#scarecrow x oc

[dbnightingale24]

Already Won Me Over Sneak Peak

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

~~

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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.

~~

[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.

[glitterhoof]

hello scarecrow nation

[inkcoffeee]

Thinking about Scarecrow...

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

[avinturin]

“I’m a psychologist at Arkham.”

“And I was the patient!🥰”

Say hello to my Gotham/DC OC!

Salome Graves, a professional psychologist at Arkham Asylum who fell in love with the Master of Fear but we dont have to talk abt that

[serpentpoet]

fear is the teacher. the first one you've ever had. pt. 1

Summary: Lily McKenna is a new intern at Arkham Asylum, working under the cold and calculating Dr. Crane. However, Crane doesn't know Lily is secretly there to gather proof that her new boss is the infamous masked Scarecrow who has been terrorizing Gotham.

Warnings: this short first part is SFW! will eventually contain rough/graphic smut (consensual) in later parts; warnings will apply then

Genre: OC/Reader Insert (you can read it with whatever MC you have in mind), eventual graphic smut

Pt. 2 here!

“All patients in Block C report to the common area for group therapy.” 

The female voice on the intercom crackled above on the bathroom ceiling as Lily took off her heel and sat on the toilet, examining the painful, red blister forming on the back of her ankle. Patent leather, and four inches at that, was obviously not the right choice of shoe she should have worn on a rush through the streets of Gotham. She rubbed her ankle to ease the throb then pulled a Band-Aid out of her purse, placed it over the hurt spot, and exhaled a sigh to calm her nerves. 

“Restating: All patients in Block C report to the common area for group therapy.” 

A chill swam down Lily’s neck, and she realized that she was currently in the same walls as some of the most malicious and dangerous people in Gotham. She had been prepared for this, knowing what she was getting herself into by accepting the curiously open position from her advisor, but with the masked terrorizor the media dubbed ‘Scarecrow’ on the rise and crime steadily growing rampant in the streets of the once idyllic city, Lily wondered if the security and head psychiatrists were trained enough to protect her. Sure, these thoughts had come up ever since she’d accepted the position, but it didn’t fully hit her until she was inside the darkness of Arkham itself. 

Lily was never truly informed what exactly her position at Arkham would be, apart from a semester-long internship with the resident psychiatrists, a coveted position for any psychology post-grad at Gotham University. She had accepted immediately, of course. She’d worked hard to keep her grades up, showing up to office hours and volunteering for conference presentations. Her dedication must have paid off in the eyes of her professors; she’d been the first one recommended to the selective position. Lily turned her wrist over and checked her watch, seeing that she had ten minutes left before she was supposed to arrive. She made sure that her bag still contained her important notebook and folders, slipped her heel back on, and left the stall. 

Lily smiled an awkward, close-lipped “hi” to a woman coming into the women’s bathroom, her dark hair pulled oil-slick back into a severe ponytail. The woman started to go into a stall, then hesitated, turning back to Lily. 

“You’re….Lily McKenna, right?” the woman asked. Lily turned off the sink and dried her hands on her pants. 

“Yeah,” Lily smiled politely at the woman. Her badge pinned onto her navy blazer read Tabby Hunt in bold. 

Tabby watched Lily dry her hands on her pants, and her face flashed with sympathy, a split-second wave, one only a psychology student like Lily would register. Tabby cleared her throat. 

“They’ve been talking about you all morning. Dr. Crane’s not too happy about getting a new intern this far into the semester,” Tabby said, a bit quiet, as if sharing a secret. 

Lily felt a prickling flush spread across her cheeks. 

“Crane’s weird these days,” Tabby said, then shrugged off a thought. Lily stood by the sinks, unsure how to respond. 

“Am I in the right place?” Lily asked, breathing through a nervous laugh. Tabby nodded. 

“Unfortunately,” Tabby responded, “I’m not gonna lie to you, Arkham’s a crazy place to intern. Literally. And Crane’s not an easy boss. He’s already lost two other interns this semester.”  

“It’s only February,” Lily said. 

Tabby laughed and grimaced. “We know. Just…try to keep your head down in here. Do as you’re told. Don’t correct Crane on anything, even if he’s wrong. He hates being wrong.” 

She spoke the last part as if speaking from past experience. Lily nodded. 

“Got it. Thanks for the heads up,” Lily said, “Where’s Dr. Crane’s office?” 

