I always had an embarrassing crush on the Riddler.

Wholly in favor of the concepts and ideas at play here.

I think Tennant-Riddler is hot, like the doctor...only evil

OP here. Working on that drawing is proving troublesome, but it's coming along. I should have some decent lineart by tonight.

>>12590
Me again. I may have lied. Lineart's just...bleh. Then again, I have no faith in my artistic ability. Pic related, it's a screenshot. Be warned, it's huge.

>>12568

Same...

>>12595

Why did you stop? ;_;

>>13026
Honestly, I haven't had time to work on it. I've scheduled for a lot of strenuous courses this semester, and they're more important than porn, sadly. It's sitting next to my unfinished Scarecrow illustration on my desktop.

Real life sucks pretty hard right now.

>>13049

>>more important than porn

wait, whaaaaaat?

Tangentially Riddler related: Have Query and Echo ever been 34'ed?

Echo's the one with dark hair. I think.

>Riddler + smut

Yes.

>Riddler + gay + smut

... Varying degrees of want...

>Riddler + Scarecrow + Gay + smut

.... The degrees, unfortunately, are moving more towards "WAAAAAAAAAAAANT" territory.

CURSE YOU REPRESSED SLASH FEELINGS.

>>13055

Sorry. I'll lose my scholarships if I don't put effort. I'll try to have a little more for you soon, but I can't promise quality.

>>13194

See, it went that way for me, almost. Slash is fine by me, but Riddler/Scarecrow? At first it was a "Don't know if want" situation. Now...well, I'm drawing it.

>>13210
It's like someone's asked you to write crack-slash, and you don't wanna turn it down, because that would be rude. And then as you type, you find that the goddamn personalities mesh together so well, even though they've never met, and you're drug down the rabbit hole of shipping them.

>>13194
As the person who originally posted all those panels from Arkham Asylum: Living Hell and Scarecrow Year One on 4chan's /co/, I feel I should apologize for the mental distress I may have caused you.

Also, I love this thread. I love it so much.

>>13434

You posted all those? I love you so much.

>>13705
Aw thanks, I love you too <3

Have some "nightmare = wet dream" Scarecrow.

>>13809

I liek.

I love this thread. A lot. I've written small ficlets of Riddler/Scarecrow (and I'm thrilled to find I'm not the only one with this pairing in mind), but... well, I'm kinda a shy writefag.

>>14289

Don't be shy! Just double check your fics for weird/hilarious spelling errors and jump right in.

>>14313
Alright, here goes. <3 (Hilarious spelling errors are half the fun, though!)



Arkham inmates didn't get to choose their cellmates; that was the Board of Directors' responsibility. Some of the incarcerated were lucky, and ended up with roomies who were not cannibals or mass murderers. And even those who did, by comparison, were lucky, if they avoided rooming with the Joker.

Repeat escapists who came back without a fuss had their old cells saved for them, naturally.

As it happened, Jon Crane was napping on his bed with a copy of Washington Irving's Tales of the Supernatural tucked under one arm when the glass door opened and Eddie Nigma was escorted inside. The door had scarcely closed again before Eddie was sneaking over to have a look at his cellmate. He smiled fondly.

Jon had a wicked reputation in Arkham ever since he induced two bullies to commit suicide with his words alone, but for those close to him it was common knowledge that he was about as dangerous as a ladybug. Much like a true scarecrow, those in the know had no reason to fear whatsoever. So Eddie felt no qualms about running one hand along the gaunt curve of Jon's back to wake him, and even dared to squeeze the rounded curve of the Scarecrow's rump under the covers. The other man murmured in mild protest, shifted, and squinted up languidly at him.

"...Caught again."

Eddie grinned, slipping into bed beside him. "You're not sorry to see me, I hope."

A thin arm draped over his shoulders in possessive response, "Never. I've missed you terribly, straw-stuffer."

Eddie pretended to ponder this, "You know, you're the only inmate I know who likes his minion stuffing him, and not the other way around."

Jon lazily kissed the temple nearest himself, countering "You're the only minion I know who dares argue with his superior."

The Riddler's squeak was girlishly indignant. "Superior?!"

"Would you prefer 'master'?"

"Intellectual equal," Eddie threatened to pout, "Say it, Scarecrow."

"My intellectually equal underling. Now give me a kiss."

Eddie growled and obeyed. "You're lucky I like being your straw-stuffer, Jonathan."

