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greenglowinspooks · 6 months

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(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

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Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

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Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #liminal scarecrow #Jon’s PTSD is triggered by the smell of ectoplasm because his life is a nightmare #HDJFNDNDNFKDJF #I am the master of emotional whiplash #rip Jon just trying to have some peace in this fucking house #never gonna happen king 🫡#oh also Eddie is not lying that bat can manwhore #and like half the rogues in Gotham know this from experience #and also most of the JL #and some of JL dark #btw Eddie and Jon are besties #they’re both awful but they make it work #when Jon full-names Eddie that just means that if he doesn’t stop whatever he’s doing he’s gonna get a dose of fear toxin #Eddie isn’t intimidating enough to full-name anyone so if he gets mad he just bashes whoever in the head with his cane #Jon is the living embodiment of ‘me and my girl don’t argue she bash me in the head with a rock and I walk it off like a man’#also side note I’m not doing any ships in this #because I don’t want to #they are just Like That #if you wanna read it that way though it’s completely fine #also shoutout 2 that one scriddler fic on ao3 that helped inspire that riddle LMAO

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kittykatninja321 · 5 months

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When people say “Jason wouldn’t smoke because he died of smoke inhalation” I respectfully have to disagree, because if there’s one thing Jason is going to do he’s going to take aspects of his trauma and use them for himself and push on them like a bruise (he takes the name red hood, he uses explosives and guns, the crowbars were lame but they weren’t out of character), so I don’t think that would stop him from smoking. The way I see it I think Jason would be one of those people who occasionally smokes a cigarette when things are Particularly Bad, even though they swear they stopped smoking, like a maladaptive coping mechanism basically

#Guy who has extremely detailed headcanons on Jason Todd’s smoking habits for no reason (me)#I think he would’ve stopped during his Robin training and would’ve been really proud of himself at the time #and then he picks it up again after resurrection. Maladaptive coping mechanism go brrr #Jason Todd #dc #smoking is basically controlled smoke inhalation and if there’s anything Jason loves it’s taking aspects of his trauma and controlling #them for his own needs #When I look at post-fear toxin lobotomy Jason I’m like somebody please buy that man a pack he needs something to take edge off 🙈

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sanguineterrain · 8 months

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Sanne I am BEGGING for “This is real. I’m real. Look at me.” with Dick 🥺🤍

SEXY! love this prompt, thank u for requesting 🥰

"this is real. i'm real. look at me." — dick grayson x gn!reader | tw: fear toxin, hallucinations, panicked reader | 500 words

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

"How long?"

"I don't know—"

"Well, how much did they inhale?"

"I don't know, Bruce!"

Everything is cloudy, warped. If you turn your head too fast, shadows loom over you. You cover your eyes and whimper, trying to shut out the monsters.

The Joker laughs, distantly, and you cry, thrashing. Someone holds down your shoulders and you cry louder. Your hand connects with skin. Someone grunts.

"Shit. Dick, come here!"

Cool hands rest on your face and pull at your hands. You scream and try to fight. The Joker laughs get closer.

"Don't let him get me," you beg. "Don't—he's here, don't... don't let him..."

"Baby, baby, I'm right here."

Your hands are pried off your face. You catch flashes of red, black, and blue. A familiar blue.

But then you meet milky white eyes, and in the haze of the toxin, the eyes turn sinister. You fight, pushing at the eyes, and another pair of hands holds down your legs.

"Let go, let go!" you scream. "Let go!"

"Tim, is it ready or not?"

"I'm going as fast as I can!"

The milky eyes suddenly disappear, replaced by blue.

"Honey, I'm right here," the blue eyes say, and you feel a hand on your cheek. "You're safe. It's me, it's Dick. Can you hear me?"

"Dick," you say, thrashing again. "Dick, he's here. You have to run, he's gonna—"

"No one's here, baby. You're in the Cave. You're safe, okay? I'm not gonna let anybody get you."

Your eyes scrunch up with tears, and the blue eyes blur. There's a pinch in your arm. You flinch and launch forward.

"I'm scared! I'm scared, don't hurt me—"

"Baby, hey. This is real. I'm real. Look at me."

Fingers brush away the tears under your lashes. The blue eyes come back into focus. They connect to a face.

"He's gonna get you," you say, chest aching with how shallow your breaths are.

Dick cups the back of your head. Behind him, you see Scarecrow himself. You start to wriggle, but Dick holds you tighter.

"I've got you. No one's there, baby. Close your eyes for me, okay, sweetheart? Listen to my voice."

"He-he'll kill you—"

"No one's gonna hurt me or you. I need you to slow your breathing. Come on, honey, slow breaths. Breathe with me."

You bury your face in a warm neck. He breathes and you breathe with him as best as you can, clinging to his suit. You close your eyes and cling hard. Dick rubs your back in circles.

