#oc x scarecrow

[glitterhoof]

hello scarecrow nation

#batman oc #batman arkhamverse #batman arkham knight #scarecrow batman #batman arkham series #arkham knight #scarecrow arkham knight #scarecrow x oc #scarecrow tag #the scarecrow #jonathan crane #dc scarecrow #dc rogues #batman rogues #dewey tag #oc x canon #canon x oc #oc x scarecrow #pawesome art #SO MANY TAGS. I have to get that coin ok

[silkysquidz]

As per a few requests~ Here is every single frame of Voodoo Doll going in to kiss the different versions of Crane~

#jonathan crane #dc #Scarecrow #Voodoo doll #Fearstate #Year one #BTAS #BTNA #Arkhamverse #Nolanverse #OC x Scarecrow #HHSD

[your-average-gothamite]

me and jonh

#gothamite #Gotham rp #rp #oc art #oc x scarecrow

[feninina]

𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.⁀➷

therapist! jonathan crane x female reader.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: when your father decided that you needed therapy, taking you to his dear friend dr. crane to treat and help you, you thought it wouldn't work at all, but it turned out to be everything you needed.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT(minors dni!!), noncon/dubcon, depression, cursing, crane is a mysoginistic prick, using therapy for unhinged reasons, smut, hair pulling, jonathan just being an creep, choking AND strangulation, dacryphilia, hitting, unprotected sex (safe sex its great sex!!), breeding kink, forced breeding, power dynamics, i think crane should be a warning himself, reader being borderline stupid and naive. also this has a lot of backstory i’m so sorry i got carried away lol.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7.1K

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: omg my first fic on here!! this is also my first work on english and my first smut ever so i apologise in advance for any mistake!! i hope y'all enjoy it anyways ahahahaha live laugh love jonathan crane👏🏻 feedback its very appreciated so i can improve and continue to publish better works, anyways enjoyyyy 💓

𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁

It was awkward, to say the least.

You were sitting across from Doctor Crane in the couch at your dad's house, legs crossed as you watched him write on his clipboard, something about it making you feel anxious, a little nauseous, even.

This wasn't your first session, you started doing this four months ago, not long after your divorce that caused you to fall into a spiral of sadness and misery. Your failed— and short marriage was the main reason you started taking therapy with your dad's friend, the chief of Arkham, Jonathan Crane, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it.

He was patient, you told him several times that he was a saint. Regardless, before you started with the sessions, he explained to your dad that he didn't really do this; therapy really wasn't his strong suit, but for a friend, a desperate one, he would gladly do it.

Your dad came to him, offering a big stack of money if he would talk to his little girl, make her recover her once joyful personality, like you had one to begin with. Jonathan really couldn't say no, and not really because of the money, he had other reasons in mind, unethical reasons.

And there you were now. You were quick to open up to him, eager to talk, to be listened and he, on the other hand, was ready to listen, to give you advice, console you and help you get through the sorrow that was following you since you were young, playing the role of your knight in shinning armor.

"I can't believe you don't actually do this" you said once, sniffling your nose with a handkerchief he gave you as he examined you with a warm gaze, an empathetic grin on his face. "You're really helping me"

Jonathan was quick to wave his hand and tell you that it wasn't a big deal, that he was just doing his job, and if you weren't so innocent, so stupid, you would have noticed the mischievous sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a split second.

You were landing right in the palm of his hand.

Not even thirty minutes into the first session you told him everything about your past; every little thing you thought he needed to know to treat you. And you were slightly right; he did need to know those things, but not to treat you, just to manipulate you and mold your little brain into what he was envisioning for you and your future together.

Truth was, you hated everything about your life, regardless of the fact that you had everything. That's what you've been told since you were a child; a big house, a lot of money, maids taking care of you so you wouldn't have to move a finger and just sit pretty and relax inside the walls of the huge mansion that confined you since you could recall.

You have everything. That was bullshit.

Sometimes, you couldn't help but think that people told you that out of pity, like they knew how miserable you felt, but not daring to say a word about it. Your dad was a powerful man, and you were aware of that, ever since you were born, he had bussines with Falcone and you knew that people feared him, he practically ruled Gotham, that lifeless and dangerous city that you had to live in.

You have everything. You were tired of that sentence. You didn't care at all about these nice things surrounding you, those dresses in your closet, those diamonds in your jeweler, that fancy car you owned since your eighteenth birthday, no, that was useless in your eyes, because all you really wanted, was love.

It was a lonely life; you learned how to do everything by yourself, how to comb your hair, how to deal with your period when it first came, how to dress up properly and do your makeup. You didn't even had to learn about boy problems because there weren't any boys in your life, you were homeschooled. So you were quiet, not really having to talk at all, there was nobody to talk to.

And since Jonathan was the only person you were talking to at the moment, you started to feel like you loved him, the idea sitting right with you without you even knowing it, thinking that this was how therapy normally went.

Loneliness striked your life at a young age; your mother died from a strange disease when you were eight, leaving you with a shattered heart thad bled everytime you walked past her bedroom, or saw a picture of her. You practically watched her die, a witness of how she lost her strength, how her once beautiful skin turned pale and yellow, and lost every little spark within herself, and the worst part was that all the money you had, couldn't even help her.

It was a deep wound that you carried with yourself, with nobody to talk about it.

Your father spent his days locked up in his office, and when he wasn't there, he was out in the city doing unthinkable things that you didn't even wanted to know about, leaving you on your own, having to fill all of those silent and empty rooms by yourself, with nobody to laugh with, nobody to hold you and see you grow. He wasn't really around, working all the time, too busy to know that his daughter didn't seem to care about all the expensive stuff he bought for her, not even taking the time to have dinner with you or hold a simple conversation. He loved you, you knew that, he just wasn't the type to show his affection with words or actions, but with gifts. And you hated everything about it.

But now, Jonathan was there, making you feel listened, finally saving you from falling into loneliness again. Your whole life, you thought you had a horrible sickness, that you were doomed to this awful destiny of sorrow and silence, but now, with his sweet words and good company, you couldn't be more than relieved.

You wished sometimes that you met him earlier, that this whole therapy stuff started before, and you even confessed it to him. And it irked him a little, that you didn't even remember how you two really met each other, hiding his annoyance with a warm smile.

Some months ago, your father started to brought you to parties he attended, parties were all the corrupts scumbags from Gotham reunited and celebrated how they were dragging the city to the gates of hell on their benefit, and you couldn't be more happy to attend them. You knew he was bringing you because he recently broke up with the young girl he carried with him— that was most likely your age, and needed a pretty thing to hang of his arm and take care of the people he didn't feel like talking to.

So you accepted this new life, eating up this role of socialite like it was made for you.

It was a chance to know people, to speak and make new friends, but you learned quickly that those people weren't there for that, and picked up on how mostly of the people who talked to you just wanted to climb up the social ladder and gain some extra points from your father.

He, even, introduced you to a couple of people that seemed close to your age, and you chatted with them, feeling extremely anxious because you weren't used to this, so it was weird to them seeing such a pretty woman, with your status and fortune, acting so shy and quiet in a place that your dad practically owned.

After a couple of hours, you learned the agenda. All you had to do was put on a fake smile, get them off your father's shoulders and pretend you were very interested in what they had to say, hiding your uncomfortable expression behind your glass of champagne, promising them that you would arrange a reunion with your father someday.

One of those nights, your father introduced you to someone, someone who you didn't pay much attention because he seemed to be uninterested too, only being there for the sake of his job.

"Pretty girl, come here" your father said, a cheerful tone of voice as grabbed you by the shoulder to get your attention, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. "I want you to meet my friend, Doctor Crane"

You looked at the man in front of your dad, his pale blue eyes already sizing you up discretely, looking at you up and down in a way that didn't go unnoticed by you, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes finally locked with yours.

You couldn't help but feel small under his gaze, your glass now forgotten in your left hand, the right one extended to take his and stretch it for a quick second, returning to your first position, his expression remaining serious.

"Nice to meet you" he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet in your eyes, not quite sensing the undertone behind it. "Your father told me wonders about you"

You grin, the irony of that sentence making you laugh a little, what wonders could your father know about you? But you kept your composure, the conversation not going any further, and you forgot about him fast enough, when in another of those annoying parties you met the love of your life — or so you thought.

That same night, when you went back home, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life with some guy that flirted with you at the bar, and Jonathan, prayed to whatever thing listening to him up there, that crossed your path with his again.

He practically obsessed with you, because it felt right. You were young, beautiful, wealthy and had a last name that could open even more doors for him, getting tired of saving Falcone's man of going to jail; you were an opportunity, tied to a nice pair of legs.

After a few weeks of stalking, it kinda broke his heart that naive as he expected you, you got married to the guy from the party; he told you then his name was Lewis, and now you doubted it that was even true.

You were finally going to get what you always wished for, a family, love. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect.

It was a dream that you were living in. A dream that shattered in front of you no longer than three months after.

After you contracted married with this man, you took care of the house, now learning all of these housewife duties that you didn't know anything about, but making your best effort to please him, to be the perfect woman ever created, departing from your old life and habits and adjusting them to his own.

You couldn't be more happy, regardless of your bad cooking, the bad-swiped floor and the half-done bed that welcomed you both every night, you finally had love.

It lasted three months. Your wholesome real life fantasy of a marriage destroyed when you found out, accidentally, that this man was just an employee of your dad, willing to get a promotion if he married you. At that moment, you didn't know who you hated more, if the bastard, or your dad who was literally bribing the bastard to love you.

But your dad only wanted to make you happy, tho.

You were embarrassed, not quite sure of how to tell this to Jonathan, because after all, he was there for you, just for the money your dad was paying him. Your cursed the day your dad became rich, because all of it was making you miserable and it felt like it wasn't going to stop.

At this point, a feeling of despite against you was growing within Jonathan, after a few weeks treating you, he quickly remembered why he didn’t chose this path of career, but remembering that he was there because of a major reason; a reason more important than your helpless cries for attention.

