#king-crane

[staticonthestratosphere]

doctors: ✔✔ mob bosses: ✔✔ left-handed: ✔✔

GOD I literally don't have anything but insane ramblings for how much I love these two together: something something, 'I never thought I could see myself reflected in someone else, with all of my flaws and damnation'

credit for her dr. crane @king-crane and dr. rosemary j. paolazzi from one of my million other blogs @twoiinthehand

[spinxeret]

+ @king-crane gets a plotted thing !

+ Shooting in Gotham hadn't been nearly as EVENTFUL as so many of her friends had made it sound like it would be . The dangers were well KNOWN , given Gotham's reputation, but with all the PRECAUTIONS everyone within the cast and crew had taken, all of them had felt a bit SAFE considering how well everything had gone without a single hitch thus far . Was that a sign that they were in the CLEAR , or was that merely a cause for CONCERN ? Mary Jane was hoping it was the latter. With the LUCK she had in usually being the one to run into things, it wasn't like she hadn't had the word ' DANGER ' tattooed on her arm somewhere .

Right now ? She was beginning to think she was getting SICK . Her head was throbbing, and no matter what she'd done throughout the day, it seemed like the entire ROOM was shrinking around her. Her heart kept POUNDING against her chest, like the HAIR on the back of her neck were standing end-over-end . The idea of even leaving the room was beginning to make her feel like her skin was in a cold SWEAT .

If this was fear, it was unlike any she'd felt BEFORE .

[rance-ed]

“DO YOU THINK THERE ARE MORE OF US, PROFESSOR? IN THE DARKEST SHADOWS OF THE WORLDS BETWEEN… WAITING FOR THAT CRITICAL CATALYST? DO YOU RECOGNIZE MY VOICE? MY FACE? I DO NOT RECOGNIZE YOURS. BUT I KNOW. I KNOW WHO YOU ARE.”

My brother in canvas, you really must untense your shoulders. You come in here all nickity pickity, might give a fellow the wrong idea.

I don't think there's much waiting and I think we're well past the need for shadows. Stand under the lamplight right where they can see you and know there is nothing they can do to stop what is to come.

I think we've all more or less agreed to ignore one another for the most part. Gets a little itchy when there's so much burlap, you feel me? I don't recognize you, no, but you gave me enough context to go off of. I don't hide what I am, only where. There's worlds of us, brother. It's nearly a pity we don't play well with others.

[fferal-archive]

@king-crane sent an ask: “What an interesting little creature you are. Why do you have my face?”

"Wow." He's taken aback by both the sentiment and the observation: It's true. On first meeting, they do look quite alike. That explains some of those comments he's gotten.

"I thought my ego was large," Daken tells Crane, expression sanctimonious. "Your face? Have you ever heard of the concept of 'coincidence'? Sometimes people just look like each other."

To be fair, they really do. Though the height is a dead give-away; his neck is practically bending backwards to look up at him, arms crossing across his chest.

"You're too tall to be a glorified chemist. Be shorter."

[noetic-noesis-noein]

@king-crane​ sent:  YOU THERE *GRABS YOU BY THE SHOULDERS* NEVER BEFORE HAVE I BEEN SO FUCKING INVESTED IN A THREAD LIKE THE ONE WE HAVE GOING ON. EVERYTHING IS SO SEAMLESS AND FAST PACED AND THE WAY YOU WRITE ARDEN AND HOW INTROSPECTIVE SHE HAS JUST GIVES ME GOOSEBUMPS ALL THE TIME AND I ADORE HOW SHE REACTS TO THE WORLD AROUND HER AND HOW MANY FEELINGS SHE HAS!!!! AND HOW YOU SHOW THEM, INSTEAD OF JUST TELLING

   SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP    YES YES YES EVERYTHING YES!!! I ABSOLUTELY ADORE WRITING WITH YOU AND IT’S A DELIGHT TO BE ABLE TO DO SO!!! I LOVE THESE TWO IDIOTS AND EVERYTHING THEY DO TOGETHER 💖💖💖💖💖

[elisethetraveller]

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS BLOG IS WONDERFUL. Elise is such a tragically beautiful character and I can feel the love and care you put into every single lovely piece of writing with her. All of your writing drips with sheer character and elegance and I can’t help but be amazed - sometimes I take so long to reply simply because I’m trying to come up with a good and worthy response! You’re also so approachable and patient and kind ♥️ I just think you’re wonderful

Darling 🥺🥺🥺

[red-hemlock]

@king-crane started following you!