"That's it. Good job. I got you. I'm here. No one's gonna get you."

"It feels so real," you whisper.

"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry." Dick sounds choked, and he clears his throat. "It'll go away soon."

"Don't leave," you say instantly, hugging him tighter. Your eyes are squeezed shut so hard it almost hurts.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here the whole time. You still breathing?"

That reminds you to feel his breath and follow them. You thread your fingers through his hair. He smells like home. The gas can create a lot of things, but it can't take away the jasmine detergent Alfred uses, or the spiced cologne Dick dabs behind his ears.

"I'm-I'm breathing," you say.

"Good, you're doing so good. You're safe."

Dick doesn't leave your side for the rest of the night.

#inbox #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #fear toxin #blurb

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timisntdeadyet · 8 months

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Figuring out how to put Scarecrow's fear gas into a vape cartridge seems like a good idea tbh. Microdose that sh*t, not only would it build an immunity to the fear toxin itself, but constant mild hallucinations of your worst fears would build an immunity to real terrifying situations (you can't show me anything worse than what I see everyday). Why has noone done this?

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envysparkler · 13 days

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There’s a goddamn reason he wears a full face helmet with the best air filters he can buy.

He gasps for air, choking his breaths and gasping harder because the warehouse is full of fear toxin, he knows it is, and his helmet is lost because they needed an explosive and his backup rebreather was shot out of his hand and he can’t breathe.

He stumbles away from a shadow all in black, looming over him like Death itself, and a hand snags his wrist as the Devil smiles.

“It’s not real,” Batman growls.

“It’s not real,” the Joker croons.

No.

But it’s too late. He can already hear the laughter.

~#~

Hood doesn’t start screaming until they get him in the Batmobile. Dick holds him down, pinning him flat against the backseat, and keeps his fingers interlaced with Jason’s as he murmurs, “It’s not real. Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real, okay, you’re safe, you’re safe, it’s not real, Jaybird, you’re safe, you’re safe –”

Standard fear toxin protocol. Restrain and reassure. The effects of each one vary, but sometimes it’s possible to lead someone out of their head with the soothing words.

Hood isn’t calming down. He’s just screaming louder.

~#~

The broken bones, he can feel them, he can feel the agony as they shift underneath his skin, as the Joker nears and he chokes on a sob because please, no, not again, he can’t take this anymore, he wants Bruce, he wants Batman, he wants someone to save him from this monster.

The Joker crouches next to him and watches him, those bright, bright eyes that are sharp like poisoned daggers. He reaches out, and Jason can’t help the tears, but all the Joker does is carefully, gently, curl his fingers between Jason’s, careful not to jostle the broken bones.

“Shh, little Robin,” the Joker says, and Jason stares at him. “It’s not real. Whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real. You’re safe.”

A curl of hope inside of him – this is a nightmare, it has to be, if he just concentrates, he’ll be back in the Cave and Bruce will be there – of course this isn’t real, this amount of pain isn’t possible, he feels like he’s going to die –

The Joker’s smile widens.

~#~

“No,” is the first thing Jason says, his voice hoarse from screaming, and he says it as they lock him into the restraints. They don’t have a choice, he’s thrashing and screaming but he tugs at the restraints – once, twice, thrice, before going alarmingly limp.

“No, no, it’s real, it’s real,” Jason says, his eyes unfocused, and Steph takes over the reassurances, the steady prattle second nature after how many times she’s done it.

“It’s not real, Jason, whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real,” she says, low and soothing, “You’re safe, you’re in the Cave, you’re home, we’re all here with you, it’s not real.”

“Stop,” Jason says, choked, “Stop – stop saying that – it’s real –”

“No, Jason, it’s not, you got hit with fear toxin, it’s not real, you’re okay.”

“Please,” Jason begs, and she doesn’t know who he’s talking to.

~#~

“It’s not real,” the Joker laughs, and the crowbar comes swinging down. Jason screams at the snap of bone and the hope is dying.

This is real. It’s real, and it’s killing him.

“Fuck you,” Jason snarls, “You think I can’t tell you’re making it up? Fear toxin doesn’t feel like this.”

“It’s not real,” the Joker repeats, laughing as he swings the crowbar down again, “It’s! Not! Real!”

Jason wants to believe it. Jason knows better than to believe it. He’s hurting and screaming and the pain is so vivid it doesn’t feel real.

No.

This is just another one of the Joker’s sick games.

It’s real.

He’s hurt and dying.

It’s real.

Or…is that the joke?

A thumb rubs over his knuckles, “You’re safe, Jaybird.”

The Joker laughs as Jason falls.

~#~

“Jason, please,” Tim says hoarsely, “Please, this is real, you’re safe, please, please hear us, you’re safe.”

Dick had to leave. He couldn’t stay, not with Jason alternating between screams and sobs and begging that made it extremely clear what he’s seeing. They all eyed Bruce, but the man has planted himself in a chair next to Jason’s bed, and refuses to move.

