#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.

[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)

[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!

[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)

[thesquishypenguin]

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

IM KISSING THEM UR HONOUR IM KISSING THEM IM-

[dibmembraneisgoodlooking]

Art again.

Should I color it???

[reptarcrane]

They had a... Difficult start.

[fandomworldofdreams]

Hospital For Souls

"Pay no mind what other voices say. They don't care about you.

Like I do. Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils. See they don't give a fuck about you. Like I do

Just stay with me. Safe and ignorant"

-A Perfect Circle

Previous: Prologue - CHP17

Warnings: drugging

Chapter XVIII: Pet

Valeria felt like a broken record on constant repeat. The same woeful story, hardened shell, and decaying body. She wondered what they saw in her. All she saw in herself was a nuisance, a hopeless cause. She supposed her bitterness and anger amused them, at the very least.

She was growing weary of resisting them any longer. They wanted to break her and damn it was working.

She couldn't get clean enough, no matter how many times she's washed herself. She'd scrubbed til her skin was raw. She felt disgusting.

The rec room was like viewing a reality show. Valeria was a spectator to the characters who all awaited the same foreseeable fate. She was no exception.

There was something truly sickening and dehumanizing about being physically violated. She'd thought the mental abuse had been the peak of suffering, she was ignorantly wrong. Believing the body was nothing more than a shell for a soul, it was a home for it. Once that had been desecrated. Any sense of safety was gone.

Valeria’s mind was vacant of any meaningful thoughts besides death.

Perhaps that was how she was meant to feel forever, that was her punishment.

She had no memory after the assault, how her clothes got back on, how or when she returned to her cell, and most importantly, what kind of information she had disclosed to them in her moments of mindless obedience.

She wished deep down that Dr. Lecter had extended the kindness of wiping her mind of the rape all together. But she knew it was a reminder, that there were no lines or limits to what they were capable of, the things they could and would do just for the amusement of it all.

She saw the table where Sebastian and Jane sat, deep in conversation, unaware of her presence.

Unaware of the knowledge Valeria may have ruined their only chances of escaping this place.

The way Dr. Crane looked while raping her could not leave her mind. The image was burned into her memory, his face continuously flashed before her eyes, sending her into a panicked dissociative state.

She couldn't muster the will to move towards them, her feet were cemented to the floor. She hated the thought of having to look them in the eyes after betraying them. The guilt she felt was suffocating. A lump in her throat that threatened to choke her or make her vomit.

A hand rested on her lower back, she immediately flinched. Her whole body tightened and relaxed. A feeling of warmth spread through her body, one that seemed to stir from her subconscious. The unknown sense of peace made her mind begin to spiral and panic. She found herself leaning into Dr. Lecter. Even if he was the last person in this world she wanted comfort from, she craved any type. She knew she could technically go to Teddy, Sebastian, or Jane for comfort, but what risk would that bring to them?

"Why haven't you sat down, dear?" His hand rubbed small circles, idly tapping his fingers in a soft rhythm that sent chills up her spine.

She shook her head, "can't" was all she could push out. The room was spinning, the feeling of tranquility was gone, overcome by an immediate sense of danger.

"You remember our discussion? "

She didn't respond, bile got caught in her throat. He pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and leaned closer. "Their fates rest on you. You are enduring, I'm sure you will do fine."

"This is cruel," she whispered.

"Cruel?" His lip twitched upward. "Human emotions are a gift from our animal ancestors. Cruelty is a gift humanity has given itself."

"Do you have the receipt?"

He chuckled, removing his hand from her back.

His aura was gone, she could've whined from the lack of contact and yet sighed at the relief. Her feet moved automatically, her mind far away.

When she took her seat at the table all eyes turned to her.

"Holy shit-" Seb breathed, his face falling. "You look horrible."

She imagined she did, her body was constantly in survival mode and it was beginning to take a heavy toll.

"Flattery will do you both no good," she teased, smiling as best she could, but it didn't stretch too far.

"Are you okay?" Jane's tone was soft, and Valeria almost sneered at how genuine it sounded.

She didn't deserve their concern. She nodded, absent-mindedly. “As okay as can be expected.”

"Look, we don't wanna give you too much info in case Lecter decides to scramble that brain again," Seb said, glancing both ways and leaning closer. "It happens tomorrow."

These words did not bring her solace like she had hoped when hearing those words. She didn't even feel dread, just a sense of urgency.

