: putting boo in boo-hoo :

🌾🧟‍♂️🌾 a placeholder for 'cape' interests ; i write an' draw messy thangs. scarebat hypershipper & marvel's jack o' lantern enthusiast ; blog may contain mature & spooky topics.🌾🌾🌾

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

''you had been roped into a new kind of fun, aren't you? how naughty of you, dear boy. how gamine!''

(softcore kinky scarebat. cuz lass's heart wants what it wants 💘

but truly, my thoughts process here was both simple an’ messy at the same time. for one, i prob already said it, but i feel like ropes are very their thing. or generally, tying up or restriction of movements. be it cuffs or smth else feels on par with smth they might grow to enjoy. even if i don’t think, they will constantly dab into that territory. esp since it cannot be denied, that when it comes to bandage, there is such a nice element of ‘trust’ in it an’ potential for slight fear play, that welp … yeah. once again, sounds like their thing to me. so i just had to play around with it a bit! at first, i wanted to also draw a couple of similar ideas i had for fear state scarebat, but it felt too bdsm-ish for this set, so i decided to post it like you see it here an’ not include anything else. leave it soft-ish an' playful. even if slightly sexed up.

now, about the next following piece of trivia ... around july *i think?* i had an idea for a fairly short scarebat fic, which would have dealt with the topic of batman an’ scarecrow accidentally stepping into rather peculiar, kinky territory an’ then just being forced to kinda awkwardly deal with it afterwards. or in other words, bruce did smth under the influece of ft, crane liked it an’ bruce didn’t dislike it, either. but it wasn’t meant to be sexual. but jon assumed it was an’ also manipulatively told batman that such treatment helps him to think less ‘bad fear obsessed’ thought. it's not really true lol so now, bruce is kinda has to take responsibility for his purely accidental actions, all while feeling weird that he’s not against it, despite how he should be an’ so on. a fairly simple concept on surface, but unfortunately, since i already have some stuff i need to write first, i wanted to at least, draw smth a bit related to this idea of mine for keepsake almost. including a slight allure to the fact, that in one of the arts it’s implied that crane would have got his bony, flat butt spanked. so here, ya have it. 

but anyhow. on a more detailed note, the first two arts are intentionally more clean, then what follows after. in here, it’s mostly about jonathan being creepy about having unconscious batman. thrilled about having him at his mercy an’ also thrilled about a chance to rub his crotch against batman's abs, i imagine an’ then, your good ole scenario, where scarecrow getting snared by both a rope an’ one of batman’s bat-themed cables. he’s pretty stuck an’ fearfully stares up at the batman, who lets himself enjoy the sight a bit longer, than he should. so in short, this first set kinda depicts sexual tension without it being released an’ also involves a rope. a restriction. a moment, where one can forget for a second about the whole vigilante vs villain thing an’ just focus on sensuality of such occasions. a situation, which isn’t uncommon per say, but can have a bit of double meaning or even a food for fantasies later on. 

an’ then, we have resolved tension, basically. so needless to say, jonathan is pretty happy where he is. just embarrassed, when maskless. but fairly calm an’ curious, when he has a mask on, bc batman cannot see his expression. as for bruce, he’s a bit thoughtful in the first art, since i imagine, that it’s like a rare moment of peace for him. even if it happens in a bit of a strange set up. i also a dedicated believer that bruce likes to hold crane for comfort reasons. an’ then, we have a bit more usual batman manhandling crane, but sexually this time, an’ i decided to leave it ambiguous what they are saying here. like, i imagine my own thing an’ someone else might imagine whatever else, i suppose. bruce is kinda smug tho. even if at first he had a very different expression in a sketch i’ve made. but i love his lil smirks. he's so full of secrets, haha.

an' oh, also in the beginning, i wanted to leave the arts as they were. like their original color an’ white background, but i feel like it wouldn’t have given off this light dreamy vibe, otherwise. an' i wanted to be tender-ish. since for me, this art set is soft in nature, despite presence of the kinks, which oftentimes associate with rough sex an’ whatnot. but yup, originally, it looked like this.

p.s i didn't tag this post as an adult one, bc well, technically speaking no sex is happening an' no dicks are shown. so yeah. also i feel like comicverse!jon also have a right to show off his nips. arkham asylum scarecrow cannot take this right all to himself after all.)

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

I was looking at your account and saw you haven't talked about Jack in a while and my Jack o'Lantern fixation has come back to bite me in the ass so I would love some headcannons or really anything with him. I dont really care but I specfically LOVE crime masters Jack. He's so silly, I hate him. :3

honestly, returning to this account after what feels like eternity is like blowing dust from everything inside a house, which you know like the back of your hand, yet can’t familialize yourself with just yet once again. so i just kinda go though my asks in rather haphazard fashion. you have to forgive my scatterbrained logic here. 

as for ask itself, i think, i’d like to share with you one of those small snippets, which i sometimes write mostly for myself, when i want to explore some route or headcanon. this one as was requested focused on the crime master’s jack or rather on him an’ his relationships with his foster father, along with a few other things. timeline is basically a pre-canon. so it might have happened a year or maybe a few months before the main events of ‘agent venom’ take place. 

anyhow, just in case, here is a small content warning : mental health issues, heavily implied past non-con drug use, past captivity, past brainwashing an’ all other stuff related to jack’s childhood spent under bennett’s care. one day, i might publish a whole story about them, since i’m very fascinated with their twisted ‘forced found family’ dynamic. 

༻❁༺

Bennett was a man of a few habits. Or as some might say, a few peculiar, little weaknesses. Every person has some of those. So he wouldn’t go as far as to pretend, like he was an exception. He was just a human, at the end of the day. There was no harm in allowing himself some vincibility from time to time. 

It wasn’t like someone was here to judge him. This specific part of the building was generally reserved just for him and his son. Not even the most of his devoted minions had an access here. Bennett, who was raised by his mother and growing up along with his younger sister, had adopted a habit of cleaning after himself fairly early on. So no maid was needed. He didn’t see anything too horrible in taking a mope in hand, or going around dusting the shelves while humming one of Frank Sinatra’s songs. 

His mother didn’t always have time for him or even Betty, — too busy with working two jobs to keep the lights inside the house — so he took it upon himself to learn how to cook some simple meals and how to do other mundane tasks, which at times proved to be a bit challenging for a ten years old boy. But there was a certain pride in being the one, who used to iron Betty’s dresses and school uniform and who had ironed his own clothes and later on, ironed his working suits by himself as an adult. 

Perhaps, it was too ‘feminine’ for some recent, modern men, but oh, Bennett was never scared of getting his hands dirty. Besides, before getting into college and then, landing himself a decent enough position as a local lawyer, he had a feeling like he needed to help his mother somehow, her health was getting worse and worse by the year. 

Until she was put into hospital and he got himself into quite a pickle with the mob, all to try and get money to cover the bills they were getting. It was rather stupid, thinking back to it. Risky and most of all, even an idiot knew that the game rigged against him from the start.  

Yet, he ever the secret idealist at heart had hoped, that somehow, by some miracle he’d see it through. But then — 

Well, everybody knew what happened then. 

He sighed, eyes narrowing slightly. It was useless to think about it now. Those last years of his life as Bennett Brant weren’t exactly something that he was looking back on with any fondness, if anything, he had deeply despised the man he used to be. 

All those niceties and memories about life with his mother and sister aside, he was ready to admit, that he was quite a loser. A man, who tried too hard to follow the rules, which in reality were never set in stone. He tried to play along, then he tried to cheat his way out of it and then he died. Leaving Betty and mother all alone with yet another family gravestone to visit and put flowers on. 

So yes, those weren’t his proudest moments, as one would say. 

He kept tabs on both of his relatives, but it wasn’t like he could just come out of hiding and insert himself back into their lives, as if nothing happened. So he watched out of the shadows, while busying himself with his empire and raising his newly ‘adopted’ child. 

Part of him came to feel regretful, that he wasn’t able to be there, when his mother had died. That he wasn’t able to be at her funeral. And that Betty had to organize yet another goodbye event for a person she was close with, most likely feeling like she had no one left at her side. 

However, it wasn’t the time to get hung up on it, was it? He didn’t even have his morning coffee yet. And this just wasn’t right. He always needed a couple of quiet morning hours to really get his head back into business. He had so many things, that he will have to do today. He and Betty will eventually reunite again, so all that he had to do was to focus on the present for now. He’ll have time to idle about the past and future a bit later. 

But as he was thinking about this, his eyes landed onto the chair opposite of him, which was suspiciously empty. He watched it intently as he took a sip from his mug. 

While it wasn’t fully out of character for Jack to be late or even oversleeping, usually, he seemed to be rather enthusiastic about this little routine of theirs. He could count on fingers of one hand the occasions, when Jack failed to show up at all. 

So it was fair to say that his absence had sat wrong with Bennett. Maybe, it was one of those mysterious parental six senses, that some books had written about? When you feel that something was off with your kid, before even seeing them in person? 

Bennett smirked to himself faintly, before unhurriedly getting up from his chair. If Jack needed to be reminded, that he was expected to have a proper breakfast — the most important meal of the day, mind you — with his good ole dad, then he didn’t mind to go and get him himself. 

It was a short walk anyways. 

And naturally, like any good parent, he didn’t forget to take Jack’s plate with him, since the kid needed his daily level of nutrition. Scrambled eggs, toast and a few pieces of bacon, which he made sure always formed a smiling face. 

It had almost reminded him of the times, when he had to go down the basement in order to feed his son. Even if back then, Jack reacted to him in a way, a child would react to a masked stranger, who had (technically) kidnapped him, after dosing him with wasp poison no less. 

So he could forgive the kid for his wariness at first. It was to be expected. Besides, he didn’t need a dumb child, who would trust everyone easily, and as time proved, Jack happened to be far from a stupid. In fact, there were a few occasions, when the Crime Master had severely underestimated him, and had nearly paid for it dearly. 

It was all in the past, of course. 

Jack was a well-behaved boy nowadays. The kind, which never would disappoint his father on purpose. 

Therefore, it was a wonder what had kept him from attending the kitchen this morning. He knew that it always made Bennett happy, when they ate together. And typically, Jack was more than ready to do practically anything, as long as it pleased him. So what was the hold up now? Was he wounded or perhaps, sick? 

But if so, he should have just told him, honestly. It wasn’t odd for a boy to get wounded on the ‘job’. Bennett knew what kind of missions he sent him on. It wasn’t a problem, if Jack had merely needed some extra rest, but it would have been good to be informed about this. 

Once, he stopped next to his son’s room, he stared at the door for a moment, listening closely, if someone was moving on the other side or not. But so far, it was deadly quiet. His brows furrowed slightly. 