“You’re on the right floor. Last door to your left down the hall,” Tabby said, then headed into a stall. Lily tousled her hair slightly in the mirror then decided with a determined stride that whatever happened would happen. Her work was always up to par, and she could handle a strict boss for just a few months of a semester. She had more important work to do than that. 

The psych hall smelled of faint lemon cleaning supplies and rubbing alcohol, and she heard the muffled ringing of someone laughing a few doors down. Someone was buzzed in behind her, and she was acutely aware of the clicking sound her heels made on the polished linolium. A plump, shiny-faced secretary glanced up through her eyelash extensions at Lily as she passed, then quickly averted her nosy gaze back to her Gotham Home & Gardens magazine. 

Lily knocked twice on the door of Dr. Crane - Head Pyschiatrist. 

“Come in,” said a voice from behind the door. Lily turned the knob and pushed it open. Dr. Crane took off his silver glasses, folding and placing them carefully–Lily would later note meticulously—on the desk in front of him. He didn’t stand up to greet her as she entered. 

“Hi,” she said, a little breathless from the nerves, and the extra careful footing she had to take to make sure she didn’t trip and fall in her heels, and shut the door behind her. Dr. Crane watched her silently, a bit annoyed. 

“Sit,” he instructed, gesturing, and she sat across from him. Her heart leapt as her eyes met his ice-cold, blue ones, and she crossed then uncrossed her legs once, a nervous habit, before he stuck out his hand to her in greeting. She shook it awkwardly; even his hands were cold from the sterile air. He kept his eyes locked on her face, head a bit cocked to the side. His lips tugged at the corners after he pulled his hand away, an amused expression threatening to break through. She suddenly felt very small under his gaze, scrutinized and examined. Any sane person, and Lily believed herself to be, coudn’t deny that he was cruelly handsome. It didn’t help that she could smell the spice of his cologne from her seat. 

“I’m Dr. Jonathan Crane. I’m the head psychiatrist at Arkham, but I’m sure you already know that,” he looked at her pointedly before continuing, “I’m assuming you’re Lily McKenna?” he asked her, looking down and reading her name off of a file in front of him. She nodded. 

“The new intern?” His eyes flitted up, questioning. She crossed her legs again. 

“Um, yeah. Sorry I’m starting so late in the semester. I was just told about the assignment this week,” Lily said, feeling the words come tumbling out of her mouth. Dr. Crane smirked. 

“It’s no problem, Ms. McKenna. You’ve probably heard about the others by now. My colleagues are annoyingly…curious,” Dr. Crane said the word with a sharp inflection. “The other interns had the brains, sure, but they didn’t have the, nerve, for working in a place like this. Do you?” 

Lily felt herself grow warm even in the cold hospital air. 

“I believe so, yes. You’ve seen my grades?” Lily responded. 

“Oh yes, of course I’ve seen your grades, Ms. McKenna. But what are grades compared to the violent tendancies of a mad criminal? Grades against someone who kills for fun, who has no other motive but pure love of chaos, who can’t be ‘cured’ by textbook therapy?” Dr. Crane asked, his eyes studying Lily’s face for any sign of an expression.

“I believe I have the nerve, sir,” Lily said, flatly and with a hint of annoyance at being interrogated.

“Good,” Dr. Crane smirked, shutting the folder with her name on it. He opened the desk drawer next to him and put the file inside. Lily would later recall the odd fact that he’d locked it. She clutched her bag to her tighter. 

“We’ll start you off easy anyway,” he said, standing up and looking through a standing file cabinet behind him. Lily eyed the angles of his body, his shoulders, his jawline. He was made of sharpness. Everything about him was frigid. He caught her gaze, pulling out a manila folder. She looked away. 

“This patient came in just this week. I’d like you to do some paperwork like this before I let you near the actual patients, even as observation. It’s just protocol, Ms. McKenna,” Dr. Crane said, sitting back down. Lily nodded. 

“This is Adam Nielson. Former night shift security guard at Gotham Bend Nuclear Plant,” he said, showing her a picture of the patient clipped to the top of the first page, a man in his late forties with a receding hairline and partial beard. “Nielson claims that one night he was attacked by a masked figure who made him, quote, ‘go crazy’. That night, he murdered his entire family with a screwdriver,” Dr. Crane looked up, making sure Lily was listening. A pause. He went on. 

