Tumgik
#proportions are so fucked like I love edward's build but it really is hard for me to nail down
madootles · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
consumed with the urge to draw with ed holding cat. that's all
edit: metal arm wrong side bc canvas flip
3K notes · View notes
Text
Rivalry
requested by @micapearls (ed hearing jon full body laugh for the first time)
Ever since he first met Jonathan Crane, Edward has had an unshakable fixation on eliciting any type of emotional expression from the other man. To the untrained eye it would appear Jonathan was unable to experience any human emotions beyond displeasure and annoyance. Jonathan doesn’t cry, he doesn’t shout when they argue, he doesn’t allow any facial expression to inadvertently cross his stoic features. Over time, Edward has been able to get a better feel for the subtle cues that indicate his partner’s emotional state, but Jonathan still makes an effort to hold his feelings and opinions close to his chest. Edward wants so badly to break him of this habit. He’s lost count of the amount of meaningless arguments he’d blown out of proportion in the hopes of making Jonathan visibly angry. But perhaps that’s just trauma reenactment.
It was after one such failed attempt to goad Jonathan into an argument that Edward finally got what he was looking for. He had unsuccessfully tried to get a rise out of the other man, throwing out the cruelest, most spiteful things he could think of. Things he didn’t mean, things he doesn’t want Jonathan to think he meant. Unfortunately, this only resulted in Jonathan disappearing off into the lab, leaving Edward to sulk alone in the living room. He’s sitting on the couch, staring absently at the television when Jonathan finally reappears from the basement, his expression as austere and unreadable as ever.
“I’m having a drink,” the older man announces, breezing past Edward and into the kitchen. He removes a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and holds it up for Edward to see. “Do you want one?”
Edward doesn’t particularly care for whiskey but he can recognize a peace offering when he sees one. He nods wordlessly, sliding to one end of the sofa to make room for Jonathan to sit if he wanted to.
Jonathan pours the two drinks, bringing them into the living room and handing one to Edward. He accepts. Takes a small sip, trying to ignore the unpleasant taste.
“What are you watching?” Jonathan asks as he sits down a respectful distance away from Edward.
“News,” he says. “I’m looking at it more than I’m really watching it.”
Jonathan studies the screen for a few moments, sipping his own drink steadily. “Turn up the volume,” he says abruptly.
Edward obliges, directing his own attention to the TV as well. The reporter onscreen is standing in front of the Gotham University campus. There are cop cars and officers crowded around the building, many of them with heavy tactical gear and weapons.
“Shit, I hope whatever this is doesn’t screw up the heist I had planned for next weekend,” Edward mutters as he puts his drink down on the table.
“…As you can see the police are behind me attempting to negotiate the release of the thirteen hostages currently being held on the University grounds.” The camera cuts away from the reporter to show a closer shot of the police officers at the scene. Edward can make out commissioner Gordon speaking into a walkie-talkie at the front of the group. Bullock stands beside him, looking generally burly and gruff but otherwise not contributing much. “The location and condition of the hostages is unclear; all we know is that those thirteen students and faculty members are trapped somewhere in the Joker’s sadistic maze. More updates on the way as we continue to document the most recent criminal exploits of Gotham’s most fearsome criminal.”
“Ouch,” Jonathan says dryly. “Seems unfair that I’m not the most fearsome criminal in this city but I suppose there’s no accounting for taste.”
Edward, in the meantime, is too busy trying to navigate the mixture of anger, surprise, and jealousy that has begun burning in his chest to even register Jonathan’s comment. “He—I feel like I’m having a stroke, I mean, did that reporter say what I think she said?” he splutters, standing up from the couch to gesticulate wildly at the screen.
“What’s your problem?” Jonathan asks. “Joker does something like this every week, you can’t be surprised at this point.”
“You don’t understand,” he snaps, ignoring the heat he can feel rising into his face and ears. “I was going to do a sadistic maze at the university. Me! That fucking clown stole my idea! I mean, am I the only person with any goddamn integrity in this vile city?” He collapses back onto the couch, throwing his arms up. “I had the whole thing planned out, all the pieces built and ready to be set up and he just swoops in with his dollar store makeup and awful dye job and ruins everything like he always does. I mean, do you know how hard it is to build a maze from scratch and make it appear with fully functional traps and people in it before the cops show up? It’s not easy, I’ll say that. And it’s not cheap either!”
