ᶠᴼᴿᴹᴵᴰᴼᴾᴴᴼᴮᴵᴬ

Jonathan Crane | Scarecrow indie. selective.

[malpractitioner]

//Come back shit head. We miss you

|| SHITHEAD REPORTING FOR DUTY.

[malpractitioner]

— the all terrible god of fear. rules.

[nakira786]

As a request, maybe a Jonathan Crane? Or do you not really do other rogues? Thanks for reading, whatever the outcome.

Sometime I draw other gotham villains but the quality isn’t always enough to post here😂 and I like LOBO in DC villains besides the Joker, but is he a villain or …anti-hero…?

[whenthecuriousgirl]

Peter Murphy ph: Michael Conen

[malpractitioner]

Fingers like claws in her shoulder, his grip slowly tightened. The high wasn't through. He shuddered as he held on. The look in her eyes... The dawning realization bleeding through every gentle part of her face– like the first spark of a firestarter. Feed it, Crane. Feed it. Feed it. Feed it. The right kindling... She could burn for days. Just like the other boy... But there was the time, the place, the career.. So much to worry about but hell... why worry? Who worries when they're peering straight into the blood of life itself; SQUEEZING the pulsing heart of man's survival. Fear. The guardian no one wants yet everyone has... Right here. And so raw. Not even tempted by the chemicals just... here. In his wake, eager to be seen and controlled and SPREAD by him. She was an unworthy vessel, and yet designed for this. Every human being was.. “Tell me what you saw... In that classroom.”

[malpractitioner]

⛔️

Thought-Provoking Headcanon MemeSend a symbol and I’ll answer the question about my muse.

⛔️ - How does your muse react to others breaking the law? If they would do it themselves, what is their reasoning?

In a sense, Jonathan became his own god, and the only rules that mattered were his own. Those formed outside of the self were followed solely in the effort to keep up appearances, and then disregarded once that became no longer necessary. In addition, he often rationalizes his behavior by claiming that it's in the name of "furthering his research." Often he feels that those who oppose him "just don't get it" so to speak. He also feels justified in his criminal activity purely because he's had a bad life. One of my favorite Scarecrow quotes demonstrating exactly this reads: "I am not crazy! This is a perfectly sane and rational response to my traumatic experiences!" However, I don't believe it's fair to say he's entirely lawless. There is, naturally, a spectrum of atrocity -- a spectrum that he believes quite heavily in, seeing as though Christianity teaches an entirely opposite approach in the context of sin (all sin is equal in the eyes of God, no matter how morally reprehensible one sin may be compared to another) and that is a belief he'd want to reject. I imagine there are a number of violent, disgusting crimes that he sees as inherently wrong compared to those he may partake in.Jonathan really couldn't care less how anyone else breaks the law, so long as it doesn't impact him negatively. At the end of the day, he's interested in himself, his motives, and his goals... Regardless of what law he has to violate in order to get them. I'm sure there are some despicable acts that he would find evil enough perhaps to even kill someone over but for the most part... he's rather indifferent towards the law.

[malpractitioner]

A thin, hidden smile. Despite all his quirks, and his galling tendencies, Edward proved to be a valuable asset. And frankly, if this partnership presented benefits to reap, he was more than willing to sow the seeds.. If that meant tolerating Eddie's remarks, acknowledging his successes, and catering the grandiose persona he'd sculpted for himself, then so be it. At least for now... And to a point. “Look at that. Deus ex machina, in the flesh.” He mused, and slowly crawled in after the other man. There came the rattle of the panel being placed back on and he was inside, only to pop out behind Edward a few feet down post-crawl, bringing dusty clothes and a cough in his throat. “You're lucky that I have the patience of a saint,” Jon scolded, looming after him. “Else I'd have a swipe at you for that. Just think of it – the Riddler, once brilliant, untouchable, god-like.. left to die. Right here... Of something as ugly and devoid of grace as disembowelment.” He clicked his tongue. “What a shame that would be.”

[malpractitioner]

`` Haven't dropped anyone. I'll deal with my couple of replies later today. x

[assortedrpmemes]

Thought-Provoking Headcanon Meme

Send a symbol and I’ll answer the question about my muse. (Or answer in character. Whatever works for you!)

⛔️ - How does your muse react to others breaking the law? If they would do it themselves, what is their reasoning? 🚑 - If your muse was the only person around and someone was injured, would they help? Would they have the experience needed? 💸 - What does your muse think of wealthy people? Do they resent them, or do they believe they earned what they have? 🆘 - What does your muse think of poor people? Do they think they’re a waste of space, or do they want to help them? 📩 - Does your muse prefer to physically write letters or send them online? What is their reasoning? 📢 - Does your muse have a loud personality or a quiet one? Do they enjoy being the center of attention, or would they rather watch and listen? 📊 - How does your muse feel about the state of the world? Could it be better? Could it be worse? 👨 - What is your muse’s relationship like with their father? Is it good, bad, or complicated? 👩 - What is your muse’s relationship like with their mother? Is it good, bad, or complicated? 👧 - What is your muse’s relationship like with their siblings? Who do they get along with best? 👶 - If they have any, what is your muse’s relationship like with their children? Do they feel like they’re a good parent? 👻 - Does your muse believe in an afterlife? What do they think it’s like? ⏰ - Does your muse feel like they need to do things quickly or do they take their time? ⌛️ - How often does your muse think about death? Do they think about it at all? 🔗 - What are your muse’s standards for meaningful relationships? How quickly do they form relationships like these? 🚹 - How would your muse react to losing their father? How would they cope? 🚺 - How would your muse react to losing their mother? How would they cope? 🚼 - How would your muse react to losing a child? How would they cope? 💧 - How would your muse react to losing a best friend? How would they cope? 💔 - How would your muse react to losing a romantic partner? How would they cope? 🐜 - How does your muse feel about animal lives? Do they treat them the same way they’d treat a person, or do they feel they’re inferior? 🌎 - Does your muse want to change the world? How would they go about it? 🎭 - How does your muse handle their emotions? Do they bottle them up or pour them out as soon as they start to feel? 💋 - How does your muse feel about people who cheat? Do they see a reason for it, or is it completely immoral? 🌠 - Would your muse make a wish on a star? If so, what would they wish for? 🎁 - Does your muse celebrate their birthday? If yes, how do they celebrate? If no, why not? 🍟 - How does your muse feel about their body? Would they change it if they could? 💅 - How does your muse feel about gender roles? Do they conform to them, or do they play by their own rules? 🌺 - Does your muse have a favorite flower? Why do they like it?