“You can use the file room adjacent to mine to take your notes. There’s a table and a chair in there,” he gestured to a door to the righthand side of his office. 

“Okay,” Lily responded, shifting awkwardly in her seat. Dr. Crane flitted his eyes down to her bag then locked eyes with her again. 

“Tell me, Ms. McKenna,” her name emphasized and said with a bit of dripping mockery. “What do you know about fear?” 

“Fear, sir?” Lily responded. 

“Yes, fear. You’ve not read my dissertation?” Dr. Crane cocked his head to the side. Lily shook her head no. He sighed. 

“I see Gotham University’s still sending me clueless interns,” Dr. Crane stood up again, locking his hands behind his back and looking out of the window out onto the smoggy streets of Gotham. From Lily’s seat, she could see two men fighting by the dumpsters below. One man held out a knife to the other in a threat.

“Fear is the great teacher. The first one you’ve ever had. A child learns to fear the hot eyes of an oven when they place their hand on it and get burned for the first time. It is more than emotion. It is more than just fight or flight responses. It is everything at its most simplistic core. It is intertwined with everything. It is a lack of control. Do you understand?” Dr. Crane turned around, walking slowly towards her until he was towering over her from behind–a hawk. Lily crossed her legs tighter. 

“Do you understand this, Lily? The dance of fear and control?” Dr. Crane spoke, his voice barely above a whisper from above and behind her. Lily felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck. 

“From my research, I happen to believe fear is simply fight or flight response. It is our evolved brain’s way of survival,” Lily said back, and she felt Dr. Crane’s breath hitch from behind her. An angry stride in his step, he circled back to his desk, and sat down. 

“Then your research is flawed. We’ll see if that answer changes after your time working for me. I want you to read Nielson’s file then report back to me what you think about him and his possible conditions. Don’t write me a paper, Ms. McKenna. Four or five sentences will do,” Dr. Crane handed her the folder, and she took it from him. 

Lily nodded, putting the folder in her bag. Dr. Crane watched her movements as she walked away. He put his glasses back on and unlocked the desk drawer. 

Lily closed the door to the file room behind her and turned on the light. Without the gaze of Dr. Crane, she suddenly felt much less confined. His very presence, his demeanor, was stifling. The wan light above her hummed softly, and she sat down at the folding table in the middle of the room, putting Adam Nielson’s folder to the side. She took off her heels, rubbing the backs of her ankles again. After a moment, she pulled a different folder out of her bag, glanced at the closed door–silence from Dr. Crane’s end–then opened the document. Dr. Crane’s picture was paper-clipped to the top of the first page of many, a picture barely doing him justice to how much of a menacing presence he truly carried. Lily uncapped a red pen and wrote, “Dr. Jonathan Crane, M.D. – Confirmed Scarecrow” at the top of the page, closed the folder, slipped it into her bag again, then began writing the assigned report. 

Pt. 2

[sketchnskribbles]

Accessory of Amorous Impulsions

Ya'll ever wanted a Love Potion AU romance with our lovely Dr. Crane? Haha, I knew you would~

Here's some memes to celebrate! Go read, my fellow Gotham Rogue lovers🤎🧡

Chapter 3 Memes

Summary Below:

Not having lived in Gotham long, Elaine Hensley finds herself finally settling in. The decision to move to one of the most crime ridden cities in America hadn't been the most thought out one. She didn't regret it more until one fine chilly morning, Elaine found herself bagged and dragged off by a woman in pigtails.

