outwiththecrow

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ive the Peckish Craving to write angst

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Sometimes i receive visions like the oracle of delphi

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I imagine the more jon experiments on himself/uses fear toxin on himself in general, the more "scarecrow" starts to. personify in his mind

i've mentioned in the past (not on here I don't think unfortunately) that there's like. a mild al.an wake/mr. scra.tch sort of deal going on there, only the scarecrow hallucination can't Actually manifest physically. it just distorts his perception of reality, and his memory if/when it gets Bad. otherwise jon feels like it's just there to taunt him and freak him out. which it does do that. but ultimately, it's sort of a reminder of... Himself? as much as jon tries to separate himself as a person from the things that he's capable of, the things he's done, and what he wants to be, he can't escape it when the culmination of it is staring right back at him, can he?

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Pet play? 👁️👁️

send my muse a kink and they'll rate it based on interest

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

"...I'll consider it. Seems t' have th' key features I like; restraints and control. ...Not sure how I feel about bein' treated like a dog, though." As if he hasn't worn pup masks in the club.

bonus photo hehe

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basics ・・・ ♱

full name: jonathan daniel crane nickname: jon, jo(h)nny, crane

titles: dr. crane, the scarecrow

other names/aliases: n/a

height: 6'1"

weight: 250~ lbs

age: 42

zodiac: scorpio - nov. 16th

spoken languages: english, latin, bits and pieces of french

physical characteristics ・・・ ♱

hair color: dark brown, near black, with strands of grey hair from old age and stress

eye color: amber brown; yellow tinge

skin tone: white, vaguely tan; warm undertone

body type: squarish, broad and tall. muscle-fat overlap

voice: codot as jonathan crane in rogues! the podcast

dominant hand: ambidextrous, but was trained by teachers to use his right hand

scars: cuts and scratches from being attacked from crows all over his body (primarily his face), healed over stab and gunshot wounds from prior fights

tattoos: a crown of thorns on his left ankle

birthmarks: many, many moles

most noticeable features: intense eyes, low/deep voice, his appearance in general

childhood ・・・ ♱

place of birth: keany farmhouse

hometown: middle of nowhere georgia, usa

manner of birth: he was a home birth - his mother was not allowed to hold him. beyond that, he was the result of his mother's assault, and holds the face of the man who ruined her life.

first words: who knows. he thinks it was "washing machine" though. LMAO

siblings: n/a

parents: karen keany (mother; deceased), gerald crane (father; deceased), mary keany (caregiver/grandmother; deceased)

parental involvement: both of his parents were absent in his childhood. his mother would come around every once in a while and ignored him, and his father only got as far as the front door to give mary money. his grandmother used him as her labor horse and her whipping boy.

adult life ・・・ ♱

occupation: psychiatrist for arkham asylum, phobia psychologist, self-proclaimed "master of fear"

current residence: gotham city

close friends: harley, to an extent. otherwise n/a

relationship status: depends; single but fucks around

financial status: fine. afloat even

driver's license: he has one! he definitely shouldn't though

criminal record: are you a cop. (homicide, unlawful distribution of harmful chemicals, violation of chemical safety, psychological warfare, among other things)

vices: nicotine/cigarettes, alcohol, dangerous sex, fear toxin - he uses all of these as a form of self-harm

sex & romance ・・・ ♱

sexual orientation: pansexual, by technicality

romantic orientation: homoromantic

preferred emotional role: absent. he deliberately pushes people away

preferred sexual role: switch. likes to dom/top, though. definitely deserves getting forced to bottom

turn ons: degradation, close-proximity smoking, being hated/viewed as disgusting/perverse, arguing, eye contact (don't. ask.)

love language: silent acts of service, backhanded nurturing ("i don't even care" *gives you warm soup*), passive aggressiveness

relationship tendencies: very protective but genuinely sucks at anything inherent to communication and sincerity. pretty possessive/obsessive and prone to getting jealous

miscellaneous ・・・ ♱

character's theme song: i have several - for scarecrow specifically , for jon (song + an instrumental/proper theme)

hobbies to pass time: he used to do more than he does now... mostly smoking and drinking. beyond what he actually/typically does, he enjoys outdoorsy activities like fishing, and reading. his favorite genre is classical literature, if not modern psychology.

mental disorders: borderline personality disorder/bpd, obsessive compulsive disorder/ocd, post-traumatic stress disorder/ptsd

mental illnesses: autism

physical illnesses: binge eating disorder

left or right brained: left

phobias: arachnophobia

self confidence level: jon has significant highs and significant lows in the way he views himself, but it's typically at rock bottom if he thinks too hard

vulnerabilities: self-loathing, very poor anger management, workaholic type, intense moodswings leave him feeling on top of the world one minute and suicidal the next

tagged by : @brokentoys <3!!

tagging : @horifficspider , @thecuratxr , @sunnykies & anyone else who'd like to do it ^_^

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" ehehehehehhhhh. breeding kink ? hell yeaahhhhh. "

send my muse a kink and they'll rate it based off interest

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

"...I should preface this by sayin' that I have no intent on becomin' a father anytime soon. Preferably ever. ...Th' scenario, though, s'appealing. Makin' someone walk around with a belly bump knowin' I did that; sure."