Her leg began bouncing up and down under the table, she intertwined her fingers on the table.

"Okay."

They looked at her confused. "Valeria . . . We're gonna be free."

"I heard you, Freedom." she said. Free, the word sounded sour on her tongue. She wondered if true freedom was even achievable. One was never truly free, perhaps there was room for free will. But there would always be bills to pay, past decisions to haunt you, and people to engage with. No, she would never truly be free.

Sebastian reached across the table to grasp her hand. She winced, but he didn't pull back. Instead, his gaze softened.

"What happened to you?" Her mouth grew dry and her body started shaking.

"I think I just need some more rest. I haven’t been sleeping well.."

She watched the way their faces fell at her words, seeing through the lie. “You know you can talk to us, we're here for you,” Jane said. “How have their sessions been? Have they gotten worse?” “They’ve been fine, nothing out of the usual.” The lie almost sounded fully convincing. Then, she watched as both their bodies stiffened, faces going hard. She sensed the shift in the energy.

Someone was behind her, a hand now placed on her shoulder.

This presence did not bring an alluring warmth, but a chilling cold that had her stomach spinning. Instead of reacting, her body froze completely. Hoping he wouldn’t acknowledge her.

"Good evening," Dr. Crane's voice was lighter than usual, almost upbeat.

Her body felt far away from her mind.

His fingers dug painfully into her shoulder. At the silent command she quickly pulled away from Sebastian's hand, placing her palms in her lap.

Submission.

"Crane," Seb replied, an edge to his tone. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"I'm just making rounds around the room, checking on everyone."

They were making it increasingly hard to act normal. Perhaps that was their goal, see how far she was willing to go. How well she could keep a secret.

"I had no idea you were so magnanimous," Valeria replied. She could feel Crane's gaze burn a hole in her head. She couldn't bring herself to meet it.

"I have my moments."

"What a pleasant surprise," she retorted, bitterly.

"I must admit, I am also here to see Ms. Lockwood and Mr. Cedar. I need to have a moment with them in my office."

Both of their faces turned to shock. Valeria felt her jaw tighten painfully, What game was he playing now?

"If you both would," he gestured behind him as two guards appeared to lead them out.

She looked back as they left, worry evident on their faces.

Crane, who was still standing beside her, moved his hand from her shoulder to brush against her throat.

She stopped breathing. He didn't say a word though, merely gazed at her reaction with satisfaction before following after her friends.

She watched the back of his head as he walked off after them, releasing a long shuddering breath..

She scanned the room for Teddy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

So, she was left alone with her thoughts and anxiety. Was he going to tell them he knew everything, revealing her betrayal? Each minute passed by agonizingly slowly. Before rec time was up though, Seb and Jane returned, looking flustered.

"What happened?" Valeria's voice was breathy. She was practically falling out of her seat with anticipation.

"They're releasing us," Jane said quietly.

Her ears started ringing. “What?”

“Crane says Dr. Lecter has put in a request for release, That he finds us both fit to return to society. Dr. Crane told us he agreed and has written us off as sane. We're supposed to be released in two days.”

Those fuckers.

“That’s great,” she said and she meant it..

“We’re still going through with the plan,” Sebastian said.

“They’ll come looking for you. You two have the chance to leave with all your freedom in fact,” Valeria's tone was calm. “You would both be stupid to continue with the plan.”

“We’re not leaving you,” Jane declared.

“Yes, you are.” she rose from her seat, taking a long look at them. “If you come for me tomorrow, I will not go. I will make a scene and then we'll all be stuck in this shit hole til we're killed. Don't come for me, leave me alone. I belong here and I understand that now. You two don’t. Besides, maybe you could fight this place from the outside, you’d have a much better chance of winning.”

“Yeah . . ,” Jane trailed off. “Maybe.”

It was a truly despicable feeling, the kind of feeling of worthlessness that led her to lash out and push people even further away. Her predisposed idea of abandonment she forced on everyone.

The knowledge that she was a piece of shit and deserved nothing good, she was a fucking disease that infected those she loved.

Even now, she had no idea why she had asked a guard to escort her to Dr. Lecter’s office.

She was a rabbit stepping back into a trap, simply existing and becoming prey.

He did not look surprised when she entered. He almost seemed to gaze at her approvingly.

“Why tell me to act normal and find out their plan if you just intended to discharge them?” She got straight to the point.

He leaned back in his office chair, his actions and expression reminded her of Crane, causing her to feel sick.