"Oh yes, they're quite dead." The glee in her voice betrays her, apparent even under the mechanical tone of the mask's voice-changer. How pleased she almost seems, standing there amidst a group of fallen people like a crimson idol. Unneeded now, the final spent pen-syringe is pocketed-away safe into a pouch on her belt, and suddenly she's reaching for the face of a woman who was closest. Cradling it, manipulating the wide-eyed and lolling body-part this way and that, almost as if in mockery of it's prone state; of it's vulnerability.

And throughout all this, even as she 'playfully' pats the cheek of the unfortunate lady, River is watching her 'party-crasher' with such unabashed intensity.

"Well... I suppose that's kind-of a teeny-tiny lie, dear... They're not dead yet."

[corvidamned]

@king-crane | continued Her umbrella shields him from the elements. Her bare hand is warm, cupped against his face. She could feel him shiver and shake. They don't have long. "Don't talk." At least, not until she can put a real damper on the damage. The world's not done with you, Scarecrow. And neither is Mr. Cobblepot for that matter. Not while there's books to be balanced and business to be done. Taking her overcoat from her shoulders, she wraps it around his shoulders.

It's unwise to move him. She sets down her umbrella, and switches her eyes with a blink, scanning him with stark red glowing cat eyes. Her hands feel down to his chest. And without warning, a sharp pink tongue darts to the site of his wound, digging within. It retracts with an unnatural curl and snap. The wound would heal within seconds, and with a brutal pat on the back, his lungs should reinflate. "You might want to button up…" She picks up her umbrella.

[twoiinthehand]

Crane was still unused to the ride to Castillo Apartments, but the odder part was picking Carrie up from her own apartment downtown. She had met the Paolazzi twins almost completely on accident, unlike him, and he wasn’t exactly keen on this meetup - but there was no choice.

They bear gifts as they stalk into the lobby. They look as though they’re dressed for a funeral, both of them towering and dressed in black. They don’t bother stopping as they head straight for the elevator, and the penthouse. Stone cold faces and stoic, it’s only when they are greeted at the door by the twins that they both smile and wrap their arms around their hosts - Crane latching on to Rosemary, and Carrie onto Lucifer.

"You know, you're doing that stupid thing again," Lu hums to his sister while sipping on wine, leaning against the kitchen's island. Staring at her reflection in the framed painting, "What thing." "Where you're running around like a moron." Dropping her head back over her shoulders, she groans deeply. "I'm asking for one night where you're not a complete pain in the ass. I want this to go well. How many people can we say that we share a birthday with? Especially them." "Rosemary," he hums sweetly, taking a few steps to smile and tower over her. "Relax. I'm going to piss you off, this you know, and I'm going to have Mugger on my team taking crackshots at your life choices." Pressing his fingers to his chest, "It's my job." About to tear him a new one as she had been all evening, the doorbell rings. "Ah!" "Oh no, the door." "Shut up, will you?" "No." A beat, "Ah, Devil's Night." "Mischief Night," she corrects, pointing to nothing. Heels click on the white marble tile, tucking a lock of black hair behind her ear. Lu saunters along behind her, grinning wide once the door opens. "Happy Birthday!" they declare in unison. "Oh you look lovely darling. You too Carrie, but you know I don't need to tell you of all people." Beckoning them in, "In, come come come. I just had the caterers sort themselves out and the rest of the Family is out on the deck." Pressing a kiss into Carrie's temple, "She went overboard again." Swatting at Lucifer, she rolls her eyes. "Ignore him. But yes, Family's here for another hour or so, and then the rest of the evening is ours." "And we can finally get to Parcheesi," the musician giggles. "Better than Monopoly." "I'm not sorry that you lost." "You can't just pull a gun on me when I don't give you Ocean Avenue."

[staticonthestratosphere]

God I love them both so much

Miss Arden Harris and @king-crane ‘s Jonathan Crane

[optimisticrobin]

@king-crane liked for a starter.

Regardless of whether or not Scarecrow was supposed to be there, Nightwing had broken one of Batman's most important rules: always be prepared. He had no antidote to hand and the fear toxin was steadily taking effect. At first he had been able to handle it. He knew he was under the influence of the toxin and he knew that the distorted figures of Gotham's most infamous villains weren't there.

Apart from Scarecrow.