[oraclepng-deactivated20170521]

Imagine being like a college student or whatever in Gotham and like one day you turn on the news and your ex psychology professor is running around with a burlap sac over his head screaming bullshit like HAROO HRAA , like how do you cope with that

[akumeoy]

it’s like that sometimes

[horriblebeing-deactivated201906]

[belladonianoir]

[hungover-and-broke-student]

@malpractitioner continued from here

Extinguishing the last of her cigarette, snow was just starting to fall around her and the thought of classes cancelling that day brought a childish grin to her face as she entered the lecture building. The excuse for security always unlocked this building first so it made for a nice break from the frigid Gotham winter in the early mornings when she had to trek to work. Rubbing some warmth back into her hands she made her way down to the bottom floor’s water fountain. 

Halls still dark from the weekend would stay dark and quiet for another few hours until the janitor staff came. About halfway up the first flight of stairs from the basement she heard… something. Almost like a last desperate wail-coming from the lecture room down the hall behind her. 

Creeping lightly toward the closest door, she found the thin window covered from the inside. Putting her ear just above the wood she listened for a clue, there were still sounds coming from inside, but nothing loud like before.

There was a sliver of light coming from around a darkened corner, the blocker had come loose and become crooked, leaving a big enough gap to look in. All that could be seen was what looked like a sweaty and disheveled professor Crane standing over a pile on the floor. The scene before her was almost normal, maybe the man was grading papers or editing a lecture early or something? Still it was jarring enough to see the usually well dressed and well groomed man unkempt for once.

Until he moved aside and she caught a glimpse of a classmate’s face frozen in twisted, agonizing terror, contorted as if he was still screaming even after death. The kid had always been nice enough, she didn’t know his name but he didn’t deserve this. Nor does he deserve to be forgotten as soon as the next student is found dead somewhere on campus. Which could very well end up being her if she doesn’t get away from the door.

Taking care to walk lightly and look back almost every other step, Riley just made it past the water fountain when she heard the unmistakable clunk of a door unlocking down the hall.

[malpractitioner]

Click of the door. Body behind his desk. It would have to do. Coming down off the days-long power trip made for a less-than-rational Crane as he trailed that shadow through the hall. There was a kind of erratic, animal look to him – blown pupils, unkempt hair, tight fists. Every fear he'd suppressed in the interest of these sordid ventures passed through the floodgates now crumbling in his mind. And god, was it ecstasy. There is... beauty in allowing the self to revel in the terror. The uncomfortable pulse. The static in place of thoughts. The tight, yet airy feeling in a suddenly hollow chest.. All the work – everything the last decade or so had gone into building his career, his reputation was now unraveling right here in his fingertips... But was it really? The real product of it all – the real, SUBSTANTIAL thing – was the compound. The compound and every ingenious use that would follow its development would be his saving grace. The old adage about BREAKING A FEW EGGS to make an omelet rang true. Either way... the rationalizations made through that endlessly long run through the corridor hopefully would find no practicality. If he could just reach the silhouette... Have a word. Maybe several. Maybe pull the trigger on that fused metal apparatus housing an aerosol can under his sleeve, and break another egg. He could see it now. He was catching up. Sway of blonde hair. That familiar gait... It was unmistakable. Riley Holt – GOD if she only KNEW how close her name was on top of the invisible roster of candidates. And depending on how things were about to go... She may find herself bumped all the way to the top. His ghoulish hand shot out and clasped her by the shoulder, fingers digging in; an attempt at stopping her. “Riley.... RILEY.”

[beigetype]

[sa2ha]

[malpractitioner]

“Silly, silly me.” Jonathan dismissed, entirely disinterested in the lecture. He paused to fumble with his mask, pulling it on over his glasses, greeted by the familiar, overwhelming scent of burlap and the welcome scratch of fibers in his nose. Scythe in tow, he stepped over the body. A glance outside saw the flow of inmates stunted; none coming for the time being... And yet Arkham still sang her unholy song. Their window of opportunity still gaped. He met Edward with a glower over his shoulder... But the splintering along the snath of his weapon, and rust building up along the blade's edge seemed to be answer enough to that ridiculous remark. “We can discuss proper scythe upkeep to your heart's content once we're sufficiently out of here, Nygma. However, in the meantime, I'd like to welcome the input of actual, USEFUL information from you, given the rate at which clock - is - ticking.” He'd already started down the corridor. How many times had they gone through this? How many exits had been utilized and, subsequently, compromised? There'd surely be some bully with a baton stationed at the end of every past route (of which he now attempted to mentally catalogue)... This meant they were caught between seeking out a new one or shedding a little more blood in favor of the classics. Then again, the latter hadn't been a problem thus far. "...I'm not keen on trailing the herd. Too many orderlies waiting at the end of that god-awful rainbow. I suggest we head down and out, risking a crawl through the tunnels. Unless of course you have a better proposal. If you're so keen on calling yourself a gift, now would be the time to start giving."

[screenshotsuggestion]