“Jack? Are you there, boy?” 

No answer, which he came to suspect wasn’t a very good sign. 

It was a tad irritating, that he might have to deal with whatever was waiting for him on the other side first thing in the morning, but such was the life of a single father. You have to be always prepared for extra tasks, which would simply land onto you, out of the blue. 

Bennett let out an exaggeratedly loud exhale, “Well, ready or not, I’m coming in!” 

He could only hope, that the younger man was decent this time. As during Jack’s puberty, that one accident with a sock had almost made Bennett want to never set foot into his son’s room ever again. But tiring time and all that… 

Inwardly steeling himself for what he might witness — and realistically it could have been anything from nothing to a literal mained corpse of some stranger laying on the floor — he turned the knob, while balancing Jack’s plate with the other and entered the room. 

To his inner relief, Jack was there and he was, from what he could see, somewhat clothed. At least his pants and boots were still on, which was good. The rest of him was covered with a dark blanket. He was pretty much huddled up in it like in a cocoon. 

Bennett watched the scene in front of him a bit longer, before carefully setting the plate onto one of the tables, briefly catching himself looking at a pair of long gloves, which were seemingly ripped off in a great hurry. Paths of dry blood were clinging to the leathery surface, while the rest of it splattered across the wood in uneven fashion. 

Biting back a need to click his tongue, his eyes focused back on the younger man as he walked closer to him. 

“Rough night?” he asked good-naturedly, before noticing that Jack’s body language was tense and closed off. Wired up like he couldn’t force himself to relax. Ah. Well, this wasn’t good, was it? He itched even closer. “What’s the matter? Did you get hurt?” 

It didn’t go unnoticed to him how hard Jack twitched upon hearing his voice, as if he only now realized that there was someone else in a room with him. And if a startled look in those big, grey eyes was anything to go by, he indeed had no idea that Bennett had walked in at all. 

His son usually wasn’t that unaware of his surroundings. He had taught him better than this. 

So it meant only one thing. 

Admittingly, this wasn’t his favorite part of being a parent, but he kind of brought it upon himself, when he had abducted a mentally ill child. Try as he might, he couldn’t really hold it against Jack, as he always knew that the other male was as they used to say during his youth, ‘touched in the head’. 

But to his credit, Jack didn’t have those ‘episodes’ for quite some time now, making Bennett believe that he might have finally figured out how to balance out chemicals inside his child’s brain properly. Even if said goal was obtained via feeding him ‘vitamins’ and small portions of experimental drugs, which he put into Jack’s usual poison of choice. 

Apparently, he was a bit too optimistic. 

“Jack?” he called out, wanting to make sure, that the other understood the situation at least to some extent. He had learned his lesson a few years ago, when he nearly got stabbed in the eye with a fork, since Jack’s brain seemed to fail and recognize who he was for a short moment. 

(Which made sense, since Jack rarely saw him without a mask during that time. He clearly didn’t put two and two together, thinking that it was some unknown man standing over him instead of his own father.) 

This time, he patiently waited for a signal, that it was alright to approach. Once again, maskless. No weapons on him. Only his home attire and pair of comfy slippers. He only ever allowed his family to see him as. Both in the past and now. 

Jack blinked. Slow and hard like the world suddenly came into proper focus, only when he looked at him. They stared at one another for a bit, before his son finally slurred his acknowledgement, “...’ey, pops.” 

Bennett’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as he placed himself onto the edge of Jack’s bed. It was nice knowing, that the younger male wasn’t completely delirious. Only mildly disoriented by the looks of it. 

“You missed breakfast, you know.” he stated simply. 

Jack hummed, stirring the blanket more tightly around his frame, so that the upper half of it had nearly fully obscured his sunk, pale face from Bennett’s view. 

“Your absence made me worry, that something might have happened.” the Crime Master continued, keeping his face plastered with soft concern, “You didn’t report anything from last night, either. So imagine what I was thinking, boy.” 

In actuality, he wasn’t really thinking of any ‘possible horrors’ this morning, but it suited him well to make the other just a little bit guilty for spiking his son’s duties today. As there seemingly was no urgent reason for it, after all. 

Besides, if the blood on his gloves was an indicator of anything, it was implying that Jack had gone out and murder someone without any good reason again. And if there was one thing, which tended to genuinely irritate him — and also slightly put him on edge — about his child, it was this insatiable need for violence and gore, that he had. 

It was a bit annoying to constantly go and clean up his messes. But such a role of a parent. You had to look after your youth and make sure, that they stayed out of serious troubles. His own dad never bothered to do that. 

Or well, be around at all, for that matter. 

“Sorry. I’m jus’ not hungry, I guess…” 

“Is that so?” 

A jerky nod. “Feelin’...weird again…” 

Bennett leaned a bit closer, “Weird how, exactly?” 

“In my head.” Jack said after a fairly long pause, “Like, a bad trip sort of stuff. I can’t…I can’t go outside the room. Everything there is…moving. Kind of like it warped a bit. Almost like I’m inside some large moving worm or somethin’. It freaks me out.” 

Taking in a vague description wasn’t anything new, but it also didn’t give Bennett much to work with. “I see.” 

Over the years, he had come to a conclusion, that among a few things, which he clearly didn’t do quite right, while raising Jack, was that he never bothered in making the kid learn how to explain his own condition to him in common terms. Instead, all that he got was those engrossed, personal experiences, which were still a tad too nebulous for him to make much sense of. 

It wasn’t too important in the grand scheme of things, of course. But it was nonetheless something, that Bennett wished he had paid just a bit more attention to in the past. It would have saved them a lot of time. 

“Who did you kill last night?” 

Jack let out a gruff, low chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as if the question was genuinely funny to him, “Dunno, jus’ some random guy.” 

“Are you sure, that it wasn’t someone from a rival group or a well-known figure?” 

“Pretty sure. I mean, he — he, uh, didn’ look like anyone important or like he’d be missed.” Jack mused, the skin of his pale torso peeking shyly between the joined ends of the blanket, “Probably was on his way of getting evicted from some shithole he was renting too. I mean, he said somethin’ about gambling an’ such, I think.” 

Bennett made a low, thoughtful noise, “Where did you find him?” 

“At the bar. I — ah, I don’t really remember much. Things got kind of hazy somewhere in the middle of it.” Jack said, and judging by his tone, it didn’t seem to bother him too greatly, “I wasn’ even gonna kill him at first. I thought, we’d do the line and then shag quickly in some corner, but I ended up gutting him somehow. Felt nice, though. Better than sex with him would have been, anyways.” 

“I see.” Bennett repeated once more, all too familiar with his boy’s habit of disposing of his one-night stands. He supposed, that he might have contributed to this issue as well. Jack’s outlook on certain things was rather interesting and utterly warped to put it mildly. “Well, at least you had your fun.” 

“Kind of. I didn’t even do my signature move.” Jack lamented with some distant longing, “Everyone would think, that it was a robbery goin’ wrong. That was a shitty part of town too. People drop dead there like flies. Cops don’t care to investigate anythin’ there, unless it’s some underage brat who ended up dead.” 

“It’s better this way for us.” Bennett reminded him calmly, “I’m not exactly planning on making our stay here known just yet.” 

There were a couple of things he needed to set up and get ready first. It would suit them nicely to keep their main operations hidden for now. A great amount of influence or not, the Crime Master wasn’t delusional. He was just one man, he knew better than to instantly clash with giants like Kingpin or even Hammer-Head. He had overpowered a lot of ‘business’ rivals, including leaders of cartels, but you can never be too careless with those things. 

“Why not?” Jack tilted his head a bit, “Ain’t we like the big fish now?” 

“Indeed, we are. But we still have some bigger fish here too. And it would be foolish to just bash heads with them for no reason, other than pride.” 

His son stayed quiet, seemingly accepting the logic behind his words without much of a fight. Not that he had ever questioned Bennett’s choices. At least, not directly. 

“Better tell me, do I need to get your medicine for you?” he offered, placing his hand onto bony knee and rubbing it lightly. 

Jack stiffened, but he knew it wasn’t from the contact. He stopped attempting to cringe away from it a very long time ago, around when he turned ten or so. But there was clearly something else, which was clearly gnawing at his mind. 

He could see the other man chewing on his lower lip just like he did, when he was a little, scared boy, who wanted to ask something of him, but was afraid to say the ‘wrong thing’ to his captor. 

It was an oddly endearing imagery. Granted, Bennett did grow to be somewhat fond of the kid over the time they spent together, despite it never being part of the original plan. But it was hard not to get attached, even if partially because he was missing his little sister and it felt somewhat natural to care for someone, who looked up for his guidance, even without realizing it at the time. 

Funny how things had turned out. 

“You can tell me what bothers you.” he urged softly, looking at Jack with all the patience in the world as he took his hand back, allowing the other some space, “You know, that I dislike it when you keep secrets from me.” 

Jack hesitated. Even without seeing his face fully, he knew that his eyes had that tense, bright look in them. 

Then, his throat jerked as he swallowed, before voicing unsure, “Daddy?”

It had always pleased Bennett, when Jack used this title. A bit more child-like, than his usual ‘daddy-o’ and ‘pops’ and rather rare ‘dad’ or ‘father’. It felt like there was something special in this term for both of them. 

He recalled the first time, when Jack called him this, seemingly out of nowhere, following some kind of instinct. A truly touching moment, because from that point on, he knew that he had him exactly where he wanted to. 

“Yes, boy?” 

“Can you put on your mask?” 

The request made Bennet quirk a brow, unable to help himself, he chuckled, “It still comforts you, I take it?” 

He didn’t take off his mask in front of Jack till way later, when he was sure, that the time was right and that there was no need to keep himself as enigmatic as he did in the beginning. He and the mask were all the same in the end. 

(At least, he himself couldn’t find the seams separating one from the other anymore.)

Jack’s eyes peer at him from behind his little ‘blanket’ curtain and this too was painfully familiar. He used to do it, when he was a kid too. Expression flat with tiredness, which ran as deep as one’s bones and joints do. 

Sometimes, it made Bennett wonder just how much Jack actually remembered from their time together. The part of it, which wasn’t all fun and games. But in the end, he supposed, that it didn’t truly matter anymore. It wasn’t like Jack was about to go anywhere. He loved Bennett like any good son would love their dear doting father. 

“I can’t see why not.” 

He always carried his mask with him. You can never be too prepared for those things. A sudden ambush, a simple fancy striking you, or a wayward henchman going, where they didn’t belong. It was important to save ‘face’ in any given situation. 