He was sick of you, all you ever did was complain in the commodity of your million dollar house, unaware that there were more important problems in the world. It isn’t completely your fault, Jonathan thought one day, you were just an ungrateful brat, and his work was to tame you, and he planned to do just that today.

"So," he startled you, narrowing his eyebrows, an expression in his face that you could only understand as concern. "remember, if you don't speak, I can't help you".

You chuckle and shift your weight in the chair, immediately feeling your eyes fill up with tears as you confronted the fact that you had to speak about it, right now. He was quick to offer you his handkerchief, as he always did and with shaky hands you took it, sniffling onto it, closing your eyes as you felt your whole body shake with each one of your cries.

You felt Jonathan put his hand on your knee, softy caressing the skin that his thumb could reach, opening your eyes and looking at his, Jonathan welcoming you with a pitying look. You put the tissue aside, both him being so close and his scent impregnated on the piece of fabric making you feel a little giddy, a little confused.

Why was your heart racing so much? He was your therapist, here to talk about your former husband.

Jonathan couldn't help but grin a little, knowing he was maybe breaking a rule here, touching you like this, being so close. He couldn't care less, after all, he wasn't here listening to you cry and bitch about your whole life for the sake of your well-being. He was here because he wanted you to break and get on your knees to him. Figuratively and literally.

"It's so embarrassing" you struggled to spit out "He didn't even love me, Doctor"

He hummed, dragging his chair so he was a little closer to you, you looked at him through your teary lashes and tried to keep it together, this wasn't the first time you cried in front of him, but the reason itself was enough to make you feel full of shame.

He didn't say anything, this being a motivation for you to continue.

"My dad was paying him" you murmured, cleaning the mascara off your cheeks. "It was all a lie"

The whole situation was absurd, what happened to you still felt like a sick joke they were playing on you, your dad and Lewis, probably waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the truth.

But that wasn't going to happen, right now the only thing that felt true to you was Jonathan. He set you up to that, and you blindly fell on his silly trap.

"Poor thing" he cooed you, moving his hand a little further up your thigh, noticing the goosebumps on your skin. A mastermind, that's how he felt. "How could they?"

That was all the mendacity he fed you with since you started seeing him, making you believe he was actually empathizing with you, full of loathe against everyone who hurt you, who dared to leave you alone, but now he was there, his task being to pretend to care.

"It's pathetic" you blurted out, leaning into his touch when his prying hand went up to your cheek. You really couldn't say anything more, crying against his hand like it was something you did every monday morning. "I'm so sad. I don't know what to do"

He shook his face, your eyes meeting his with a confused expression, black stained tears dropping on your lap and wetting his hand before he returned it and looked over his clipboard, pretending to think.

You were so vulnerable, ready for him to destroy. He finally got you where he wanted. He then explained you that you were so sad that it made you unaware of a lot of things, blinded by your own pity against yourself that every door that opened, you closed. It all came down to a thing; you needed a diagnosis.

He gave you a moment to process the information, ready to continue with his plan.

"Actually," he started, his tone now more firm, more strict, the one he used when you were approaching the end of the session. On the last one, he recommended you to touch yourself, to liberate oxytocin on your brain or something you really didn't understood.

It was almost evil from his side, he knew that your only thought while doing it would he him ordering you to do so.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, Y/N" he stated, making your heart skip a beat. "But I think you're sick"

You nearly gasped, the air got stuck in your throat, more tears gathering in your eyes. You lifted one of your hands to your chest, a million thoughts crossing your head as Jonathan's clever eyes examined your expression.

Bingo.

"Sick" you repeated after a moment, almost like you were making peace with the revelation. "How sick?"

It was an innocent question, your tone of voice shaking as your inferior lip trembled, holding it with your teeth in an attempt to not burst into tears again, your whole body feeling like it was going to break into a million peaces by how much you were shaking in the couch.

Jonathan was quick, standing from the chair he was on and taking a seat by your side, his hand swiftly placing in your knee. You looked at him confused, he never got this close, maybe your sickness was serious.

"What am I, Doctor?" you whispered, your eyes showing him a hint of fear that made him finally lose all his faked professionalism. "Depressed? Crazy?"

Both of you were dying of anticipation now; meanwhile you feared that you were going to get admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was seeing the golden ticket to the best future he could ever achieve, and all thanks to you.

"Oh, no, no" he purred, his hand making its way up to your thigh. "You're sick, not crazy"

You parted your lips as his hand moved more further, not really sure of what was happening, not daring to stop him, too scared of your mental health to think about anything else, not helping the way your legs started to part too.

A sudden gasp left your lips as his hand squeezed your tight, a smile you never saw on him appearing on his face. The crying stopped a moment ago, the surprise of having him so close making you go a little numb.

"I know what a girl like you needs" he said, almost sternly, like his hand wasn't centimeters away from your panties.

Was in that moment, that you knew this wasn’t about therapy anymore.

"You think so?" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but now for a whole different reason. "And what is it, Doctor?"

"To be fucked stupid"

It almost shocked you how he said that as it was a normal diagnosis, like he gave you a name of a medicine you could go and buy at any drugstore in town. You gulped and didn't move when his grip tightened on your leg, your face growing red.

A loud gasp escaped your lips when at your lack of response, Jonathan grabbed you hard by the jaw and forced you to look at him. Your eyes glistened with nothing but fear, your brows narrowing as you mumbled something that he really couldn't understand, and it wasn't like he wanted to.

"You're sick, Y/N" he repeated, more harshly this time, his hand moving your head as he spoke. "And I'm going to cure you"

He let go of your face to clasp his lips against yours, a kiss very far away from sweet, his mouth moving roughly against yours. You never had been kissed like this, so you tried to play it along, trying to show him some of the love you felt for him, that you thought you owed him.

But he didn't care if you felt loved during the kiss, trying to assert the dominance he held upon you, his hand now holding firmly the back of you neck to prevent you from pulling away.

It was a mess; your teeth clashed, drool was dripping from your chin as his tongue explored every space of your mouth, not leaving anywhere of it untouched. Your movements were a little stiff, unsure of what to do, trying to provide the sweetness that he lacked.

His hand moved to your the front of your neck and squeezed it a little, making you yelp in surprise, the sound muffled by his mouth. You tried to get away from the kiss, confused about his rough actions against you, a little scared of him even, almost like you didn’t trust him every little part of your brain in this same couch for the last couple of months.

But then it clicked on your foggy brain, he knew you, perfectly— you only knew his name, you didn’t know what this man was capable of.

You could only move a few centimeters away from his hungry mouth, your lips parted as tears welled in your eyes from the pressure he was applying to your neck.

“Stop” you managed to stutter, your breath mixing with his. “I can’t- breathe”

You doubted that he listened to you, your voice not coming out of your throat at all and getting stuck in your larynx, your voice-box completely muffled by his strong grip.

“Shut up, brat” he spitted, his tone sounding full of abhor, your eyes wide open as you felt the air leaving your body and your lungs starting to burn. “Always getting what you want”

You weakly placed one of your hands around his wrist, another attempt of gasp elicited from your agape mouth as he lifted his other hand and choked you with both, something in your dizzy mind telling you that he was possessed.

“Crying all the time- complaining” he continued, not caring if you were listening, the suffocation being to much to bare now. “So selfish”

And maybe he was.

Your brain was filled with fear, wondering how it all went from a kiss to this— almost getting killed by your therapist in your couch. You opened your eyes to meet his, feeling like your chest was on fire as there wasn’t any air flowing in, seeing how the blue of Jonathan’s eyes has darkened and his lips were parted as well, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he choked you to death.

Your eyebrows narrowed together in terror as you noticed that familiar tingly sensation in your lower belly and your thighs clenching together. Maybe it was something about him exercising this power over you, how you felt so feeble under his touch, that was probably leaving bruises on your neck for you to carry and show around what he was making you do it.

You didn’t have enough time to think about it, you were practically dying.

“And you are enjoying this?” he said with an amused tone, probably noticing how your thighs fragily contracted against one another.

You felt yourself slowly lose your consciousness when finally the relief came and the air started to flow again to your desperate lungs, taking long and loud puffs of air when his hand let go of your neck. Your erratic breath was interrupted by a loud moan that escaped you when Crane yanked you by your hair and shoved you to the floor.

He was quick yo position you between his legs, looking at you through his unfixed glasses, giving you a twisted smile that made you quiver in fear, that growing wet patch on your panties making you feel like a really sick girl.

“Doctor-” you mumbled, closing your eyes as he pulled your hair, withdrawing a mewl off your mouth. “Hurts”

“You talk when I tell you to talk” he snickered, adjusting the way his fingers gripped your hair. You thought that he might just pull out the strand he was tugging. “I’m sick of your whining”

You felt more tears well up in your eyes; not sure if it was from the pain in your head or how his words felt like a knife that landed right on your heart. You were confused, sad, angry— a little hot, too.

“I pay you yo listen to me” you said, your voice so shaky you were lucky he could understand you. You wished he didn’t understand you.

Another sort of moan left your lips as a hard slap made a landing in your cheek, your face turned to the side because of the impact. You closed your eyes in disbelief, a cry coming out as you felt helpless, wondering if this was some exposure therapy he was experimenting on you.

He repeated himself, instructing you to talk only when you were told so, nodding in defeat as you accepted whatever this was and continued to play along with Jonathan’s sick fantasy of controlling you, without even knowing it.

You looked at him with nothing but inquietude, the look in his eyes giving you the foreboding that nothing good was about to happen now, frightened of what we would do to you.

He didn’t show any hints of letting go of your hair anytime soon, just holding it firmly to keep you looking at him through your heavy lashes, a wicked grin on his smug face.

“Let’s give that whining mouth of yours a good use” he said, and you gulped, understanding what he wanted and quivering in fear, not really understanding why the sticky sensation between your legs grew.

