@maria-the-answer | Sit in my Muse's Lap

▼ for Maria? 😳👉👈💖

What was an awfully sleepy looking man instantly perks up upon a lovely lady flopping down on him, staring at her in wide eyed surprise. It's entirely reflexive that a hand sets itself upon her thighs, the other at the base of her spine, mere centimeters from the top of her ass.

"Can-" A clearing of his throat. Ignore the pink in his face. "Can I help you?"

anonymous sent some (unwanted) relationship advice:

Wear flower crowns

"Finally something sensible. I would look awfully cute in one, wouldn't I?"

@pandoras-boudoir | NSFVV Reactions

[ submission ]   your muse letting mine take the lead and submitting to them. (get dennis's ass jon)

A clawed hand on each thigh, standing between them, holding them in place as he uses his height to lean over the rogue laying on the table's surface, long hair like a curtain around their faces just inches apart as his eyes pierce the other's- this certainly is not how he intended this night to go, but such thoughts are muffled by the heat coursing through his body. His eyes dip down just briefly, long enough to once again admire the livid marks he'd left on Dennis' prized throat, subconsciously licking his lip at the thought of adding more-

Recapturing the other man's face in his gaze, voice a dark purr like growl, Jonathan says, "you're making a dangerous decision, Prowell. One you won't be able to back out of so easily." He'd already been assured- thrice now- that this is what he wants, encouraged to keep going, almost begged- But Jonathan also knows awful mistakes can be made in the heat of the moment. He himself is past the point of denying his desires, most but not all of his hesitations buried under hunger. Picking apart the expression on the lovely creature he's pinned beneath him, Jonathan searches for any sign of regret, discomfort, hesitation.

@thecursedhellblazer | I lost the meme lmao

“  shite, okay, fuck, tha' actually really fuckin' 'urts.  ”

Jonathan makes a sarcastic, condescendingly considering face at the other, frowning with pursed lips and raised eyebrows. The small drops of blood on his right cheek reminisce of stage makeup, adding to the biting fakeness of the expression.

Icey eyes dripping into a venomous glare, he oh so helpfully informs, "that is usually the intention behind shooting someone."

Spidery fingers fixing a skeletal palm against the bullet in his own branch like bicep, the brilliant red oozing into the bark colored fabric is only one factor of the rogue's awful mood. The accented oaf before him is an obvious second. Another is the quietly whimpering body- one of Gotham's many opportunistic but equal parts predators and prey- on the ground between them in the narrow alley, recipient of a generous dosing of toxin. Otherwise disregarded not unlike a stinging pest, dealt with by a simple smack.

The remainder-... Is not as clear. A seething hatred prickling in the back of his skull, trickling down the nape of his neck and causing the hair there to bristle. He'll chalk it up to paranoia, outrage of being watched and followed. Never mind the spur-of-the-momentness on seemingly all fronts of this entire scenario. The intentions of the other lucid individual is a higher priority to discern.

anonymous | Muse Descriptions

Eyes + hands owo;

[ Jonathan was born with arachnodactyly, meaning his fingers are unusually long, enough his pointer, middle, and ring fingers touch his wrist when he folds them. They're also very thin and bony, each knuckle pronounced. His nail beds are long, cuticles trimmed, nails themselves also long and well maintained as claws. Despite his level of care for them, Jonathan is known to pick at the skin around his nails, and it's not uncommon to chip or break one in his line of work. Due to his pale skin and cool undertones, many veins are visible on the backs of his hands and the insides of his wrists. There's a faded scar in the center of his left palm, a thin slightly tilting vertical line, and a similar but smaller scar on the back, the result of being impaled with a knife. Many smaller, less notable scars from working with chemicals and dealing with life as a criminal litter his hands. ]

@elisethetraveller | Muse Descriptions

👀 + eyes

[ Jonathan's eyes are a pale, icy blue, exacerbating the blackness of his pupils and in part giving him his trademark piercing stare. They're slightly almond shaped, wide and somewhat deep set, lids heavy and lashes thick and plentiful. The skin under them is perpetually darkened from stress and lack of sleep, prominent wrinkles at the inner and outer corners alike. Bloodshot isn't an uncommon feature of his eyes. Brows are thick and kept slightly arched with flat, slanted ends. ]

anonymous | Misc. Asks

Does Scarebeast have a knot owo;

"...I'm absolutely going to regret asking, but... A what?"

anonymous | Muse Descriptions

👀 midsection/naval?