She woke up to a situation that she even she couldn't have ever been able to predict.

~~~

In other words: Here's a Gotham-approved Rom-Com featuring our favorite burlap antagonist!

[rainnartt]

[sea-star-of-the-ocean]

Doodle before class starts, HELLYEAH MY SCHEDULE AIN'T EARLY MORNING

If I met him irl I'm either gonna fangirl or run for my life lmao

[silkysquidz]

[dbnightingale24]

Love Me or Just Let Me Go

A Jonathan Crane Love Story

~~

~~

Look who's back and trying to find her footing again 🙃 sorry for the delay, but between my mental health and personal life, things weren't going well and I needed a break. ANYWAY, I'm back with a new series (as well as ready off a few others), and I hope you all enjoy it! I really missed posting.

Just in time for Halloween, Dr. Jonathan Crane. I just figured (as I start to branch out) it's time to write about my favorite Scarecrow. I'm sorry this is so damn long (I really am), but I hope you all enjoy it! Since Tumblr is still on its bullshit, I can only post part of it here, but the full post will be on AO3 (I'll leave the link). As always, thank you @fuckingbye for the amazing moodboard. I love you!

Word Count: 56,703 (I said I was sorry)

Warnings: SMUT (Minors DNI), Swearing, Drinking, Degrading Kink, Car Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smoking, Arguing, Family Drama, Angst, Mentions of Abuse, Fluff (ish), Childhood Trauma, Self Hate, Revenge, Loneliness, Trust Issues, Mental Health (or lack thereof)...I think I handled everything?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter: Man, You Make It Easy For Me. So, Why Can't I Make You Love Me?

~~

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.

~~

“Doctor Crane,” you smile sweetly as your favorite patron makes his way to the counter.

Your smile may be sweet, but you know your eyes show the same thing they always do whenever he shows up: pure desire and lust. The coy smile he always returns lets you know that he’s very well aware of the effect he has on you.

Effect.

“Same as always?”

“Coffee, black, please,” he smiles as he pulls out his wallet.

“New admittance at Arkham?” you ask, turning and starting on his second usual

At least three times a month, he orders a black coffee.

“No, but it is late night for work.”

“When isn’t it in Gotham?” you scoff, placing the lid on his drink.

“How about you?” he asks, handing you a twenty.

“What about me?”

“Another late night?”

“I’m the only one brave enough to close the store, so yeah. I always have a late night,” you laugh softly, taking his money while typing the amount into the register.

“Gotham doesn’t scare you?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve met my Mother already, and I witnessed what drove her to madness, because I saw my Father’s death, so no. Gotham doesn’t scare me.”

“Your Mother...” he trails off as he looks you over, “Y/M/N?”

“I’m surprised you’re just figuring it out,” you laugh handing him back his change. “Everyone always said I look just like her, but I’m guessing the piercings, dyed hair, and tattoos have changed my appearance a bit.”

“Your Mother is quite the character.”

“You’re putting it nicely.”

“Keep it,” he says, gently pushing your hand back.

“The coffee was only two dollars.”

“Your company is always worth much more than that,” he laughs. “If you don’t mind me asking, how were you able to handle it so well?”

“If I tell you that, there will be no reason for you to come around for your afternoon tea, will there? Besides, you’ve got a late night of work ahead of you, and I’ve got ungrateful customers to tend to,” you smirk, cocking an eyebrow.

“Guess I’ll just have to ask again tomorrow.”

“Play your cards right and you may just get an answer,” you shrug and he laughs.

“You have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, Dr. Crane.”

“Jonathan.”

“Jonathan Crane,” you smile as he grabs his coffee, nods, and walks away.

And just like that, he was gone. It’s the same conversation every day, today a little more telling just because he knows a bit (or a lot depending on how you look at it) about you. It’s always the same amount of small talk, flirty eye on your part, and him looking as if he’s interested but knows better. Smart on his part.

Sure, he deals with crazies, but he’s never dealt with you.

For the rest of the evening, you live in the feeling of that little exchange. Yeah, the man looks like he can’t carry a bookcase, but you know it’s all an act. You’re not dumb. You’ve heard whispers about Dr. Jonathan Crane, and most of it isn’t pleasant. It’s most definitely in your best interest to stay away, especially considering that your Mother is a patience at his place of work, but you can’t stop yourself. Beside, you live in Gotham.

It’s not like you have a ton of “good guys” to choose from.

You can’t pin down exactly what draws you to him, but you know that you can’t turn it off. You’ve tried multiple times. From the first time you laid eyes on him, you wanted him. No, you needed him, in the most unnatural way. Maybe it’s from living in Gotham all your life but, for whatever reason, you feel a sense of security when he comes in.

