/ I think I'm gonna quit writing guys. At least for a while. The insecurities are really getting to me. I've been told I'm really good but still I feel like I'm not good enough. Might be back sometime next month if I'm feeling up for it but for now I'm gonna dip and continue focusing on my studies.

❝ Dear God. What is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring. ❞ • A literate and descriptive portrayal of bbc's Sherlock Holmes. • Multi-ship. Bisexual. Male lean. • Multiverse and OC friendly. • Heart and retweet to spread the world. ( More information below! )

"You call it suffering. I call it…beautiful." Does he even realize? Every pulse in his skull makes him wonder what it looks like inside, that storm beneath the bone. If he could kindly let him open it...see thoughts and pain collide.

𝓔ternal. I HAVE TO WAKE UP EARLY TOMORROW! I HAVE TO WAKE UP EARLY ON A FRICKIN SATURDAY!

𝗗𝗿. 𝗖𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝘀𝗻'𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗻𝗼𝘄. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 . .

"A headache, is it?" He leans in, the voice almost tender, too calm to be safe. "How curious. The mind rebells against itself. .I wonder what it looks like inside when it does that."

He hesitates, the faintest flicker of something human behind his eyes. “Dinner…” a dry laugh escapes him, almost self-mocking. “You may regret the company you’ve invited, Mr. Cobblepot.” He exhales, quiet, thoughtful. “But perhaps even I could stand to share the silence for a while.”

lonely , lonely little life i could kid myself in thinking that i'm fine

“Rarity indeed. And yet, we keep searching, don’t we? Foolish as it may be. Even fear grows lonely in the dark.”

"Tell me Mr. Cobblepot. .how do you soothe such a condition?"

𝓔ternal. Not in the mood for long replies. I did three hours of studying today, my mind is cooked. Feel free to send an interaction. Thanks.

“Strange, isn’t it? How the human mind can crave connection, even when it knows better.”

@kingofgotham.bsky.social The office was dim, the air tinged with coffee and the faint musk of old paper. Jonathan Crane glanced up from his desk as the door opened, his expression unreadable behind his glasses. “Mr. Cobblepot,” he greeted, voice smooth, measured. “I can’t say I expected +

// I have a problem. 🫠

@songbirdcanary.bsky.social The lab reeked of fear, chemical, metallic, sharp. Crane had always called it the most honest scent a person could wear. Beneath the flicker of a lone light, he adjusted his mask, voice calm and clinical. “You shouldn’t have come here, Miss Prince.” The +

heart this post for a written starter (length may vary!). retweet this post for DM plotting.

The air smelled of antiseptic and straw, a sterile kind of decay. Papers cluttered the desk, brain diagrams marked with spidery notes. In the dim light, Dr. Jonathan Crane adjusted his gloves as thunder murmured outside and a patient screamed somewhere in the dark.

❝ Would you like to see my mask? ❞ • A literate and descriptive portrayal of Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow. • (Multi) ship w chemistry. Bisexual. • Multiverse and OC friendly. • Heart and retweet to spread the world. ( More information below! )