“Undo my pants” he commanded, and you stayed still, your eyes not leaving his even when another slap landed on your tear-wet face. “Do as you’re told, brat. This might be your only cure”

You couldn’t help but sob a little, his tone sounding so definitive, so professional. Your trembling hands reached his belt and unbuckling it ungracefully, taking longer than he expected, you heard him chuckle as you unbuttoned his pants afterwards, then putting your hands back in front of your lap.

“C’mon” he pulled your hair again, causing you to moan in pain. “Don’t make me tell you what to do”

You looked at him again in nothing but shame, trying to resist to this humiliating request of his, but complying it anyways. He said he was going to cure you, but now you doubted it, right now, you only wanted this to be over.

With a last look at his eyes you returned your attention to the growing bulge in his slacks, the shame in your brain being present at all times, not quite helping the way your eyes were fixated on his clothed member. You were quick to free him out after your staring earned you a other harsh pull of hair, your lips turned into a line when his cock slapped his abdomen, causing his dress shirt to wrinkle a little.

“Go on, Y/N” he encouraged you, as you looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him for mercy, knowing that even if you screamed it at him, he just wouldn’t listen. “This isn’t about what you want, anymore. Is about what you need”

A tear slid from your eyes and disappeared down your cheek when his free hand placed the tip of his hard cock on your parted lips, gesturing you to take it and not waste more of his time— more than you already did.

“Open up, whore” he said under his breath, using your hair as a device to move your head and help you shove his length down your throat. You complied, the tears in your eyes now soaking in you cheeks by the effort that you were making trying to welcome his thick shaft down your mouth.

You were sure you scratched him with your teeth a few times as he bobbed your head up and down with his strong hand, manhandling you without care for his own pleasure. You placed your hands on his knees, trying not to gag, but when his tip touched the bottom of your throat, you couldn’t help it.

You cried as you felt suffocated again, now for a whole different reason, a more humiliating one, and you almost wished he killed you then. His hips buckled everytime your lips reached the base of his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your mouth and saliva coating his shaft and the soft moans that came out of his poisoned lips.

“Take it, whore” he said, his voice now husky and distorted by the pleasure, the pain that your teeth accidentally inflicted on him turning him even more. “God- you are horrible at this”

He chuckled between heavy breaths, pulling you by the hair and releasing his cock from your mouth, a vulgar pop filling both of your ears at the sudden separation of your lips and his member. Your eyes looked at the floor, feeling such a shame that the mere thought of meeting his face with your fearful face made you cringe, the pulsating pain on the back of your head making you dizzy.

“You can’t suck dick properly” he said, his tone sounding like he was making fun of you. “No wonder why your husband left you. You’re just pathetic”

You finally rose up your face to look at that insufferable smile of his, ignoring the way his cock was still hanging there in front of you, almost brushing your nose. His fingers finally untangled from your hair and giving you some sort of solace, the consolation that this traumatic session was over.

Maybe the remedy was worse than the sickness itself.

“Jonathan, stop it, plea-”

Your imploration was completely ignored, followed by another slap on your wet cheek that made you cry even more, not understanding how this man could’ve been the same one who made you felt loved and finally listened. You fell for a lie once again.

“Get on the couch” he simply said, his words were like a bucket of cold water fell on you. “Stop the bitching, don’t want to hear it”

“And I’m your doctor. Not Jonathan” he reminded you, making you feel even more ashamed.

You did as he told, again, half-standing from the floor and sitting next to him, trying to take as much space from him as you could before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your face growing red as his face was now centimeters away from yours.

“You look so beautiful when you cry” he whispered, caressing your face but trying to nor wipe the tears away, almost like he was admiring you. It made you melt into his touch, glad that his kind demeanor was there again. Even if his words made you cringe— and the fact that his cock was still out, you felt your heart grew warmer by the way he tenderly touched you.

It didn’t last much longer, when his lips twitched into a malicious smile and went down to nibble your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses around the bruised skin and bitting where his fingers hurt you previously, making your fingers wrap on his hair and cry for mercy, trying for him to stop hurting you this much.

“Shut up, stupid brat” he repeated that same insult, making you swallow your cries, closing your eyes in disbelief as he continued to injure your already suffering skin.

You arched your back in surprise when all of the sudden his hands reached for your breasts, groping your tits like his life depending on it, stimulating you through the fabric of your shirt, but all you felt was fear and anger, impotence flowing through your veins because you just couldn’t scream and push him away, fear was freezing you on the spot.

The worst part? You maybe didn’t wanted to push him away. Because maybe if he gets what he wants now you would be cured and he’ll be back to normal, returning you the sweet Doctor Crane that you met once, not this monster that was groping you like a piece of meat.

He clicked his tongue and dropped both of his hands to spread your legs open, forcing your back to drop onto the hand rester of the couch. You looked at him with big eyes, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and scream to Jonathan that enough was enough, you just couldn’t take any of this anymore.

But your heart stayed there, between your lungs that seemed incapable to hold any air, making your breathing erratic. So nobody screamed Jonathan to stop, and he continued with his profanation against your persona— your dignity.

He bit his lip at the sight of your fucked-up face, your legs open as it showed him the dark patch on your baby blue panties, darting his eyes from your half-exposed crotch to your teary eyes.

“God, keep crying and I might come now” he growled, lowering his face to meet your pussy, kissing it through your underwear, making you mewl, closing your eyes at the sudden attention your core was getting.

You felt embarrassed at how much you enjoyed when he moved the fabric to the side and started making out with your cunt, swallowing your fluids like a starved man.

“So wet” he mumbled against your labia, the vibration making your eyes roll back, bitting your lip to prevent any moan to come out; he was raping you, why did he make you enjoy it? “I bet you like this, to be treated like a whore”

You shook your head, more tears falling out of your eyes as you felt nothing else but humiliation, pleasure washing over your body everytime his tongue brushed your clit, your back arched against nothing.

“You like it?” he said, finally pulling out and pushing his body up so his face was in front of yours, his cock grazing against your now stimulated pussy, a gasp leaving your lips, a gasp that quickly turned into a hurting moan when his hand slapped you again, this time in your throbbing cunt. “Answer me”

“I- I do” you whispered, gripping his shoulders when you felt him align the head of his member with your whole, scared of how it was going to fit. You had trouble taking it when he face-fucked you, how the fuck it was going to fit down there?

“I’m going to fuck you so good” he whispered between pants, jerking himself off before entering you. “You’re going to forget that pathetic husband of yours”

You couldn’t help but cry, trying to push him off by the shoulders, a terrified look on your face. “It won’t fit, Doctor” you pleaded, a crooked grin on his face as you keep on calling him that. “I beg you, don’t-”

“Yes, beg me” he said, starting to push his member inside you with a slow but relentlessly pace, not giving you enough time to adjust, just to scream and hit him weakly on the chest, face and shoulders before ge grabbed your hands and pinned them down, on the sides of your body. “I’m going to cure you- do you so good”

His voice was low, as he barely could speak when he felt just how tight you were, your walls hugging his cock just the right way, his pulsating head making your mind dizzy, the stinging pain starting to be forgotten.

But when he slid out and entered back it, the hardness of his movement made your insides burn with pain, a loud cry echoing in the walls of the living room as he started to trust into your pussy with a fast pace, not caring at all if you felt good.

He snapped his hips against yours with an animalistic force, growls escaped from his mouth every time his cock was welcomed by the warmth of your stretch whole, the sensation making him go even more feral, making you cry more.

He let go of one of your hands and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at his eyes as he fucked you vigorously, the blue on his iris not existent anymore, only his widely dilated pupils meeting yours, your blurred vision distinguishing the depraved expression in his face.

“You- so tight” he snarled, his voice barely audible, covered by the sound of skin slapping and your loud cries. “I bet your stupid husband didn’t fuck you like this”

You felt nothing but shame as you felt his cock now sliding in and out more easily, the wetness of your cunt growing as he spoke to you like that, that familiar heat flourishing in your lower belly as his words degraded you, your cries quickly becoming moans.

“This was all you needed- fuck” he said, his spit splashing your face as he talked, his words full of disdain. “A good dick, that’s all it takes to keep bitches like you quiet” You nodded, thinking that if you agreed he would stop. How wrong you were.

In a quick movement Jonathan took his cock out and spun you around, not giving you time to get on your ass up by laying your chest down before he stabbed your hole again, pushing your skirt all the way up to see how his pelvis came into collision with your ass.

You were moaning like a bitch in heat now, sure that the maids were listening, not really caring about it anymore. Jonathan was fucking you nice and hard, your mouth wide open as his tip brushed your cervix, screaming to him to keep it right there.

“I’m close” he said, pulling your hair back to press his chest to your back, his other hand going down to play with your swollen clit, wanting your to come around his cock like the slut he knew you were. “Come with me, you whore”

“Yes” you moaned, your tongue out as his cock hit the right spots, making your hips to move against his, grinding against his hand and dick, feeling your wetness drip down to your thighs. “Yes, yes, I want to”

He laughed, approaching your ear with his tongue to bite it, leaving a long and wet kiss underneath it that made you grow hotter, your eyes closed as you let him use you; the only thought in your mind being him and his wonder-working cock.

Truth was, he was fucking you stiffly, every slam of his hips stronger than the last one, but you were so deprived of touch, so dick-starved, that even if Jonathan was fucking you like a lifeless doll, only for the sake of his pleasure, you loved it, even when it hurt you.

“I’m going to fill you up” he said against your ear, his hand leaving your clit unattended as he grabbed your hip to increase the velocity of his thrusts, ramming your hole like a demented man, making your head drop against his shoulder and scream at the ceiling, now knowing what he meant by curing you.

“Going to get you pregnant” he said, more to himself than anything “so you don’t have to bitch about being alone anymore”

You opened your eyes with terror, you didn’t want children, you were so young. The idea made you frightened, the moaning now sounding like little nos and pull outs, but Jonathan didn’t listen.