Yeah, you’ve definitely been in Gotham for too long.

“You’re sure you’re okay to close up all by yourself?” your co-worker Michael asks as he grabs his backpack off of the coat rack, while the last customer scurries out.

“I do it every night, Mike,” you scoff, wiping down the counter. “Get home safe.”

“Ya know, working with you is hard,” he sighs and you start laughing. “What?! It’s true! You’re the only one ever willing to close up shop-”

“It gives me a thrill,” you smirk with a cocked eyebrow. “Go home and tell Josh that you fought off a mugger, if it’ll help your ego.”

“He’d kill me if I ever tried to stop crime from happening,” he laughs softly. “You sure you’re okay, babe?”

“I promise. Get home safe.”

“You too,” he nods before walking out. 

You lean against the counter, pull out your phone, and scroll through all the evening news you’ve missed. 

Another raping, another stabbing, another kidnapping....it’s all just another day in Gotham. You don’t even bother to look up when you hear the front door open and close.

“If you want coffee, you’ve come to the right place. If you want anything else, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong damn shop,” you mumble as an article about Arkham Asylum catches your eye.

You may not see your Mother often, but that doesn’t mean you don’t care about her.

“How about a cup of tea?” a familiar voice asks.

You look up to see Dr. Jonathan Crane standing at the counter, small smile tugging on his lips, but his hair is out of place.

“Rough night, Doc?” you question, pushing yourself up with your foot, making your way over to the kettle and setting it up. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Your hair is out of place and there’s a bit of blood on your glasses, and the lapel of your shirt.”

“You’re more observant than I thought.”

“You’ve thought about me?” you tease, pulling out his his favorite tea powder.

Ginseng.

“More than you think.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re a mystery.”

“I’m sure you’ve met far more interesting subjects than me. You’ve already met my Mother.”

“While she is very much a fun case to study, now that I know she’s your Mother, you’re much more...complex.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment,” you laugh, finishing up his drink before pouring it in a to-go cup. “That’s the nicest way I’ve ever been called insane.”

“Far from insane, Y/N. Very far. More like-”

“Troubled?” “Not that either...a to-go cup?”

“You’ve never been one to sit and stay since you started working at the Asylum.”

“A good point. What else do you know about me?”

“Nothing.”

“What else have you heard about me?”

“Things I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about,” you promise, looking him over as you lean against the counter. “No charge. You get home safe.”

“You see blood on my glasses and my shirt, but tell me to get home safe?”

“Who am I to judge?”

“You know, this day has been very telling about you but, at the same time, I feel like I know you less than I did before.”

“If I’m not keepin’ ya guessing, what’s the point of our lovely little chats?”

“Who says that I need these little moments to keep me interested?”

“Show me that you don’t.”

“Have a drink with me and I will,” he smiles coyly, mischief in his eyes.

Every red alarm in your brain goes off, but you’ve never bothered to listen to them before, so why start now?

You poured yourself a cup of coffee and slowly made your way from around the counter, ignoring the the sirens as they grow louder and louder, and sit across from him at the small table. 

“Jonathan,” you smile, mischief dancing around in your own eyes as you take a sip of your coffee. “Take your best shot.”

“What do you fear?” he asks with a cocked eyebrow and you scoff. “What?”

“What do you think I fear?”

“I can’t get a read on you.” “That’s fair, I guess,” you shrug, swirling the coffee in your cup around a bit. “I’ll tell you what I fear if you tell me something about you. I’ll know if you’re lying, so don’t try it,” you proposition, meeting his gaze with a devilish glint in your eye.

You really shouldn’t be playing this game.

An evil smirk spreads across his face before he responds with, “I’m the one who created the fear toxin.”

‘Will you stop fucking playing this game?! Tell him you need to get home!��� your brain begs, but you’re just starting to have fun.

You’ve never been good at doing what’s in your best interest.

“That tracks,” you shrug before taking a sip of your coffee.

“It tracks?”

“You work at the Asylum, no one in this city really has a good and clean record-”

“Oh? What’s on your record?”

“I put laxatives in drinks of customers who piss me off,” you tell him nonchalantly and laugh and when he practically chokes on his tea. “What? I don’t seem capable?”

“For some reason, I thought it would be something along the lines of murder.”