Slowly, he put his hand into the pocket of his home robe and pulled out a piece of black fabric with one white strip in the middle. The mask, which was worn by many, but Bennett couldn’t help yet imagine, that it was always waiting for him, even before he could ever conceptualize the need to wear one at all. 

What to some was a mere piece of elastic, rich fabric was way more in reality. 

Once he put it on, the world was changing. As if it was rearranging around him. And perhaps, it made sense, that Jack’s own world eventually had fixed onto what this mask had represented for (to) him too. 

He knew, his son was deeply attached to his own haunting, halloween visage, which too came from his childhood. As when Bennett took him under his care that fateful night, he was dressed as Headless Horseman. A lot of things for Jack seemed to both end and begin during that time. 

“There you go.” 

If he closed his eyes, he could almost envision it all over again. The good ole times, frozen as an old family photo. As a poster asking ‘have you seen this child?’ plastered all over local billboards along with other missing posters of people, who were to never be seen again. 

“Come here.” he beckoned, waiting for Jack to move toward him. He was as tall as Bennett now — perhaps, even a bit taller — but he was thin and scrawny, nothing but skin and bones and tight muscle. It made him feel more fragile and sickly, easier to handle with a strong hand. 

Affection of such kind wasn’t exactly rare between them, but it also wasn’t as frequent as when Jack was a mere boy. Still, Bennett did take enjoyment in those instances. Jack always fit so easily against his side and his chest, all narrow angles and slightly jittery movements. His long and bony fingers pressed themselves into his back, all the while his face remained distant, pale with sickness and ghostly emotion, which Bennett struggled to fully identify. 

It was given, that amidst the ever changing surroundings and breathing walls, he stayed Jack’s main anchor. Something to cling to, when there was nothing else, which felt stable and safe. After all, he had raised him this way, training the kid to have those reactions and be dependent on him in all ways one person could depend on another. 

And what kind of power it was to wrap his arms around a notorious serial killer, knowing that when it came to him, he was just a little boy seeking reassurance from his father. Cruel, sadistic, always faux cheerful, yet deadly for others, but small and brittle for him. 

Bennett allowed a light, peaceful smile to curl the corners of his mouth under the mask, as he put his head on top of Jack’s own. “Good boy.”

Jack made a small noise, which in another lifetime could have been a sniff of a crying child. Now, it was a dry, itchy chortle. And in that very same other lifetime something inside Bennett’s chest would have pulled all wrong, like the old bullet wound had somehow been reopened by accident. Now, he merely hummed in agreement. 

It was like they shared a joke only both of them knew the gist of. 

Because the moment, when he saw the child from the missing person’s poster finally vanish for good, leaving a vacant moldable brain instead, he felt like the last remaining piece of old Bennett Brant had died along with it too. And somehow, it felt like there was no bond thicker than this. 

“Don’t worry, boy. Daddy is here with you.” 

(Just like you will always be here with me.)

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

hi I’m pretty sure me and you are 2 of the 5 Jack O Lantern fans on tumblr and I need to know who’s your favorite version?

My personal fav is Crime-Master/Agent Venom Jack o Lantern. Shame he got turned into GhostRider fodder

I’m currently inhaling copium by saying that they could bring him back since after his 2nd death at the hands of ghost rider, he’s most likely just hanging out with Lilith

hullo there, my good fellow jack fan! an’ oh golly, we sure are just a few guys, huh? i mean, i don’t mind it personally, i find it rather charming *fascinating even* when you stumble upon another person, who loves smth which might appear rather obscure to the masses, but rather endearing to you personally. jack(s) are such terrible darlin’, after all! 

but back to your question, i had answered this one a while ago in more details. an’ it still didn’t change for me. the mad jack an’ crime master’s jack are still my favorite jacks, even if i have a soft spot for steeven, despite how narratively wise, he legit has nothing over the other two, who possess the most ‘meat’ in terms of storytelling an’ personal arcs. but with this being said, the ghostrider comics, where jack's corpse got possessed by satan, remains the first jack o' lantern comics i ever read, so i'm forever biased here. not to meantion, that i just really love those issues on their own. i'd watch a horror movie like that!

as for how things went for the crime master’s jack, specifically … ugh, i feel like at this point i’m too burned out to be upset with modern comics an’ bad writing choices in general, but it was given that they would get rid of jack in some way, since they also kinda / sorta got rid of agent venom. i guess, he’s now agent anti-venom, but that’s not the same.

my own copium is that at least we got this tiny comics right here after years of radiosilence.

sure, it was indeed ... well, tiny as hell, but i was just happy to see them together again an' also art was nice. not to meantion, that a lot of people were actually looking foward to this one, even if they like me were prob expecting a tad bigger story. but hey, i take what i can nowdays.

also flash's inner monologues will never be not funny to me. i picture, that he says that corny stuff inside his head with the most serious voice imaginable.

his only saving grace is that he rarely says it outloud.

[oxalees]

ngl as soon as i saw his sewed mouth, i thought this version of batman could pull some strings

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

hey, i was thinking... where did the thing about arkhamverse!jon not wearing underwear come from? was it mentioned somewhere in canon or is it just a fanon for shits and giggles? i've heard about it from time to time, but can't figure out if it was for real

honestly, i’m not sure if it’s real or not. for me, it’s just something that i began to headcanon the second i saw his design lol. he just looks like someone, who wouldn’t wear anything under there for like … no reason. he's not being sexy or anythin'. he just forgot lol.

an' i suppose, the sheer fact that his little skirt always looks like it barely holds onto those skinny hips didn't help much, haha. if anything, i'm surpised, that jon didn't accidently full mooned batman while he was at it. an' once again not on purpuse. it just would have happened.

the awkward is new sexy.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

have you been keeping up with any of the newer comics when it comes to Marvel Jack? You’re the only real jack o lantern fan I know still active on tumblr outside of maybe two other people . They came out with a new one called Hudson Berkhart son of Daniel. He’s a lot more like comedic and sort of modern day soft gay goofy then truly maniacal in anyway, but I still find him endearing for what he is, and I like having a canonically gay Jack O’lantern (who'd ever see the day!)

well … i will have to warn you that my answer won’t be a fun one, since i do have some *let’s say* frustrations with what marvel has been doin’ lately. 

but yeah, i’ve seen that jack around. well kinda. i don’t read these sorts of comics, since they look like a sloop an’ feel like one to me, but i know that this *yet another* a new jack exists out there. an’ at this point, i’m getting a bit way too fed up with modern & most recent comics to care about anything they do. it’s just … so boring. to me. an’ i also feel some sort of way about them giving daniel a child and just writing him off, so here is that too. i will forever be salty about what they did to mad jack an' then, later to crime master's jack o' lantern. those two were so goated! an' so interesting! the mystery, the horror aspect, the tension between them an' their heroes ...

an' now. it's like another hero academy thing an' some teens hanging out. an' that's just not my vibe! this new jack is even less of a danger than owen, an' that dude already sucked between the two of us lol.

however, on a positive note, i can say that this panel made me cackle, when i saw it. an’ also made me headcanon, that the crime master’s jack would totally do smth like that an’ draw / write stuff for like idk, magneto an’ professor x, bc it's his otp or smth lol.

but seriously, this was actually pretty funny. even if as someone who used to see spidey figthing jacks, who were always older than him, now facing one who is a teen is trippy to me.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

sup :) out of curiosity, i googled jon and bruce's birthdates and discovered that they technically belong to different generations, with jon being a 'baby boomer' and bruce being 'gen x'. it's awfully funny to me to imagine (even though it's pure ooc) him saying "okay, boomer" to jon during some argument, for instance about technology, just to see his face

honestly, jonathan being a boomer even if a baby boomer, explains a lot lmao. an’ i imagine this why he had never used batman’s gadgets against him. he literally doesn’t know how.

my dude be like :

but honestly, characters who don't get technology all that well are my spiritual animal. i have a grandpa syndrome. it takes me an embarrassing amount of time to figure some tech stuff out, even tho i'm young an' supposed to know those things lol.

also funny enough, i headcanon that BTAS jon is very-very wary of 'way too smart technology'. an' he the kind of guy, who would have the oldest mobile phone in history as if to make a statment.

meanwhile, bruce is out there flexing his confusing futuristic gadgets left an' right.

as per usual, they are match made in heaven, haha.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

hi, how is it going? :)

something gave me an angst thought. although it sounds unlikely on the one hand, what if bruce and jon started living together and lived to a ripe old age, but bruce was diagnosed with an incurable disease? how would jon react to that? how quickly would he give up (and would he?), realizing he couldn't cure bruce?

i think bruce might have tried to hide his illness at first, believing he could find a solution, a cure somehow. what if he had kept his condition a secret from jon until the very end and finally confessed when he couldn't pretend everything was fine anymore, or if jon had seen the signs himself and directly asked bruce about it, what would it have been like?

hey there! i’m doin’ fine! picking at things slowly an’ wish for a spring to come. so sick of the cold outside, haha. either way, i hope, you are doin’ good as well! 

an’ oh, it’s funny that you said about those two in their old age. i actually, headcanon that in rare cases, where they both make it to this stage, they end up married. mostly bc they are both retired from their superhero an’ supervillain careers respectably, an’ also bc bruce is too old to really care about his public image *nor he technically needs to anymore* an’ jon who always had a rather odd view on marriage didn’t cave in until they were already both greyhaired old men, haha. but then again, i’m pretty sure, that inside crane’s mind they were pretty much married for years, just without rings an’ formal vows lol. 

but welp, i thought that it might be more suitable if i wrote a little smth in order to respond to this question! so be warned as one angsty ficlet comes this way.

༻❁༺

The truth was that Jonathan didn’t want to have this talk. 

In fact, he had wished — so-so desperately — that they would have never had it. That there would be no reason to, and that perhaps, in the end it turns out to be nothing of importance. That all this time, he was just worrying over some obscure, silly notion. 

For a bit, he even deluded himself into buying all of Bruce’s excuses. Pathetically wanting to believe that everything was fine, that he had no reason to feel on edge about those small, seemingly insignificant things. Yet, as if against his will and tiny beat of hope, his mind drifted and he disliked the places it picked to drift to. 

It all had started innocently enough, like most things do. 

And who could blame Crane for not seeing the pattern right off the bat, considering that neither he or Bruce were spring chickens anymore. If anything, Jonathan would argue that he somehow managed to be the more active one, despite being older than his spouse. 

But even then, deep down, he knew that he was partially choosing to avoid facing the uncomfortable facts.

And Bruce, oh his brave and considering darlin’ was just too great at lying. Always keeping a facade, just so that he could shield others from potential hurt. Even after everything, making sure that if he could hide upsetting things from Jon for as long as he could.

But yes, it did start small. 