[ While not as scrawny as many believe, Jonathan is still considerably underweight, to the point his hip bones are visible and his stomach concaves if he stretches his arms up or arches his back. His waist is high and abnormally thin for someone born male regardless of his bodyweight, exacerbated by his equally unusually wide hips, giving him an exaggerated hourglass figure. There's a distinct trail of naturally ginger body hair starting just under his innie belly button and running south. ]

[ He has a scar from an embedded batarang, a gouge just above his left hip bone. Another scar, the remnants of a bite mark that nearly severed that patch of flesh, sits on his right hip. Just above his pelvis and slightly to the left, briefly interrupting the aforementioned trail of hair, there's an indent like scar dealt to him by Becky Albright. A small mole is present on the back of his left hip. In the center of his back along his waistline, he has a tattoo of simple, small black lettering reading "As the hills turn from green" sat above "back to gold..." ]

@riddle-me-ducc | Misc. Asks

giggling bc jon is the "i want six shots of espresso as black as my soul. hold the joy" and maria is "i want two pumps of every single syrup you have. and whipped cream. and sprinkles. and a glittery curly straw"

"You get more caffeine for your buck if you forego the fancy mix ins."

@the-arkham-librarian | Post-Trauma Starters

“we need to change those bandages and get some food in you.”

Ever the ornery ass, Jonathan only grunts in reply, making no motion to even shift the arm covered in bloodied bandages. He never asked to be fussed over. There's a slight guilt in the back of his mind- he knows damn well by now she's only trying to help- but it doesn't do anything to his stubbornness.

Especially not when the mention of food ties his stomach in further knots. A small grimace passes over his face at the wave of nausea, giving Eliza an unappreciative look.

@the-arkham-librarian | Misc. Asks

"You can come out of the shadows lad, I know you're there." from Good Dad Arthur Kraven

His entire body goes taught, freezing in place with a pang of dread. Stop cryin', if you weren't cryin' he wouldn've heard you- No, this is supposed to be different. These are different people. They don't even know all of what... Just stop cryin'.

Taking a tentative step into the well lit room as he was told, Jonathan tries to will the tears to evaporate from his cheeks, posture stuck between unnaturally straight to avoid reprimand and bent over as if to vanish.

He knew what day it was as soon as he woke up- he didn't want to sleep in the first place, but it was only an hour at most. It's his first of such holidays with this new family, but the creeping dread and painful terror of many before haven't left him yet. He hoped he could hide until the day was over, let Eliza do whatever good kids are supposed to do on Father's Day- no such luck. Here he stands, quietly sniffling, hands clenching and unclenching at his shirt, looking anywhere but Arthur.

anonymous | Muse Descriptions

👀 + toes

@pandoras-boudoir | Misc. Asks

For once in his life, Dennis actually looks a bit bashful. "Hey I was uh...wondering if you'd like to come over sometime. Maybe have dinner."

It takes Jonathan a moment to process the offer as genuine- the faltering of smooth words and slick demeanor attesting to the fact- bewilderment and disbelief still circling his head. What's worse, he can feel the heat in his cheeks and the pointed tips of his ears.

"I- Er-" Before Jonathan can stutter more, his voicebox takes it upon itself to return, "when?" The yes is unspoken but nevertheless clear, mentally kicking himself for acting like a naive high schooler.

anonymous | Misc. Asks

Mmm maybe try some weed instead?

"There is no marijuana in existence strong enough to take the edge off the screaming, odorous, painfully bright Hell across the entire country."

@babydxhl | Post-Trauma Starters

“you should lay down.”

"Oh, piss off." His voice is hardly more than a growl, amplified by the empty glass he holds unnecessarily close to his face. The thin thing perched upon a stool practically reeks of cheap whiskey. The usual piercing bite in his eyes is nowhere to be found, replaced by a faraway emptiness. He doesn't even bother to try giving the uninvited second party a glare- he knows he doesn't have the strength to make it work.

@queryxecho | Post-Trauma Starters

"You should lay down"

Slightly glazed ice blue eyes stare at the origin of the words, darker than usual bags clinging to the underside of his lids- he hadn't slept, hadn't felt safe enough to sleep in days now. His movements jerky and uneven, he returns his attention to continuing... Whatever it was he was doing. He's not about to let them know he's confused, electing to scribble nonsense on the note page. It isn't like his exhaustion addled chicken scratch is easy to decipher as coherent sentences.

"I can rest when I'm dead. Which doesn't seem to be an option for me."