“I informed you, I intended to rebuild you. That means not having outside influence from others.”

“You’re going to release them?” She tried to keep her voice from cracking. “This isn't some trick or plan to kill them?”

He sucked in his lips, running his tongue along them. “No trick. They will be released. Unless they decide to go through with the escape plan, in that case, they will never see the light of outside again.”

“Put me back in solitary,” she pleaded.

He tilted his head. “Why, dove?”

“They won't escape without me. If I go away that ruins their plan and then they can be free.”

“I won't do that.”

“Why not?”

He pushed back so the chair was away from the desk and waved her over with a simple incline of his finger. Hesitantly, she approached him, legs slightly shaking. He patted his thigh.

She looked from the intimidation of it back to him, swallowing hard and sitting down so some of her weight was on the one knee. He lifted her and slid his other knee under her so her whole weight was on his lap and her face was pressed against his shoulder.

One hand gripped her waist, balancing her or trapping her, she wasn't sure. The other rested on her thigh.

His scent was different today, more bitter in comparison to his usual musk. The severity made her eyes water. Or maybe it was like seeing someone in a new light. The things that brought her comfort disappeared, overshadowed by harsh reality. The rose glasses were off and she was left standing as the fool.

“Decisions and choices must be made for this to play out appropriately,” he hummed. “I’m curious to see what will happen. I need to see choices they will make and what you'll do.”

“What I'll do?” she felt the vibrations from his voice against her cheek.

“Which course you’ll choose.”

“If I choose them will you kill me?” Hopeful, she was hopeful.

“No, not you.” a simple response. Yet it held so much threat within it. “Does that sadden you?”

“I don’t know..”

“Were you afraid when faced with death by your own hands?” She contemplated his question.

“I remember seeing all the blood. I think it was overwhelming, the fact I could make out the inside of my arm, I'd never seen so much blood. My heart was beating so loud it was driving me crazy. But I couldn't cover my ears, I couldn't even move. I remember sweat dripping down my forehead and then there was a ringing in my ears. I still hear that ringing sometimes, especially when Crane gives me that drug.”

“But what did you feel? Were you afraid?” His fingers had started dragging along her leg, though she was protected by fabric it did nothing to calm her as he moved higher up.

“Not towards the end,” she confessed. “It was almost peaceful, fulfilling oddly. Like I'd finally proved that I wasn't a fuck up.”

“In the beginning?”

“Terrified. All I could see in my mind was Lucian's dead body. The way his skin was purple, his pupils were so small. There was vomit all over him. I didn't want to die that violently. I wanted a quiet ending.”

“The same violent ending your mother faced?”

She paused, looking up at his eyes. “Yes.”

He reached up to stroke her cheek. “Death is a magnificent thing. Love and death are the great hinges on which all human sympathies turn.”

“Are you scared of death?”

“I've always found the idea of death comforting. The thought that my life could end at any moment frees me to fully appreciate the beauty and art and horror of everything this world has to offer.”

“I wish I could react as positively to the thought,” she whispered. “Instead it's a goal that clouds my mind everyday.”

“Perhaps that is what makes you different. Upon taking his own life, Socrates offered a rooster to the God of healing, Asclepius, to pay his debt. To Socrates, death was not a defeat, but a cure.”

“A cure for the disease of life . . .” Everything was beginning to click together in her head. “You believe because I faced death that I am more evolved than most?”

“Almost, you are still bound by your past blunders. Still too afraid to take the leap. I plan to change that.”

He was imitating God. Or, at least a God.

“You play with people's lives often, don't you?” He smiled, helping her stand to her feet, mirroring her.

“When the fox hears the rabbit screaming, he comes running, but not to help.”

He crossed the room towards the record player, moving the headshell to rest on the platter.

The vinyl came to life, spinning. Orchestral music filled the space, a mixture of strings.

“What are you doing?” her voice was a lifeless lull as she gazed at Dr. Lecter, who swayed to the record player.

“I'm dancing.” He held out his hand to her. She just looked at it.

“I don’t feel like dancing,” she said. Her words did not matter, he took one hand in his and brought it to clasp his shoulder, intertwining their other hands. She should have never opened up about how sentimental she was to dancing, they found a way of ruining it.

He started swaying, moving her body with the hand that gripped her waist,

“Dr. Crane once mentioned he administered his drug to someone who found it enlightening. That was you, wasn't it?”

“Yes. I saw things that opened up my eyes to my limitations. Do you not find the experience thrilling?”