‘Nothing happened, Jon. I’m just tired’, Bruce would say during the days, when he would go to bed earlier than usual and his tone, and his expression suggested nothing drastic. Just a slight deviation from their usual routine.

‘It’s an old scar acting up again. Don’t worry.’ he’d offer next, when lifting one of the boxes and shoving it into the attic proved to be difficult. 

And for awhile, Jonathan didn't comment on it much. He let himself be fooled.

Both of them bore certain reminders of their previous dangerous lifestyle. Both were understanding of it, sharing the same history and knowing all the ropes and most of all the costs, which came with leading double-lives. However, those occasions, far in-between as they occurred, had sparked a gleam of doubt inside Jon’s mind. People might have accused him of being insane and impulsive, but no one would ever accuse Jonathan of being inattentive. 

He was a smart, educated man, after all. And even if he still denied it, even if he still wanted to be wrong, so very-very badly, a part of him knew, that it wasn’t just Bruce feeling under the weather. It wasn’t just him slowly succumbing to downsides of old age. 

It was something much-much worse than that. And each passing day, it was only getting closer and closer. Until inevitably, Crane could hear gentle, yet unmistakable steps circling around their house, patiently waiting for the moment it would be let inside. Attempting to claim what Jon held so painfully dear. 

(Death had never asked to be let in. It just did.)

And this was why it had come to this. To them sitting opposite of each other inside the large living room; an old radio playing in the background and light spring breeze crawling though the open windows, yet not succeeding in making the atmosphere any less suffocating. 

Jonathan allowed himself a few long minutes to compose himself, to swallow down his nerves and anger and something else. A sort of feeling, that he had been accustomed to for the majority of his life, yet let one single man drive away, just for the sake of being together. 

So very romantic and poetic. 

(It was such a rotten irony, that even after all of it, Crane - hence, turned Wayne - still couldn’t have his classic happily ever after. Only happy for as long as it’s allowed.) 

“You wanted to talk with me about something, didn’t you?” Bruce asked, voice lower and more gruff than it used to be, but still charmingly pleasant in its delivery. 

“Yes, I…” Jon sucked in a deep breath, hands clasped at his bony laps so tightly, that he could feel a slight sting from his own nails, “I did want to talk to you about something.” 

And he hated that he had to do it and he hated, that they both knew what this discussion would be about. After nearly forty years together — half of which they spent fighting one another on opposite side of the law, — you learn to know another person so well that intentions are felt before words are voiced. 

“After all those years, I had assumed that you would stop doubting my intelligence, Bruce.” Jon began and it was hard. It was tortuous even. “But it seems like old habits do die hard, are they not, my dearest?” 

He pointedly stared down at his clenched hands, unable to actually face Bruce just yet. Both afraid and already annoyed at what he might see in his gaze and expression. Or maybe, at what he might not find there instead. 

“Ahh.” Bruce drawled out, calm and measured, as if he saw this coming for a long-long time. And knowing him, he most likely did. Probably, knew it before Jon had a chance to, “You know, then.” 

It wasn’t a question and this hurt too. The sheer fact, that it was openly confirmed. No ‘you got it all wrong’ throw-away line. Because he got it way too right, and isn't that just dandy? 

“Yes.” Crane forced out, pressing his lips together briefly, feeling bitterness filling his tone, “I had —” he swallowed again, attempting to sound collected, when his whole world was pretty much collapsing in real time, “I had my suspicions for a while and then, you had went to the doctor last week and told me nothin’ ‘bout it and I —” 

“Jon.” 

Jonathan’s posture tensed up more, wound up like a twig that was bent backwards too far and was about to snap at any moment now. He didn’t want to hear him say his name like this. With a gentle undertone, that was too understanding and a bit too serene for what was happening. 

(As if he had already accepted it, while Crane was yet to catch up with cruel reality.) 

Breath in, breath out. Repeat and repeat, so that the room will stop feeling like a tidy Arkham cell. Oppressive and isolated, “Just tell me, Bruce. When were you about to inform me that you…that you are…” he paused, trailing off, unable to even say the word, despite thinking it. But just like that anger comes. Sudden and explosive, hissed out in a way, he used to hiss curses at his Dark Knight all those years ago, “Or you were about to wait it out, until I’d be at your — at yer literal d-d-deathbed, and then you were about to tell me!? Is that it!? Think, I’m too old to figure this out on my own!? Think I'm a bloody idiot!?” 

He wanted to throw something. To rage and kick and scream. He wanted to dig his fingers into something, that could be hurt and not be him. He wanted more than anything in the world for this to not be true. Be a mere nightmare. The kind after which you feel immense relief, once you are awake. 

But seconds dragged by and the despair clawed at his insides with renewed urgency.

(As it was no nigthmare.)

“I’m sorry, Jonathan.” Bruce said finally, and there was a genuine sorrow in his voice. “I suppose, I —” he let out a low chuckle, the kind which made Jon’s throat close up on itself, “I just thought, I would have more time.” 

Stunted, Crane looked up at him. Eyes wide and expression stricken. Such a twisted mirror to Bruce’s sad smile and gentle, knowing eyes. 

“It’s true, then…” Jonathan muttered, gaze slowly leaving his lover and focusing on some middle distance instead. 

All noise seemed to be muted out and any resemblance of enjoyment, which might come on such a nice, sunny spring day ebbed away, like it was never there. Because it was true. 

His dear Bat was dying. 

༻❁༺

There were many things, that Crane wasn’t proud of. Some of them were smaller actions and lesser words. Some were simply reckless or influenced by whatever delusion he was under at that point of time, but what he was truly not proud of was his reaction to the news Bruce delivered to him two days ago. 

In short, he didn’t take it well. He stormed out after throwing a few angry words at his better half, and considering that he was too emotionally stung up, he couldn’t even remember what exactly he had said. But he knew, that it was something he would need to apologize for later. 

And as it goes, he holed up inside his home-lab. 

Bruce was kind enough to give Jon his own space, where he could continue his research and experiments. Hence, none of those were lethal or possibly harmful. It was more of an outlet, than anything else. 

Or rather, it was this for years now. 

Crane - yes, he still called himself that inside his own mind, at times - had published many papers and even given a few lectures, after his supposed return into sociality. None of his crimes were forgotten and none of his victims were discredited, but most of Gotham’s citizens must have thought that it was better if he remained ‘reformed’ and hung on the arm of local soft-hearted billionaire, than having him back in his costume, running around and spreading terror on the streets. 

Somehow, with time and a lot of reassurance from both Batman and Bruce Wayne — who were the same man, as he later found out — Jonathan was reluctantly accepted as the first living prove, that perpahs, even the worst of the worst could change for the better. As Wayne’s latest pet project by whatever means looked promising to say the least. 

Ha. 

What a good memories!

Seeing all those snobs grossed out, yet trying to play nice with him, because he managed to get in bed with Bruce Wayne. First, figuratively and then, quite literally. 

Not that many knew that last bit, but he supposed, that his open possessiveness of Bruce gave it away in one way or another. At least, the Bat’s little bird-brats sniffed it out embarrassingly quickly. And the reactions were various, even if not all of them were as explosive as someone might have pictured. 

There were some dumps in the road so to speak. Of course, there were. It wasn't like Jon suddenly became a different person and it wasn't like he didn't pretty much bully some of Batman's annoying helpers in the past.

But eventually, they had to make peace with the fact, that Crane was there to stay. And he had to make peace with the notion, that he had to kind of co-parent all of those meddling kids now, considering they weren't going anywhere either.

In some ways, it wasn’t too different from raising a flock of baby crows. But it was certainly more tricky and messy, when it came to navigating their emotions and silly needs, that they for some reason began dying to discuss with him, specifically. 

‘It’s your natural charm of a teacher,’ Bruce had jeered, having the nerve to have fun at his expense like that! Cheeky smile and all. 

Alfred had added his own teasing comment. Not as passive-aggressive as it used to be. But still slightly biting. And Jon had — 

He had a rather good time, all things considering. It was nice to be part of Batman’s world, where he didn’t have to go extra miles to get his attention. And it was rewarding to be able to study his expressions and see him smile. Be a reason why he’d smile.

He grow somewhat fond of the Bat's brats too. Some more, than the others. But it was rather calming. In a way, home should feel, he'd say.

Chaotic and annoying as it got sometimes, he wouldn't deny that something inside him, a broken, wounded thing, had gone quiter once he realized that he wasn't used or mocked for once.

(That he could just remain here. With Bruce.)

And even years and years after as he sat there in front of his latest formula and bunch of chemicals, that he technically wasn’t supposed to mix together, he had to wonder why it felt like he was back at square one, then. 

A lot of people had died during his lifetime. Enemies, both new and old. Random victims. Temporary allies. The different villains and the heroes, that he barely had a single conversation with, but had enough presence of mind to notice their absence. 

They all were long gone, and usually, he barely cared. Even when a couple of Batman’s little birds died, Jonathan couldn’t say that what he felt was grief. He'd argue that it was more ugly, than that. It was something parentally possessive, sure, but not born out of love for them. Instead it was anger, that someone took something important from Bruce again and they also took something that Jon grew to view as his own too.

In the end, it was always territorial for him and it had always tied up back to Batman foremost. Always. 

He used to live a solitude life, devoid of compassion and passion and care. And it was fine by him back then. Or at least, he was good at telling himself that. 

Then, there was Batman and after a while, there was nothing else, but him. 

The mere idea, that he was about to be separated from him by pristine wood of a coffin and layers of dirt — 

Crane had no idea how to even begin to cope with that. 

So, he refused to even entertain the thought. Readjusting his glass, and focusing on his work yet again. Ignoring the tremor in his hands, just like he ignored a slight sting in the corner of his eyes. 

There was still a way to cheat fate, he was sure.

༻❁༺

“I’m glad, that you are talking with me again.” 

Jonathan scoffed, lazily bouncing his foot as he moved slowly to and fro in his rocking chair, “What are you on about? I wasn’ — I was talkin’ to you for weeks!” 

It wasn’t like he could just wail and steep in his own misery for more than a few days. Finding his way back into his and Bruce’s shared bedroom every night to silently curl in his usual place next to sleeping Bat, trying to process the heaviness in his chest as he watched the other man rest. 

“No, I mean —” Bruce let out a sigh, “I’m glad, that we can talk like we used to.” 

Talk as if I’m not one foot in the grave, was what he was really saying. 

“Of course.” Jon replied, not breaking the rhythm of his rocking, yet feeling a familiar pang of irritation sizzling inside his tired, sleep-depraved brain, “You know, I can’t stay away from ya even if I tried.” 

