#ooc jonathan crane

[lucyswinter]

onion tears and caring kisses 🧅 〰️. - * • ❤️‍🩹

pairing: jonathan crane x f!reader

summary: jonathan comes home from a long day at work to his loving girlfriend trying (and failing) to cook dinner

genre: fluff

warnings: slightly ooc!jonathan, praise, mention of a slight burn

♡ ♡ ♡

(a/n): my first fanfic!! it’s just a lil drabble but i hope you enjoy <3 also i only sort of proofread so i apologise for any mistakes 😣

♡ ♡ ♡

you sigh loudly as a puff of steam quickly rises up from the small pan of onions you have sautéing on the stove. heavy raindrops are pelting the window above the counter next to you, an added distraction to the already hectic atmosphere.

“my gosh how difficult is it to cook some onions?” you mumble to yourself as your eyes water slightly from the intense smell of the onions. you drop the wooden spoon you had been holding, and bring your hand up to wave the thick steam away from your face, just as the smoke alarm goes off. you swat your hand down and groan, accidentally hitting your exposed wrist on the hot pan, which orients a louder and more aggressive groan.

“why does everything have to go wrong” you moan in annoyance, shrinking onto the floor with your back against the marble countertops, clutching your wrist, now red from the heat. the smoke alarm is still blaring at an annoyingly loud volume and at confusing, spotty intervals.

“love?” jonathan questions worriedly as he walks into the kitchen, slipping off a raincoat from his shoulders, pants damp from the rain “what is that sound” he continued in the nervous tone, referring to the smoke alarm. he walks forward a small bit and places his coat on the kitchen island, still unable to find you.

“jonathan? i didn’t even hear you come in” you exclaim as you hop up from your slouching position against the counter, wincing a little as you place your injured hand against the cold, hard floor in an attempt to get up.

“oh there you are!” he says, relieved. he smiles, walking over to you briskly and pulling you the rest of the way up by your elbows, giving you a small peck on the lips. “how was your day, pretty girl?” he looks you up and down as he waits for a response, his smile drops as he sees the quickly forming burn mark on your wrist.

“oh, love, did you do this? what happened?” he asks you, lifting your chin up with his fingers so he can make eye contact with you. “hm?” he prompts when he is met with silence.

“sorry i um” you wipe away a tear from your eyes, partly from the onions, and partly because it has been a very stressful half an hour in the kitchen. “i was trying to make dinner but i kind of messed it up and i hurt myself on the stove” you sniff, rubbing your wrist and turning your head to avoid his forced gaze.

he turns your head back to him, fingers still holding your chin. he frowns at your tears.

“oh my sweet girl” he praises, peppering soft kisses your under eyes which have become increasingly shiny from a more consistent stream of tears. he then brings your wrist up to his lips and gives it a soft kiss. you wince at the feeling, and pull it to your chest, cradling it slowly. he takes your cheeks in his hands and uses his calloused thumbs to brush away the rest of the tears. “darling, you know i always make dinner, you didn’t have to do this.” he coos you, his tone quiet and reassuring.

“i know john, i just-“ you huff, voice breaking a bit. you spot the corners of his mouth turn a little more downward, his frown more pronounced. you take a deep breath in and continue “-you just said you’ve had a hard week at work and i wanted to do something for you, and i thought it would be nice if you could come home and have one less thing to do, but i didn’t take into account that i really do not know how to cook, and tacos are especially labor intensive” you drone on, a stress-induced hiccup punctuating your rant.

he stays quiet for a few seconds, still holding your teary face in his hands. he lets out a chuckle and kisses your lips.

“oh my kind and caring girl. so thoughtful” he hums against your lips. “mm” he groans as he pulls away to look at you, tears still falling.

instead of saying anything else, he just brushes the tears collecting on your chin and turns off the stove. he then leads you to a drawer from which he pulls out ointment and a small bandage wrap. he squirts the pasty off-white ointment onto your red wrist and spreads it very softly, his heart aching at your quiet winces. he then wraps the bandage around your wrist and cuts it with a light tug.