“Doctor please, please, pull out” you pleaded, reaching for his hips and trying to push him away, one of his hands slapping your ass and pulling you down by your shoulder blade so you wouldn’t fight anymore. “Doctor Crane please”

“I will fucking fill you up, Y/N” he chanted, laughing at the idea of your round belly and your swollen tits, carrying his baby all day and feeling all worked up and needy all day, only waiting for him to fuck you all day. “You won’t be alone again. You won’t be sad again”

Then you realized it.

When he came, your hot walls creamed every single drop of his cum, making his thrusts sloppy and slow, his moans filling your ears as you sobbed under his touch, feeling his seed paint your walls and load your insides with his sperm.

That was your cure.

His hot release that now flooded inside your leaking cunt, that was your so-promised antidote. He took away your solitude by giving you his and yours firstborn, a bastard baby that would give you the company that you lacked.

You felt him chuckle as he rode out his high, the chase of his own climax made you forget yours, so now there you were, your swollen cunt looking for its release while his rested among your insides calmly, like it was meant to be.

He didn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to appreciate the sight of your skirt resting in your hips all rolled up, your bruised neck and messy hair, the way your ass was exposed to him by the way he had you arching your back. All for him— for him to wreck.

He pulled out and rolled his eyes when you started crying, now being annoying instead of hot. You sat on the couch and saw him button his pants and fix his hair, hissing when you felt nothing but pain growing in your worn-out pussy. You explained through your weak voice how he ruined your life, that he was the worst person you’ve ever met and that now you had to carry the product of his sick and twisted rapist-fantasy, even tried to hit him, but your pathetic tantrum only gained you another slap in the face, and a stern look.

When he tried to stand up and leave, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged him not to, he couldn’t just leave you, not now, not ever.

“Don’t be so ungrateful” he said, a smile that made you feel nothing but trepidation in his face. “You’ll never be alone again”

You couldn’t help but feel scared. Scared of him, of what just happened, of what’s going to happen next, scared for your future son with this evil specie of a man.

When you continued to cry, and he pulled you for a hug as he assured you that he would never leave you; and how could he? He had a long life of success waiting for him now, giving a girl of your status his last name, his children. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful, he just needed to tame you and make you the perfect slave for him, and that wasn’t going to be hard.

You were sure that you’ll never be loved, but at least now Jonathan was going to be with you. You’ll never be alone again.

thanks for reading. w/love, fenina;)

taglist: @lovesickxcherries @genini @ilunapb @ostricx @devotedlyshadowytheorist

if you want to be added let me know, it’ll be my pleasure🫶🏻

#cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy x reader #cillian smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #jonathan crane fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #jonathan crane x you #cillian one shot #cillian fic #peaky blinder imagine #batman fanfiction #scarecrow x reader

[creaman]

Happy Chinese New Year!

#vclownverse #jonathan crane #scarecrow #went too hard on the lineart now my bones feel wrong #creaman oc #fanart #batman #macabre #oc x canon #digital illustration #comic #vinegarclown #creaman #lunar new year #chinese new year

[indeediagree]

We love a young cillian murphy (and old)

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy scarecrow #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #shelby #tommy shelby x reader

[dbnightingale24]

Already Won Me Over Sneak Peak

A Follow Up 'Love Me Or Just Let Me Go'

~~

~~

Sorry for the delay! I meant to post this yesterday, but I got real fuckin' picky about certain things, because I'm ✨annoying✨ ANYWAY, this is just a snippet of what's to come, and I hope you all enjoy it! You all get heartbreaking smut, cause tomorrow is Valentine's Day!! 🙃🙃

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), Swearing, Heartbreak, Arguing, Violence, Angst, Uhh...I think that's it for now.

I do not give permission/consent for my works/stories to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this kind of behavior or relationship, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

“We need to get in and out of your apartment. Only grab what’s important,” he tells you softly as he turns on the car.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

That was the extent of the conversation you two had. 

You’ve never had such a quiet car ride with Jonathan, and you hate it. You hate this. Besides the fact that almost everyone you know and love has been attacked tonight, and you feel like it’s your fault, you also don’t know what the fuck to do about you and Jonathan. After everything that was said tonight, all of the tears and begging, he still can’t just fucking say it. You can’t help but grow tired of all of this shit. Yeah, it sucks that he feels like shit, but you’re not doing this to him.

He’s doing it to the both of you.

“Jonathan,” you sigh as he gets out of the car along with you, “I can go up on my-”

“You can get as far away from me as you want when we get home. For now, I’m coming up with you. I don’t want to argue anymore-”

“Fine, lets just get it over with,” you mutter, quickly making your way inside, Jonathan following behind you with a low groan as he sighs.

Sigh, sigh, sigh. Yeah well, this part isn’t on you. 

“Is there anything I shouldn’t bring?” you question, unlocking your door.

“You only need to bring-”

“Welcome home,” a man with a thick accent greets as soon as you open your door, his fist already traveling towards your face, but you duck just in time.

“I haven’t had a bad enough day?!” you growl, head butting the much larger man in the chest, forcing him inside. 

“I love a bitch who can fight,” the man laughs darkly, pushing you aside.

“Get out of my HOUSE!” you scream, picking up the vase of flowers Jonathan bought you hours ago and throwing them at the man, missing him by millimeters.

“This is barely a shoe box,” the man laughs, pulling out his revolver.

“Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?” Jonathan growls, grabbing one of the bar stools and smashing the man over the back of his head with it. 

That has you freezing on the spot. You’ve never seen Jonathan’s violence, and you’re not sure how you feel about it now that you have.

“You break into her home,” Jonathan continues roughly, still beating the man with stool as it creaks and cracks, “try to hurt her, and then insult her home?! Where are your manners, Ivan?! HUH?!” he roars, slamming the wooden stool against the countertop, breaking off one of its legs. “Who else has been running around Gotham doing Boris’ dirty work?! Y/N’s Mom, her Uncle, her friends?! Who did it?!”

You glance over and see that the door is still open; you run to close it, knowing that it’s bound to get bloodier and more violent. 

“I asked you a fucking question!” Jonathan broods, hitting the man with the broken stool leg.

“Boris warned you,” the man coughs out while trying to fend off Jonathan, wildly flailing his arms as he rolls side to side on the floor like a broken metronome.

“And I warned Boris! The fuck ups you all make are on you! It’s not my fucking job to fix it! You go after someone I care about and you think there won’t be any fucking repercussions?! I warned all of you and now look!”

“Dr. Crane-”

“Dr. Crane isn’t in right now!” he snarls, striking the guy across the face again before tossing the the bloody stool leg aside. “Now, apologize to the woman.” The man spits out a tooth, groaning to himself.

“Boris just wants-”

“APOLOGIZE!” Jonathan roars.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Ma’am,” the man sobs at you.

“Good boy,” Jonathan praises as he pulls out his .45. “I think I’ll make you the first casualty in Boris’ army.”

“Dr. Crane-” his words feebly teeter from his bleeding mouth.

You cover your mouth as you yelp at the steely explosive bang from the gun shot and take a step back. This day is really taking a toll on you. 

He stands up straight, breathing heavy, before turning to look at you. His hair is wild, half of his face is splattered with blood. His eyes are still and wild. You’re not sure how to feel about it, but you can’t help the arousal pooling between your legs at his feral state in the soft glow of the night.

“Pack while I run through his pockets,” he tells you after a moment, pushing back his messy hair.

“You should shower,” you tell him weakly, looking from him to Ivan’s lifeless body.

“Y/N-”

“You have clothes here. You walking out there covered in his blood is a bad look. You should shower and I’ll call the cops-”

“Don’t. I’ll take care of it,” he interrupts, tone still authoritative as he tries to calm down. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I’m fine. I promise,” you answer calmly as a soft tapping on your door has you jumping.

“Y/N? Are you okay dear?” your elderly neighbor, Miss Francine, asks softly, and a soft chuckle leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

Are you okay? That’s laughable right now.

“I’m alright, Miss Francine. You need to get back to your room, it’s not safe in the hallway at this hour.”

“Do you need me to call someone? I’m not afraid of these thugs!” she says defiantly, and you laugh to yourself softly.

You love her so much.

“No no, I have someone here with me. I’m safe, I promise.”

“Alright dear. Good night,” she calls softly and you hear her footsteps retreating, soon followed by her door opening and closing.

“Pack,” Jonathan repeats sternly.

“Shower,” you tell him softly, giving Ivan’s dead body one last look before going into your room. 

You look around and you can’t decide where to begin. Your mind can’t and won’t slow down. You’ve just seen Jonathan murder someone, and he murdered that person for you. How the fuck is it easier for him to murder someone than fucking admitting that he loves someone? Even when he was beating the man to death, all he could say was, ‘someone I care about’.

Yeah, that’s the last thing you should be thinking about right now, but if there’s ever a time for an accidental ‘I love you’, that would be it. Damn, maybe there is a part of you that’s a self absorbed little shit, but you’re not about to feel ashamed about it. Not after all that’s happened tonight.

You hear the shower turn on, and your mind is instantly reminded of something else. 

No matter what he can or won’t say, he still killed someone. He killed them without hesitation and he did it for you. In that moment, all that mattered was keeping you safe, and he had no thought for his self care at all. His only focus was you and keeping you safe.

Plus, truth be told, him looking so unhinged and wild? A total turn on for you that you weren’t expecting at all. 

No, none of this is ideal and you still don’t know what the hell you’re gonna do about the both of you, but you know that you’re lonely and in pain. There’s only one person you want right now, and he’s the last person you should want right now. 

God damn him for making you love him so damn much.

You slowly take off your dress and strapless bra, at war with yourself about whether or not you should go through with this, but the part of you that needs a release wins. Sure, you could have a drink or a smoke, but it won’t be enough. Besides, it’s not like you won’t be drinking till you’re numb in the face for the next few weeks anyways. No, it’s not the best solution, but you’re done trying to be smart and logical for the moment. You’ve been at war with yourself since all of this started, and you’re just so damn tired of thinking. 

You just want to feel something other than sadness and pain.