He grew too addicted to Bruce’s company. There was not a single thing, that he didn’t grow to adore about him. For better or for worse, remaining hopelessly smitten with this man to his very bones even decades later.

“The weather is good today.” Bruce commented idly, watching the setting sun next to him. The porch was big enough to host not only Crane’s favorite rocking chair, but a cozy little bench too. He and Bruce took upon a habit of spending their time here on especially nice and windless days. 

A very typical and perhaps boring old people’s activity, but you’d grow to appreciate such things with age. He certainly did. It reminded him about the late evening in his youth. Back in Georgia, when he was sitting on the porch of his childhood home with a few books and muddy thoughts about the future. Imagining himself in place far away from here. A place, where he'd be safe from mean words of his peers and his parent's apathy.

A somewhat bitter-sweet kind of nostalgia, maybe, but once he angled his face to look at Bruce, watching his profile bask in reddish light, with his grey hair and aged features, he felt like he must have done at least something right in this life. 

“What are you doing in the attic?" 

Jon blinked, slowly and unbothered. He was expecting Bruce to bring it up at some point. The Bat was old, but he wasn’t any less keen. A worsened eyesight aside, he was never unaware about those things. 

“I’m…working.” Crane offered, outstretching his arm, letting it hang loosely from the armrest, “And I think, I’m onto something.” 

Bruce hummed. Not quite an acknowledgement of the elephant in the room, but a clear sign that he knew what it was about. And that he had — 

“You don’t believe me?” Jonathan asked, before he could help it. 

“I never said that.” 

“What is it, then?” it came out more bristly, than he wanted it to, “I thought, you wanted me to act like nothing happened.” 

“I had never said this, either.” Bruce reported back, still way too collected for Jonathan’s liking, “Don’t put words into my mouth.” 

This was ridiculous. Why was this their life now? 

“I won’t just give up, y’know.” he said to cut the chase short. There was no reason to beat around the bush, after all.

“Jon —” 

“No. No, Bruce. Jus' - jus' don’t ya start!” he snapped, turning his face away with a small sneer, “I won’t — I can’t give up. You can ask anything out of me. Just not that.” 

He had never dabbed into this specific field, when it came to chemicals. But surely with enough trials, he can create a goddamn miracle. He literally has no right not to. Not when so much was at stake. Not when everything else was useless, and certanly, not when they were running out of time.  

The doctor said, that Bruce only had one year left at best, and it was the most positive prostect. The most realistic one was six months. 

And six months was a hiliriously small amount of time, when you needed to make a vacine or medicine or — 

He flinched hard, when familiar fingers closed around his own, holding his hand with what could have been described as an attempt at support. But instead was another empty comfort, that made Crane feel like he was the one dying here. As if it was him, who was burning out from the inside, wasting away like an old candle. 

“We should go to the city tomorrow.” 

“What?” 

He wasn’t sure what disoriented him more the jarring change of the topic or the way Bruce’s gaze smoldered into something less thoughtful and more so, oddly melanholic.

“I need to deal with some unfinished business. Company’s documents and such.” 

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at him, bony fingers automatically coiling tiger around Bruce’s hand, “Why? Isn’t it — I thought, it was dealt with a long time ago. Damien is the head of the company now. He can —” 

“I still own a small share, and besides,” he winked at him, as if they were young again, or well, younger in Jon’s case, “I want to stroll down Gotham’s streets for an old time sake.” 

There was so many things unsaid in this one single sentance, that Jon had no idea what to do.

“Oh.” 

It was all that he could manage in the end. The sinking feeling inside his guts grew stronger and his mind reeled back to the times, when both of them would spend their nights chasing after each other. The battle of wit and fighting skills. The thrill of being on top of the world, even if just because everyone else looked so small and insignificant in comparison to their violent dance. 

Well, this was how it felt from his perspective, at least. Batman, for his part, always found time to worry about others and lecture Jonathan about his wicked ways on a peaceful day and drive a fist into his face on an ordinary one. 

And he had to admit, he missed it sometimes. Being this bold and daring, and positively scary. But then, he also missed all the things, that came a bit later on. The sort of dance, that you don’t do vertically and some other perks, that followed with it too.

“You will accompany me, right?” 

“Mm, I can' say why not.” Jon anwsered, giving him a lopsided grin, “We can even drop by Saint Louis and pay good ole Jerry a visit. I’m certain that he just might remember me this time!” 

"Really, Jon? You still insist on this?"

"Why not? It's not like anyone else visits him."

"I guess you're right, but seriously," Bruce laughed a little, shaking his head, “it were years, Jon. You need to stop terrorizing that man. He paid for his crimes." 

“You mean, he forgot all of his crimes! Dementia would do that to a man, I suppose.” well that and the amount of fear toxin that Crane had dozed him with after the bastard tried to literally lobotomize him that one time, “But the last time, he did call me Scarecrow!” 

“I'm pretty sure, he had called you a strawman.” 

"Ehh..." Jonathan flickered the wrist of his free hand in lazy dismission, “Close enough. I'm too old to be picky.” 

They fall into silence, which wasn't as comforting as it usually was. But it was given, that every moment will now be spoiled with knowlege of Bruce's condition.

Still —

“You really can’t let it go, huh?” 

“No.” he confirmed, still keeping Bruce’s hand entrapped within his, “Ya should have learned this a long time ago."

༻❁༺

If he had to pick his least favorite child out of Bruce’s little improvised collection of adopted misfits, it would have been this one. 

“Still look like an imposed in that suit, I see.” Jonathan commented dryly, without looking away from his notes. 

“Still think you can hurt my feelings, I see.” 

“Hardly.” Jon pressed one finger onto his nosebridge, driving his glasses further up his face, “I don’t think, that you have those to begin with, child.” 

There was a gruff scoff, the sounds which were eerily similar to his father. Even if it's a bit deeper. “It’s nice to see you too, old man.” 

Crane slowly turned around on his rolling chair, coming face to face with Damien Wayne, or as Gotham knew him as, the new Batman. 

It wasn’t like they didn’t see each other often, – Damien visited them frequently and somewhat consistently — but Jon was still marveled at how fast the boy grew. Or more so, how fastly he turned from an annoying little brat into an oversized, six foot tall one. 

It felt like he was glared at him from the other end of the table just yesterday, barely tall enough to reach Jon's chest, but already giving him and everybody - but Bruce - a lip. 

(It was as if every relatively bad trait that the original Bat ever had somehow gain a body of it's own.)

“If you are here for your weekly dose of heroic wisdom, I have to disappoint you. Your dad is —” 

“Asleep, I know.” 

In any other situation, this would have sounded comical. As Bruce never took daytime naps before. However, lately, he was getting tired faster and slept more than usual. The painkillers and medicine made him sluggish and as much as Bruce tried to downplay it, Jonathan knew that he was feeling worse than he did before. 

Yet, they still didn’t directly address it. 

Crane preferred to spend all the valuable time inside his lab, trying to find a way to fix this. Win just a bit more time against all the odds. 

And Bruce, well, he most likely just didn't bring it up for his sake. Daring to be so caring and patient, even when he was the one suffering.

“I see. Are you here for me, then?” he asked, when it became clear that Damien won’t speak out of turn, “If so, I can’t phantom why.” 

“Just checking on you. Is it not allowed now?” 

Crane couldn’t help, but smirk crookedly at that. “Y’know, this is what he used to tell me, when he would pay me a visit in Arkham. Those exact words.” 

Jonathan knew this whole song and dance by heart. Knew what intentions were there behind a rather polite, even if vague sentence. 

“And I’ll tell you what I told him. Time an’ time again…” his accent got more noticeable, but nowadays, he sometimes didn’t even notice it anymore, “There is no reason for ya to ask after me. I’m as right as rain.”

Damien tilted his head a bit to the side, gaze trailing off him and skipping alongside Jon’s working table instead. “When was the last time you slept or ate?” 

Well, this one was easy enough. “I had dinner with you father this evening. It was lovely.” 

A sigh. Barely a noise at all.

(And this was just like his father too.)

“Crane. It was yesterday.” 

Damien’s voice wasn’t accusing, if anything it was a somewhat soft thing. Understanding and way more gentle, than usual.

Anf for his part, Jonathan didn’t know how to stomach it, so he put his chin onto his palm, watching the other impassively, “It’s Wayne now. I reckon it was so for years. Have you forgotten?” 

He was hesitant at first, but eventually he took Bruce’s surname. Partially, because it was easy on the tongue. And also because Bruce Crane sounded like a mouthful, while Jonathan Wayne sounded nearly pristine. And as Jason once pointed out, it made more sense too, since Jon was the ‘woman’ in this relationship, anyways. And ah, he remembered giving the brat an earful for that. 

What he and Bruce did in the bedroom was no one’s business. Even if literally everyone and their mother seemed to know all about it, and all about who was the dominant one in their strange ‘duet’ on top of it.

He supposed in some ways, it was given and it wasn’t untrue, either. But —

“Dad still calls you this too sometimes.” Damien shrugged, “It’s like your family nickname at this point.” 

“Touche. But it doesn't explain why you are here.” he rubbed his face, attempting to focus on conversation at hand and not on another hit of nostalgia for the times, when things seemed to be less loaded, ironically enough, “If you want my input on something, then it will have to wait. I have a lot of work to do.” 

If Damien was anyone else, they might have shot him a pitying look. But this man was built differently, even if he was raised by Bruce. 

When he spoke next, his voice was even, if there were some underlying emotions roped into it too, “You need to stop doing this.” 

“Hm, stop doing what, my boy? Be more detailed here. What exactly you want from me, hm? Stop skipping meals and staying till dawn?” Jon jeered, even with a more noticeable amount of agitation. 

“Jonathan, you can’t —” 

“LIKE HELL I CAN’T!” he slammed his fist onto the table making it rattle. “Don’ come ‘ere an’ tell me what I can an’ can’t do! I’ll do what I damn please! I had brought the likes of Superman onto their knees! I had made a toxin strong enough to make the whole Gotham almost lose its mind! Ya can’t — y-ya can’ jus' tell me that —” he voice broke, pathetically and suddenly so, “...y-ya can’t tell me that I can’t save him, godammit! Ya — ya have no damn right to tell me that, you insufferable brat! Ya jus' don't!” 

He had done things, which would have given the less wicked soul a power trip. He had fought different kinds of enemies. He had made different alliances. Some of which were made with creatures, who weren’t even humans. And yet, once he had to face the foe of all living things, the one true reincarnation of all fears, he felt impossibly small. Borderline hopeless. 

The more time, Jonathan spent with Bruce lately, the more noticeably he could feel it. Under the smell of medicamentions and cool breeze, there was something else too. 