“No, I’m afraid the only thing I’ve ever really broken is hearts.”

“Why’s that?”

“I learned very early in life to never get too attached to anyone in Gotham. Never works out well for me.”

“Your parents?”

“Parents, first real love, last serious relationship. I fuck until I’m bored and then I leave.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, but you can’t tell what it is. It’s not disdain or disappointment, but more along the lines of...shock? Confusion.

“So, you have fear of abandonment?” he asks as your timer goes off.

“Well, it’s time for me to close up shop, Dr. Crane,” you smile, getting up making your way back behind the counter with your half full cup of coffee.

“I didn’t take you as someone who’s a liar,” he comments and you don’t miss the irritation in his tone.

“I never said I wouldn’t tell you, I said it’s time for me to close up shop. However, I do like having this effect on you.”

“And what effect is that?”

“Rattling your cage.”

“Oh, you do much more than that, and I think you’ve known that for quite some time.”

“Oh, but Doctor Crane, this is the first time you’ve ever had the balls to court me,” you smirk over your shoulder and he laughs.

“How long does it usually take you to close up shop?”

“As long as I want it to. Why do you ask?”

“Do you have any plans tonight?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I figured we could...take a walk around the city.”

“You’re a very confident man, Dr. Crane.”

“No one’s gonna touch me out there.”

“And what on earth would we talk about on this little walk?”

“You.”

“Your obsession with me is cute. I like it a lot.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s an obsession, more like...fascination.”

“And what’s so fascinating about little old me?” you ask, covering the tops of all the different syrups. 

“Like I said,” he responds softly right behind you, causing you to jump, “because you’re a mystery.”

Oh, you’re fucking in it now. 

~~

You can read the full story here

~~

tags: @autumnrose40

[2-guns-b1tch]

Jonathan Crane x Ophelia (oc)

I had this funny idea in my head that Ophelia doesn’t know how to flirt but Jonathan kinda likes the rough flirting.

Jonathan, blushing and kicking his feet in the air: Yes, tell me how you would end my life just because you think I am cute.

[glitterhoof]

" why aren't you scared ?! "

tfw you're gf is so autistic the fear toxin shuts down her whole brain and ur left with a squishy autism animal of a person until it wears off

[reptarcrane]

[hunterwritesstuff]

Scarecrow nsfw hcs? Masc reader plz?

SURE! :D

MINORS DO NOT READ BELOW THE CUT, SMUT/KINK-TALK BELOW THE READ MORE.

🎃 "Come on, to the room, I need a little...help~"

🎃 So uh. He's a switch, but heavily favors being on top. He loves seeing you squirm under him as he makes you an absolute MESS.

🎃 He knows exactly what buttons to push and what exactly makes you tick.

🎃 If you heavily favor praise, he'll say things along the lines of "Is my good boy feeling great~? Is he feeling amazing~?", "You take me so well~", "The way you take me~ God dammit~", "Your smell is so hypnotizing~ You smell divine~", stuff like that.

🎃 If you heavily favor degradation, he'll say things along the lines of "Such a naughty boy~ Being so loud~ Don't you fear others hearing you~?", "My, my, aren't we a slut tonight~? So noisy~ So needy~ What a bad, bad boy~", "That's right~ Take all of me like the whore you are~", stuff like that.

🎃 If he's topping, his noises are more akin to grunts, groans, deep moans, stuff like that, very deep noises.

🎃 If YOU'RE topping, he lets out more whimpers or whines. He begs, begs you not to stop, to not get off him, to keep riding him, TO JUST NOT STOP, PLEASE, GOD, HE'S SO FUCKING CLOSE.

🎃 If you edge him, chances are very high that he'll take control back and do the exact same to you after flipping you two over so he's on top.

🎃 The closer he gets, the more vocal he is.

🎃 He whispers in your ear the whole time. "You're all mine~ So fucking mine~ All mine~ Nobody else's~"

🎃 He's. Pretty vocal about his obsession/possession of you the whole time. Constantly calling you his, saying you're HIS good boy(or naughty, if you prefer), HIS boyfriend, HIS beloved.

🎃 He makes sure to take good care of you afterwards :)

Enjoy the food, fellow Scarecrow simps!

[serpentpoet]

fear is the teacher. the first one you've ever had. pt. 2

Pt. 1 here!

The first few days of the internship at Arkham went without incident; Lily’s job consisted of filling out whatever paperwork Dr. Crane was too busy handling patients for and brainstorming how she was going to assemble her proof that he was actually the Scarecrow. Dr. Crane didn’t say much to her at all. Occasionally he’d look up from his papers and glance at her when she’d clocked in, but some days he didn’t even acknowledge her presence. She’d walk into the filing room and find a stack of papers waiting for her as her work for the day. Lily knew that, although he was quiet, he was going to be decidedly dangerous, and that she would have to be extremely cautious about how she was going to approach turning him in to the Gotham City Police.