“Y/N, you should be...Y/N,” Jonathan trails off as you get in the shower with him.

“I can pack after,” you tell him softly, looking him over, fingers lightly tracing over his faded scars. “You didn’t have to attack that man-”

“I wasn’t gonna let him hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but I want-need to take care of you.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about you,” he huffs, and you can hear him at war with himself.

Well, fuck it. If he isn’t gonna say it, you will. Again.

“I love you-”

“Sweetheart-”

“I love you, Jonathan. I don’t care if you don’t wanna hear it, I don’t care if you don’t think you deserve it, and I don’t care if you don’t want me to say it. It’s a fucking fact. I love you and I’ve never loved anyone this much, and I know I never will again, no matter what happens. I am so painfully in love with you, Jonathan Crane. You may be afraid of your feelings, but I’m not afraid of mine,” you tell him without fear or trepidation in your heart.

If this is the end of the both of you, you may as well lay all your cards on the table. 

“Y/N...,” he sobs, looking away from you, and your heart breaks.

He truly is broken by all of this.

You gently grab his face and turn it towards you, “You tell me you care about me? Then show me. Show me just how much you care,” you beg softly, tears in your eyes. 

Just like that, he’s gone for you.

He’s crashing his lips into yours as he presses you against the wet shower tiles, your back squishing against it. It feels like Heaven. Moaning into the kiss, you grind yourself against him while his hands travel down your sides softly; almost as if he’s afraid to touch you, as if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.

“Show me, Jonathan,” you breathe against his lips, begging him to give you a reason to fight for more. “Show me how much you care. Show me how much I mean to you.”

This time, he grips your thighs and hoists you up, no hesitation present as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist while he trails kisses down your neck, desperate to cover every inch of you in them.

“Dr. Crane,” you whimper, running your fingers through his hair as one of his hands starts massaging one of your breasts.

“No...please don’t...call me by my name, I need to hear you say it,” he cries shamefully.

At least you can believe it’s more than a filthy hook up now.

“Jonathan...Jonathan I need to feel you,” you pant, eyes clenching shut at the feel of his fingers kneading your nipple between his fingertips. “I need you!” “I don’t deserve you,” he groans, slowly sliding you down on him.

“Shit!” you cry, still not used to the way he so easily pulls you apart. 

“I’m so sorry,” he husks, slowly moving within you, kissing along your neck, “I ruined everything and I’m sorry!”

“Just wanna be with you right now. Tired...tired of thinking,” you moan, focusing your attention back on him, which was extremely hard since he kept- “OH MY GOD! That’s the...fuck! Right there, don’t stop!”

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he marvels, his grip on you getting tighter as he helps you chase your release.

“I love you,” you sigh, feeling your core tightening.

“Y/N-”

“I love you,” you repeat, not relenting because of his guilt for his past.

It’s not like you ever meant to fall in love, or that you even wanted to you, but you did. For all your planning, and hoping for it to be a one time thing, it hasn’t panned out that way at all. 

“God, you’re clenching me so fucking tight, sweetheart,” he grunts, his movements becoming quicker as you dig your nails into his shoulders, “feels so good being inside of you...getting lost in you.”

“Fuck! Jonathan!”

“Never knew someone could ever love me like you do,” he continues with a breathless pant, changing his angle just a bit to hit that spot deep within you.

“Oh fuck!”

“Never knew how much I needed to be loved by you!”

“Jonathan...I can’t...I can’t...oh shit!”

“C’mon baby! Give it to me! I wanna feel your love!”

“YES!” you cry out, your release washing over you as you tighten your legs around Jonathan for fear of falling if you don’t.

The bastard may have broken your heart, but he’s the closest you’ll ever get to Heaven.

“You okay, baby?” he asks softly, tenderly stoking your face .

All you can do is nod.

“Do you need more?”

Once again, all you can do is nod. 

He’s quick to turn off the shower, keeping his hold on you tight as gets out of the shower. He walks you both to the bedroom, and your eyes land on Ivan’s dead body. God, of all the ways you thought this night was going to end, this wasn’t at all what you had in mind. 

“I want you on your back,” you tell him as he goes to lay you down.

You can tell that you’ve caught him off guard. He does what you want nonetheless, and lays back on the bed, looking at you with eyes that are filled with adoration and guilt. Usually you’re not on top unless he puts you up there. That’s rare because he likes hearing the screams that leave your mouth when he fucks you hard from behind, or watch as the euphoria overtakes you when he gives you an orgasm.

You place your hands on his chest and start to ride him slowly, your hips grinding against him, mouth slightly agape at the feel of the new angle and how deep he is.

“Touch me, Jonathan,” you beg pathetically, starting to pick up your pace once you’ve adjusted to him. “I want to feel you everywhere I can.”

“Sweetheart-”

“Jonathan, please. I just need you right now,” you practically sob.

There’s a dead man laying in your living room. Your best friend may never walk again. Someone tried to kill your Mother. Your ‘Uncle’ is laid up in the hospital and his wife has been killed. The man responsible for turning your life upside down in the best and worst ways during all this can’t even tell you that he loves you. 

If all you can have is temporary bliss that only he can provide, then you’ll take it and beg for him to show you the things he’s ashamed to show. Besides, who knows when you two will have each other like this again.

If ever.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” he groans, his hands slowly traveling up your torso.

“You think so?” you question, your damp hair falling in front of your face as you look down at him, biting your bottom lip in a weak attempt to quiet your moans as he starts massaging your breasts.

No, having sex on your bed soaking wet probably isn’t the best idea, but it’s not like you’ll be sleeping in it for a while.

“Fuck yeah...GOD!” he groans as you roll your hips against his.

“Shit!”

“Gotta have you on top of me more often,” he husks, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you, “I love watching you take whatever you want from me. You can take whatever you need, baby. You can always take what you need from me,” he promises as he grips your ass.

“Oh fuck!”

“Bring yourself on my cock like the good girl you are, baby. I know you can fucking do it,” he encourages, licking his thumb before bringing it between the two of you, rubbing your most sensitive bud. 

“Jonathan!”

“I know you wanna cum for me, baby. I know you wanna make a mess all over me, don’t you, baby?”

“Fuuu-yes!”

“Cause you’re my good girl?” “Jonathan!”

“Say it, baby. Tell me you’re my good girl!”

“Fuck yes!” you cry out, lulling your head back as you squirt hard, floating out of your own body for just a moment. 

“My messy little princess,” he praises with a grunt.

In one swift move, you’re on your back and Jonathan is fucking into you relentlessly.

“Shit!”

“You’re always gonna be my girl, baby. I know I’m a mess right now, but I will fix this. I’ll make this right,” he promises, holding himself up as he cradles your face with the other hand.

Your eyes sting as you hold back tears at his words, because you honestly don’t know what the fuck to do. You don’t know what happens after all of this gets settled. 

“I don’t fucking deserve you,” he pants as his movements become erratic, “but I need you. I need you so damn much, baby!”

“Too...it’s too much,” you sob as you feel that knot in your core tighten.

“Give it to me, give me everything,” he begs breathlessly, his grip on neck getting tighter.

“JONATHAN!” you scream out, tears spilling over from the pleasure coursing through your body and the pain in your heart as you squirt hard. One hand grips him and the other grips the bed sheets.

“My perfect princess,” he groans as he spills inside of you, his hand almost giving out.

As he rides out both of your highs, the room is filled with nothing but your silent sobs and heavy breathing between the both of you. 

Not a word is said as he pulls out and you both start to get dressed. He’s first to exit as soon as he’s dressed, and you can only assume that he instantly goes to search through Ivan’s pockets. You take your time packing up what you deem necessary. You grab all of your photos, wanting to make sure that no one else gets hurt because of your...whatever with Jonathan. You pack up your laptop, Mr. Fin, the hideous ash tray Jonathan got you in Hawaii, a few books, some comfort clothes, and basic hair supplies. You give your room a once over, fighting back more tears, before making your way out to see Jonathan sitting at the kitchen island and drinking bourbon.

“Do you have everything?” he asks, not even looking in your direction as he swirls his drink around in the glass.

“Just have to grab makeup and hair products out of-”

“I can buy you more. It’s not important.”

“Then yes, I guess I have everything,” you snap, voice edging between anger and bitterness. “Do you have everything.” “Everything that I need,” he shrugs, downing the rest of his drink before putting it in the sink. “Lets go.”

You’re quick to grab the photo of your birthday party by the door on your way out, and shut the door behind you, walking past Jonathan in an attempt to get the elevator as fast as you can.

Your mind is racing and you just wanna lay down.

The entire elevator ride down, Jonathan is tapping his foot and fidgeting with his fingers. He’s mad at himself. You know that he thinks he revealed too much of himself to you, and that makes you even madder at him. He’s already broken your heart, what the hell does he think will happen if he’s actually sweet to you during intimacy? That you’ll go off and tell everyone in Gotham that he does, in fact, have a soul and a good heart?

It’s not like anyone would believe you anyway.

The second you two are back inside his house, you’re grabbing the things you left on the floor earlier, and racing up the steps. You’re more than happy to stay locked away in a room, but the only issue is that you don’t know any other room besides Jonathan’s.

“Just take my room,” he encourages softly as he makes his way up the steps. 

“I can stay in another-”

“None of the other rooms have been slept in, in years. My room is the only room ready, and the only one I feel comfortable having you in.”

“I don’t want to be around you.”

“Lucky for you, I won’t be sleeping much.”

“When you do-”

“I know my house better than you. I’ll stay far away from you, just take my damn room,” he instructs before turning and racing back down the steps and disappearing around a corner. 

You stick your tongue out in the direction he went before turning and making your way into his room, closing the door behind you. As you drop your bags, you look around and let out a deep breath.

Welcome to your new life for the next few weeks.

