#thecodotverse

@thecodotverse / @waiting4codot Yellow Lantern Scarecrow

Pretty like your ma with Jackie’s red hair - that there’s Eddie Nashton, through and through.

Ok, so I used to religiously follow @theriddlerspeaks , and then life happened for a while. Now that I’m back into Batman, I found out they have a whole universe thing happening at @waiting4codot , and good lord poor Jon :’ ( So, enjoy this depressing stuff!

Ikky…oh my sweet baby Ikky…

A glass bottle shattered against a weathered wall, peeling paint sticking to several shards as they tumbled to the floor. For a time, the room was silent, save for the creaks of a home that was in desperate need of repair. Then, it began, starting off so soft you would need to be right next to a ratty recliner in the corner. Sobbing.

Jonathan Crane was crying.

If a Gothamite were around to see the pitiful sight, they would probably be brought to tears. The Master of Fear, responsible for countless acts of terror, was weeping like a child that had been roughed up in an alleyway. A scraggly beard was just visible behind long, pale hands, liquid dripping down the hairs and down onto bloodstained clothes. As time passed the cries became louder, the agony trapped within the usually stoic man now laid bare for all to see. Ichabod had been his...everything, and now she was gone. The blood, and the feathers, those lifeless eyes haunted his every waking hour.

”LeT mE oUt child. I cAn fiX yOU.” The sobs grew quiet rather abruptly, the clink of glass hitting glass the only sound for a few seconds. Scarecrow was forced away at the first taste of whiskey, the burning in his throat almost welcomed. He couldn’t remember before he came to in his old home, his confusion but a fleeting moment before he began to drink. Those poor liquor store workers hadn’t even tried to stop the gaunt man from emptying their store and taking off in a battered truck. By the time he reached the bottom of the bottle, Jonathan had stopped crying. He honestly couldn’t remember why he had been, but another bottle would easily make the question go away. Another bottle joined the one thrown previous hours ago, muffling the sound of an approaching car. Not that Jonathan could have heard, the drunk man starting to sing to himself to fill the void.

Two-Face

Also me:

On another note

Me, after listening to Crane’s voice for the first time:

So, @waiting4codot released a very heartbreaking audio log today. I cannot believe that people who go out of their way and say such cruel things to someone who brings to life so many people and situations. His voice acting is incredible, and after finding out that people were so angry at his creation of a Patreon, I was appalled. Patreon is a great way to support a creator you love, it is not too much to ask! After listening to his log, I went and became a part of his Patreon, and I'm glad I can help him in any way I can. I mainly wrote this to show my support (in a way), and I really hope that Codot gets a chance to take a break from this site, and maybe will one day post again for his large audience. I'm sorry you were harassed in such a way Codot, and I hope this doesn't impact your ability and love of voice acting.

Ichabod had always never been one to sleep in too late. The crow rustled her black feathers, head slightly tilted when the blanket was still drawn over her cage. Hoping down from her perch, Ichabod noticed the door hadn't been latched closed. It took moments to be free, the bird amused to see her Jonathan asleep at his desk. With a soft caw she hopped once, then twice, gliding over to land on the worn desk she knew well. Jonathan still hadn't risen, the bird cawing a little louder as she gently pecked his arm.

"Ikky...it's too early..." Gentle fingers moved to rest upon her head, Crane starting to stir as he gave her a few pets. He knew it had to be maybe eight or so in the morning, grumbling a bit as he sat up. "Why you always gotta be so insistent?" His answer was an amusing sounding caw, Ichabod hopping up his arm to her favorite perch on his shoulder. The southerner finally stood, long fingers rubbing at tired eyes as Jonathan made his way to the kitchen. The outside world was covered in a thick fog, a smile twitching at Jon's lips as he stared out the dirty panes of glass. It felt like he was isolated, just him and Ichabod in a world of silence and darkness. He knew that wasn't the case, that Arkham would come calling and all those who inhabited it, good and bad. But for now, he would take what he could get, one finger gently stroking under Ichabod's chin.

Jonathan and Ichabod, all alone in their world.