Jonathan watches Edward’s hysterical monologue in silence, takes a few moments to digest the entirety of the rant, and then bursts out laughing.
Edward’s jaw drops. Usually when Jonathan laughs it’s little more than a sharp exhale or the hint of a smile. But this laugh is a loud, unrestrained cackle, so raspy in places it almost sounds like a wheeze. It’s the first time he’s ever seen his partner seem genuinely tickled by something and he can’t even enjoy it because it’s at his own expense. He can’t tell if he’s more shocked to see his partner’s entire body wracked with laughter, or more indignant that he’s being laughed at in the first place. He snaps his mouth shut, his face screwing up into a scowl. “It’s not funny.”
“It absolutely is. Your whole thing with the Joker is hilarious.”
“It is not! He’s completely destroying my reputation, my career in this town. I mean, now I can never do that heist I had planned because the Joker already did it and everyone’s already accusing me of ripping off his costume and gimmick. If I even mention that I had the same idea, then people are going to try and accuse me of stealing his fucking intellectual property too.” He gets up again, pacing almost frantically around the room. “It doesn’t even make sense for him to do something with a school, I mean, I’m the one whose whole aesthetic and MO has to do with knowledge and learning. He should go terrorize a fucking comedy club or something, leave the higher education to those of us whose brain cells haven’t been fried by a vat of acid.” He glares at Jonathan who is still doubled over with laughter. “Stop laughing at me, I’m serious.”
He raises a hand to cover his mouth, though it does nothing to soothe his amusement. “I’m sorry. But you have to admit, you sound ridiculous right now.”
“I fail to see how this is ridiculous.”
“You’re demanding artistic integrity from a man who dresses like a clown and kills people for fun.” Jonathan manages to stifle his laughter a bit, but Edward knows he’s never going to let him live this down. “Besides, neither of you went to college so I don’t see how you have more of a right to a university based maze heist than him.”
He rolls his eyes. Jonathan loves to point out that Edward never went to college because it’s the only real accomplishment he has that Edward couldn’t easily replicate. Just because Jonathan suffered through nine years of higher education that would have driven Edward into a murderous rage doesn’t mean he’s better than him. “A maze is a type of puzzle is it not? Last time I checked I was the prince of puzzles which, in my eyes, makes me more entitled to use mazes in my traps. I also think it makes me sound cooler. I mean, ‘clown prince of crime’? How pathetic is that.”
“They’re both pathetic,” Jonathan says. “I don’t know why people keep trying to call us princes like we’re not all broke psychopaths.”
“I’m not broke.”
“But you don’t deny being a psychopath?”
Edward continues to glower at the other man who is still fighting against a smile. “I can’t believe you’re not on my side right now.”
Jonathan shrugs. “I mean, you have to admit your costume color schemes are remarkably similar.”
“They are not! My preferred color scheme is green and purple, his is purple and green, okay, they’re distinctly different!”
“Edward,” he says, using that tone he always takes when Edward is acting irrational, “Don’t you think you’re taking this a bit too seriously?”
“Not in the slightest,” he insists, knowing that this is arguably a stupid thing to care about. “You’ll never know what it’s like to always play second fiddle to everyone’s favorite costumed criminal. At least people are scared of you. Everyone just thinks I’m some kind of joke thief.”
“Well, maybe you need to give them something to be scared of. Show them you mean business.”
“Oh yeah? And how do you propose I do that in a way that is both on brand and not derivative of the Joker’s own crime sprees?”
Jonathan’s smile changes, becoming less humorous and more devious. Edward can see the familiar gleam in his eye that indicates the Scarecrow’s mind is hard at work. There’s the Jonathan he’s used to. “I bet I could give you a few ideas,” he says slyly, finishing the rest of his drink in a single swallow. “If you don’t have any qualms about torturing people.”
Despite the fact that he’s still annoyed with Jonathan for making fun of him, Edward can’t help but flash a smile back at the other man. There’s just something about those clever, sinister eyes that always draw him right back in. “What did you have in mind?”
39 notes · View notes