“I don’t want him to die, either.” 

Jonathan angled his frame away from the pointy eared shadow, clenching his jaw with stubborn resolve, “Then, stop thinkin’ about him kickin’ the bucket and instead do something about it.” 

“He told me not to.” 

The whole world seemed to dim out for a second. Jonathan could hear his own voice, but he couldn’t feel his mouth, “What…?” 

“He said, that it was —” Damien’s expression, as limited as it is in this modern mask of his, still betrayed hesitation, and perhaps, something even deeper and more troubled than that, “That he’s alright with it.” 

He didn't mean to bark out a laugher. He really didn't. But it came out. Dry and misarable and enraged. Because of course, of course, he'd say a nonsense like that.

And to his own bilological child, no less.

“Well, I’m not.” Jon said to both himself and Damien. To the world at large, it seemed.

The second Bat offered no comment to that, but he didn’t leave right away, either. Instead, he remained close by, watching and straying in the shadow.

Truly, a bitter-sweet reminded of all the holy and dear ghosts.

༻❁༺

Among everything else, another rather uncomfortable truth was the madness had never quite left Jonathan. 

He was never actually cured or pardoned from it. He wasn’t a changed person, at the end of the day. Even if he did let one single man change how he went about it. 

There was a rather cruel irony to everything in his life. 

His existence was always marked to be a miserable one. Looking the way he did. Acting the way he was. And desiring things, which back in his time would have put him into a specialized institution, even before he decided to use his talents in chemistry for questionable purposes. 

But where the tragedy struck, the real treasure that he got always shone the brightest. And not just in comparison, but amiss everything. Batman was more than a symbol of justice. He was a symbol of hope. And to see this very man not expanding the same courtesy toward himself — 

Well, it was very in character. Even if it didn’t make this any less frustrating. 

“You ought to tell him, that this is getting ridiculous.” Jonathan complained, making sure to tuck the blanket with the presentation of a trained nurse, “Anywhere I turn, he’s right there!” 

Bruce smiled at him, looking thinner and paler than usual, but somehow still radiating warmth, that Jon grew so accustomed to over the years, “He’s just looking out for you.” 

“Yes, well, I didn’t ask him to.” 

Lately, Damien was hanging around the mansion with more persistence, than he did before. And if Jonathan didn’t know better, he’d decide that the brat just wanted to give him a heart attack by taking upon the habit of appearing out of thin air. 

But there was more to that. Of course, there was. 

In short, Damien was now pretty much babysitting him. Forcing Jon to eat two times a day and dragging him out to ‘fresh air’, when it was apparent that otherwise, he would just stay indoors for weeks to come. 

And this was almost funny. As Crane had no reason to go outside any more. Bruce was bedridden for nearly a month now. Making Jon paranoid to leave the house, fearing that he might not be there when he would be needed. 

“Ya had asked him to do that, didn’t ya?” 

Bruce didn’t deny it. There was no reason to. 

"I can't say, that I told me to do all of that. But I talked with him, and I wanted someone to be there for you, when I —”

“You won’t.” Crane cut him out, refusing to listen to this garbage any futher, “Not before I do, at least.” 

“Didn’t you tell me, that you refuse to die, before Jeremiah Arkham would die first?” 

“Yes, and I will keep my word. There is no way, I would bite the dust before that demented charlatan!" 

It didn’t matter that Jerry’s brain was basically dead at this point, and couldn’t really remember the beef they used to have. But Jon still went and paid him the rare visits. Mostly to gloat, but also he might have felt a bit sentimental too. 

A lot of people, who he and Bruce used to know were long gone. A lot of them had died before their time too. Meanwhile, Crane and Arkham were still clinging to life, basically eldritch in comparison to Gotham’s newest bunch of Rogues and unethical doctors. 

And speaking of those, “Damien told me, that there is some kind of…fanat of mine which is…” Jonathan cringed, recalling the brat's exact words, “...got inspiration from me an’ now goes around and scares people with some kind of holograms and synthetic gas.” 

Bruce’s light smile widened a bit, his eyes crinkled as if they were talking about something somewhat endearing, “How dreadful.” 

“It is.” Crane agreed, “He doesn’t understand the art of fear at all!” 

“And he killed at least twenty people by now.” 

They both turned to see Barbara Gordon standing in the doorway. She was out of her police commissioner uniform, but somehow still managed to hold the air of non-violent authority. A true Gordon though and though.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Barbara smiled way less than she used to, when she was younger, but she always made sure to save her warmest expression for the small family, she still had. Bruce was basically like a second father to her at this point. “Hello, Bruce. Hello, Jon.” 

“Hello, child.” he greeted back, still perching on the edge of bed right next to Bruce’s side, “I thought, you come later today.”

A lot of Bruce’s friends and children - sometimes even the children of said children - had come around to chat with them. But mostly with the old Bat. And even if they all acted like it wasn’t anything special, and as if this was just a normal exchange, Crane felt that it wasn’t the case. 

It was pretty clear, that they weren't there to merely see Bruce. They were there to say their goodbyes in case they won’t have another chance later on.

And it stinged more, than anything else. Just how everyone were already accepting Bruce’s death like something, that was unpreventable. 

(The open knowledge, that the world was already moving on. As if it had any right to do so.)

He kind of missed most of the conversation, barely paying any mind to anything, but the tone and tenor of Bruce’s voice, but almost unable to focus on the words itself. 

And it was like that a lot lately. Jonathan’s mind will begin to drift. And then, suddenly he will find himself in the middle of something he had no memory of doing. 

It was as if an invisible hand had flipped a switch inside his head, and things got misplaced and discussions were bleeding into one another and he had no control over any of it. 

In the worst scenario, this could have been the beginning of his cognitive function declining. It could have been an early sign that he just might spend the last two to three years of his life being no better than Arkham, and struggle to recall even the simplest of things. 

But it was so similar to the state, that he used to be in, when he was the sinister Scarecrow. When his mind was working in ways it only did, when he was next to the chemicals and had a very wicked idea that inspired him beyond any measure. 

He supposed an attempt to find a key to possible immortality fit very perfectly into that category. Even if Jon would have argued that this was the most good thing he had ever attempted to do in his entire lifespan. 

It was no secret, that Crane was always careless, when it came to the fates of others. He could fairly easily swallow the notion, that came with deaths he had caused or witnessed over the years. 

But this — 

If there was a life worth saving, using every possible trick in a book, it was Bruce’s. 

He merely wished, that he just knew how to use those cheats without risk of killing him, before the disease did. And the time —

It was no longer the resource he could nourish naturally. 

But considering, that Bruce was yet to call him out on how funny his food tasted sometimes and how while he had more energy lately, he also got headaches, perhaps there was still a small chance that Jon would do something impossible. 

Maybe, just maybe, he could drawl it out for as long as he himself was alive.

༻❁༺

Some might say that Crane was delusional. That he crossed the line, which separated a desperate man and lunatic around two months ago. As the rats he had experimented on stayed dead. The formula that he tried to create wasn’t any closer to perfection, than it was before and newer chemical burns on his fingers had barely made him react anymore.

And it also seemed like Bruce, who he hoped didn’t know about 'strange' ingredient that nowadays was added to his drinks and food, had decided that enough was enough. And today was the day, when he acknowledged it for the first time. 

“So you were just humoring me, then?” Jonathan asked, keeping his voice even, “You didn’t actually believed, that you get better on your own.”

“Jon, we both know, that it’s useless." 

“Useless? What do you mean useless!?" he protested, gesturing wildly between them, “This formula stalls it! it does somethin’ right, Bruce! If we only —” 

“You think I didn’t try all I could before?” for once, Bruce didn’t look sad or calm or melancholic, he looked very-very tired. Like a man who done impossible for years and then, finally ran into challenge that he couldn't overcome, “I spent a whole year attempting to find a cure. I had thought, that maybe there was something I’ve missed.” 

Crane’s jaw compressed shut, quivering slightly, before the words pushed out, angry and stuborn, “There still can be something.” 

Bruce shook his head slowly, “No, Jonathan. This time, I’m afraid, that’s...that's just it.” 

“You don’t sound too damn upset about it.” 

Maybe, it was unfair to accuse a dying man of such a thing. But Jon didn’t care. Standing next to their bed and watching Bruce being so disgustingly okay with all of this — 

“What do you want me to do?” it was a genuine question, calm and patient, “To spend my last month scared of what to come? I would rather you remember me in a different way, Jon.” 

Oh, for god's — 

“I don’t want to remember ya! I want ya to stay, you absolute fool!”  

What was he doing wrong? Surely there was something that he could do, if he only tried harder. If only he could surpass his own ability and then —

Then, he wouldn’t have to even entertain the idea, that sooner than later Bruce will no longer be there. That he wouldn’t be able to talk to him or even look at him. That all he would have would be a memory.

“I want that too.” 

Jon sucked in an ugly breath, feeling his lungs collapsing on itself as the annoying sting in the corner of his eyes began to make itself known. He lost count of how many times, he spent hours pathetically weeping over yet another set back or failed result. 

He didn't think that he had ever cried so much since his youth. 

And golly, would he have given his soul up to the devil itself, if only he could cry over some stupid bully again, rather than crying over the fact, that he was losing the only truly good and important thing in his wretched life. 

“It’s not like I want to die.” Bruce continued, or perpahs confessed, “I think...sometimes, back then, when it was getting bad, when I felt too tired, I didn’t mind the thought of it. It sounded peaceful. And I also thought, that perhaps I was better off this way. It seemed like no matter what I did, the tide would shift and if I beat one enemy, the other one would take their place. It felt like I could never win. Like I was in an open sea, and there was no shore in sight.” 

Jon shifted his footing. 

It wasn’t like hearing this was new. He had seen Bruce at his lowest, both as his enemy and then, as his lover. But it never got easier to know, that even someone like Batman had come very close to the literal end of his rope. 

He didn’t help it, either. Crane was self-aware enough to admit, that he was one of the people who had their hand in Dark Knight's torment. However, he had never crossed certain unspoken boundaries and had rarely aimed to actually kill, rather than wound. 

Looking back at it, he came to realize that some of it was him attempting to express his love as well. As horrible and messed up as it was, till a certain point, he completely lacked a frame of reference of how those things worked. Bruce had to pretty much teach him about that whole ‘romance’ thing. A subject, that he read so much about, but had zero idea how to reenact.

He had no idea what to do here, either. What else he could do, besides slowly slicking closer to the bed and hope against it all to somehow make Bruce attempt to do the impossible with him.

“You feel like you can’t win here too?” 

The other man gave it a thought, before humming softly, “I think that it’s not as scary as it sounds, when you know that you have a lot of things to look behind on and feel that it mattered. It’s way scarier to die alone. To not have anything that you wanted to live for.” 