Jon's smirk was simultaneously sly and childish, as his thin-fingered hand slipped under the waistband of Eddie's pants, exploring familiar territory.

"I certainly am."

>>14340

d'awwww.

>>14340
Between this and the excellent crazysex fic in the TDK thread, I'm fairly certain I will never be able to stop grinning like an idiot.

I LOVE YOU, /pco/ WRITEFAGS. <3

OP has decided to namefag.

>>14340
This has inspired me. After I submit my spreadsheets for revision, I will continue the RiddlerCrane pic. Not promising quality, but dammit, I'll try.

>>14390
Quality is in the eyes of the beholders, who are overjoyed at similar minds. I wanted to thank you for starting this thread, on account of the fact that you're awesome. Also, I'm >>14340 (no idea how to become a namefag ;-;) and I have Batman/Eddie (as reformed detective this time) for you lovely people.



The crime scene was mundane enough, but something about the way the Private Investigator conducted himself made the journalist curious that there was more to the story than he had. The green-suited man once known as the Riddler stood off to one side, only half-watching and listening as the landlady was interviewed about the habits of her tenant. The freelance detective's lavender-gloved hands were gripping the head of the cane spasmodically, like a man under intense, barely-contained stress.

Edward Nigma waved off the journalist's questions and offered a statement rife with pauses and stammers.

"Clearly this is n-n..not the man we're after. Hnngh... t-trumped up--drug charges for marijuan-a-h..ah--! and no motive--do not a m-muhr--murder-er make. Thank you."

When pressed, he snapped, "No further comment!" and practically sprinted for the door, pulling desperately at his tie to loosen it.

Outside, in the alley, a midnight black car was waiting for him. Edward fully intended to angrily march towards it, but his weak knees betrayed him, giving him more of an earnest wobble that ruined the dramatic effect completely. The door swung open, and Batman grinned up at him, palming a remote control. The black glove turned a dial and the Riddler nearly collapsed on the spot with a low moan.

Evil man. Evil, sick, depraved man oh god god yes--

Batman turned the dial back.

"How'd it go, Eddie?"

"About as well as I'm sure you predicted," Eddie climbed up off the floor and slid into the passenger seat gingerly. "Next time you're on a case, I want you to try concentrating with six inches of buzzing vibrator discretely crammed up your--"

"I intend to."

Eddie stared. "Now we're playing 'who's the better stoic detective'?" He observed, slamming the car door shut.

"Fair is fair, isn't it?" Batman flipped the remote to the Riddler, "Here. Turn it off, if it'll help you stop squirming."

Eddie rolled his eyes, but even as he flipped the switch, he couldn't help but shiver with delight at the thought of revenge.

>>14391

I lol'd. Heartily. Am seriously glad my roommate is out, or she'd have given me that LOOK again, like the last time I disturbed her laughing at things on /pco/.

Also, I'll be starting on the drawing soon. Shall post another WIP if I can't finish ti by midnight.

>>14393
It. Fuck. My typing skills are shot to hell this evening, apparently.

>>14393
Thanks very much! For both the compliment and the promise of arts. >3 I'll have enough soon to start my own fapping--err, I mean, OTP folder for them.

Dammit, faces are giving me issues today. As are hands, apparently.

HERE, HAVE A WIP. Magical see-through Riddler free with purchase of spindly-Crane. Limit 10 per customer.

>>14413
Gorgeous! Please proceed.

>>12566
>>13049
>>14390
>>14413

You make all these excuses as to why you haven't worked on this, but we both know its cause I won't let you out of bed.

>>14506

Dammit, how do you find me? Geez, you break out of Arkham to escape your psycho cellmate and he follows you...

Rampant drawfag/occasional writefag here. I have a bit of fic to offer. Heavily inspired by Roach Patrol's amazing crazy-sex fic in the other thread, and by the prompt "NIGHTMARES = WET DREAMS Y/Y".
------


There was nothing terribly special about the Arkham rec room. It had seats; it had a few games, carefully controlled to make sure nothing in them could be turned into a weapon; it had the same dull-eyed guards that lurked the halls of the entire place. There was no real reason it ought to be coveted by those who hadn't proven themselves well-behaved enough to earn the privilege, Edward mused, except that they didn't have it. And people always wanted what they couldn't have.