“there we go, pretty girl. all patched up.* he places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose “why don’t we just order some takeout now, love?” he chuckles again.

you nod and sniffle, feeling a little guilty that he has more to do after a stressful day. your cheek smooshes against his shoulder as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

“jonathan, your kind of squishing me.” you tell him through his sweater.

“oh, im sorry love.” he pulls away chuckling, but keeps his hands locked around your arms. he pulls an arm away to wipe your tears one last time. “so should we get dim sum or pizza?” he asks, a playful grin sneaking onto his cheeks.

“how about tacos?” you reply with a smile, already in a better mood.

“sounds perfect” he softens his grin to return your smile as he begins to pull out his phone from his pocket.

…

you enjoyed the rest of the night eating professionally made tacos, and snuggling against jonathan on the couch. even though it ended up okay this time, you and jonathan agreed that you should not be allowed to cook for a while…

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(a/n): thanks for reading if you made it this far! ill be putting out more fanfics as soon as possible (once i figure out how to set up my inbox 😭)

[lumpypotato22]

[doctorcranes-ask]

Why do you always talk to that weird crow kid? He isn’t even technically your son.

Because. As much as I absolutely hate to admit it…

We’re very similar.

[ @scarecrowspawn]

[alchemicalterror]

You seem pretty mad. did he finally tell you what that shirt means?

….. Means?

GHOUL, what does the shirt mean?!

[tetchy-hatter]

Why do you like jon so much?

Dear Jonathan? well that's simple! we started our careers so closely together, specifically six months apart. being a newer rogue can be intimidating, but he helped me get through it.

eventually we broke out together! Occasionally we team up for schemes, but often we just hang out in our hideouts.

I'd say he's my only true friend. and he may never admit it, but I'm one of his closest friends too

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Jonathan Crane: I love murder mysteries!

Riddler, trying to impress him: I've been a suspect in four murder cases.

[gothamcity-official]

Scarecrow attacks in several neighborhoods

Fear gas has been reported in Crime Alley, the Narrows, Chinatown, and Upper East Side. Please put on your gas masks and stay or go indoors. 

If you are at home, it is a good idea to put your knives and other weaponry where you cannot reach them so you do not harm yourself or others if you are gassed. 

Red Hood has been seen in Crime Alley, Signal has been seen in the Narrows, and Black Bat has been seen in Upper East Side.

[hallowsden]

"Danny?"

After no response through the door, Jonathan sighed as he walked up to it closer and leaned at the wall next to it.

"You've been in there for a while now, y'know? Your sis is getting worried. All of us are, kid. Skipping meals like that ain't healthy either... Sure, Ed and I do it often but that doesn't mean-..." The older man's voice started to trail off when he felt something wet under his feet.

"What in the-" He felt his skin grow pale the moment he saw the green liquid leaking under the floor "-Oh... Oh, no- DANNY!? I'M COMING IN!"

Light from the hall leaked in the dark room, as the leak of glowing green trailed towards the single twin bed, where a figure sat atop of it.

Stepping in, Jonathan was hit with an Aura of wrongness. "Danny? You... You alright there, child?"

He watches Danny slowly turn his head, a loud sickening crack following it, and much to Jonathan's horror, he now saw why everything felt wrong.

"It's April third, Uncle Jonathan. Sister Jasmine knows this. Sister Jasmine should have remembered this."

Danny wasn't here in his room right now. Danno was.

[bullsh1tterz]

Istg with the amount of shit he says to dangerous muses, it's a mystery to me how Adam's even still alive.

[gotham-crow]

Edit: ooc post

Okay, time to go through all the screen shots I have of that crow facts article I read and tell yell about my little guy :)

(This is gonna be a lot so please bare with me)

Pt. 1 some back story stuff

Their family is cursed.