The difficulty of the task to Lily, which really wouldn’t seem that otherwise monumental, was that she wasn’t employed by the GCPD and would need solid evidence for them to take her seriously. Ever since her roommate had been assaulted with some kind of toxic gas on the street by the masked Scarecrow (Lily didn’t get much sleep anymore because of her roommate’s constant terrors about that night), she had been determined to catch the man responsible for the crime. She found it oddly lucky, and somewhat questioned how much of it was pure coincidence, that her research had led her to an internship in her own field under Jonathan Crane.

“You look tired today, Ms. McKenna. Sleeping well?” Dr. Crane’s voice caused Lily to jump a little, and she shut the door to the office behind her. This was the first time he’d spoken to her directly in days.

“Um, no, not really, actually,” Lily responded. Dr. Crane sat back in his chair and cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“My roommate…she doesn’t sleep well,” Lily responded, standing by the door, unsure if she should make a quick, polite exit to the filing room or continue the conversation. She didn’t like the way Dr. Crane felt like he could see right through her, even though she knew there was no possible way that he could know what she was up to.

“Your roommate?”

“Yeah, um, Chloe. She has bad night terrors,” Lily said. Dr. Crane smirked.

“And have you tried psychoanalyzing her?” he asked. Lily felt a hot blush creep up her neck onto her cheeks.

“Go on. Sit,” Dr. Crane gestured to the seat in front of his desk, and Lily sat down across from him. She looked anywhere else in the room but at him. His eyes bore into her.

“You’ve been here several days now and not said a word to me. Why do we think that is?” Dr. Crane asked. Lily flicked her eyes over to him. He twiddled a pen in between his fingers. His cold, long fingers. She tried hard not to think about the way they felt when she’d hand him his morning coffee and that he’d let his fingers brush hers for a few seconds too long.

“Honestly, sir, I didn’t want to bother you,” Lily said. Dr. Crane exhaled a laugh.

“Are you scared of me?” Dr. Crane taunted.

“No,” Lily said. Dr. Crane continued looking at her, not believing her.

“You know, I usually make a…point to get to know my interns,” Dr. Crane said. “But you seem so shy. I want to get to know you, Lily. It’ll make us work better together.”

Lily mustered a smile. “What do you want to know about me?”

Dr. Crane laced his fingers on his desk and leaned forward.

“Everything,” he said, quiet and low. “But first, what made you choose psychology as a profession? Bad childhood?” He smirked.

“No, I had a great childhood, actually. I’m an only child, so I had lots of time with my parents,” Lily said. “I’m just really interested in the subconscious mind, I guess. What’s buried beneath that we can tap into or explore. What’s trapped down there that people don’t let out.”

“What we’re not admitting to ourselves?” Dr. Crane asked, the corner of his mouth flicking upwards. Lily felt the heat rush to her cheeks again. She saw amusement in Dr. Crane’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Lily said. A pause. Dr. Crane sighed and thought.

“I see. What is your class currently studying?” he asked, interested. She felt herself need to break away from his gaze, so she looked down at his tie instead. She hesitated to answer.

“We started the semester studying fear, actually. We’re studying attraction now, sir. The physicality of it, to be specific,” Lily felt like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole as she said this. She could almost feel Dr. Crane’s amusement at her squirming under his questioning.

“Fascinating. The body can tell us so much about what the mind is thinking. A direct look inside the head of another. We have natural subconscious responses to people we find attractive. Pupils dialating, fidgeting with hair and clothes, shyness, either eye contact or an extreme lack of it….blushing.” He put extra pointed emphasis on the last word. Lily nodded, feeling like the room had gone up a couple of degrees. He continued to stare through her.

“Yeah…we’re studying all of that,” Lily said quietly. The pause that followed was almost insufferable. Dr. Crane seemed to enjoy making the conversation as pointed and uncomfortable as possible. Lily took a moment to reach her hand in her jacket pocket as slow and subtly as possible and press the record button on a small tape player she’d brought.

“Would you say you’re a person who keeps secrets?” Dr. Crane asked, breaking the quiet tension.

“If you’re asking if I’m dishonest, sir, I can promise you I do honest work for you,” Lily said, jumping and taken aback by the sudden question.