There was a little more to it than that, perhaps. There was more space in that room, more air, and - if you were brave or insane enough to seek it out - the chance for a little interaction with others.

Of course, not everyone was enjoying this freedom.

Jonathan Crane, usually content to settle in with a book or politely unnerve the hell out of his fellow inmates (and really, anyone who the Arkham crowd would label as 'creepy' deserved some kind of award) didn't look so good. He'd paced for a while, earning a brief curious glance from his roommate, before quietly sitting down against the wall and proceeding to twitch and shake spasmodically, eyes darting from one corner of the room to the next as if he expected something to jump out of them. Occasionally, Edward would see him take a deep breath and lower his head, calm for a moment, only to slip back into the manic restlessness within a minute.

Eventually, he found that his idle study of the lanky, jerking figure was holding more of his interest than the game of Solitaire he'd dealt himself, and shuffled the cards neatly back into a pile before making his way over and taking a seat at the man's side. He looked even more rattled up close.

"Good lord, Jonathan," he murmured, quickly surveying the room for any overzealous guards before leaning in a little closer. The way Jonathan's head snapped up when he did, eyes wide and paranoid, was enough to startle him into leaning back again, hands raised disarmingly. "You look positively wretched," he added, once Jonathan had eased off a little.

"N-new---" He paused, swallowing. "New medication. Experimental." His voice was strained, tight and dry like stretched parchment; Edward, one of those few in this place who was capable of doing so, felt a distinct pang of sympathy.

"What *idiot*," he sighed, shaking his head, "would give *you*, of all people, something stimulating?"

Jonathan did something that looked like an attempt at a smile then, but didn't quite pull it off. He'd seen him like this before, usually freshly awakened from a nightmare, when all the logic and consolation in the world couldn't convince him that they were alone in the room, that the corners weren't filled with monsters. It was a well-known fact, though, that they were all lab rats for the doctors here. Hell, some of the long-time residents had even been *Jonathan's* lab rats, in days past. Maybe that made this karmically just, but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

That feeling only built as he watched Jonathan keep trying to get a grip on himself. He wasn't the sort of insane most of the others were; in his good moments, he was downright rational. Terribly unsympathetic, but rational. And an intellectual, which had made he and Edward gravitate towards each other from the beginning. This, though - this wasn't him, jerking and gritting his teeth and struggling against whatever they'd put him on today. Before he could think better of it, Edward leaned in and set a hand on his thin shoulder, rubbing comfortingly.

"Hey!"

Ah, blast. He knew that voice. One of the newer guards - Johnson or Jensen or something - still clinging to the written rules of the place, and bold enough to enforce them every chance he got. They probably looked like they were conspiring or something, which explained the man's approach. Edward was on his feet before he got there, rounding on the guard with a look of pure indignation.

"Tell your so-called 'medical staff' that they're composed entirely of incompetents and sadists," he snapped. "Here's one for you - what separates the captives from the captors?"

The guard was impassive.

"The uniforms," Edward muttered, and stalked off.


-----
[tbc]

>>14558
Amazing so far.

>>14558
Already d'awwwing.

>>14558
Oh Eddie, you sweetheart~ Cannot wait for part 2.

>>14558

Oh god, more please. This is... really, really win.

>>14558
I love this! Eddie's a tough guy to get the voice of, but you've got it spot on. And poor twitchy Jonathan... Moar, plz~!

>>14558
continued!
(here there be porns)


-------

There was no such thing as silence in the asylum. Not even at night - no, especially not at night. The dark meant too many terrible things to too many people in here, and most of the inmates didn't go out of their way to suffer quietly. Over time, Edward had more or less gotten used to it. Enough to sleep through most of the noise, at least. But there was a marked difference between distant sounds and close ones, and the hard, shuddery breathing from the bunk below his tonight was more than a little distracting. When he'd ignored it for about as long as he could, he pushed himself up with a sigh, leaning over to peer down past the edge of the bed.

Jonathan lay atop the sheets, and even in the darkness of the room, Edward could make out the way he clung to them for dear life. He looked even more ungainly than usual, long and thin and taut; whatever they'd put him on had to be fraying his every nerve, and those nerves had never been entirely steady to start with. He usually did fine during the day, but nights were a different story. Still, even by those standards, he seemed especially bad right then.