~~

#fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfiction #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane fic #jonathan crane fanfic #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x oc #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy characters #fan fic smut #fan fic writer #scarecrow dc #dc universe #dc comics #fanfic smut #jonathan crane

[heartfullofleeches]

Pumpkin Panic

Trickster Scarecrow Darling-

A wandering spirit of the forest who not as malicious as their fellow ghouls. They tire of tricking lost wanderers deeper into the forest and venture out themselves despite the pleads from the weeping woods.

"Don't go..."

"We'll miss you...."

"We worry for you, Y/n..."

The spirit comes across a doll in their travels made of cloth and hay hanging in a lone field. When they returned to ask the others, they told them it was deceitful tool used by the humans to scare off crows and other creatures attempting to feast from their crops. "How rude." - the spirit thought. They loved those little birds and their beady eyes. They used to feed ones scrounging for food and they'd bring them such lucky trinkets in return.

The spirit asks the scarecrow for permission to use it and chooses the field as their new home. They take as little from the land as possible to avoid question from its owners as they fed the small creatures who ran about. The resident of the farm was a grumpy farmer missing their left eye. The scarecrow stood completely still whenever they came to inspect their crops as warned by the others and their little crow friends, but the other humans seemed to unaware of this lesson. They watched from high on their post as they ran through the mazes of corn - unable to see through the tall stocks. The farmer would leave their home carrying that large stick as they did every night and wait at the mazes exit. The crows always flew south whenever they took aim.

The very next day, the scarecrow would find a new doll in themazes. They knew it was a doll because humans move and are very warm which the dolls were not.

"Good evening" - The scarecrow greeted. No response.

"Are you broken?" They spoke again to yet again met with silence. Silly scarecrow. They couldn't talk because they didn't have heads! As the seasoned changed they had watched the farmer take those large, round vegetables in the fields and craved silly faces into them to place around the farm. Maybe they could do the same. The scarecrow gathered tools from the shed and made new heads for all their new friends. The doll's refused to speak no matter what question they raised. Perhaps they were shy. As the days grew colder and their loneliness set in the sad scarecrow sought to give up on their mission.

Until one day-

"We.. came to see you."

"Home isn't home without you with us."

"We have always loved you, Y/n."

"Anywhere is home so long as we're with you.'

It was everyone from back home! They had felt the sorrow of their little wandering trickster and came to comfort them in new form. The scarecrow was so happy. Now that everyone was here and chose to stay they'd never be alone again. They even managed to get the farmer to leave their home for a time so the scarecrow could try out their bed. The scarecrow had watched the farmer care for their land and knew just what to do while they were away. Overtime the spirit became bound to the scarecrow and feel things just like a real human. They ate fruits and corn with all the little crows as they'd always dreamed. The other spirits made sure their smiles lasted eternity and a day and even brought them new dolls to fix every blue moon. The scarecrow finally had their happy end.

But the same could not be said for those who trespassed on their new land.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere zombie #yandere teratophilia #Scarecrow reader

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Things I'd love as a Scarecrow shipper

Kisses through the mask

Matching rogue outfits

Scarecrow making his partner a fear gauntlet

Working together to have an immunity to fear toxin

Toxin stained kisses

Reading together in silence

Lots of cuddles with the crows

Tattoo rings instead of physical wedding bands

#Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #for any ship #or self shipping #or ocs #DC Scarecrow #The Scarecrow #Scarecrow x Reader #Scriddler #Hattercrow #Scarecroc #etc

[of-teeth-and-tenderness]

Coneflower

M Scarecrow x GN Reader

Warnings: Creepy situations, mentions of blood and minor hand injury.

Crisp, November air stings your cheeks and sneaks between the gaps of your clothing. You hunch deeper into your jacket as a shudder ripples along your spine. It’s still Autumn, but winter makes its approach known, its reaching, icy fingers combing through the air and dusting the rooftops with frost.

The soles of your shoes tap, tap a quicker rhythm along the sidewalk. Your destination lies just ahead, a respite from the chill. A new cafe has opened at the end of the block. Several friends have praised their coffee. You’ve succumbed to peer pressure, it seems.

The freshly-cleaned brick facade is welcoming, and a frilly sunshade protects a quaint seating area to the left. Through the big front window you see fairy lights and greenery lining the sill—adorable—but what sits on a bench near the front door makes you slow your hurried advance.

It’s…a scarecrow. It is perched precariously on the seat, straw hat about to tumble off its gray head with how it’s tilted. More hay peeks out of blue overalls and scuffed boots. Its legs are crossed, its gloved hands folded in its lap. Even its fingers are interlaced.

Frowning, you timidly approach, your hands leaving your pockets to reach for him.

It.

Gently, you grasp its shoulders. The straw under the plaid shirt gives a bit when you squeeze and shift the prop upright, but quickly you recoil, your fingers curling protectively against your chest. It’s warm, as though you had touched the shoulders of a person. You’d felt the heat even through your gloves.

Goosebumps prickle across your skin as you take a tentative step closer. Its face is strange and made from some mottled gray material. The texture looks…fleshy. Dark, frayed eye holes—bottomless pits—stare back at you as a crudely slashed mouth grins too wide across its face.

The hair on the back of your neck standing on end, you hastily turn away from the scarecrow and hurry inside. Warmth envelops you in a reliving embrace and you sigh. Absently, you peel off your gloves and scan the room—it’s completely empty? You’re the only customer—before your eyes raise to the menu written in chalk above the counter.

“Good morning!” You smile and nod in response to the barista’s greeting. “What can I get you?”

You pick your favorite from the menu, curious to see how it compares to other cafes. As you pay, the urge to ask about the prop sitting on the bench outside overpowers the social anxiety of conversing with a stranger. Such a bizarre occurrence demands explanation.

“Hey, what’s with the, uh, scarecrow?” You receive a blank stare in response. Swallowing, you attempt to clarify, “Out front? Old Halloween decoration or something?” You jab your thumb toward the door for emphasis.

The barista shakes their head, shrugs, and asks, “What scarecrow?”

Your frown deepens. “The one outside—

You turn as you speak, the words dying on your tongue when you find the bench vacant. It’s gone, vanished into thin air.

What in the hell…?

Heart slamming against your ribs, you turn back to the cashier. “Uh, sorry, nevermind,” you murmur, accepting your change and your coffee and hurrying from the cafe.

You’re too unsettled to notice the cold biting at your bare fingers. Head bowed against the icy wind, you hurry down the street, mind frantically trying to rationalize the situation.

Someone was playing a prank, surely. That’s all this was. You’ll see a video of it on social media a few weeks from now, teenage boys snickering in the background as they film you in secret.

But how did they make those black eyes so…lifelike…?

Out of the corner of your eye, across the street, you spot a straw hat.

You skid to a stop, head whipping in the direction in which you spotted the tall, gangly creature with a straw hat perched atop its graying head.

Nothing. Only a few people hurry down the opposite side walk, coats hiked up around their necks to stave off the chill. They’re oblivious to the way your chest heaves, your wide eyes search the sidewalk in barely contained panic.

You’d seen it though, you’re sure. The scarecrow had been standing just across the street, staring directly at you.

No, this is ridiculous. Your mind is playing tricks. It’s impossible.

Hands trembling, you grip your untouched coffee a little tighter, your steps holding more urgency. You keep your eyes on your shoes, not willing to see more conjurings from your anxious mind.

A pair of black dress shoes pass by, striding in the opposite direction. You spot a pair heels as they click down the sidewalk, someone headed to work. Sneakers next, a jogger. Then a pair of worn boots, hay poking out between the laces….

You yelp and whirl around, stilling in shock and terror when you come face to face with the scarecrow. He—it—towers over you, dark eyeholes peering down at you, leering maw curled up alarmingly at the corners.

It’s a costume, it has to be. But you’d felt it, felt the straw stuffing give under your hands. There isn’t anyone inside. How is it standing on its own, how is it smiling like that?!

Hay innards rustle as the arm slowly lifts and awkwardly twists to a 90 degree angle. The gloved hand shakes back and forth, movements strange and jerky.

A wave.

Terror grips your limbs, adrenaline spilling into your bloodstream and electrifying chilled muscles. A shriek erupts from your throat, paper cup tumbling from your hands, coffee splashing free to steam on the sidewalk. You spin on your heel and sprint down the street, heedless of the stares from concerned passerby. Drive to escape overrides all else.

Your feet slam on pavement as you fly around the corner. You take the side street, a shortcut. Your apartment is just one more street up. You’ll lock yourself inside and never leave ever—

Another cry lodges in your throat. Your shoes squeal on asphalt when you skid to a stop, the change so sudden you stumble backwards and fall right on your ass with a thud and a grunt. Your palms ache, scraped against the cold ground in your blunder.

The reason for your abrupt halt peers around the corner just ahead, fleshy grin startlingly wide. Worn gloves grip brick as the scarecrow pulls itself around the building. Legs stiff and uncoordinated, it hobbles down the alley toward you, the frightening pits of its eyes so dark and deep you feel you’ll be pulled in.

You’re frozen to the ground, your legs seized with fear and refusing to cooperate. It’s almost to you now, its boots scraping against the street with each strange, jerky step. A glove comes up, fingers digging in the breast pocket of its overalls. Dread strangles you, crushes your chest until your breaths only come in little gasps.

Its hand withdraws and pulls something undoubtedly horrible from its pocket. This is it, it’s right there, mere feet away, there’s no chance, you’re done for—

You blink, air leaving your lungs in a tremulous exhale. When you focus on its outstretched hand, you find a dried plant pinched between gloved thumb and forefinger. It was a coneflower, from the looks of it, it’s fuchsia petals long dead and gone.

Perplexed, you glance from the flower to the scarecrow. It’s bent at the waist in a half bow, arm outstretched, head tilted expectantly to the side. It’s…he’s presenting the flower. To you.

Tentatively, you raise a quivering hand, palm leaking scarlet from your fall. You pluck the plant carefully from his fingers. The scarecrow nods excitedly, the bobbing of its head erratic and unnerving.

You stare, bewildered, your brain failing to comprehend the impossibility of the situation. His intent in all this wasn’t to hurt you, but to…give you a flower?