He doesn’t speak either.

They’ve tried everything, the whole protocol for fear toxin, they’ve double-checked that it’s the same standard toxin, they’ve given him the antidote even though it won’t do much good this late after exposure.

It has to wear off at some point.

Right?

~#~

“It’s not real,” the Joker laughs, “It’s not real, it’s not real! Can you tell yet, Boy Blunder? Is this real?” The crowbar swings out, and Jason screams as it crashes into his dislocated shoulder. “Or how about this?” It slams into broken legs, and his breath turns into a wheeze.

It’s not real.

It can’t be real.

The pain is so intense he feels like someone decided to rip his skin off and douse his bones in acid.

It’s not possible.

It can’t be possible.

This can’t be real, because he cannot live with himself if it is.

~#~

“Stop,” Cass says sharply, and pulls Tim away. She was watching all this time, but she only sees it now. The way Jason curls further into himself every time they tell him he’s safe.

It’s not helping. It’s only reinforcing whatever is in his head.

“Don’t,” she says when Tim tries to start again, “Making it worse.”

“What,” Tim rasps, “Why?”

Cass does not know. Her little brother has many prickly edges, and she has not cut herself on all of them yet.

“Stop,” she pleads, because they are losing him, she can see it, his eyes are unfocused and distant, and he is not getting any closer.

Tim looks at her, and back at Jason, and sighs, slumping back into the chair and burying his head in his hands.

~#~

“Okay, pumpkin, why don’t you close your eyes, and when you open them, you’ll be back safe with Batsy!”

Jason closes his eyes – please, please –

The Joker shrieks with laughter, and hope and dread war in equal measure. He just wants this to be over.

“Sweet dreams, Boy Blunder!” the Joker cackles, and Jason can faintly hear a door shut.

It – it’s ending soon. Right? He’ll wake up and he’ll be fine and it will just be one bad fear toxin nightmare.

He pushes himself up. Onto broken bones. They scream and grind painfully.

This can’t be real. His whole body is broken. He will never be able to fight again. He might never be able to walk again.

He crawls forward. Inch by inch. The door is in front of him.

It’s just a bad trip. Because Batman would’ve come if it was real. Batman would’ve saved the day if it was real. If Batman’s not here, that means it’s fake.

He pulls on the door handle, and it doesn’t turn.

It’s not real, he imagines in Bruce’s voice, you’re safe, Jay-lad.

He hears the ticking.

It’s not real, Dick says, you’re safe, you’re in the Cave, you’re going to be fine, Jaybird.

00:05.

It’s not real, he tries desperately to believe, to wish himself back to the Cave, to watch his surroundings waver and break, to blur out entirely, it’s not real.

00:01.

Jason closes his eyes and lets out one last sob.

It’s not real.

~#~

The Cave has turned into a mausoleum. Damian creeps down the stairs and shivers as he heads to the medbay.

Cain is perched on a free bed, staring intently at Todd as though she can distinguish microexpressions. As though there are any expressions to distinguish. Drake is at the computer, sending frequent glances towards Todd as he attempts to analyze the toxin for the hundredth time.

There is no point. The toxin was standard. The bloodwork came back clean. For all intents and purposes, Todd should be fine. They even removed the restraints.

Todd is not fine. He stopped screaming and thrashing, and now he’s just staring vacantly into empty space. Brown and Damian have been busy keeping Richard and Pennyworth occupied in the Manor so they don’t come back down. So they don’t see the shell that has replaced Todd.

No one has been able to get Father to move. He’s sitting on the bed now, Todd’s head in his lap, carefully stroking the hair away from his face.

Father’s face is wet, but he hasn’t made a single sound.

#my snippets #fear toxin #how many times can someone say “it's not real”#before you believe them?#I was kinda dissatisfied with this one #and now I don't want to write the ending

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jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear · 4 months

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something something...poisoning the water supply

#Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #The Scarecrow #Fear Toxin #Batman #Gotham #DC #DC Comics #MistressMemes

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kettlefire · 7 months

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Ember & the Dark Knight

She just wanted her guitar back. That's all Ember wanted, she needed it. The growing pain inside grew the longer she was away from it.

Her only outlet. The only thing that helped her. In every way of the word. She had to fight tooth and nail to be allowed to keep it in the first place.

Promised she's never use it against the living again. Never try to brainwash anyone.

Then she lost it. Just like that. Flying through the Zone, and a particularly harsh natural portal ripped it from her grasp.

It's the only reason she was in this godforsaken city. It reeked of anguish and pain, and Ember just wanted to get out of there.

Something about the place the portal spit her out into, just didn't sit right with her. She wanted in and out of quickly as possible.

To just get back home in the Zone. Back to Skulker.