They were friends, as much as anyone in that place was. And Edward wanted to get some sleep. He'd seen Jonathan through enough midnight paranoias to know how this worked by now, and so he was only mildly irritated as he climbed his way down and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Jonathan practically jumped, back hitting the wall, but seemed to calm a little when he realized who was there.

"Move over," Edward stated simply, and with Jonathan meekly complied. It had taken him some time to figure out how to calm his cellmate down, and it was still hit-or-miss, but he had a few good ideas by now. An arm went around his shoulders, and though he tensed as if ready to jerk away, Edward pulled him in and held the other man's body flush against his own.

"It's----no," Jonathan stammered vaguely, squirming; Edward only held him tighter in response, pressing Jonathan's head into his shoulder. Sure enough, he stopped fighting after a few moments like that, quieting back down to the shaky, breathless sounds he'd been making before. He was a mess, reminded Edward of some caged animal like this, all reflexes and fear.

"You're a doctor," he remarked, annoyance underscoring his words. "*You* could do a better job of medicating yourself, for god's sake."

Jonathan made a small, high noise that he didn't immediately recognize as a laugh.

"We-we're all patients here," he answered thinly, and Edward tried not to shiver, pulling Jonathan in a little closer. He felt warm, almost feverish - and that wasn't the only thing that caught his attention just then.

"Jonathan, are you---are you *hard*?"

"Side---side effect, I think," he mumbled, sounding plainly miserable. "My system, my nervous system is---I'm trying...I'm ignoring it," he finally managed, and Edward nodded, somewhat awkwardly patting his head.

"Have you gotten any sleep at all?" Now he was mostly just inventing conversation. He knew full well Jonathan hadn't slept, because *he* hadn't slept, but talking to him usually helped. Jonathan shook his head, lifting it just enough from Edward's shoulder to be audible, voice shaking against his neck.

"I don't---" A pause, clearing his throat, obviously trying his hardest to get through a sentence without sounding like a lunatic. He liked other people's fears; his own were something different, Edward had come to understand that much. "I don't want to," he finally stated, and Edward felt a spindly hand latch onto his shirt. "The things I see---"

"Dreams?"

Jonathan nodded, then shook his head, and Edward tried again.

"Nightmares?"

This time he just groaned, which Edward translated as 'yes', and pressed his head back into his shoulder. It felt rather like Jonathan was trying to disappear, to blend right into him. The persistent hardness pressing against his leg made that a little distracting, but if Jonathan was ignoring it, the least he could do was offer the same courtesy, and he bit back a sigh and smoothed a hand over his back. If whatever they'd dosed him with was enough to stimulate him so...thoroughly...then neither of them were going to get any sleep at this rate. Edward liked his sleep; he did his best not to mentally blame Jonathan for how the night was shaping up.

"They've been bad lately, then?" he murmured, more small talk to try and soothe Jonathan back down to reality. He liked to talk about the frightening things, he'd found - treated them like a home, safe and familiar. Edward didn't completely understand it, but he didn't need to.

"Bad," Jonathan echoed, fingers clenching in his cellmate's shirt. "Every time I, I close my eyes, they----the things I *see*," he said again, and again the tone of his voice chilled Edward to the bone.

"Tell me about them," he suggested. That was what the 'doctors' around here tried - great load of good it did them - and Jonathan looked up when he said it. His eyes were wide, tired-looking, and Edward nearly told him to forget about it before he ducked his head down again.

"Sometimes, the----the walls, and...the floor, the ceiling, it's all, it's all----made of things," he explained weakly, words muffled against Edward's shirt. "Invisible things, like ghosts, and I---" He stopped, shivered, and squirmed closer, the two of them entwined now; Edward cleared his throat and let him have the closeness, stifling any comments on the way Jonathan had just ground against his leg.

"And what?" he prompted, almost gently.

"I can see all of---all of it," Jonathan stammered, "but just me, and nobody else, but they're---they----" He trailed off with a choked little sound, pushing into Edward again, and that *couldn't* have been an accident, could it? This time, Edward didn't ask him to continue right away, trying to make sense of it. Reminding himself that this was Jonathan Crane, however, was also a reminder that there would be no making sense of this. He was visibly terrified, and he was rutting against Edward's leg, and the two weren't mutually exclusive at all.

"They frighten you," he murmured, sliding his hand away from Jonathan's hair and down the long angled lines of his body. He felt him jump when that hand carved out a space between them, cupping Jonathan's length through his pants, but after a moment he nodded and rocked against Edward's palm.