Around the age of 13 or 14 or sm, every female desendent of their family dies, mysteriously and tragically. The details of the children's passing are kept away from the public in the name of privacy for the lost and their mourning families. No one knows the cause, but it has been happening for generations. The males, however, seem unaffected.

Or is it?

This 'family curse' is nothing more then a cover up for a horrible deal made between a sick individual and a sick family.

The [insert family name that I haven't come up with here] family was once an extremely wealthy and powerful family in Gotham. But in a city where wealth rules, financial troubles are a terrifying thing for people who want nothing more than power.

To try and combat poor financial choices made, they started selling their female children to different villains, god knows there's a big enough market for test subjects in a city where the amount of villains with phds should have us reconsider the education system. The males were kept due to the family's need for a male heir and to carry on the family name.

The family wasn't cursed. All those children needed was someone who cared.

They have an older sister, or rather, had an older sister.

They only have vague memories about her from when they were very little. She took care of them, though, she was loving and warm while the rest of their family is cold. Any questions about her were harshly shut down and they quickly learned to stop asking. Their sister was much older then them, and so she succumb to the "curse" before they had a chance to really know her.

The public knows nothing about her because her very existence was kept as secret as her "death". She went unnamed for the entirety of her short life and was ignored constantly unless she was being ordered around. This was because she was an illigitament child of the male head of the family and this family values appearances more then its survival.

[minister-of-fear]

Get boopped crane!

- @hazardous-pit -

Mhm.

[fear-fatale]

the moment of defeat…

tell me, are you afraid?

Independent roleplay blog for Jonathan Crane/The Scarecrow based around the Arkhamverse and Batman/Scarecrow: Year One comics

General content warnings for the blog: Religious trauma, child abuse, medical malpractice, emotional manipulation

18+, Multi-ship, OC and crossover welcome :)

Rules / About

Written by Rain | Follows from @sillystimmings

x

[hroohraaa]

Hello doc!!!

Howdy how m8?

Ah- How did you get in here...? Am I seeing things again?

Well. Hello, there. "Mate." I'm doing alright. Finished work, so now I'm free to return to my...hobbies. Who might you be, then?

[doctorcranes-ask]

Would you ever consider dating Batman?

Ooo, now this one is interesting.

In reality? Would never happen, I’d get knocked out before getting the chance

In my mentally unwell fantasies? Well, I’ll give you this:

His psyche is just so intriguing.. I’d love to tear apart his mind and put it back together. He molds fear to his will, and I create fear!! Rather poetic, yeah?

9/10. I’m unwell

[alchemicalterror]

How do you feel about that invite your son got from Poison Ivy?

I’m aware of the invitation. I am not entirely thrilled by it, but I can’t say he’s conducting himself stupidly. I’d still be a lot happier if he turned her down altogether.

But, Ghoul is not my son - so I don’t have much weight to do much besides worry about his wellbeing and set him up best I can to come back safe from the greenhouse. He’s old enough to make that decision on his ownsome, and smart enough to decide how best to go about it to boot.

But you best believe I’ll be keeping an eye on him best I’m able without annoying Isley. I feel a mite responsible for the boy’s safety at this point, wouldn’t sit well with me to just turn him loose with no lifeline.

You’re such a worrywart, Jonny.

…. I’m sure he’ll be fine.

[cant-have-shit-in-gotham]

Thirteen hours

It’s been thirteen hours since Scarecrow escaped Arkham. Nobody knows where he is, nobody knows his plans, and nobody knows when they will take place. All they know is that it’s going to be bad.

From what little you can see on the security footage, Scarecrow is pissed. The kind of pissed where he attacks orphanages and playgrounds instead of office buildings and warehouses.

And it's been 

Thirteen 

Hours. 

[CW below the cut: mentions of bullet wounds, stitches. Screaming. Lots of screaming. Mentions of torture, especially in a medical setting, mental torture, mention of child torture, the chick is Creepy but doesn’t do anything SA-y but I’m gonna mention it just in case, mention of being trapped, mention of “the box” that might set off claustrophobia, being a self sacrificing parent, calling a child “it.”