Except there just had to be a really weird guy in burlap sack mask. Which was weird enough as is, but hey Ember wasn't one to judge.

She tried to be civil. To ask for her guitar back. Her baby that the man had clutched in his grasps.

Maybe she should have seen it coming. This place had to be stranger than Amity. The man barely even flinched when he saw her glowing form.

Ember expected a fight okay. That was it, just a fight and then she can take her things and get the hell out of dodge.

But it couldn't be that easy. Of course it couldn't be.

Because then a large man in a black armor suit just had to come falling down from the ceiling. And of course the human man seemed to scare the weird Scarecrow guy.

Ember tried to be calm again. She really did, she promised the little dipstick that she's work on her anger.

That was until she got a burst of green gas into her face.

It was almost comical. The way she swatted the gas away from her face with a slight cough. Glaring at Scarecrow and Batman. As she found out the dude in the furry suit was called.

Scarecrow seemed excited, like he couldn't wait to see what happened. But Ember noticed Batman tense. Weapons on hand, and ready for what to come. Leaving her in a full confusion.

Then it happened. Whatever that gas was finally kicked in.

And everything was on fire.

She couldn't breath. Oh god, she couldn't breath. Heat radiated from the walls, and the two men just faded from her focus.

She needed to get out.

And she tried. She tried, even as her no longer functioning lungs seemed to ache for air.

Even as her core seemed to mimic a heart. Straining, and pounding against the fear, panic, and pain she felt.

But Ember tried to suck it up. Pull away from the licking heat of the flames. Forcing her way through the warehouse.

Looking for an exit. An escape. Anyway to get her way back home. To get back to Skulker.

At this point, Ember didn't care about her guitar anymore. It could burn for all she cared. She just wanted to get back to her love.

All that fight she felt faded away in an instant. Zapping out of her the moment her eyes landed on him.

Skulker, the love of her life, was there.

Trapped in the flames before her. The metal of his suit twisting and warping. Damn near melting beneath the intense heat.

A pain Ember wouldn't would even wish on her worse enemy. She knew what it felt like to burn. It felt like she was dying watching it happen to Skulker.

She stared wide eyed and frozen as the twisted and broken Skulker tried to stagger towards her. Broken sounds and choked screams leaving him as his suit fell apart. As the fire began to take over.

Ember fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face and pain tearing at her heart. She couldn't breath. She didn't need to but she felt like she was suffocating.

Then she screamed.

The first sound she made since this nightmare began. Reverberating through her chest, tearing out from her vocal cords in a damn near painful sound.

She wasn't sure when she had closed her eyes. But before she knew it, there were hands on her shoulder. And she fought back. Tried to shove the hands off her. Too panicked to even think of her powers.

She was terrified of what she'll see. A twisted and melting Skulker pulling her closer the fire. The only image her brain could fathom for the reason of the too warm hands grasping at her arms.

Ember heard it. Barely there behind the loud roar of the fire, and the still broken cries of her lover. It was a voice.

A normal voice. A concerned voice.

It took all her willpower to pull her eyelids open. Prepared to see the worse of the worse. Except it wasn't like that.

The fire seemed like an overlay. A horrible projection of something that wasn't there. Expect him. He was real. Ember knew it, because he was there when the nightmare started.

The man in the suit. The Batman.

His gloved hands were trying to pull her back to reality. Pull her away from the nightmare.

"Look at me. It's not real."

Those words, spoken in the gruff and deep almost robotic voice was what did it for her.

Almost in an instance, it was all gone. She was seated on a perfect fine, and not burning warehouse floor. Tears burning her eyes, chest in complete pain, as her core rocked with the experience.

Ember didn't know why she did it. Maybe she just need to feel comforted. Like a child after a nightmare, she latched onto the man.

The man that pulled her out of this nightmare. Both residual fear and panic, paired with overwhelming relief flooded her.

Because she gets to go home. Back to Skulker. Back to the Zone. She even gets to see that little dipstick again.

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lasagnebats · 4 months

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Dr. Jonathan Crane admitting you into Arkham Asylum because he CAN

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puppetmaster13u · 7 months

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Prompt 41

Hear me out, DP and DC crossover where Scarecrow is cousins with the Fentons.

His mother was siblings with Jack’s father, and both Jazz and Danny met ‘Uncle Jonathan’ during one of the many Fenton-Nightingale family reunions that happens every few years. Honestly, perhaps it’s what gets Jazz interested in psychology, hearing from her ‘uncle’ about fear and its effects.

And honestly once they start having to deal with ghosts and having had to deal with their parents for years it’s not really hard to talk with their uncle. Crane still doesn’t know how he became these kids’ favorite uncle, or even all of the family kids’ favorite uncle-cousin, but that’s just how the family is.

Really he’s not even the only villain of the family, with both Jack and Maddie being close but not quite, even if they’re definitely mad scientists. Their son becoming a local hero, even if they’re not aware of that fact, is just ironic.

