#visionocturna

[psicopxtico-blog]

+ visio—nocturna + nxturalselection

❝What the fuck are you staring at?❞

        Forgive him;         he’s in a terrible         mood.

[perfectly-sane-scarecrow]

｛ＣＬＯＳＥＤ ✕  Ｃａｉｎ ＆ Ｃｒａｎｅ｝

 ⊰;❂;⊱ ---                           Every day seemed to get duller and duller in Jonathan's mind. It seemed to be the same thing day after day after day -- and quite frankly the only thing that ever excited him anymore was his toxin. The  F E A R  Toxin he had worked year after year on -- making sure to perfect it. Making sure to make it just as he pleased. Really -- the thing he truly loved -- craved -- and desired was to cause fear in others. To cause them to see their worst  N I G H T M A R E S .To see his victims squirm and sob for it to stop -- To hear the screams echo against the walls -- it did nothing but fill him with pleasure. He just enjoyed to see people suffering and in pain -- it was that simple.

                                     So -- here he was walking back to his place after another boring day at the Arkham Asylum. His briefcase in one hand , the other balled into a fist in his pocket. Step after step he took in cool and short strides. But suddenly he paused in his step and slowed down. His fist tightened as his chest did as he looked down at the birds in the sidewalk just ahead of him. C R O W S . Jonathan Crane didn't fear many things -- hardly anything -- but if there was one thing he did fear it was what he was staring down right now -- or more so looking at wearily.  But as he glanced around and noticed all the people -- he took a second before he began to move again -- quicker this time. As he pasted -- his eyes shut tightly and his heart started to race. The flapping of the wings and his own screams filled his mind -- the unforgetable memories scarring him once more. Each step seemed like miles -- but soon enough he found himself moving in fast steps to a park nearby. It was late enough that no one was there , so he felt comfortable enough there.

                      In mere minutes he was sat down on a bench -- his brief case resting at his side as he palmed his knees to try and calm himself. It was P A T H E T I C  that he was letting his bitch of a Grandmother still haunt him with her actions -- but he couldn't help it. He had been so young when he had the memory burned into his brain -- it haunted him far too often. A shaky sigh left his lips as he ran a hand through his hair before pinching the bridge of his nose -- pushing his wire glasses up after he did. He'd be F I N E . He always was.