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Welcome back!

; v; hey u. thanks.

i was working on replies on my blogs but i am so out of it //pushes off for tomorrow like a TRU RPER haaaa

#clinicalphobia #asks #stares at replies #dear lord

clinicalphobia replied to your post:"I'd offer you breakfast, but I think I'm too sore to move."

jons just fuck this im done do you want me to cook? no? fuck you my cooking is amazing

Jonathan Crane: 1000% better at dealing with his alter's shit than Harvey Dent apparently.

#outofcourt;;#clinicalphobia

"I'd offer you breakfast, but I think I'm too sore to move."

Waking up to the aftermath of Two-Face’s trysts wasn’t new to Harvey, much as he might wish it to be. His other half seemed to take some perverse pleasure in thrusting the responsibility of excusing themselves in the morning on him, in all likelihood just to make him squirm, to force him right into the guilt and shame that came with knowing he had cheated on Gilda, again. But it had always been women before now - and more importantly, women he didn’t know, anonymous gun molls who had managed to pique the shallowest kind of interest in Two-Face.

Waking up to a sardonic Jonathan Crane was another beast entirely.

And remembering what they’d done with Crane (or Scarecrow, but who was making distinctions?) - now that was practically a nightmare, and he stiffened from head to toe when the man spoke, mangled lips drawing back from his teeth in an instinctive snarl. Like a cornered animal, and he was most definitely looking for the quickest way to dodge around his unexpected bedmate and get as far away from this situation as possible.

He didn’t respond, didn’t even move for a long moment, but then he was rolling away to sit on the far edge of the bed, turning his back (hiding his shame), and Christ, he could feel the scratch marks, the bites, the reminders he did not need right now.

”Where the Hell are my clothes?” Anger was good, anger worked. Anger made him feel a hell of a lot less exposed than he was - something he could always fall back on when all else failed.

#clinicalphobia #in which no one is surprised to learn that harvey and two-face have an unhealthy dynamic #and harvey deals with the obligatory gay panic following his first same-sex rumble #glorious

clinicalphobia-archive

It is official. Harvey is Jonathan’s teddy bear.

fatehaschosen-archive

"Don't let it go to your head. This 'bear' will still rip your arms off if you're not careful."

#clinicalphobia #v;; hogwarts nights #he's physically obligated to threaten the people he lets close to him so he doesn't feel like he's going soft #caring for your traumatized auror 101

Hi, you look like a very fun blog. Thank you for tormenting Will Graham.

>It's honestly my distinct PLEASURE.

#not sure which Will you're talking about but either way #yessss #clinicalphobia #asks

The trouble with leaving Baltimore for any occasion, such as the attendance of psychiatric conferences in Gotham, New York, was the issue of arranging both lodging as well as a private place that can be used for butchery and the like in dire situations. Of course, inventiveness is in the nature of our dear Sociopath and MD, Dr. Hannibal Lecter, but it did always present a bit of an endeavor before the purchase of any airline tickets.

Airlines were one of many of the little mundane things of the world that Dr. Lecter never had been able to develop a stately resistance toward when it came to the matter of not allowing himself to feel discomfort due to circumstance. Breathing in the filtered breath and flatulence of those common many that surrounded him on such flights was torturous in prospect, and the many sounds of people coughing, shifting in their seats, talking to one another, and of children screaming, crying, or kicking seats, prompted him retreat to the safety of what corridors lay in his mind. And, despite the transit from airport, to hotel, to conference, to restaurant, he remained as such, blissfully semi-present in reality while making keystrokes on the clavier in his mind.

In fact, he didn't entirely find himself at attention until the matter of hunting arose. Some older gentleman, who boasted his association with the psychology department at the local university, had found it necessary to harass the serving staff and depart his table and the establishment in its entirety without so much as paying his bill.

So it was that Dr. Lecter found himself and his rude acquaintance, drugged and subdued for now, in what was once one of many Wayne owned and operated warehouses in the industrial district in what was locally called The Narrows. It was not his intention, however, when entering the abandoned facility, to find someone already having staked a claim to the location. And for the very same purposes, evidently, as himself.

Having been well-read in psychiatric circles, the identification was a quick and easy one to make.

"Dr. Jonathan Crane?" It was more a sort of bemused calmness than surprise or accusation. "Pardon me. I was unaware I was intruding."

#clinicalphobia #prose rp #wow that was long im sorry