a dance of doves & crows ( jonathan crane )

obsession and opposition .

notes: god it was hard to focus on this chapter, not sure why! just been feeling unmotivated since i got back from my trip ;( but hey i'll bounce back, it just takes extra redbull

this chapter somehow gets more wacko than normal, so if you're sensitive to obsessive/unhealthy behaviors, i think i'd tap out of this book now because it only gets more intense from here (though its really not that bad & i think my warnings are a given with a jonathan crane story LOLLL) but anyways !! im so sorry for the wait, hope yall are doing well & i hope youre ready to read about the sociopathic simp!! this chapter is more so exploring his feelings rather than adding to the plot, but next chapter will pick up :3

song of the chapter: pressure to party - julie jacklin

He was never certain when exactly he had developed the mental illnesses he had today. Jonathan thinks, maybe, to some degree, he always had Scarecrow. He certainly can't remember a time without his other half.

Scarecrow may have been there since the start, but that didn't make him insane or incompetent. In fact, he thinks his alter helped him along. Crow tapped into his subconscious all the time, remembering things even Crane couldn't possibly keep memorized. Most of the time, his alter was seen as a distinct (though secret, for obvious reasons) advantage.

His childhood was largely blocked out, typical for children with DID and awful households; but he did have hazy memories in between years of blurry nothingness. Him, as a boy, around six or seven, speaking to the scarecrow in his family's farm and treating him like an imaginary friend. Burning things, namely his grandmother's bibles; Purposefully mixing cleaning supplies to see chemical reactions, special interest in weapons...

All telltale signs of something abnormal developing in a child. If Crane were a child psychologist, he'd likely would've institutionalized himself as soon as those behaviors were brought to his attention. But, he wasn't, and there was nothing he could do about it now.

It had been a part of him from day one, but it grew and grew until Crane could no longer pretend it was normal. Imaginary friends, no matter how common, never actually talked back.

Scarecrow wasn't some ghost in the back of his head, pushing him to commit evil. He was the other side of the coin, a separate personality. Over the years, their brain had become like an apartment two roommates shared. Only Scarecrow never payed rent.

He thinks now he really was going off some sort of deep end, and was bordering on incompetence. He had finally lost it; the control over himself and his surroundings was completely flipped upside down because of Jules Lovecraft.

It was like being stalked but never being able to prove it was actually happening with any solid proof. When you can tell, logically, it's only your mind playing tricks; but it doesn't stop your mind from wondering. From eating at you, the 'What if?' keeping you from dismissing it entirely. It was just whispers behind your back, following you around and breathing down your neck. Nameless and faceless people not-so-subtly staring at you from a distance.

That's exactly what the past week has felt like. Restlessly listening for something just out of his reach.

Sometimes, he could swear he heard Jules call his name - a faint, hesitant "Doctor Crane?" from over his shoulder. But when he turned around, (He would not admit how fast or how eager his movements were, instead he would insist he turned around in a very typical fashion. Thank you very much.) she was not there. He had imagined it, and the knife in his ribcage would twist so aggressively Crane had to suck in air and keep moving. Distract himself from the painful burning.