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Send my muse a kink and they'll rate it based on interest

NEVER | NOT REALLY | MAYBE | NOT BAD | MMMMM | HELL YES | TAKE ME NOW | THERE GO MY PANTS

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sick of this guy... so sick i made him on the sims...

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some crane sketches from an abandoned comic

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fucked up hurt/comfort. the person who stabbed you tends to your wound. the person who killed your loved one helps you grieve.

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Jesus Christ. And he thought his lighter was juvenile; a bible verse engraved in the old silver metal, worn down at the vowels from age. He's visibly amused, from either the trinket or the comment Edward had made prior. "Sure," he retorted, clearly not buying into it. He knew Ed, and he especially knew how he behaved at this point, having been his therapist for however long.

"Yeah." The tone in his voice is doubting, if not directly demeaning. Edward— rather, the Riddler had his moments. He wouldn't deny the man having a remarkable intellect. Unless it was for the petty means of an argument. But equally, Jon could recognize that a key factor Edward lacked was forethought past himself, his own wants. "You even know what t' do in case y' ever overdose?" He leaned a bit further into Ed's space. He wasn't even sure if the man kept Narcan in his house, if he felt he was too invincible to be taken out by biting off more than he could chew... or shoot up.

He redirects his attention to the lighter again. "...Jus' light it for me, s'easier." Jon was already halfway across the table anyways.

He finishes the sandwich, tongue gliding across his lips to savor the last bit of taste. ❝ Whatever, ❞ he rolls his eyes, as though he was some kind of brat instead of a thirty year old man. ❝ Look. How about I set a reminder to eat on my phone ? There you go, problem solved. I'm smart. ❞ Truth is, he'd likely ignore the reminders because he's too invested in whatever it is he'd be doing — blueprinting, hacking, coming up with riddles.

Eddie reaches into his verdant blazer, aptly pulling out a lighter. It has a rather tacky design of a busty redhead woman, posing right next to a marijuana leaf. Ironic, as Eddie doesn't often indulge in marijuana. Though he'd be a lot better off had he chose that vice instead. He leans in closer, handing the lighter to Jon.

❝ I always have one on me. ❞ As if that's something to be proud of.

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He's still coughing by the time Bruce starts talking. Years of bad decisions and several packs of cigarettes a week were all starting to accumulate in this moment, as if he had forgotten them all. His hand over his chest shot to his side with a growl. Frustrated felt too little to describe it. Why bother with the ignorant? It felt like his whole life had been wasted trying to make people see, describing beauty to the blind. "Well, hroo-fuckin'-hraa," he spat.

"Of course we ain't alike." He snorted. "Where'd be th' fun in that? No, Detective... that's not our arrangement here. I know you're used t' callin' the shots— but I sing to a different tune. One I can depend upon." The Scarecrow's gaze is locked on the cloaked figure as he slips around him, stumbling. "You've already chosen yours, it seems."

...He takes a long pause before letting out a heavy laugh. "Fine. Have it th' hard way, then." If he couldn't make the Batman see, he'll have to show him himself. "I'll be seein' you yet, Detective." A sharp turn is taken into a shady corner, another cackle echoing in the room as he vanished.

      🦇—-;; As soon as there is a bit of space between them, Bruce does not attack again, though he is aware the top layer of material were scratched in the process, superficial damage really, but preferred over the possibly of his skin being pricked by those needles.

He turns his head to keep the Scarecrow in his line of sight again, a warning not to come close again, Bruce wouldn't let him come close again in any case, not unless it was his own choice. He narrows his eyes again, white lenses following the action, "if you don't know why I disagree with your methods, then you really haven't been paying attention." Bruce speaks, teeth baring slightly as he does so, eyes following that hand as it gestures to the city, albeit briefly before his eyes are back on the man again.

"See, I know fear, it has it's place in the world, within the human instincts, tells us there's monsters out there in the dark, that the world is a dangerous, unforgiving place, and that we need to protect those who cannot protect themselves from that darkness." Bruce says and he tilts his head, "I will always be the monster that the monsters fear, that is my role. I don't care if I'm liked, I'm not doing this for adoration, to be praised." No, he's doing this so no other eight year old little boy ends up orphaned in the middle of the night. "And that's something you've never understood about you and me, we're not alike at all."

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"One bingo... maybe develop better taste in men hmm?"

"In classical bingo, one row still wins you th' pot, don't it?... Wouldn't be too hard t' get ya to two, though, it seems. If you're ever back in Arkham, jus' schedule an appointment under Dr. Crane." Smug asshole.

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it's here. enjoy

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museum of natural history, paris