“Very poetic, darlin’...” Jon spat out, “And what I’m supposed to do with all of this, when you are gone? T-to reflect on the good times?” 

“I would have liked it, if you did.” 

Crane let out a bitter cackle, “You are impossible. Absolutely impossible.” 

“And here I thought, you find this charming.” 

“Oh yes, I do. C-charmin’ indeed…” Jon sniffed, angrily whipping his right eye with his sleeve, “And what the hell would I do, when you take all of your charm away, hm? When I will have to w-wake up an' - and...” 

(You won't be next to me anymore.)

Life without Batman was a scary prospect before they even came to be together. And now, the idea of Bruce going away somewhere he couldn’t ever hope to follow, this was enough to steal any reassurance in the ground under his feet. 

“You won’t be alone. Damien will be with you.” Bruce tilted his head a little, the sunlight catching in his grey hair, illuminating his expression in gentle narely angelic hue, “He’ll keep you company in my absence." 

“Yer absence…” Jon muttered with twisting and quivering lips. Heart sinking into his very guts. "W-what a gentle way to put it."

It was supposed to sound reassuring, to give him some sort of comfort, but it all felt so hollow. It seemed like even after so many decades Crane was never able to fully show just how much his Bat meant to him. 

"It's be alright." Bruce said in a voice of someone, who had to bury a lot of people he had loved, and who had been able to live with it. Who knew that specific pain like the back of his own hand, and refused to give up. "Each time, when you think that it's the end. The new day will still come."

“It’s not the s-s-same.” 

Nothing will ever be the same after that. 

And Crane didn’t trust himself enough to not go completely mad with grief and not to dig Bruce's body out later. It felt blasphemous to just accept this in any way. That the death will finally claim Batman after so many times, he had managed to narrowly escape its grasp. 

Perhaps, it was a blessing on its own. That Bruce didn't end up dying a way worse death. That he could at least, die inside Wayne's manor. In their bed. But it did nothing for Crane.

For a man, who still couldn't accept this.

“Come here, Jon.” 

He shook his head stubbornly.

A beat of silence, and then quiter, “Please?” 

His lips thined in pained, woobly line, but despite the denial and despite the anger, Jonathan’s feet moved as if on their own. He slowly crawled onto the bed, right into the waiting embrace. His own hands wrapped around Bruce’s arm, as he pressed his shamefully tear-striken face into his chest. 

He knew, that he should be the one trying to be supporting and comforting, but somehow, the Bat always knew how to act and what to do in such situations.

“I can’t promise you something, that we both know won’t happen.” Bruce’s hand rested on the nape of his neck, “But I can promise to try and stay as long as I can.” 

Jonathan made a muffled noise, not having it in him to look at him yet. It was a slight relief, that Bruce basically agreed on continuing taking the medicine Crane made for him, but it was a temporary solution. 

It was only slowing the process down, but not getting rid of it. 

“You have to promise something back to me, though.” 

He shifted, blinking away the tears. He hated crying and he never looked good, while doing it, “I can’t promise you something, that we both know won’t happen, either.”

“Well, then it seems like we have our final stalemate., professor” 

“Yeah…” Jon pressed closer to him, listening to Bruce’s heartbeat, clinging to him with resoluteness of a man, who still delusionally believed like his love might ward the death away from his Knight for one last time. “Seems like we do, Bat-fool.” 

[oxalees]

я хочу обійматись поки я не пропахнусь тобою💓

i wanna hug you 'til i smell like you

there is no official eng translation for this song, so if anyone wanted to know the lyrics, here's my translation (without rhyme)

[oxalees]

you're drown' in my tears again

full below

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

An idea that I have is the different variations of Scarecrow reacting to Batman who is secretly a villain, like the comic verse, Arkhamverse, and the BTAS series, would they be shocked that their Batsy is a villain? Would they feel betrayed in a way?

honestly, that’s downright ‘top ten anime betrayals’ stuff right, haha. i feel like all cranes would be shaken up by this, even if in different ways. there is just no way for graceful damage control here. 

BTAS crane prob will take the news with the most ‘dignity’, which doesn’t mean much, bc he still would act like a crazy person about it. but i love to imagine, that from his perspective this revelation would be most of all humiliating, bc he had never pegged batman for a two-faced liar, despite how he would have assumed such a thing about literally ANYBODY else. BTAS crane strikes me as a very-very cynical man, even more so than arkhamverse or comic one. he doesn’t expect anything good from people ever an’ constantly doubts someone’s good intentions, since he thinks that no sane person would do anything just out of ‘purity’ of their heart. but he was fooled to somehow make an exception with batman, despite how he should have known better than that. for him that's devastating on a personal level, bc as they say ‘once bitten, twice shy’, yet here he was. truly thinking that there can be an actually good man out there, who was trying to do the ‘right’ thing no matter how silly it sounds. besides, batman ‘coming out’ as a villain would have made him a direct rival to scarecrow’s title of ‘evil does who operates via fear tactics’. i mean, jon always sees batman as a rival to some degree, but now, it’s like in ‘open’. now everyone would also see them as rivals too an’ it can get messy pretty fast. however, BTAS jon would also be the first one to offer batman a partnership, since he’s still more calculated in that regard. an’ technically speaking, batman has no reason to turn him down on that. so in other words, BTAS jon will have a bruised ego an’ be latently upset about shattered belief that ‘the bat was actually a good guy’, but he would swallow it easier, than the other two versions of him. after all, if there is a chance to capitalize on batman’s dark side, why not take an opportunity to do just that? 

now, in comparison to this ‘oh well, this happens’ approach of BTAS jonathan, comicverse!crane will be openly  heartbroken, that not only he too, didn’t see this coming, but also bc he idealized batman inside his own mind for quite awhile at that point. for him, the bat is a symbol of hope too. even if he’s not always actively aware of it or wants to recognize it. an’ not only that, but this also puts into question how much of batman’s sympathy toward him was legitimate an’ genuine an’ how much of it was a well-crafted facade. for comicverse!jon who was never actually cared for or even was pitied by others, this would be horrifying an’ also despair inducing. bc surely the bat cared … just a little, right? not to mention, that bruce / batman always feels like a low-key ‘prince charming’ inside crane’s brain. someone who is brave, uncorrupted an’ pure of heart. so to have this illusion broken would be painful for him. poor guy can’t even have his fantasy man now, haha. an’ unlike BTAS crane, comicverse!jon would need more time to ‘come around’ an’ actually also see this perhaps, an opportunity rather than a personal tragedy. they are now on the same ‘side’ after all, so maybe there is a way to salvage it. well, kind of. i think, he won’t ever trust batman again an’ would also be rather wary of any ‘good’ or ‘nice’ gesture he does, but he might attempt to see some usage in it, even if simply bc he’s still desperate for batman’s attention. doesn’t mean that he will ever forgive batman for playing him like that, though. if anything, he will hold that grudge like priest holds the bible.

an’ lastly, we get to arkhamverse!scarecrow, the most scornful an’ vengeance driven of the three. the sort of jonathan, who pretty much used his obsession with the bat as a noose to hang them both. a man, who took the ‘failed rescue’ attempt so close to the heart, that he made a lot of people suffer simply bc they were somehow connected to the bat. i swear, arkham knight honestly don’t make a lot of sense narrative wise unless you look at it though a scarebat coded prism. so with this in mind, i doubt that the revelation of batman actually being a villain all along an’ most likely manipulating events to his own liking … well, that's one sick burn, let’s put it this way. for jonathan to realize that he might have been a mere ‘pawn’ in the bat’s long mindgame is even worse, than being ‘abandoned’ by him. it’s like getting hit with the idea that scarecrow never mattered to him at all, besides being a ‘useful’ little tool, who was disposed of after he did what was ‘needed’ from him. there is just no way, that arkhamverse!crane will make any amends. there is no way for him to do anything else, than to go to an even deeper end. i swear, he will find a way to either somehow nuke whole of gotham *with him an’ bats in it too* or he will end up killing them both. you don’t just play with this jon’s heart an’ survive it. don’t just give him some nice fantasy an’ get scout free after you break it. there is no scenario where this will go well for anyone involved. least of all for scarecrow an' batman themselves. i'm forever facinated that out of everyone, it's jon who make a plan so simple to a degree, yet so scaringly effective, that it end up finishing both of his an' batman's careers so to speak.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

hiii, have you ever wondered what fruit or vegetable jon might be? and what bruce might be? how well they could combine and would batcrow make a good (maybe even tasty) smoothie?

‘ello! an’ i can’t say that i did, but my first instinct is to say that jonathan would be a garlic. or at least some version of him be that, an’ some other can be a carrot. bc well … carrots are very cute to me! so it can be one or the other. as for bruce, he’s very much an apple in my eyes! an apples can be either sour or sweet *just like bruce lol* an’ i constantly think about how he is essentially jon’s ‘forbidden fruit’ in a way. regardless if we look at this as crane pinning after the bat, who is his enemy or has his eyes set on oddly empathic billionaire, who is way-way out of his league. not to mention, that apple’s seeds contain a small dose of cyanide, which i always find fascinating. also funny enough both garlic & carrot can be mixed or used in the same dish as apple. not so sure about smoothie, tho lol. 

but now, i’m curious what sort of veggie or fruit you see them as. i imagine, that your an’ some other people might be very different to mine, haha. 