"S-sometimes, there's...there are shapes," he continued unsteadily, voice cracking a little. "Dark, like - they're birds," he amended, then nearly whimpered; Edward figured that was a good sign, somehow, and kept rubbing. "Crows, or---ravens, with---oh, *god*," he pleaded - to Edward or to the nightmares, he couldn't say. "With, with fangs, with claws, and...and..."

The more incoherent he got, the more insistently he pushed into Edward's hand, and when Jonathan trailed off again, he obligingly fumbled his way past the fabric of his pants, fingers finding skin. Jonathan nearly yelped.

"Tell me about the birds," he coaxed.

"They're---they're *everywhere*," Jonathan gasped out, almost a sob. "It's dark, because---because, their wings, they - it's all I can see, and they all come in closer and closer and oh god, oh *god*----they're going to---"

He never finished his sentence, because suddenly he was coming in Edward's hand, whole body shaking violently, fingers digging into his back, and the sounds he made could have been pleasure or terror. Or both. Edward saw him through it, letting him jerk and thrust and cry out till he slumped, spent, against him.

With Jonathan's still-trembling breaths warm against his neck, he drew back his hand and wiped it on the sheets, then shifted his shoulder to get a look at the other man's face. He looked...exhausted. Not frightened or tense, just completely spent. And true to that, his hand slowly loosened its white-knuckle grip on Edward's shirt, eventually going limp against his back.

Edward sighed. He couldn't very well be in Jonathan's bed come morning, or there'd be hell to pay. But there was no harm in staying there just a little longer, to be sure the drugs and nightmares were out of his system for now.

He moved his hand to Jonathan's back, fixed his gaze on the underside of the top bunk, and listened to the night.

--------

>>14593
Oh... wow. <3

Please say there's an awkward morning after part 3... or at least tell me Eddie gets him a lil' somethin' for his troubles.

>>14622
You know, I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps.

>>14593
Oh god, I couldn't tell whether I wanted to bawww or d'awww. So I just came instead.

>>14627

DO EEEET.

>>14627

DO EEEET.

>>14627
Either way, you are an angel. A porn angel.

>>14636
That is possibly the coolest thing I've ever been called.

Okay, I'll see what I can come up with. In the meantime, there's a Craneparty on page 2 of /draw/ which I invite you all to crash. Eddie's there and everything.

>>14637
Oh, and because I have some kind of illustration compulsion...

>>14641
YOU ARE A GOD

>>14558

I am both proud and completely turned on. Hooray!

>>14593
Mmm wet nightmares.
This is excellent and very relevant to my interests.
Do go on.

>>14593
Okay, there is actually more of this coming, but I have to go to work and haven't written the next little chunk, so here's what I've got to tide you over till tonight.

-------


When the morning came, Jonathan bundled into the sheets and Edward back in his own bunk, neither of them talked about it. Nor did they say anything over breakfast; there were too many people at that table who really, really didn't need to know anything had gone on. It was only when they had a little space, back in the rec room that afternoon, that Jonathan shuffled his way over to where Edward sat, another hand of cards laid out before him. He didn't even notice the man's approach till he was right there, and honestly jumped, startled, when he suddenly appeared. How anyone could take up so much space and be so inconspicuous at the same time was beyond him. But that was just how Jonathan was, and he cleared his throat, hastily regaining his composure as his cellmate folded to sit beside him.

"You're looking better," he noted, without really looking up. Jonathan shifted then, and there was a lingering unsteadiness in the movement; when he did afford him a proper glance, he could see the fatigue darkening his eyes. A whole day in constant motion and a night kept up too late - of course it'd take a lot out of him.

"I think it's---" He stopped for a deep breath then, then continued, voice steadier. "It's out of my system now."

"And they didn't re-dose you this morning?" Edward couldn't help a soft, derisive snort, sliding one stack of cards atop another. "Perhaps I haven't been giving them enough credit. Do you know what it's called when you do the same thing and expect different results?"

Jonathan smiled wanly. "Insanity."

Edward paused, then gave a smile of his own in return.

"I can deal you in."

"Please."

I re-read Arkham: Living Hell and now I have a big crazy hetero crush on the Riddler tooooo.

I guess this means more porn.

>>14772
Everybody wants the Riddler, baby! Though he doesn't necessarily want everybody back.

>>14738
They're so bff.

