turned, opening the door and motioning for the guard that had brought her. "Bring her here first thing tomorrow instead of Dr. Lecter's."

The guard nodded and roughly grabbed her, escorting her to her cell.

That night she tossed and turned, anxious of what was to happen. Dr. Crane was unpredictable and dangerous. Whatever rules he followed seemed to be few.

She also wondered what things her father had shared with him, how much leverage on her had he willingly offered up on hopes of helping her?

When morning came dark circles had appeared under her eyes.

"You look like crap," Teddy tried to joke. She huffed and they made the agonizing walk to Dr. Cranes office.

But they made a different turn. Valeria glanced to Teddy. "I thought we were going to Dr. Crane's office?"

"He instructed me to bring you to a different room." Her chest tightened and she asked no further questions, doubting Dr. Crane had informed him of anything else

They reached the room and Valeria was grateful she hadn't been eating, because she may have puked it up from nerves.

A chair resembling one found at a dentist office was in the center of the room.

The room itself was cold and she assumed this was where patients came for dental procedures.

Dr. Crane had removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

"Take a seat, remove the cuffs," was all he said, not looking in their direction. Whatever he was looking at, Valeria could not see, which only fueled her anxiety.

Teddy helped her into the chair and fumbled with his keys, nervously glancing at Dr. Crane. It was with that she knew he was new to this job. Or just afraid of Dr. Crane, which she wouldn't blame him for.

Dr. Crane finally turned to them, eyes locking on her. He approached her and reached for the arm of the chair, pulling a thick leather strap out and around her wrists, fastening the buckle. Valeria began to panic. She kicked out her legs and threw her hand around to try and get the buckle.

"Restrain her other arm!" Teddy grabbed her left arm and strapped it in. Dr. Crane reached around her head and pulled a final restraint out. He placed it over her forehead, immobilizing any movement of her head.

Valeria was breathing heavily and trying to wiggle out of the binds. The leather rubbed into her bandages. She was shaking.

"Since you refuse to eat," Dr. Crane began as he pulled a tray over beside them. "I believe it's time we fix that problem."

"What are you going to do?" Valeria asked, voice unsteady.

"Do you know what an orogastric intubation is?"

She didn't answer, clenching her fists to pull against the restraints.

"Perhaps you'll know the term 'force-feeding'?" A grin broke across his face at watching her eyes widen in terror.

"D-Dr. Crane is that even legal?" Teddy asked in disbelief. Dr. Cranes eyes squinted at him.

"You may leave if this is too much for you to handle." He turned to the table and grabbed a metallic tool that looked almost like large scissors with curved flat tips.

Teddy glanced to Valeria. But her gaze was on the tool.

"Open wide." She clasped her lips shut and he tried prying them apart with his fingers. Teddy stood there, frozen. Finally Dr. Crane hissed and squished her nose between his thumb and forefinger.

Velaria didn't loosen her jaw.

"If you don't breathe, the best that'll happen is you'll be unconscious for this. Which may make my job even easier. Of course, you won't know what happened during the session." His chuckle sent chills up her spine and fear consumed her.

She was beginning to see spots and her ears popped as she tried to force air out of her nose.

She finally caved and gasped for air. Dr. Crane immediately shoved his fingers in her mouth and wrenched her jaw open, shoving the tool he had in.

It cut into her gums as it slipped between her teeth.

He clicked it locked and her mouth was forced wide open, the metallic taste of blood against her tongue and the loud popping sound of her jaw made her flinch.

She looked at Teddy, eyes pleading. But he was just as terrified as her, unsure of what to do.

Dr. Crane pulled a small tube off the cart and made sure to admire it in front of her.

"You're going to need to relax your throat," he advised. "This process is very particular. You wouldn't want the tube to wind up in your lungs and drown you."

Fear had made it's home inside her and she was yanking so hard on her restraints that blood was starting to soak through them.

Dr. Crane stepped right beside the chair, gazing down at her. Valeria was breathing rapidly and unevenly. She tried pleading with her eyes to him.

"Let's begin."

She tried to close her throat as best she could. But other than making her gag, the tube slid right down.

She couldn't breathe. She was choking on the tube.

"Try not to puke." Dr. Crane said. His eyes would occasionally lock with hers as he continued pushing the tube further down.

She was going to suffocate to death was the only thing she could think of. The sounds she was making were inhuman. Her nails dug into the arms of the chair. Drool dripped down her chin.

Teddy grasped her hand, holding firm even as her grip threatened to break his hand.

Finally Dr. Crane stopped and Valeria was able to breathe. Tears were streaming down her face. He grabbed a funnel, attaching it to the end of the tube and then poured a blended up sludge into it.

Valeria was frozen, she didn't dare move out of fear of what would happen if she did. It didn't take long, but it felt like an eternity to her.

After Dr. Crane had emptied all of the food and made sure it slid down the tube he placed the funnel down and gripped the tube, making a small yank.

Valeria clenched her eyes shut, making a choking sound. He started to pull and again she couldn't breathe. Her throat contracted and hurt so much. Just as Dr. Crane pulled out the rest of the tube Valeria puked.

"Untie her and escort her to the showers then to her cell," Dr. Crane ordered, turning to grab his jacket and briefcase before leaving.

Teddy rushed to undo the restraints, fumbling between looking at her to make sure she was alive.

Her eyes were locked on the wall. "Shit, shit, shit," he was whispering. "I gotta report this, this is so fucked. I don't know why I didn't try and stop him." Valeria looked at him and grabbed his arm.

"You tell no one," her voice was a whisper. He stared at her for a long time before giving an unsure nod.

He helped her up and wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders to help her walk to the showers.

"Go in, there should be clean clothes in there. If you need anything I'll be right outside."

Valeria didn't remember removing her clothes or turning on the shower, thankful to be alone in the room. She turned on the showerhead and slid to the floor, burying her head in her knees.

Small, weak, powerless, violated, degraded.

That was all she felt as she sobbed uncontrollably.

She dug her nails into her wrists and watched as more blood soaked the gauze.

When she returned to her cell she just collapsed onto the bed and curled into a ball. Teddy paused, as if to say something, then hung his head and locked the door.

She felt like an empty shell, like her soul had left her bed.

That afternoon when dinner was brought to her cell, she ate it.