John knows. The two kids told him when they found out that Danny may or may not need to feed on fear now that he’s half ghost, and well he’s the specialist about the emotion so…

At least they have someone to stay with when Jazz goes to Gotham university and brings Danny with her, even if the local vigilantes are concerned as to why Scarecrow attacks have suddenly took a nosedive…

#dcxdp #dpxdc #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jonathan crane #scarecrow #Uncle Scarecrow Au #Crane: How the fuck did I end up being the responsible one in this family when I am a wanted man declared insane #Crane looking at the rest of his family and their warrents: Oh... oh no I AM the responsible one #Liminal Crane who is sipping liquid fear toxin like it's coffee while he's sleep deprived/hangry:#His goons: *terrified nervous sweating*#batman au #gotham #ghost biology #liminal biology #Scarecrow deserves to have matching fangs and reflective green eyes like his niblings #Batfam learning about the fact that Scarecrow literally *needs* to eat fear to live:#prompts

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yokonette · 5 months

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🐞

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slut4thebroken · 11 months

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Exposure Therapy pt. 2

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | Your first day as patient 23250.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, rape, non con, dub con, rough oral, p in v sex, fear play, crying, rape (again. I'm really emphasizing this lol), forced breeding, unprotected sex, involuntary admission to asylum, non consensual use of fear toxin, drugs, coercion.

Words | 4k

Notes | This is rape. Just straight up. Again. Final warning. If you won’t like it, don’t read it.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 1

When you woke up, the first things you noticed were how dry your mouth was, how much your head hurt, and the aching pain between your legs. You forced yourself to open your eyes under the bright fluorescents, finding a silhouette sitting across from you. You weren’t able to distinguish who it was as your eyes adjusted to the blinding lights, but the second you could see, your heart dropped to your stomach. You instantly tried to get up, to escape, but your limbs were all restrained by the examination chair you were on. The noise alerted the man across from you and he closed the file he was writing in as he looked at you.

“I’m sorry about the restraints. I couldn’t have you trying to harm me again.”

“No,” You shook your head, eyes quickly filling with tears. “Please let me go.” You whimpered.

“Don’t cry. It’s been a very long day and I don’t have the patience to pretend I care.” He sighed, crossing his hands and resting them on the table. “Now that you’re awake I’d like to start the evaluation. Do you know why you’re here?”

“Because you fucking kidnapped me.” You spat, thrashing in the binds again as your breathing picked up. He grabbed the pen and opened the folder again to write something down.

“Patient suffers from delusions,” He muttered under his breath. “Still volatile.”

“Are you serious? You can’t do this!” He sighed and took off his glasses, then raised his brows as if to say ‘really?’

“The more you cooperate, the easier this will be for you.”

“You’re a fucking psychopath.” You hissed. He stared at you for an uncomfortable amount of time before sighing and putting his glasses back on.

“I think I have all I need from this evaluation. A guard will be by to take you to your cell and give you the medication I’m prescribing to help with your… outbursts.” He said, collecting his things and standing up.

“No!” You yelled, pulling on the restraints so hard that your wrists started to burn. “You can’t fucking do this!” He ignored you as he left the room, two orderlies entering soon after. When they worked on uncuffing you, you started thrashing around, trying to not let them get a good grip on your arms, but two against one and with no muscle? You lost easily.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You screamed, trying to yank yourself out of their grip, but they were unfazed as they dragged you down a few hallways before stopping in front of a door. One of the men opened it and the other threw you inside, making you land on the hard floor with a grunt.

“Change into those before we get back or we’ll do it for you.” One of the orderly said, giving you a smirk before closing and locking the door. You glanced at the pile of clothing on the tiny bed, then looked around the rest of the room. There was a metal toilet right next to the bed, but other than that, it was bare. You sighed and got up, trying to ignore how the tiny room was making you panic a little, and changed into the clothes- cotton underwear, scratchy pants, and a scratchy shirt. Not even any socks. As you sat on the bed, you weren’t sure how much time went by before a nurse opened the door, carrying a small paper cup.

“Take this.” She said, zero emotion in her tone and expression. You eyed the pill in the cup, then looked back up at her. “I’m not going to tell you again.” She sighed.

“Fuck you.” You muttered, looking at the wall.

“Take it or I’m going to have to force you to take it.” You glared at her and she only waited another second before moving forward and grabbing your cheeks to tilt your head back and open your mouth. You panicked and blindly kicked at her legs, making her flinch back.

“Fucking bitch.” She spat, then left, slamming the door behind her. You let out a heavy breath and leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes.

The sound of the door being flung open made you jump and multiple orderlies walked in, one holding a straight jacket. You panicked and fought, but they easily held you down and put it on, tightening the buckles uncomfortably. When someone forced the pill in your mouth, you immediately spit it back out.