>>14772
I love how ridiculously tall and lanky Crane is. I mean, christ, you could put an eye out with those knees.

>>14772
Crane is fapping in the background.

>>14809
.../r/ing crane almost putting eddie's eye out with those knees

if you know what i mean

>>14812
CAN'T UNSEE

>>14818
...I don't know whether to be turned on by the mental image of delicious blowjob, or just lol for a while.

"Nigma, that's some shiner. The hell happened?"
"I...Er...Uh... What's green, flies, and is a convenient distraction elsewhere?"

>>14833

"So, what's up with you and Crane lately?"
"Well, it's like the classic conundrum: what's green, hangs on a wall, and IS RIGHT OVER THERE LOOK."
"Huh? Aw, man."

>>14833
>>14836

Oh, you wacky people.

I may have to draw it, though. I can't help myself.

>>14839
Also, you should all totally come keep me company in the craneparty thread in /draw/. Please?

Brought to you by /co/:

"Anyone got any comments on the fact that he apparently is a regular at an S&M club?"

>>14850

There.

ohgodwhyishighcranesodamnedadorable.

>>14839

True story: lanky guys are my fetish.

May finish/clean this up tomorrow.

>>14895

Incidentally, it's mine too. And from one fetishist to another, this is mind-blowingly hot.

>>14895
Holy shit, this is gorgeous.

True story, I think everyone here is into lankey guys.

I think I'm gonna writefag something, won't bother ya'll if there's no snuggling will it?

>>14920

Oh my god, please post right now. I desperately need something to distract me from homework.

>>14920

Just don't say there's no sex, either!

I wouldn't say no to a knee to the eye.

>>14923
You just know that, in addition to the shiner, he'll probably get come in his hair. Double whammy!

>>14895
Is he long everywhere?

>>14926
oh u.
YES.

/co/ thought of some nice awkward situations for you, /pco/.

1.
"Hey Jon? Jonathan? You awake? Jon?"
......*fapfapfapfapfa--*
"AAAUUGGHH GOD DAMN IT EDWARD I'M AWAKE"
"WELL WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING SAY SO?"
"I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO ASK ME A DUMB ASS RIDDLE OR SOMETHING, NOT BEAT OFF LIKE A HORNY 14-YEAR-OLD, JESUS"
"I HAVE NEEDS"

2.
"Jon? Jonathon, what're you doing?"
"Mmnhmmnngh"
"..Are you sleepwalking?"
*Crane attempts to get into Riddler's bed*
"JESUS FUCK WHAT'RE YOU DOING MAN!"
"Crane wakes up*
"Edward? What.. what are you doing in my bed?"
">:U"


We also had numerous ideas of Crane panicking every time he gets into a sexual situation and having a crow themed panic attack.
One of these was awkward teenager scarecrow in a car with his girlfriend, who pulls down his pants for some happy time and then gets punched in the face while he screams "THE CROOOOOOOOWS!"

>>14932
Third one got illustrated, too.

>>14933
I loled fiercely.

>>14738
On second thought, I may actually leave this one here. Only because I have some ideas for a different story and I don't want to risk repeating myself.

tl;dr: there will be sex. and mindgames.

>>14932
Have s'more freshly minted awkward:
"Psst. PSST. Eddie."
"Yo?"
"I'm busting out tonight. You want in?"
"Hell yes I want in!"
"Alright, you're in. On one condition."
"Oh, shit. What I gotta do?"
"...Will... Will you paint my toenails to match my fingernails?"
"..."
"I--I know no one's gonna even see my feet, but... it just doesn't FEEL right having my fingernails painted up but not my toenails, you know?"
"...Have fun on the outside, Jonny."
"Aw, come on!"

>>14953

I just woke up to this and it fucking made my morning. Thank you.

>>14941
This is an acceptable compromise.

Also I'm working on something too, but owed to being a perfectionist-whore-and-tease, I may not get to post it until later tonight. I'm actually mentioning this now so that I'll be compelled to finish it. I love you all. ;-;

This thread is why I shouldn't come to /pco/ during class.

>>14960
This thread is why I *do* come to /pco/ during class.