The scarecrow reaches into another pocket to produce a white handkerchief. Gently, he cradles your hand in his and awkwardly cleans the scrape with the cloth. You wince, his weird movements more like “smacking” than “dabbing.”

Still, you can’t help the befuddled smile that tugs at your lips. “T-Thanks,” you finally murmur, shaking your head in disbelief. The scarecrow nods again, a hand reaching out to “pat” the top of your head.

The little dried flower wobbles in the breeze.

#monster boyfriend #ofteethandtenderness #exophilia #monster oc #monster x reader #monster x human #monster x you #terato #scarecrow #scarecrow oc

[2-guns-b1tch]

Late Night Visit

The cold wind outside made the abandoned theater creak. Every floorboard, door and walls sang in a cacophony of sounds, the melody of a haunted house.

Ophelia watched her image in the mirror, the cracks making her reflexion distorted while she applied lipstick.

Even though it was late, she was getting ready to leave her lair. The streets outside were silent, but Gotham never slept. She knew it was opportunity to make some trouble.

The breeze from the window was not the cause of the shiver that ran through her body, not even the shadows around her.

Actually, the reason was the light footsteps behind her, almost like a ghost. Ophelia doesn’t dare to look behind her, she keep her eyes lock to the mirror. She knew how much he liked to feel like a monster from a horror story.

A silhouette approaches, his reflection forming slowly. First the hat, then the shiny eyes, next the crooked smiles, until he stood fully formed behind her in his full glory.

Ophelia turned to look at him, a sweet smile across her dark lips.

“Hello, Jonathan,” she greets him softly. “Welcome back.”

— — —

A sneak peek of my villain oc, Ophelia Swan, aka the Black Swan. I intend to talk more about her origins and personality in a late post, but for now have this.

#batman villains #batman rogues #batman oc #scarecrow x oc #scarecrow fanart #scarecrow #jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanart #original character #my oc art #batman fandom #oc x canon #oc tag

[nathantheauthor]

"𝙃𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙, 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙄 𝙖𝙢. 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙨 𝙢𝙚 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙚."

Toby by Madame Macabre.

Y'all were desperate for him, he won by a massive majority vote... So I present my take on Ticci Toby, as well as some of his relationships and what he's doing now, and fair warning, it's HEFTY. I do have to lay out a couple things before we actually get into his rewrite, because they are important for his character in the long run, especially to understand his story and themes.

The first of these articles that I have to lay out first is the concept and existence of Ripper Inc, as that is where he is currently aligned. The concept of Ripper Inc is the closest thing to the Creepypasta Family you will get in this universe, I found family and sort of reformation program for serial killers and monsters, pointing their homicidal tendencies and destructive capabilities towards those more deserving. Jack Revver (oc), the living skeleton behind it, has also turned it into a safe haven and protection for those hunted by or once influenced by cosmic entities such as Slenderman, Zalgo or even The Rake and HABIT. it's essentially giving characters that would have been better people under any other circumstance that chance to be better. Pastas who hunt pastas in a way. It also makes them celebrities, but I'm not going to get into that aspect as I'll see the faction itself for its own blog post.

The other main thing we need to get out of the way is that this variant of Toby was very much made out of spite for what the fandom did to him, and has also since become spite towards his creator. This doesn't mean his original origin is very much intact, but there are several changes that neither would have expected or planned out, in fact I don't even call him "Ticci Toby" at all, he's just... Toby. And I'll get into that and why later on in this post. But I present a more faithful reimagining of Toby Rogers.

Now! Let's actually get into it, and I want to start with something that does affect his design a little bit, and that is his equipment!

My Toby comes strapped with dual holsters and two sheathes, as well as two ammo belts wrapped around him. The reason for this being while he's still sports his iconic hatchets that reside within the dual sheets, the holsters and the ammo belts contains flare gun and a sig sauer P365, as well as their ammo.

Kind of the reason for the guns is because I always felt it a little bit weird that proxies mostly were given only melee weapons, especially in a world where any house you can break into you can just get shot. So, of course, Toby adapted and got the Sig Sauer, the flare gun was something he picked up afterwards, which out of universe is a reference to the burning of his house, but in universe it is a tool for hunts and just... Yeah, he won't hesitate to shoot somebody with it. Does he prefer melee? Yes, but he knows he's always going to be able to get close.

I've kind of made Toby into the asshole with a heart of gold archetype, he's a tsundere. Toby is rude, brutally honest, snarky and has sassy, but somewhat dry sense of humor. He's prone to depressive episodes, he's an overall conflicted person, one that's not even sure that he deserves redemption. I'm writing him that's how I see the natural progression of the original Kastaway Toby as a person.

I should also note that Toby does in fact have a small list of powers, as these are the baseline abilities I gave every single proxy. Toby has Captain America levels of strength, speed, agility and durability, as well as a healing factor that allows him to heal from minor wounds in a matter of 10 minutes and substantial damage in a couple hours.

One of the key distinctions between him and a lot of variants is the fact that when we first see him he's already been a proxy for years, he's in his mid 20s now, hell, he was already legally an adult by the time he was proxified, he was 19 during the events TICCI TOBY. I wanted to be more accurate to his source material for his age, as he's constantly getting shoved into the younger brother type role among a lot proxy interpretations, but he's not THAT young, he's at least a grumpy middle child.

Toby by the time we meet him is not a good person, but he can't be described as truly evil either, he's a victim of the world's darker side, from the cruelty of children to manipulators, a lot of his life was decided for him. But that doesn't excuse the things he's done, cuz ultimately, doing the things he's done are still, maybe out of necessity, but that doesn't make it any better.

Toby absolutely hates being referred to as Ticci Toby, the reason for this comes from the fact that this has been a name used throughout his life growing up to demean and mock his tourettes, to break him down, it's a nickname synonymous with bullying. This is something I've always kind of disliked the fandom form, using the story title as his code name instead of giving him a new one, so for this rewrite... During his team as a proxy, well, they call him "Matchbook". A permanent reminder the scorching fire he left his old home in, and a nod to the end result of a lot of his missions. However, nowadays he merely goes by "Toby", wanting to distance himself from his past and start anew.

Now, I'm sure this is what you're waiting for, the actual meat of his character, how I've completely restructured and rewritten his years as a proxy and what comes after. And we'll close out the thread with a lot of his relationships with those around him.

Toby's early time is a proxy was very much constant work, hit jobs, information scrubbing, stalking, and even stealing from police stations. A mind controlled pawn willing to do any odd job, he had nothing but orders left. It wouldn't be until after the first month that he would be brought to the "mansion", a dilapidated manner on the outside, but the interior was absolutely pristine, and it seemed to stretch on forever. In fact, it did, but other oddities were present as well, such as a door quite literally growing a name plate for him, or the living doll and undead nurse running around. Not that he could really feel anything towards it all other than cold and difference, that was the blessing of this situation, it was no longer just the physical pain that he didn't feel, but matters of the heart either for a time.

Of course emotional numbness didn't stay forever, and some of those around him began to become like family, a clawed entrance guard, a stoic tunnel dweller, a crimson artist, a fallen cop and even a missing soldier, they were the first things he's had to emotional connections since he vanished that night. He finally and fully settled into his life, knowing there was no way back for him and nor did his slender sickness riddled mind want to go back, he was a proxy to the end, a puppet on strings dancing to the static beat.

And it would be that way for the majority of his time as a proxy, mission after mission, and time spent with the few proxies he had gotten close to. Eventually it culminated into what would be his final day as a proxy for a long while. Thinking that Toby's ties had been completely broken, and that his missing memories we're finally and fully lost. During the final year as a proxy Toby was given a single mission, to hunt down and kill a woman who'd been close to figuring out his identity, an ultimately he did track her, and with pistol drawn... He found himself unable to fire, because what stood before him was his mother and everything came flooding back.

It was after this moment that Toby went on the run, taking his mother with him, and for months they were constantly moving, trying to throw off any of their would be hunters. A miracle fell into they're laps, as he saw her for the first time, Jane Phoenix. With the two of them brought before the skeleton, Jack Revver, their days of being hunted was over, as well Toby did not have the context for it at the time, deals were pulled to guarantee his safety.

The trio together, Toby Rogers, Jack Revver and Jane Phoenix, formed the organization known as Ripper Inc, Hired guns that handle contracts that I wanted Dead or alive, jobs that are usually considered suicide missions. It was because of a public incident regarding them that the world found out about the existence of monsters, but the veil of secrecy around the paranormal and supernatural have been truly shattered.

And this was his life for a while, he became a celebrity, he was free from the reign of the Slender Man, and most importantly, he'd found family and saved his mother. But nothing good lasts, and ultimately, in the same year, there would come again that shattered him once more. Didn't always been a hot shot, for all the months you've known her, but he never expected her to chase down Jeffrey Forester by herself, and there were three things that happened that night. Jane with ultimately be slain by the very man who made her what she is, a grieving Revver would be cited carrying her body through the streets in a vain attempt to get her help... And Toby returned to the proxies, he sought emotional numbness once more. How could he not? She was 19, she was the very age that he started at. A twisted mirror of sorts.

So yeah, that's all like pre-story open, that's all set before 2017. So this is where we first meet him, this is where we first pick up. In September of 2017, Jack Revver tracked him down once more, pulling him out alongside Heather Marshall, and with the choice to take one more. See unbeknownst to Toby, a truce had been formed, an agreement reached for reasons that only a couple years later he would find out.

There was a new found family, made of three familiar faces and a new one, he he hadn't ever met Bethany (Nina) before, but it heard about what Forester did to her family once they reach the offices, he felt... A sort of responsibility. Years have passed since then, and we're currently in the year of 2025. He has found a new family fully, been able to spend time with his mother, befriended other people like him, and even been on talk shows. Toby's.... Living a future he could have never seen. Often times he's still not even sure if it's deserved, he's killed countless, burned and destroyed homes and lives, but he's basically living the high life now.