Let me know if I forgot anything or if you spot an error]

————————————

Wil is almost relieved when Scarecrow finally surfaces. A typical attack on an occupied warehouse, one where the bats collectively decide that Hood and his henches have it handled and let them do their own thing.

When they arrive, they're not prepared for a firefight. They were expecting to see more people screaming on the ground from fear toxin than bullet wounds—they don't have enough medical supplies, and they certainly don't have enough ammo.

But they're Hood’s men. They claw their way to victory with bloodied hands. While they rush to save as many gunshot victims as possible, they don’t realize that they haven’t needed their gas masks yet. They don’t realize that Scarecrow isn’t done. Not until it’s almost too late, not until toxic green gas starts seeping up through the floor.

Beforehand, Wil is thinking about a large crack in the back of his boss’ helmit, where an enemy goon tried to knock his skull in with a metal bat.

After, Wil’s first thought is Aw shit, and his second is Holy shit boss’ ‘elmit is crack’d.

As he races over to where Hood is kneeling, stitching up a gunshot wound on one of Wil‘s coworkers, he mentally checks what all he brought with him.

Two gas masks and a rebreath’r. One mask got hit wit’ a stray bull’t, but the oth’r one and the rebreath’r ar’ fine. 

When he finally, finally, arrives at Hood’s side, all he has time to do is stuff the mask in his face, say “Your ‘elmets cracked,” and stick the rebreather in his own mouth. 

Ok, Terror Protocol.

-Ensure everyon’ dangerous ‘as a mask (Check)

-Find a mask fer yerself if ya can (His eyes scan the room, but everyone else had ta use ‘eir extras fer vict’ms)

-Leave if possible (“Boss,” calls anoth’r goon, we’re lock’d in from th’ outside.” Shit)

-Hand someone mask’d yer weapons (He starts throwing his guns and knives at Hood’s feet, desperately trying not ta pass out from the oxygen deprivation)

-Warn someon’ about triggers that could make ya violent (He feels his heart rate pick up as soon as he takes a breath of toxic green air. “Boz,” he chokes out, “k’p m’ aw’y fr’m med’c’l sh’t an’ an’on’ ‘n wh’te.”) [Boss, keep me away from medical shit and anyone in white.]

The Boss shouts something, but someone starts screaming with Wil’s next gasping breath and he can’t tell what was said.

Distantly, he recognises his own voice.

————————————

Riley hears Hood’s “Get us th’ hell outta ‘ere!” but only barely, because just as soon as he’s said it, someone starts screaming. The kind of screaming that reminds them of someone being tortured, taken apart slowly and never really put back together.

A second or two later, the sound stops—so abruptly they wonder if they ever heard it at all.

The other goons are searching for an exit or way to make one, so Riley looks for Hood, to see if he needs any help with whoever got dosed.

Fuck, they think, that’s Greenie.

Greenie, real name Wilbur Jacobs, has worked for Hood for three years. He started as a goon but worked his way up to the point where he’s now sixth in the hierarchy and even leads his own team of goons at times. He was actually the one to hire Riley in the first place.

(Greenie gets his nickname from a long conversation about the Green Lantern, where he made the joke “If ‘is ring runs on willpow’r, that mean I could control it? ‘Cause a my mast’ry of my own Wil-pow’r?”)

Greenie looks like shit. He’s shaking like a leaf in a hurricane; his hands are clasped in front of him like they’re cuffed there; his eyes are darting back and forth, scanning for hallucinated enemies, glassy, like he’s barely holding back tears, and terrified. Worse than Riley‘s ever seen in somebody who’s been fear-gassed.

Worst of all is the muttering. 

It’s only partly intelligible, but that’s only because he’s spitting his words through his teeth, not moving his jaw at all. (Did he think he was muzzled?)

