#scarecrow for muh gurl Ditts

[spyvstailor]

acapelladitty replied to your post: Welp, I’m officially jobless now…who wants to send...

You’ll get something soon! #SupportSpy2k18 and in terms of fic requests, I will never not be a slut for your Jonathan Crane! So, dealers choice tbh in terms of other characters. I live to see that man put in uncomfortable positions lmao x

Okay...that was weak, but I’ll run with it. Here’s Jon being the hero for once and being wholly uncomfortable in that position. Enjoy!

Being a villain one did not take time to stop and smell the proverbial roses.

It was either you raced around on a mission or you were running for your life from a mistake.

Therefore, Jonathan Crane had to admit that it was indeed very odd of him to be sitting up on top of the old Gotham Brewery, long, lanky legs dangling over the edge, mask raised to the stars above.

It was a blue moon and it was beautiful.

Still sore from a mistake he had made only a few days prior, it had taken all his energy to scale the old brick wall, but it had been worth it.

Below him Wharf Street was dead, not even a nightwalker or a drug dealer to be seen. He could gaze up at the full moon and imagine he was alone, blissful and serene and alone.

A rare smile graced his thin lips and he hummed to himself like a contented cat.

Lights struck the sign beside him and he looked down at the street to find an approaching car.

It was black as night and sleek, expensive.

As he scowled at the disruption, he watched the car as it swerved first from right to left and then back, before pulling off the street and into the rotting parking lot of the brewery, right below his feet.

Sighing, he rest his elbows on his knees and bent over the car below, watching the interloper who emerged from the driver’s side, just as a woman bolted from the passenger side.

She took off for the street again, the man right on her heels.

Catching the woman, the burly older man dragged her back towards the car as she began to scream and shriek, her flashy heels and short skirt told Crane that she was either a professional, a party goer or perhaps simply a highly fashionable woman, but whatever she was, she was much, much younger than the man and much, much smaller.

He threw her against the hood of the car roughly, hard enough that Crane winced.

“Shut up!” The man growled. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Get off me!” The woman hollered, kicking and thrashing under the man’s significant weight.

Sneering Crane watched as the young woman’s skirt was grabbed and shoved up high on her hips, exposing her underpants.

He knew what was coming and it settled uneasily in him.

If he dropped down and offered her aid, he would be...but if he did nothing...

Well, he figured, if anything he could have some fun with the man.

Easing down from his spot, he slipped and dropped to the ground, just as the man tore the young woman’s underwear off.

Crane landed hard on the roof of the car from the fire escape and squatted there for a moment in pain as the wound he had sustained to his side tore open afresh, the makeshift stitches he had given himself pulling and tearing away from his flesh.

The thud was enough to startle the man and he looked up.

Certain his mask was terrifying to the poor woman who was already put through more than enough fear for the night, Crane tilted his head and said, “hold your breath.” He then released one of his fear bombs, letting it roll off the roof of the car and fall between the man’s feet.

Coughing and choking, the man staggered back.

Holding his side with one hand, Crane removed his spare mask with his other, storming through the gas cloud and dropping it over the woman’s head as he passed her.

On the ground, the man struggled to back away from Crane, the fear toxin already overtaking him.

Squatting over him, Crane pressed his mask nose to nose with the man.

“Do you ever wonder what the darkness possesses?” Crane asked him. “Every creak and thud in a dark, shadowy house? The things that dwell in the places where light never touches?”

The man panted, his pupils dilated wide.

“I could kill you,” the Scarecrow whispered. “But you’re already dead.”

Setting off a decent living nightmare in the man’s mind, Crane smirked as the man began to scream. He screamed and screamed and the music of his screams floated in the night.

Under the blue moon his screams were euphoric.

Standing up, Crane reached for his scythe and realized in his rush to prevent any damage to the young woman he had forgotten it up on the rooftop.

So he stood awkwardly, long arms dangling by his sides, watching the woman as she straightened her clothes, still wearing his spare mask.

Two Scarecrow’s peered at each other in the night, one panting heavily from her fight, the other calmly eyeing her, trying to decide whether he should just knock her out as well or get her home safely as the gas around them settled and dispersed.

After a minute, the woman gathered up enough courage to turn and run, but she only took two steps, before stopping.

Crane watched her steadily as she turned around again.

“Thank you,” she breathed, moving back towards him a little hesitantly.

For a moment he worried she was about to do something unwelcome, as she stepped in uncomfortably close to him.

But instead, she looked down at the man Crane was standing over, who had stopped screaming and was whimpering. For a moment a look of pity passed over her face, before she frowned.

She kicked the man hard in the ribs.

“You fucker!” She spat.

Crane stepped back and watched as she got in two more good kicks, before she stepped back.

Again she eyed him warily, before she reached up to remove his spare mask.

She offered it to him.

“Take his car home,” Crane said, ignoring the offered mask. “He won’t report it stolen, little mouse. Otherwise he would have to explain how a small thing like you stole a car from such a beast of a man.”

She nodded firmly.

“Beware of wolves,” he cautioned her. “And keep the mask.”

Hurrying around to the driver’s side of the running vehicle, she paused and peered over the dented roof at him. “I work as a research assistant at the university, Dr. Crane...I’ve heard about you.”

Jonathan paused for a moment, startled, before he said, “leave the car a block from your home, wipe anyplace you may have left fingerprints down. If anything it will be a random stolen vehicle.”

“I’ll tell everyone I know what you did here for me,” she breathed.

He angled his head sharply to the right and peered at him with his good eye. Without his glasses in his mask he was pretty much blind on his right. “You won’t.”

“But you’re a hero,” she whispered urgently.

He winced and considered gassing her, maybe altering her memories enough for her to forget that kind of decision.

“You disrupted my night,” he stated clearly. “Do not mistake my desire for peace and calm an urge to protect and serve. Now go home before I sincerely begin to regret my actions tonight.”

The young woman ducked into the car and after a few seconds, it was throwing gravel as she tore off, heading home, leaving Jonathan Crane and his victim to the blue moon.

He turned back to the man and squatted down to continue his torment, enjoying the screams he managed to work from the would be violators throat.