“Oh, but Lily, that’s not what I asked, now is it? You’re smarter than that. I asked if you’re a person who keeps secrets,” Dr. Crane said flatly.

“If it’s important to me, then yes, I suppose,” Lily said, unsure of where Dr. Crane was going with this conversation.

“And would you say that you’re being honest with your answers right now to me?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lily answered. She swallowed hard. Dr. Crane cocked his head to the side.

“Hmm. Good,” was all that he answered.

“You said your thesis was on fear?” she asked, thinking of something, anything to change the topic of conversation and to get the ball rolling on collecting her finalized proof. Dr. Crane seemed to break out of his trance, sitting up a little straighter in his seat.

“Yes,” he replied.

“What did you discover?” Lily asked, determined to appear to be friendly and asking him questions about himself as well.

“How breakable the mind truly is. Like I told you the first day, Lily, the mind is a fragile little thing. How easy it truly is to get inside of it. To create fear, or at least, the illusion of it. And then, once it’s created, to control it. To learn to fight it,” Dr. Crane seemed to note the confusion on Lily’s face.

“You can learn to completely control fear?” Lily asked. “So you’re not scared of anything at all?”

Dr. Crane shook his head, disappointed in her answer. “No, not so that you’re not scared of anything at all. Fear is a good thing. It keeps us alive. My research goes towards helping others conquer their biggest fears.” Lily stayed silent.

“I’ll prove it to you. What’s your biggest fear?” Dr. Crane asked.

Lily shifted in her seat.

“If I had to really think about it, probably a complete and total loss of control….I guess an example of a situation like that would be being kidnapped…?” Lily answered, trying to appear to be thoughtfully considering her response. Dr. Crane shifted slightly. Lily felt herself get a chill down her neck.

“Kidnapped?” Dr. Crane asked. “Interesting. By a man?”

Lily felt her crossed thighs grow slick with sweat and kept her hands in her pockets.

“Yes,” she responded.

“And would you say that being exposed to that fear and then proving you can conquer it would help cure you of it?”

“Like some kind of twisted form of extreme exposure therapy?” Lily asked, scrunching her brows in confusion. Dr. Crane nodded.

“Exactly that, Lily,” Dr. Crane replied, smiling.

“I mean, maybe. I don’t know. Exposure therapy’s kind of iffy, in my opinion. What if it made the fear worse, or even caused PTSD in a patient?” Lily asked.

“I will admit, some people in this profession might consider my practices to be a little…unorthodox. Some would go so far as to accuse me of being unethical. But I believe things like extreme exposure therapy have produced some truly fascinating results. You would never believe what the mind is capable of,” Dr. Crane said, smirking.

“Hmm,” Lily replied.

“You should talk more, Lily. I’d love to hear the rest of the thoughts in your head,” he said. Lily flushed, and thought the way he phrased it was strange, but brushed it off. She knew it was better to stay silent and guarded, especially now that she was convinced that he was a dangerous criminal. She hoped she’d actually hit the record button on the tape recorder.

“I better get started on my work for today,” Lily said, standing up. Dr. Crane nodded stiffly, agreeing. He didn’t say another word to her, going back to writing on the stack of papers in front of him. Lily slipped into the adjacent filing cabinet room and shut the door, breathing out a sigh of relief she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Lily sat down at the table and pulled out the tape recorder, shaking and relieved that she had been recording the whole time. She took out a pair of headphones from her bag and plugged them in to relisten to the conversation.

“Pupils dialating, fidgeting with hair and clothes, shyness, either eye contact or an extreme lack of it….blushing,” Lily felt her heart clutch nervously at Dr. Crane’s teasing words and skipped quickly ahead through the tape.

“Like I told you the first day, Lily, the mind is a fragile little thing. How easy it truly is to get inside of it. To create fear, or at least, the illusion of it,” Lily paused. She rewound the tape.

“To create fear, or at least, the illusion of it.”

Lily took off the headphones, realizing: the toxin that the Scarecrow had used on Chloe, the night terrors she consistently had since then, all of it was connected; the Scarecrow—or at this point she thought she should be considering him as Dr. Crane, was sitting just outside the door, and he’d created something that could induce extreme fear in others. For all Lily knew, he could very well have whatever toxin this was with him at that very moment. Lily knew what she had to do, what she was going to do as the last and final piece of evidence that would get Dr. Crane locked up in the very building in which they both sat.

She was going to find it and steal it.