As the toxin began to fully take hold, his grip on reality slowly began to slip. He was on the ground, fingers tightening around the escrima stick he still had in his possession until his knuckles whitened. As if that would ground him. As if it would cause the distorted faces of his parents to disappear.

They were so disappointed in him. They thought it was his fault they were dead.

"No. I...I was just a kid. There wasn't anything I could do to save you..."

[thecursedraven]

Predator and Prey- Closed Starter

Having finally come into town after being told that she had less than 48 hours to be prepared for a semi-permanent relocation, there was hardly any time for formalities or for her to put her bags down before Darius had launched into this whole exposition about things that were going on- and all she wanted was a cup of coffee.

Her head tilted slightly at the mention of new prospective business partners, and she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow when he started trying to imply that she would be leaving to meet one in an hour.

"I'd love to stay and chat of course and fill you in but you know how things go and I'm sure you two will get along well- he and I talked briefly and I let him know you'd be meeting him since you specialize in more of... Well, that aspect of things- so have fun!"

And then her whirlwind of a boss was out the door with a bouquet of flowers for his other 'Business Meeting' and Mera was left with some hastily scrawled details and a location to get to.

And so, doing what most people of sane mind wouldn't do, Mera began to walk down the darkened streets of Gotham, alone.

@king-crane

[lostxndbroken]

Replied to open starter of @king-crane​​

Oliver Queen wasn’t new to monsters. In Starling City, he had his own set of criminals and monsters, but nothing came close to the figure that emerged from God knows where. Most of Starling’s monsters held something recognizable to their old selves, something that looked still human. Starling was a joke compared to the creations of Gotham.

Was it his place to interfere in a city that wasn’t his? Probably not, but he couldn’t risk this thing to roam around and harm innocent people.

He looked down from a roof and aimed his arrow at another so he could descend down. It was perfect and strong. Oliver jumped down and the rope attached to his arrow brought him where he guided to go. A subtle roll before ending on his feet and a new arrow aimed at the monster that stood a good distance away for his own sake. “No further!” The voice changer made his vocals sound unnatural and deep.

Oliver’s heart was pounding behind his chest like he was given a large dose of adrenaline now he stood in the monster’s line of sight. He pulled the string a bit further back. Perhaps there was also a tad of fear as he got a better view on the blood and the bile. It was more than just a tad of fear. This thing had too many arms, its bile eating through the ground and it fumed. He didn’t want to breathe that in.

[noetic-noesis-noein]

from this with @king-crane

    Breath sawed in and out of her teeth, damaged lungs from years of smoking only allowing her to choke on coughs. ‘I can’t stop bullets’, she’d said so many times to other partners, leaders, and everyone in the past. Now, as she sat against the side of the bed, covered in someone’s blood, her shoulder burned and she cursed the limits of her powers. Picking it up to move brought on more pain. “Professor?” she asked to nothing as an expletive that would be easily squashed with a sardonic response. Over faster than she could remember, her mind blurred. I didn’t lose control, did I?

   Floating up to her feet, knees shook with the rush, involuntary tears falling from the corners of her eyes. Using the heel of her palm, they were wiped away. “Professor?” came the frantic query. Catching sight of him on the ground, Arden rushed his side, setting his head in her lap. Fuck fuck fuck fuck- Hand under his nose, a soft breath hit it. Softly, “Oh thank God..” Leaning down, she rested her forehead on his for a moment. “I couldn’t bare losing you too..” 

   Eyes surveyed the damage to his leg. Simple flesh wound, it would be easy to patch. How many injuries had the hero patched on herself in the past? Laying her hand on his cheek, another bout of tears left her eyes. Thumb rubbing his face, blood spilled from her pierced deltoid, staining the cropped green shirt and pajama shorts. Scars of her own on display, his head sat right next to the large white gash on her stomach. 

   Watching him jolt back to life, her head dropped back, eyes closed. Tears ran down the tracks on her face as she smiled, continuing to rub at his face. Shaking her head, white, sweaty hair fell out of a loose braid. “Might be a good idea to get back on the road then, Professor. But first, I gotta take care of your leg and my shoulder before we both bleed out.” Without giving him room to answer, “Unless you want to take care of it on your own, but that’s up to you.” 