“Whatever. Crane can deal with her.” He scoffed, tossing the empty paper cup on the floor and leaving with the other orderlies.

“How are you doing today? I heard you assaulted a nurse and spent your first night in restraints.” He glanced down to the straight jacket binding your arms. “And you refused to take your medication, is that correct?” You stayed silent, glaring at the floor, making him sigh.

“From now on you are only to see me, no other doctors or nurses. I will administer the medication myself, by syringe if I have to, and we will resume our normal sessions.” The last part made your breath catch in your throat. You had been so preoccupied worrying about everything else that was happening, you forgot that’s the whole reason he brought you here.

“Need I remind you that should your poor behavior persist, I will take away your contraceptive privileges, regardless of our daily sessions.”

“Fuck you.” You muttered dejectedly.

“Fine.” You watched out of the corner of your eye as he scribbled something out. “We will continue your treatment until the withdrawal bleeding starts, then resume when it is finished.” Despite the fact that your stomach twisted at the thought, that fear had been replaced by something else- someone else.

“I’m not proud to admit I’ve grown quite impatient so we will start with the experiment before moving on to your treatment.”

“Experiment?” He ignored you and opened the briefcase on his desk. He put on a burlap sack that was made to look like a scarecrow and before you even realized what was happening, a cloud of gas was invading your senses. Your lungs burned as you coughed, heart pounding harder in your chest, hands quickly becoming clammy.

“What was that?” You said through a cough, closing your eyes and trying not to inhale, but the damage was already done. When you opened them again, Dr. Crane was in front of you, hands on the arms of the chair, caging you in. Only this time it wasn’t just the uncomfortable twist in your stomach that you felt. Your heart rate was faster, as was your breathing, and all you could remember was how he was in a similar position as he made your worst fear come true.

“What do you see?” You squeezed your eyes shut again, shrinking back into the chair. “Open your eyes.” He growled and you let out a choked sob as you obeyed. “Good. Now tell me what you see.” He repeated, harsher this time.

“You.” You whispered, gaze rapidly moving between his icy blue eyes.

“No. Tell me what you see.” He enunciated his words condescendingly, quickly becoming impatient with your lack of a proper answer.

“You- I see you.” You cried, making him tilt his head questioningly.

“Who?”

“Dr. Crane.” You whimpered and he moved back slightly.

“You see my face?” You nodded, watching his features blur with unshed tears. “Fascinating.” He said, then pulled back completely. “Though I would’ve liked to study how a fear of a situation would’ve manifested, rather than a fear of an object.” He said, mostly to himself, ignoring your sobbing.

“Was the change because of these specific circumstances or would you have seen anyone who raped you?” You sobbed harder as he mentioned it, vividly picturing that memory. “I’ll have to test that by repeating the incident with someone else.” He muttered, then spoke up as he gave you his full attention. “As of right now though, I gave you a very diluted dose, the effects should wear off soon. Don’t go anywhere.” He said, almost amused by his ‘joke’, then walked to the door and left.

Blinking away tears, you stood on shaky legs and made your way to the door, but the handle was circular, not something you’d be able to just push down without hands. You let out a choked sob and fell to your knees, feeling utterly defeated and hopeless.

Dr. Crane was in front of you suddenly, pushing you back and tearing the cheap fabric of your pants to free your cunt. You whined and tried to back away from him, but he just dug his nails into your thighs and held you still.

“No- not again. Not again- please,” You whimpered. He positioned his cock at your entrance and wasted no time forcing his length in your underprepared hole. You screamed at the burning pain and writhed beneath him, only stopping when you heard the door open and shut. Was someone here to help you? Turning toward the door, you found Dr. Crane examining you. When you turned back to the man between your legs, there was no trace of him, even your pants were fully intact again.

“What did you see?” He asked eagerly and you tried to clear your head enough to figure out what was going on. “Was it me again?” He added impatiently.

“I don’t- What was that? What did you do to me.” You muttered, brain still foggy. The man swiftly walked over to you, then dropped down into a squat to be at your eye level. When you started trying to move backwards, he just grabbed your ankle and yanked you toward him, making you land on your back.

“Tell me what you saw.” You just stared at him, confused and scared. He grabbed a buckle on the straight jacket and lifted you up to a sitting position. “Now.” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tried to answer him so he wouldn’t get mad.

“Y-you.”

“What was I doing? Why were you on the floor?”

“You- you were…” You trailed off into a choked sob, not wanting to say it let alone think about it.

“Tell me.”

“You tore my- my pants and-“ You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head.

“Did I rape you? Is that what you saw?” You nodded with a silent sob and he released the straight jacket. “Interesting. So it’s not only me specifically.” You watched him walk over to his desk, scribbling something down. As you sniffled, you could feel your heart rate and breathing slow down drastically.