“Not in the slightest, I live with these fears on a daily basis, why would I wish to experience them full fold?”

“Who’s the monster lurking in the shadows?”

Her heart thudded in her throat. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever you are under the effects of Dr. Crane's drug you see a figure lurking in the shadows. A monstrous form, if I'm correct.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Afraid the mere mention of it would summon it.

“I don't know. I speculate it’s my manifestation of fear.”

“Better to fear something seen than something only in your mind,” he hummed.

Her heart was racing in her chest, his hand around her waist made her want to push away from him or burn the clothes he touched.

“You and him aren’t in my mind,” she whispered, staring at the wall. She felt lightheaded.

“You fear us?”

“More than anything. I am a victim of your torment.”

“It is easy to create a victim. You lock a person up in the dark and they begin to suffer. And you feed that suffering methodically, precisely to make it last. And then there is trauma and it opens those cracks. Through those cracks seep darkness, everyone has a different reaction to that though. Many people lose their way or become ruined in darkness, those who were born in it thrive best in its familiarity. The light is what truly destroys them, making them indifferent to their true nature.“

“Are you implying I am one of the lost?”

Darkness. She had never truly considered it a fear, it was more of a dislike. Perhaps that was why she clung to Emily, the sun to her pitch black world.

“You are the ladder. Since the moment you have stepped in here, you have shown a particular interest in the dark.” No, she had shown stubbornness and arrogance. “Even when faced with possible death you held a knife to the two of us, refusing to go down without a fight. Rather to go out on your own terms.”

It was getting hotter in the room and the familiar feeling of panic hit her.

“You drugged me again.” It was a statement, one that lacked any distress.

“What gave it away?”

“When don’t you.” He chuckled, pulling away from her to twirl her under his arm. The action made her head spin.

“It’s not a potent concoction, so do not fret.”

“When?” Not that it mattered anymore.

“Think.” She licked her lips, glancing around the room. She hadn’t eaten or drank anything. Nor did he spray her with anything.

“Your scent is different, you sprayed yourself with it.”

He must also feel the effects and not be bothered by it. Could she ever achieve that?

“You aren’t scared. Teach me.” That smile was back on his face, the one full of intrigue and mischief.

“Focus without reacting. You cannot hide from your fears, they are apart of you.”

She sighed, allowing him to lead her into a faster-paced waltz. The room before her was no longer his office but a large ballroom. The one from her college with a large chandelier in the center.

Gone were her asylum clothes, replaced by a gown that had slits at the thighs, allowing her legs to peek through the fabric. The bodice was adjourned with green jewels. The pieces of fabric for sleeves drooped off her shoulders and the front of the dress plummeted down her front.

She was immediately uncomfortable, feeling too exposed. She turned to Dr. Lecter, but he was gone. She gazed at the faces around her, spinning frantically.

The notes from the orchestra filling the room with its sweet and calming sound. “Are you looking for me?” Dr. Lecter’s voice was in her ear.

She couldn’t talk, instead, she nodded.

“Are we alone?” He asked, unaware to what scene her mind had created. She shook her head.

“No, there’s so many people. They’re watching us. You said this wasn’t potent.”

He hummed, sliding a hand up her hip to cup her waist, his other hand trailed down the length of her arm, raising it to the side as he led her forward.

“What are you doing?”

"Where are we?" He ignored her question.

"The ballroom at my old college."

"We're at a party i presume?"

"Yes."

“Are they real, Valeria?”

They felt real, it all felt real. Even the way the fabric of the dress rubbed against her skin painfully.

“No?”

“Then why allow it to change what we’re doing?“

He spun her around to face him. She gasped, backing away. He was in an impeccable suit, but his eyes were pitch black, and antlers protruded from his skull. He tilted his head.

She was afraid, but she allowed him to take her hands once again and sweep her to the dance floor. A burning spotlight was on them as she struggled to not focus on his appearance or on the growing crowd.

She allowed the music to consume her, invade her. She let the movements flow through her body effortlessly, allowing him to lead her further. She leaned her body from him, reaching her hand towards the crowd, an extension of him. He kept a strong grip on her hand.

As she gazed at the monstrous figures in the crowd she returned to him, relaxing enough to lean into him as he dipped her.

The high notes of the strings turned dark, no longer a light quick beat but a deep sorrowful one.