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

Hello :3 I wonder how if both Batsy and Scarecrow were on the same side, how would that dynamic play out, good or evil. Or if their roles were reversed, I wonder how Scarecrow would be a hero

heya! it’s lovely to see you drop by! an’ hmm, let’s see. i imagine, there are quite a few possible scenarios, regarding how it might work. an’ i suppose, i’ll begin with a ‘simplier’ one. 

aka jon’s not all that secret wet dream, basically. a little something that i call ‘batcrow region of terror’. in this set up, bruce is well … a supervillain. i think, that since he will technically possess all of bruce’s typical knowledge / skills, it'll be very easy for him to be pretty much on top of the criminal hierarchy in gotham. more so, considering his riches an’ his well-known public status, he will always get away scot free with whatever he’s doing. even if some people suspect that notorious batman is in fact, gotham’s sweetheart bruce wayne, it’s not like they can prove it. or perhaps, even live long enough to do it *since i imagine, that he won’t be above straight up murder in this scenario* so no arkham or jailtime for him. in short, he’s a very dangerous man to deal with. an’ if he happen to not like you *insert the name of any fellow gotham rogue* welp, let’s just say, there is one more missing person case, out there. this alone had discouraged quite a few villains to not only mess with him, but doing any serious business with him too. but not jon lol. oh no, jonathan was instantly fascinated with someone who controls his whole image an’ crime record with all sorts of fear tactics an’ presence of mysticism. an’ to his luck, the fascination seemed to be reciprocated, as bruce took a noticeable interest in crane’s work. interest so bold in fact, that he was very much glad to fund whatever research jon wanted to do, including the most unethical of his experiments. with the only condition, that he will be able to get updates on each step an’ also be able to use it for his own purposes. naturally, this symbiotic working relationships later on grow in odd sort of companionship, bc they understand one another a bit too well. an’ also they are evil in exactly the same way, pretty much. so romance is soon to bloom an’ crane is head over the heels, living his best *if we don’t consider, that he’s completely insane at this point* life with his big bad bat, who enables all of his worst impulses an’ who also feeds off them himself. an’ all things considering this isn’t even close to the worst case scenario for them. but it is surely one of the worst case scenarios for gotham, which is now constantly getting dosed with fear toxin an’ batman is out there making everyone piss their pants, bc like jon he deeply enjoys terrorizing people. both citizens an’ criminals alike. so overall, i think, that in this scenario scarecrow almost acts as batman’s right-hand man an’ they are scaringly in sync, when it comes to their goals. not to mention, that bruce’s money will constantly save jon’s scrawny ass from jail / arkham too, so they will be a huge pain in the ass for whatever hero, who will decide to try an’ challenge them. 

but alright now, let’s move on to a set up, where jonathan is a ‘good guy’ instead. even if i call him that with a very tongue-in-a-cheek way. as honestly, i don’t think that crane can ever be what one might call a good person. mostly bc the very core of his personality is that despite being sensitive an’ wounded, he’s also a scientist an’ the driven force behind science will always be reaching results no matter the cost. that’s just how it is. however, i can picture a version of jon who might not want to cross certain lines, be it due to how he was actually horrified with consequences himself *this happened in canon too btw* or bc he wants to remain in batman’s good graces. either way, my favorite type of set up where crane is on the same side as bruce be a timeline, where jon is very-very close to actually making that ‘leap’ an’ becoming the scarecrow, but the only thing that holds him back is that batman *during his early years* had asked for his assistance, both with chemicals an’ also as someone, who might give him a valuable input on some of the criminals as a psychiatrist. in other words, jon is still very much mentally ill, but the only good thing that had ever happened to him, the only meaningful connection that he has is sorta gluing his brain together just enough to remain on somewhat neutral grounds. an’ ironically, that’s something that the bat can vouch for too, since crane’s presence does make things a tiny bit easier. even if i feel like bruce might get more intense about monitoring jon after harvey gets turned into two-face. after all, there is always something wicked an’ dark lurking inside jonathan’s mind. it’s not like bruce isn’t unaware of its existence. he’s hyperaware about it as anything, an’ this makes them very codependent on one another, even more so, than in the first scenario. i also love the idea of basically the same dynamic, but where jonathan actually used to be a villain an’ got ‘rehabilitated’ or more so, the bat decided to drag his sociopathic ass to the path of ‘redemption’ all due to power of love, an’ from the side it looks like when someone tries to give their twisting an’ hissing cat a bath, rather than jon actively attempting to better himself. but hey, baby steps. according to bruce, scarecrow not killing people is already a big step into the right direction. an’ according to jon, the things that he do for love are also the things that keep him out of arkham an’ spared from the bat’s disappointment. besides he had already murdered all of his bullies, so no unfinished business left there lol. 

[rubs chin thoughtfully] honestly, those two would have worked very organically if they happened to be on the same side, whichever they are both evil or not in those set ups. 

an’ last, but not the least the role swap AU … or the closest that i can picture to it is that jonathan is still an asshole, but a noble one, perhaps. maybe, this time around he put on a mask to protect those, who live in fear, bc he himself lived like that. meanwhile, bruce is an isolated aristocrat, who after death of his parents *yeah, they still die here lol* took upon a very nihilistic worldview an’ he doesn’t see gotham as anything, but a filth ridden city, that didn’t deserve saving. i imagine that his villainous actions are heinous exactly bc he’s very much like owl-man an’ he’s apathetic toward people to a degree, where he can organize or simply watch unbothered as awful things happening to them, all for the sake of control an’ edging off the boredom. he rarely gets his own hands dirty as well, preferring to observe or intimidate someone by simply pin pointing their weak points for them. basically, picture bruce wayne, but with almost zero empathy. however as a plot twist, he’s still seen by city as a hero. it’s all about manipulating people’s perception an’ about putting behind bars some of the people, who get into his way. an’ he goes like that for awhile, fully unchallenged. until one little strawman decides to insert himself into his business. an’ i think, at first batman finds himself kinda amused by jonathan. he doesn’t think much of him. after all, what this old twink in tattered costume can do? but jon proves to be oddly capable with time, beginning to slowly chip away at bruce’s underground empire an’ also slightly threatening his good publicity. an’ we can’t have that. so they clash at one point, an’ jon takes batman by surprise as he dose him with fear toxin *his last measure weapon* an’ well, for the first time in decades the bat got scared an’ humiliated, brought down to a simple man level. an’ if it wasn’t personal before, after that it surely is now. to a certain degree, i think that their situation be : jon who is psychiatrist in arkham *so that he can try to help the criminals in that way too* puts on a mask at night an’ attempts to do more than that, while having limited resources vs batman who has all the resources, all the leverages, but who is amused by crane’s little self-righteous crusade just enough to let him keep going … bc in the end, just like owl-man, bruce doesn’t truly care if he wins or not. an’ he also thinks, that it’s funny how crane still keeps trying to do the good thing, even if the majority of the city sees him as a weird little psycho. the sheer fact, that in this universe gordon is a corrupt cop an’ takes orders from bruce doesn’t help to make crane look better in the public eye. besides, it’s so much easier to sympathize with someone who looks like batman an’ who makes sure that everyone only sees the ‘best’ of him vs jonathan, whose methods aren’t all that heroic to begin with, but who want to do the ‘right’ thing. an’ oh, scarecrow will still simp for batman lmao. so this prob also makes some things harder, an’ not just a thing inside his pants, haha. bruce is more flirty here too, i think as he catches on jon’s ‘little crush’ fairly easily, but he entertains this as well. he thinks jonathan is kinda cute in that sorta old closet broom way. also jon threatens bruce with therapy an’ psychoanalyse, by proxy are batman’s one true main arc-enemies in any given universe, so yeah. they would have a lot of fun. 

aside from that, i imagine, that batman’s suit would look a bit different in this timeline. the ears of his mask are more like horns an’ slightly different color scheme. while jon would look kinda the same, bc he's still broke as hell lol. i mean who needs clothes an' food, anyways, when you can buy books an' stay poor forever. even if i think, that ironically enough, in this version bruce can become crane's 'sugar daddy' almost, esp since he knows that scarecrow is crane, but crane has no idea that batman is bruce. as you can see jonathan isn't super good at his superhero job bc he still doesn't care who is hidden behind the mask lol

so like ........ uh. smth smth ... kinda like that, haha. bruce is a total edgelord in this universe. the big bad king of crime in gotham.

p.s sorry for the long wait, but as someone who is clearly complitely normal about scarebat, i just had to quickly scketh this version of them, haha.

[oxalees]

*affectionate*

[oxalees]

i like to think that in pre aa when bruce visits arkham to check on things, he never forgets to leave a little hello to his good doctor (as always, with his silent steps hehe)

[oxalees]

he unwrapped his present at last 🤭

for those who have no idea what this was about

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

Hey, hope you're doing well :3 I recently saw your post with different Scarecrow costume designs and your take on them, and I was wondering if you'd seen his unmasked appearance in Fear State? I was so happy to learn that they based his look on BTAS, and he looks sooo good in that art style! What do you think of this?

Also, don't know if anyone's asked this before, but... Jon with glasses or Jon without glasses?

howdy there! an’ oh, i’m fine, i’m promise. i was in a bit of a creative crisis so to speak an’ then, some stuff happened irl, so i’m a tad emotionally burntout atm, unfortunately. an’ also work is hell during holiday seasons an’ some nights i just sit down an’ watch youtube videos cuz my brain can’t focus. but either way, it’s so very sweet of ya to drop by. i know, that i’ve been slow with my internet an’ creative activities as of late, but i’ma still around, haha. 

an’ ah, yes, i seen it! it was one of those things, that actually made me crack a smile, when it came to the fear state. i love this callback to BTAS an’ generally, redhead jonathan crane is just shall be a standart, haha. more so, it also instantly lets you know how many people loved the animated series back in the day, if they are ecstatic an' nostalgic about those little details. i know i am, haha. i merely wish, that the comic was more focused on jon an’ batman vs whatever the hell that was. bc once again, they bring up smth that hints at the BTAS originals, but not use it all that much. just teasin’ an’ tauntin’. [sigh] an’ it had started so good too ... but hey, at least we see jon unmasked for more than two panels, so that’s a small win too, i suppose. an' also it was interesting to see him as uni student. we got glimpse at him during that era in different comics, but never in this BTAS based version. the novelty isn't lost on me.

as for the other question, i wasn’t asked this before an’ oh, that’s a fun one too! but well, i hc that different versions of jonathan can have either a rather poor eyesight or actually don’t need glasses at all, unless it maybe a reading ones. so for me, it’s both! i love him both with glasses an’ without them! some jons are meant to wear those, haha.

i mean, comicverse an’ arkhamverse cranes look really great in glasses. an’ i imagine, that they actually need those. i also love how nerdy the shape of his specs are, this fits him so well lol. not to mention, that in arkhamverse case, it really adds a certain layer of arrogance to crane. he just feels like the type, who stars at everyone down his nose. i mean, look at him lol. he’s such a prick. *i'm saying it fondly, of course* esp next to comicverse jonathan who is just an angry, sad stick-person. yet. they wear the exact same glasses anyways. they just have a different air about them.

*but boy. they look so odd side by side. esp since the arkhamverse crane isn’t ‘ugly’. like, idk why everyone keep saying that nolanverse scarecrow is the 'hot' one. i think, that this old fart shall bear the title instead. but maybe, i think so, bc i’m still upset that you can’t make bruce romanticize him in arkham shadows. it would have become the best batman game ever made by proxy then. bruce’s daddy’s issues would totally make him at least glance at older men, come on.*

but anyways, i think, BTAS crane got lucky here as he doesn’t need glasses at all. he has very good eyesight, which is a small blessing for him, since compared to other cranes, who are at least tall, he’s not only skinny an’ frail, but also barely reaches batman’s chin lmao. he can at least not need to wear glasses. he would look cute in them tho.