He's in a high position the boot, as a founding member and one of the highest ranking members of Ripper Inc, and he almost gets the feeling, he's going to be the next head. Revver always told him of bright future, and often times Toby gets the impression that Revver is talking like he's going to die.

So, yeah, that's kind of where we are and where we leave him for now, so let's get into character relationships and dive into what his relationships were with his fellow proxies and the Ripper Inc family.

Proxy relationships:

Slenderman is probably one of the people he hates the most, if not his most hated. He is his a manipulator and abuser, the creature that's quite possibly the one who orchestrated his entire life to be as miserable as it has been. His freedom from the creatures control is something he's never going to give up again.

One of his most iconic dynamics, we'll dive into how he feels about Masky. He hates him. Toby and Tim often fight, Toby often pointing out the hypocrisy and arrogance in Tim's words, and Tim is often quick to point out Toby's lack of teamwork and rude attitude. Toby considers Tim to be a self-righteous and self-serving bastard. He hopes they never cross paths in a professional line of work again.

Hoodie is also rather hated Toby, and a good portion of this is due to the fact that hoodie does not care about people, he's begun to only focus on the mission. His indifference frustrates and worries Toby, making it so he'd deny in mission that he has to work with him.

His dynamic with Kate is probably one of the most healthy he has amongst the proxies, having formed a sort of sibling dynamic over the years. And even now, they're rather close, meeting up at the tunnels Kate spends most of her time every now and then. She's often one of the people Toby invites to the Christmas parties and ALWAYS shows up for his birthdays.

Toby and Own Allastar happy weather unique dynamic, much like Kate, he feels a sibling role, however he was the first to encourage Toby to pursue his hobbies outside of the missions, that a weapon wasn't the only thing he had to be. He was probably one of the most true friends Toby had ever had, and still is. The Red Artist's artistic depiction of Toby hangs within his bedroom.

Toby has very mixed feelings about Cody, this boy was made to replace him, he had been indoctrinated during Toby's months away. Ultimately, he believes X-Virus to be a good kid deep down, but can't bring himself to look the boy in the eye. He can't stand looking at his reflection, it makes him sick to his stomach.

His dynamic with Nightmare Ally is certainly a strange one, well they aren't on negative terms, he wouldn't consider them friends either, even if she still does occasionally help him, it's more of work acquaintances. And Toby is rather thankful she's one of the ones that often shows up as aid thanks to the truce.

His relationship with Ashlie is. . . Unique. They were briefly an item, he can safely say he's dated the boss's daughter. Although, the relationship died due to the lack of expression and communication on her side.

His relationship with Gregory Blaine is probably one of his most important, he was the small injections of morality back into Toby throughout his years as a proxy. Archive was, and is an essential part of Toby's foundations for the present. The former cop wasn't like the rest of the proxies, is frog's vacation wasn't made out of a choice to save the woman he loved. . . Toby respects that, maybe even envies it.

Probably the most surprising one, was Eric Watson, a former soldier who served in the Middle East after events of 9/11. Wildcard as they called him, was the very man that taught Toby how to shoot. The friendship they've shared is one Toby never could have predicted, and in recent years. . . He's lost contact, he's unsure where he went.

Tooru Jirou is someone Toby has VERY conflicted feelings towards, they get along well, and he does feel sympathy for her situation. . . But at the same time you can't exactly deny but it's all her own fault, play stupid games and you win stupid prizes. Adrenaline is definitely living with her stupid prize, whether she wants to or not. Regardless, they do often work closely together, she's even convinced him to appear on her streams.

Ripper Inc relationships:

Jack Revver is sort of the father Toby never had, a source of guidance and often the first to help him pick himself back up. Revver has shown Toby levels of kindness he's rarely seen outside select people, an unmatched sense of generosity and patience towards him. They'd start Ripper Inc together with Jane Phoenix, and it's made the two's bond unbreakable.

Toby's friendship with Jane Phoenix was like that of siblings, they bickered and fought, but deep down they always cared for the other. He still feels a sense of responsibility for what happened to her, despite knowing it wasn't his fault.

Bethany Gent (Nina Hopkins) is another he has found himself quite close with, as if using his sense of guilt and responsibility over what happened to Jane as a building block to protect Nina despite everything. She's a victim, just like him, and just like Jane was. Nina is one of the few people that can get him to go out shopping, acting as a sort of little sister dragging her older brother around. He'll never admit that it's kinda fun, he'd rather die first.

He's known Heather since their days as proxies, she'd served as a secondary motherly figure, somebody he could always depend on, one of the few cornerstones. Even now, he's still close with her, often going on missions together. Their bond has become inseparable. Rouge is one of his closest friends.

Liu Woods is, well, they get along alright, but he can't exactly really tell how he actually feels about the man, they haven't exactly going out of their way to befriend each other. Their relationship is strictly professional.

Nurse Ann used to greatly scare Toby, her methods we're far from humane or rational, but nowadays, he's doing quite close to the undead nurse, Annabelle Mia being his most trusted medical professional. They bonded over a shared distaste for Tim.

Jane and Mary Richardson have quickly become some of his closest friends, the two serving as elder sisters to him, with Mary often checking up on his mother for him while he's on a mission, and Jane serving as his personal trainer in hand to and combat. He's forever grateful to have met the married couple, they've had a positive impact on his life.

Eyeless Jack. . . Frankly scares him, such an unpredictable individual and one he could never spot unless he made his presence known. Sure, he'd trust EJ with field medical work, but just how literally talked and how hard it was to tell he was there in the first place. . . It just rather makes Toby uncomfortable.

His relationship with Korbyn JumpingEagle is one with a lot bumps, as initially she didn't truly understand his personality and who he was, and instead would opt to nag him and hit him with her trademark sass. Of course, overtime is they've become friends, given a couple near death experiences, it tends to bond people. They both pulled a better understanding of each other nowadays, even occasionally joking with each other.

Sally Williams and Lazari Swan are like the annoying youngest siblings to him, much like corbin, they were under the protection of Revver... And he's often found himself begrudgingly joining their tea parties or playing pretend with them. He for some reason just can't bring himself to be as mean as usual with them.

His relationship with scarecrow can best be summoned up as enemies to friends, they did try to kill each other in their first encounter. Once the circumstances had changed, they bonded rather quickly over there shared trauma with cosmic horrors, he with Slender, and her with Zalgo. They work rather well on the battlefield together as well.

Zero frankly weirds him out, the tulpa's bizarre antics almost never make sense to him and he's begun to learn not to question it. They get along all right, but he can't help getting the feeling that somebody's always crying for help when he looks at her.

Sadako is probably one of the weirdest dynamics he's had, I mean, there's not really much proper planning you can do around a media ghost who can now just travel anywhere she wants to the internet. They are in fact friends, but it does tend to lead to awkward moments and comedic situations half the times she appears. But alas, there's nothing to do, if she's the information relay.

Samantha Revver has shown that much like her husband, she quickly took on a parental role, and even became quick friends with his actual mother. The vampire has been nothing but kind to him, even going as far as to teach him how to cough to help him be even further self-sufficient.

Jana Revver has shown as well, that kindness. She's playfully picked on and teeth toby, but at the end of the day they act like siblings, she acts like an elder sister and almost reminds him of. . . Lyra. The entire Revver family has been like a second family to him. He wouldn't trade their bond for anything.

Jeffrey Hodek is somebody that Toby can't help but pay, before joining up with the group he was just a washed up and retired killer I wanted to live a normal life, but of course, as Toby knows well. . . Normal isn't an option for people anymore. They've got a rather friendly relationship, but ultimately they don't talk too much. Hodek is much more likely to hide up in his room and rewatch shows and movies the 80s and 90s.

Clockwork is... Natalie Oulette is an individual that greatly concerns him with her behavior, and yet... He finds himself strangely wrong to her, and ultimately they have gotten together. More than once. They're dysfunctional, sure, but they're actively working to find a way to make it work. If any song would describe their dynamic, it'd Your Stupid Face by Kaden MacKay.

Wow, this took so much longer than I thought it would but welcome to the end of the Toby information! Hope ya like this ramble!

#ripper inc #ticci toby #creepypasta rewrite #slenderverse #slenderman #creepypasta #kate the chaser #rouge the proxy #nurse ann #eyeless jack #sally williams #creepypasta masky #hoodie creepypasta #scarecrow creepypasta #zero creepypasta #jane the killer #the seer #homicidal liu #x virus #my ocs #oc #sadako yamamura #lazari creepypasta #nina the killer #jeff the killer #proxies #slenderman proxy

[silkysquidz]

I have been suffering from burnout lately which is making it hard doing anything or finishing any projects of mine

Yet the Voodoo Doll x Scarecrow Brain rot never leaves me~

#jonathan crane #Voodoo Doll #Scarecrow #Btas Scarecrow #OC x Scarecrow #Ship art #DC OC #Silly art

[inkcoffeee]

Thinking about Scarecrow...

These last two are a lot older drawings >.< haven't drawn them in a while but I <3 them

#art #sketch #pen drawing #dc universe #dc fanart #johnathan crane #jonathan crane #dr crane #scarecrow #dc scarecrow #batman begins #scarecrow x oc #oc art #oc artist #self indulgent #canon x oc #oc x canon #dcu #my art <3

[vincepti0n]

aw man thats,,, gay

#sketches #digital art #art #oc stuff #original characters #batman but he's reaaalllllyyyyyy fucked up #dc comics #ONE small professor pyg sketch if he was super cute #all dc ocs yea #all of them are also doctors im not #normal #the scarecrow #i love the scarecrow aha #jonathan crane #uh also uhhh oc x canon i guess fuccckkkk #vincepption wthh

[creaman]

Happy Birthday, Jonathan Crane! No, I did not forget.

#vclownverse #I totally fucking forgot and I feel like a deadbeat husband #STUPID CREAMAN!! STUPID!! STUPID!! #jonathan crane #scarecrow #fanart #batman #creaman oc #macabre #oc x canon #digital illustration #comic #vinegarclown #creaman