>>14953
Later that night:
"I really ought to thank Harleen for the black polish. Last time, the darkest I could get my hands on was purple, and it looked so ridiculous I only got my thumb and forefinger done before I just decided to take it right back off."
"Yeah, well, just don't let the Joker see you 'thanking' her."
"Hnnh. You would think that."
"Jesus, will you hold still already? This is frustrating enough without you wiggling around and making me get polish all over the place."
"Sorry."
"And what the hell is up with your cuticles? Do you know what a cuticle is? Do you know you're not supposed to have them? You know what, let's just stop right here. I HAVE to trim these things before I can continue."
"...Edward."
"What?"
"You have just said the gayest thing I think I have ever heard in my entire life."

I already read these awesome fanfics last night, and my mental images of Nigma and Crane were basically the same as their comic book selves.

But just now I re-read the stories with David Tennant and Cillian Murphy in mind.

Oooooh yeah.

*Ahem* First time writefag here. Little nervous so be nice. I wasn't sure how well received this was going to be since it's not sweet and I sort of, vaguely reference the Year One comics but since most people who move between here and /co/ seemed to have read them I'm a little less apprehensive about that.

I post the rest when I get a chance...enjoy (I hope).

Nightfall brought no comfort from the August heat. The inmates at Arkham had been rallying for days at the guards demanding something be done; that the A.C. be fixed, that the windows could be opened. Anything at all to save them from another sweaty, sleepless night.

The only voice that did not join the masses was Jonathan Crane. His opinion of the stagnant heat was far different from theirs. He welcomed it, with deep, uneven gasp trough the bars of his cell. He loved how these summer nights warmed the body pressed against his back a thousand fold and how it made Edward’s scent heavy and pungent.

The dance the two were engaged in was a familiar one. Jonathan was pressed against the door of the cell he shared with Edward who in turn was fitted perfectly in the arch of Jonathan’s back. In this position Jonathan could feel Edwards incredible build. They were much the same; tall, spindly fellows, almost all legs. Edward though was toned, it was clear his body was one crafted with effort, not made from genetic scraps like Jonathan’s. Had Jonathan donned a suit of full length spandex as him room mate once had certain flaws would have been quite noticeable. Edward was perfect though and his costume told the world that he knew it.

Edward’s muscles moved like liquid under his burning skin. Jonathan could feel ever wave from where the men’s legs locked to where their arms twisted around one another, through the bars and all the way to their hands. Edward had his cell mate fully under his power…and Jonathan loved it. One seeing the scene might think the brunette was in trouble; panting, crying, pleading as Edward tightened his grip more and more.

But nothing could be further from the truth.

“I heard you last night,” Edward spoke always in a sing-song sort of way, “I heard you in your bed…”

“Riddler…,” in these moments Jonathan never used Edward’s real name. It did not seem right to be held and played with by the same man who he would be enjoying breakfast with in the morning. Right now, he was The Riddler; master villain, genius of the Gotham underground. A man who could look into your eyes and see every dark secret you ever carried…

These nights had begun months ago after Jonathan’s arrest. Before then he had his cell mate were respectful; remembering their please and thank you’s and always turning away when the other had to use the shared toilet. Never did they express any relationship beyond ‘top bunk’ and ‘bottom bunk’.

One night though Jonathan began suffering from the sexual call of nature. These urges of the flesh often were easy to ignore. Jonathan hated that his own body could betray him and act so shamelessly. He so desperately wanted to control his own penis and force it to behave, for his own comfort and dignity. But sometimes the call was too strong as it had been that night. Eyes closed, Jonathan allowed his quivering hands to quickly do the deed so he may find sleep. To work his erection, to empty himself and hopefully do it all with little pleasure as possible.

When finished, Jonathan opened his eyes and found something more horrifying to him than the dollop of milky white on his stomach.

Edward moved his lips to speak but instead they formed a smile that made Jonathan, the Scarecrow himself, a little frightened. In his eyes Edward could see all the hatred and humiliation Jonathan was suffering then. But also too he could see how these feelings of self loathing, even after pleasing himself, stirred his cell mates sex drive once more.

Since then, Edward had been ‘punishing’ Jonathan almost every night.

“You just can’t seem to stop yourself can you?” Edward whispered, as one hand unwound itself and began to work down Jonathan’s top, revealing the worn and thin white undershirt that was required of their uniform. “I don’t even think strapping you to your bed would help…” Jonathan was breathing hard. Edward’s fingers were literally creeping one by one down his chest like a lazy spider. “Naughty boy…”

It was all completely calculated. Edward was careful to never, ever use his lips. Even as he leaned in close to Jonathan’s ear, breathing his words, never did he nip at the lobe. It made Jonathan crazy. He was right there, oh God, he was right there! Just one warm little wet kiss and Jonathan would have been sated, but never did he get it. And his whole ached because of it.