“And you had no hallucination of being pregnant or giving birth?” He asked, actually talking to you this time. You shook your head in response and he wrote something again before moving toward you. You flinched back as he reached for you, but he managed to grab you and pull you to your feet anyway. He escorted you to the chair you were previously in and pushed you down, then sat in his desk chair.

“We will resume the experiment after your first treatment when you’re not on birth control. I have a feeling your hallucinations will be centered around that instead.” He said, still writing before looking back up at you. “Was that all you saw or was there something else?”

“That was it.” You said quietly.

“Next time I’m going to give you a higher dose so it lasts longer.”

“What did you give me?” You croaked.

“A very diluted version of my fear toxin.”

“Fear toxin?” You said quietly and he gave you a small smile.

“Yes. I use it in my experiments.”

“I don’t wanna do it again.” You whimpered, not looking at him.

“Unfortunately you don’t have a choice, but you should be grateful. I don’t plan on giving you as much as the other patients. I need you sane enough for our normal sessions.” You didn’t feel grateful. You felt sick to your stomach.

“From now on we will do the experiment, then your treatment, because I have a feeling everytime I watch you under the influence of my toxin, I’m going to get as hard as I did today.” You stifled a gasp as he stood up to walk toward you, his bulge now very obvious. He grabbed the straight jacket again and moved you from the chair to your knees on the floor. You stared blankly as he unbuttoned his pants, then took his cock out.

“If I even feel the slightest brush of your teeth, I’ll take you to one of our medical rooms, tie your legs to the gynecological examination chair, and accidentally leave the door unlocked. If a few guards happen to come in… I won't be there to stop them. Do you understand?” You nodded silently, staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Good.”

He brushed his fingers through your hair, then tightened his grip, holding you still. You tentatively opened your mouth and he slowly slid inside, not stopping until he met the resistance of your throat. He started a slow pace of thrusting in and out, holding your head still and only moving his hips. When he let out a low groan, you looked up at him through your lashes.

“Good girl. Suck it- Use your tongue.” You obeyed, pressing your tongue against the under side of his cock and hallowing your cheeks. “Oh fuck- just like that, good girl.” He said through a moan.

He suddenly pulled out, giving you a chance to catch your breath, which you took eagerly. After a moment, you took a deep breath and opened your mouth, waiting. He gave you a proud smile as he slipped back inside, starting a slightly faster pace. He built you up to it, letting you get used to the speed before increasing it just a little more.

“God- you’re so good at this. Feels almost as good as your pussy.” He whined, losing control over the motions of his hips. He snapped into you faster, ignoring the way you started to choke. When he pulled your head down his length, he let out a choked groan. The lack of oxygen made you panic and writhe beneath him, but he ignored it. He kept pulling you closer until the barrier of your throat gave in and your lips were at the base of his cock. You wanted to claw at his thighs, push him away- anything. But you couldn’t because of the straight jacket.

When he let you pull off, you coughed violently, trying to move away from him despite his grip on your hair.

“Open.” He said sternly, making you whine and keep trying to back up. He stared at you a moment, then sighed and let you go. He walked over to his desk, picked something up, then walked back to you. “You can open or we can continue the experiment, this time with a significantly higher dose.” You recognized now that what he picked up was what he sprayed you with earlier.

His threat worked though and you let your mouth fall open, nervously eyeing his hand that was still inches from your face. His free hand grabbed your hair again, holding you still as he resumed fucking your face. Your gaze anxiously moved between his eyes and his hand, until a particularly rough thrust made you gag and squeeze your eyes shut. Despite that, you forced yourself not to try and pull away, but the longer you choked and couldn’t breathe, the harder that became. When he eventually yanked you off of him, you panted heavily, looking up at him through blurry eyes.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry. I’m trying,” You rasped, trying subconsciously to move away from the toxin still pointed at your face.

“Do better.” He spat, putting his length back in your mouth before you could respond. His pace turned brutal, fucking you so hard that you knew the back of your mouth was going to bruise. As he fucked you, his moans got louder until he buried his cock deep in your throat again. You thought he was going to come, but he just held it there until the tears in your eyes fell down your cheeks. Only after you started thrashing, desperate for air, did he yank you off his length, letting go of your hair. You coughed and sputtered, taking in heavy breaths, trying to get more oxygen.

“Get up.” Not meeting his gaze, you stood on shaky legs, waiting for the next command. But he just turned you around and pushed you toward the desk, then slammed your torso down on it. You landed with a wince and turned your head to the side, watching him place the canister in your eyeline. Your arms were squished uncomfortably beneath you, but that was the least of your worries as you felt him slowly drag your pants down your legs. You let out a quiet sob as he pulled your underwear down, then groped your ass, pulling your cheeks apart. His breath fanned your ass as he released a dark chuckle.