“Damn you. Damn you. You can’t have him. You won’t touch him-”

“Ma- no, ma please-”

“If you touch one hair on my son’s head, I’ll make the Alcatraz escape look like a petty quarrel. I’ll string you up by your intestines-“

“Don’t leave me alone Pa, please I’m sorry-“

“Don’t- don’t touch him. Please. Leave my son alone. I swear- I- I’ll stop fighting. I’ll go back. Just let him go. Please-“

Shaking themself back to the real world, Riley turns to Hood. “Antidote not work?”

“No- he’ll have to wait till the Bats get here so they can synthesize one.”

Greenie was screaming again.

“I think-“ the Boss cuts himself off, “I think this one makes you feel the pain. Not just in resurfaced memories either.”

Riley flinches at a particularly pained scream, “I think you’re right.”

————————————

No. Nonononono no NO

Not again. Please. This can't be happening again please no pleasenono-

“And here I thought three years was long enough to make you stronger. It’s a pity that you’re just as pathetic as you were before.”

No not Her pleasenotHerno-

“Stop screaming. Look at me.”

And he does and She’s just as crazed-excited-cruel-

“There we go.” And She turns off the machine and he can breathe-

“I’m thrilled you found yourself a little toy. A talon, impressive. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Damn you. Damn you.” he spits, “You can’t have him. You won’t touch him-”

“Have you already forgotten that you don’t get to tell me what to do, Subject g-7512?”

And then She had his ma’s face and he was being left again and he was only seven howcouldthey-

“Ma- no, ma please-”

“Aww. Calling for your mum again?” And She was Herself and his ma was gone-

“Bring it in,” She called, and Wolf and Snake were hauling something through the door-

Morel.

“If you touch one hair on my son’s head, I’ll make the Alcatraz escape look like a petty quarrel. I’ll string you up by your intestines-“

She tsks at him, “Threats? Again? Have you not learned from last time?” And he did and he still had the scars but that was his son-

“A week in the box.”

“You’re a disappointment, son.“ That was his pa, behind him, to the right. “I’m glad we left you in that alley. You’ve only ever been a worthless leech.”

And he can’t turn to face him and his pa always hated that-

“Don’t leave me alone Pa, please I’m sorry-“

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re not alone. You have me, and Wolf, and Snake- and the Talon of course.  I wonder- should we return it to the Court, or do our own tests on it?”

“Don’t- don’t touch him. Please.” he begs, “Leave my son alone. I swear- I- I’ll stop fighting. I’ll go back. Just let them go. Please-“

She tsks at him again. Then motions for Wolf to turn the machine back on andhecantbreathe andhe’sscreaming andShetoldhimnotto andhecan’tstop

————————————

When he comes to he feels exhausted and his throat hurts and his boss is staring at him where he’s sitting in the dirt and-

The dirt? His boss? Wil stares up at the red helmet of the Hood and tries to ask what happened, but his voice doesn’t work. 

“Don’t talk, Greenie,” Hood says, in lieu of a greeting. “Drink this.”

His boss hands him a thermos, which he finds is filled with Earl Gray tea.

The warm drink soothes his throat enough to croak, “Wher’z Mor?” [Where is Morel]

“Asleep. About 10 feet behind you,” Hood answers. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“Don’ wor’y,” WiI replies, ‘ad a ‘ell a time m’self.”

“What part of ‘don’t talk’ means ‘don’t shut up’?” 

Wil smirks, and is going to try and croak out another answer, but instead gets tackled by his kid.

“Father,” they start, “Injured?”

“Sor’ an’ tir’d”

“Going home.” And then there's forty-five pounds of ex-assassin trying to drag him off in the direction of their apartment.

He gives his boss a look that says Pleas’ save me. But Hood just says “Good idea squirt, I was going to send you both that way in just a second.”

When they’re finally home, Wil puts on a happy, safe TV show, and wraps himself and Morel up in a blanket with a cup of tea. And even though the day was terrifying, and neither of them sleep, they have a good night and throw popcorn at the screen whenever the characters do something dumb.

(Tags: @imafangi4l )