“When you allow yourself to surrender you are acknowledging your power and lack of simultaneously,” his voice sounded like nails against a chalkboard. “When walking away from experiencing death our limits are broadened. A sense of invincibility and raw mortality send our nervous system into shock. It is a feeling beyond any other.”

Time held no meaning here, neither did wrong or right. It was all about survival, adrenal, a never ending high.

Dr. Lecter never missed a beat, following evenly with the tempo. His hands brushed against her skin, following the pattern of her body like a lover would. Each touch sent electric shocks through her body.

He raised his arm to spin her. One spin turned into two, then three. By the sixth she was too dizzy to balance.

But he was gone.

She was left alone under the spotlight, staring into the darkness that had consumed the crowd.

She fell to her knees, that feeling of bliss quickly dispelled.

She understood with some sickening clarity. She was afraid to be alone. Yet she clung to loneliness like a lifejacket, keeping her afloat in a storm of her own making.

She couldn't keep herself up anymore, falling further into the floor.

The spotlight disappeared.

The dance ended.

She wheezed, jolting up in bed. Her heart thudded in her ears, sweat trickling down her body, making her clothes cling to her.

She was shaking so hard she slid down to the cool floor to try and stabilize herself.

She had hoped for some peace finally. To wallow in silence, but like everything else in this hell hole, that didn't work out.

Her cell shut and Teddy took a seat on the bed.

“I may want to give you space and respect you. But you don't react to that, so I'm not leaving until you tell me what the hell's going on.”

“Sebastian and Jane are being released in two days,” the words tasted bitter on her tongue and she hated herself for feeling resentment.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Valeria, take a moment and really think of that. Do you genuinely believe they plan to release them? Let them free to possibly tell people what's going on here?”

“It’s a suicidal person's word against theirs,” she said.

“Okay, let me rephrase,” he said softer. “Do you truly believe after the trouble they have caused the vengeful Dr. Crane, that they will truly be free? That Dr. Lecter doesn't believe when they leave they will fight to get you out of here.”

She broke then, a damn being blasted open. All the tears came pouring out and she buried her head in her arms, shaking uncontrollably.

“Hey, it's okay,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. She flinched away, cowering.

“Don’t touch me!”

She hated the fear in her voice, the weakness she showed him. How pathetic she felt.

She hated the way his gaze softened, like he could see right through her. Loathed the hint of pity that passed across his face.

She tried desperately to regain control, fix her slip up, but she was so tired.

"Even if it's a small chance,” she whispered. “We wait for their release. Two days. I can wait that long. You want to get me out, wait until they've been released. Assure me you'll be there to make sure they are released.”

“Too much can happen in two days,” he said. She acknowledged the concern.

“It’s the only plan I’ll agree to.” He nodded.

“Okay, two days. Then we're getting a damn burger and sleeping for a week.”

[gorbo-longstocking]

Chapter 5

You lifted your leg and kicked open the doors with a loud bang. There was a surprised yelp, the smell of garlic growing stronger now that you were in his… office, if you could call it that. It was a wide room of wall to wall bookshelves, and nestled to the side at what you could only assume was once the front desk, were at least ten computer monitors, their glow being the only light that filled the room. Sat in an office chair in front of the screens was the Riddler, his eyebrows melded with his hairline.

When he realized who you were, his surprise melted into a satisfied smirk. He looked like the cat that got the cream and it infuriated you. “Took you long enough to—”

“You!” With an enraged snarl, you lifted your laptop over your head and charged.

Fear flickered over his face, and before you managed to get halfway across the room, he pulled a pistol from under the desk. It seemed he was a trained hand, his grip was firm, the muzzle level, but it was obvious he didn’t resort to firearms often. He didn’t seem to know where to aim. At first, he pointed at your head, then moved to aim at your stomach. “Another step and I— Damn!”

When you didn’t adjust your course, a shot rang out and a sharp pinch in your gut alerted you to the fact that you had been hit. You had eaten well today, so the injury wouldn’t last. The only roadblock you had to face was if the bullet didn’t exit out of your back, but that was a problem for later. Right now, despite the white hot burning that spread from the wound, lighting each of your sensitive nerves ablaze, you were single minded in your pursuit. Edward Nygma would pay.

“Jesus Christ—” Another bang, this time the bullet clipped your ear. He was aiming to kill now. Before he could fire off another shot, your feet were planted on his desk and your fingers were wrapped around his wrist. With a squeeze, he let out a pained gasp and the weapon tumbled from his fingers onto the ground.