“Look at that. So wet and I haven’t even touched you.” He swiped his fingers through your slit, groaning at the sight of your arousal. “I won’t take long so I’m not going to bother preparing you any further.” You stiffened as the head of his cock swiped through your folds, moving down to your clit, then back up to your hole. He pushed in slowly, letting out a low groan as he savored the feeling of your walls practically sucking him in. Placing both hands on your hips, he pushed forward until his thighs were flush with your ass. He cursed under his breath and gave you a moment to adjust as you trembled beneath him.

It hurt. More than last time. Presumably because you’re still sore from last time, but also because he didn’t do anything to prep you this time. You could feel tears growing in your eyes and you willed them down, not wanting to feel even more pathetic and weak than you already do. When he slowly pulled out, then slammed back in, you let out a hoarse scream.

“You’re hurting me.” You cried, trying to lift yourself up, but he placed a hand on your back and shoved you back down. “Please, Dr. Crane- you’re hurting me!” His pace sped up significantly as he chased his orgasm.

“Keep begging like that.” He moaned. Placing both hands on your shoulders for a better grip, he started pounding your hole agonizingly hard, using his grip to pull you back on his cock with each thrust.

You realized that you found yourself wishing he would just come already. You didn’t even think about the consequences, you just wanted him to stop. Maybe he really is helping you get over your fears after all.

You could tell he was getting close as his thrusts turned frenzied and his moans got louder, so you stayed silent, not wanting to accidentally do something to make him drag it out. He didn’t give you a warning before pulling your body closer, impaling you deep on his cock. His hips still pushed forward, trying to bury his length deeper in your aching hole. While part of you wanted to scream and cry, another part was starting to associate his orgasms with relief from the pain of him fucking you.

His sounds died off until all you could hear was him panting. He pulled out slowly, then immediately pulled your underwear back up so his come wouldn’t drip out.

You laid there, exhausted emotionally and physically, as he pulled your pants back up, then righted his own pants. Lifting you by the collar of the straight jacket, he moved you back to your chair, then sat down on his own.

“I’m going to give you something that should make tomorrow's treatment a bit easier on you. Unfortunately that means you’ll have to keep that on so you don’t interfere with anything.” He motioned to the straight jacket and you furrowed your brows, not understanding what he meant.

“However, that does mean you won’t have to take the other medication today. It shouldn't affect the drug I’m giving you, but since you haven’t started taking it yet, you might as well wait one more day.” He explained, then pushed a button on the phone on his desk and leaned into the speaker. “Bring in what I prepared for patient 23250.” He said, then released the button on the phone, giving you his full attention. “I will give you one last chance. Don’t fight this and you can continue taking your birth control.” The door opened and a man walked in, carrying a syringe. Dr. Crane got up to take it from him, then stood next to you.

“Thank you. Wait by the door.” He said to the orderly, who nodded and stepped back. “Well?” He asked, leaning down to look at you. You eyed the syringe nervously. He’s going to give it to you whether you fight or not…

“Okay.” You said quietly, then reluctantly barred your neck to him.

“Good girl.” He said, then walked back to his desk to retrieve it- He already had it ready? He didn’t offer you any water so you had to dry swallow it. The second you were done, he was taking your cheeks in his hand and turning your head to the side. You winced as the needle pierced your skin, but he finished quickly.

“Take her to isolation and remove the bed. No one is to see her but me. Bring her back here at 8 am tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” The man said, walking over, then lifting you to your feet by the straight jacket. You were all but dragged down the hallways until he opened a door and shoved you inside, making you land on the floor with a grunt. At least the floor was padded this time. He walked in and grabbed the “bed” from the corner of the room before exiting.

“Good luck.” He snickered, then closed the door, the lock clicking loudly in the otherwise silent room. You sat up and eyed the small space. It was just white padding and a single light overhead. Nothing else. You sighed and decided to lie down, it seemed like it was almost night anyway so you might as well try to sleep.

As you laid there, desperately trying to sleep under the bright luminescent, you suddenly felt your whole body break out in a sweat. Your skin grew warm and flushed- then you felt it. The unmistakable feeling of arousal pooling in your stomach, traveling down to between your legs. You tried to just breathe calmly and let it pass, but it wouldn’t. It just got worse.

Writhing on the floor, you tried to find a way to stimulate your clit besides rubbing your thighs together- no wonder he took the bed. You sat up and crossed your legs, trying to grind on your heel. It was barely an improvement. Letting out a long, needy whine, you pulled on the straight jacket, trying to free your arms. When you were unsuccessful, you let out a choked sob, looking around the room. The padding on the door got rid of the edge so it was just a normal wall. There was literally nothing you could use. The realization brought tears to your eyes, so you laid back down and tried to will it away, even though it was only getting stronger.

Part 3

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #smut #crying #fear toxin #jonathan crane smut #Jonathan crane x reader smut #exposure therapy

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