It was not easy for Edward either. Jonathan could feel how the other man suffered against his backside. He was punishing himself too. Waiting till the last moment to release himself, his captive.

“I know…I’m sorry…,” Jonathan could barely speak, “please…just do it…” He felt his pants slip down ever so slightly. Slowly Jonathan found himself being exposed. He didn’t even noticed the heat anymore. His pants slid easily over his meager thighs and boney knees, collapsing into a pile around his ankles. Edward’s pants soon joined in. There was nothing between them now. Nothing between Jonathan and anyone who passed by the cell. But the fear of been seen naked in this state only fueled Jonathan’s lust. He learned through Edward that he could find pleasure even in his /own/ fear…

Okay, here's that other fic I promised.
I guess this is technically a first-time story, but that's not really what it's about. It's also the first one I've written that gets a title.
As I was writing this I kept picturing that panel of Crane from...I don't remember what. The one where he very calmly stabs another inmate in the leg because he's intrigued by his scream.

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"You know, I think it's the human imagination that impresses me the most," Jonathan mused.

Normally, Eddie would say he had a point, but right then he couldn't have agreed less. It was Jonathan's damn imagination that was keeping him awake. True, he was a little wired, and probably wouldn't be asleep yet even if his cellmate did have the decency to shut up, but at least those odds would be better.

It had to be well past midnight by then, and he'd been going on for god-knew-how-long. Not constantly, which actually just made it more annoying - he'd toss out a few sentences, strings of thought, then go silent when Eddie didn't bother to respond. And just as soon as it seemed he'd called it a night and Eddie felt like he could relax, he'd speak up again. Much more of this and he was going to get up, climb down there, and throttle the man in his bed. But true to fashion, if Jonathan had realized how crazy it was driving him, he didn't seem to care. He wasn't usually malicious, which was one of the things that made him so eerie - he was just apathetic. His studies came first, his science, his goddamn observations on everything, and heaven help anyone who got caught up in them. Including Eddie, the closest thing he had to a friend in that joint. It was nothing personal, but at a time like that, it was really irritating.

"I mean," he started again, and Eddie swore he felt his blood pressure go up a few points. "That far corner of the room, for example. I can't see a thing, the way it falls into shadows. But in my mind---"

"To hell with your mind," Eddie muttered, glaring daggers at the ceiling. Jonathan actually paused when he said that, then the sheets rustled, and quite suddenly Jonathan was perched on the bunk ladder near Eddie's feet.

"Sorry?"

'You should be,' Eddie nearly said, before realizing what he meant. It wasn't an apology for keeping him up - just for not hearing what he'd said. He was quietly fuming over this as Jonathan crept closer, crawling across the sheets, all wiry and shadowed like some giant spider. Man gave him the creeps sometimes.

"I /said/," he repeated through clenched teeth, pushing himself to sit up. "To /hell/ with your mind. To hell with your delusions, and your imagination, and---and all of it," he concluded, frustration building behind every word. "Do you know what it's like having to sit here and listen to you do this every night? I could write a book on you by now! Why does it always have to be about you?"

There was a stretch of silence then; Eddie could hear himself breathing fast, feel the anger contorting his features, but Jonathan's were a calm blank slate in the still of the room. He looked thoughtful - not the least bit sorry or intimidated by Eddie's outburst, just pensive. Studying. Eddie really wanted to hit him. Then he spoke, and there was something unnameable lurking under the flatness of his voice.

"Would you rather it be about you?"

That just /did/ it. There had been too many nights like this, nights where Jonathan stayed up and rambled - coherently or otherwise - nights where Eddie hadn't gotten enough sleep, where he'd been forced to hear about the man's every thought process, and he was there with that impassive look and that scholarly tone and he couldn't /stand/ it any more----

Before he really knew what he was doing, Jonathan was pinned under him, bone-thin wrists pressed hard into the mattress. He looked startled, and then he just looked intrigued again. Eddie tightened his grip.

"Yeah, you know something?" he answered, only distantly aware of his own breathlessness, of how unsteady he sounded, like he could laugh or scream at any moment. "I would. I really would. I'm