   Fingers flourishing, they glowed brightly. Standing, Crane rose with her as she set him to the bed, piling pillows up, propping him upright. With a wave of her hand, the room set itself back to basics, save for the blood stains and bodies on the floor. Catching a glimpse of her shoulder in one of the decorative mirrors, Arden shook her head. “I fucking hate getting shot. Never leaves a nice scar.” Stepping back by the bed, she hiked up a leg of her shorts to show off a quarter-sized scar that sat almost dead center on her upper thigh. “Not too bad right? It’s always the exit wound that sucks more.” Turning around, a sunburst ruddy scar double the size of the front painted the back of her leg. “It missed my femur by a sneeze of a millimeter.” 

    Sitting on the side of the bed next to him, a glowing hand furled into a fist, pulling his pipe and her cigarettes from their hidden locations. Taking his pipe out of the air, Arden carefully (and perhaps a bit shoddily) packed his pipe the way she had seen him do it a thousand times before. Offering it and a flame, a cigarette of her own zipped out of its pack and sat at the corner of her mouth, lit on its own. 

[elisethetraveller]

Continued from; king-crane

"Jonathan?"

The voice responded with a burning, seething rage, and the Scarecrow couldn't help but turn to face the offending source, his eyes narrowing beneath his mask. Oh. It was her.

Leaning down, the Scarecrow seemed to make himself smaller, if only to appear all that more menacing to the woman who shared his house, who shared the same cell block as him. Slowly, a gloved hand reached out to cup her chin, and he examined her in the way that a doctor might. In fact, he was already producing a flashlight to shine in her eyes, and then into her mouth.

"You show no signs of delirium, so I've no clue why you would address me as Jonathan." A small snarl, and he was back to standing at his full height, hands tucked neatly behind his back as though he were standing at attention. "You have only ever seen Crane, not Jonathan. Brother Bones only ever makes himself known when he wishes to play one of his games, but he can still be relied on. And me?"

In a flash, he's back in her face, bloodshot eyes burning with rage through his gas mask. "I am the Scarecrow, the God of Fear, Master of Terror, the man you should be thanking for your life. Crane freed you - he has a fondness for you. Do not think I have these same attachments."

He watched the woman closely - he wouldn't hurt her, not really. Just a good scare.

The voice confirmed it, harsh and clearly offended by her question. She couldn't remember having ever heard such a tone from Jonathan. Not even during their escape, with orderlies, guards, and other threats, plenty deserving of rage. It was like there was someone else in the costume. That line of thinking might even have been justified were it not for his unique physique. Elise was sure she would know the difference even if another donned the mask.

Perhaps it was that certainty which stopped her from pulling away as he grabbed onto her chin. The scar on her neck itched. This close, she could see the eyes beneath the mask. True enough, they were those of her friend, yet the person behind them, the soul some might call it, was not the same. Her gazing was stopped by a blinding light, a flash of red reflecting back. Realizing he wanted to shine it into her mouth, the mage stubbornly closed it shut and moved up a hand to push the light away. However, before she got the chance, he was pulling back.

Brother Bones? The name was familiar, though from where Elise wasn't sure. Or maybe it wasn't? The nature of her delirium had made her a great listener, even to people who didn't want her to hear them. She had heard many things in the asylum, though the memories of what exactly had been said, about who, and by whom drifted like smoke. A memory would resurface on occasion, a haze of information and details, only to disappear when she tried to grab hold of it.

His dash forward had her move backwards, feet shifting to give her a better footing. The pulse in her ears was speeding up as her nails scratched at her palms. "Gods don't–" Her right shoulder twitched as the broad scar on her neck flared with a forgotten pain. A pricking of needles down her back. Eyes darting back and forth between the eyes behind the mask, she seemed to search for something. "You are trying to scare me…" The realization hit like cold water, waking her up from a nightmare. "Why?" Elise hadn't meant for the question to sound so accusing. But she wanted to know. Why was he trying to frighten her? Why should she thank him for her life? Why was he so angry? Why was the Scarecrow here?

( @king-crane )

[archaievist]

She can smell it a mile away. He's upset, and she doesn't blame him. "Because it seems to have touched a nerve. But I ask you this love," she turn his face to hers, "does that game know our lives? Does it know the trials we have gone through and triumphed over? Does it know that we have chosen each other above all others? I don't think so." Eliza snuggles closer, "My dear, our relationship is what we make it, not what that silly test says."

"Darling, are you brooding about what that game said?" She pets his hair.

“No.” He lies, as easy as breathing. “I simply find the game a bit stupid, is all.” He mutters, his breath warm against her neck. The moonlight filters in through their window and he rests against her. “Why do you ask?”