sanatoris

[sanatoris]

[txt] — Dr. Marie McAshten : hey [txt] — Dr. Marie McAshten : heard you called sick [txt] — Dr. Marie McAshten : just wanted to check up on you

@nightmdic : 🌻 a worried text. | accepting

[sanatoris]

It is not the first time he finds himself at the torturous hands of either a criminal or a corrupt authority, attempting to gnaw out information on certain VIP patients, ones he considers like the rest; to him, they are only human beings in need of medical care he can provide. This time is not unlike the rest; he is resilient, stubborn, not breaking under the different methods of torture inflicted upon him, he would DIE before breaking his oath and the trust of his patients. 

The room is dark to him, eyes covered with a blindfold tightly bound around his head, he can hear everything though, from the footsteps of his tormentors to the tools used on him, and when another set of footsteps joins while the rest starts to become faint or abruptly disappear, he starts to figure what is going on around but not the reason behind it; help? police? internal conflict, perhaps? 

No.  It echoes through the stillness of the air; hurt? Denial? Who is this? Not a familiar voice. 

The steps are getting closer by the second, he embraces for another impact with whatever source of pain they might be bringing along, hands gripping against the arms of the chair he is bound to, he can almost feel their breath against his——- 

Huh? Where is who?

He keeps quiet for a few seconds, but he figures it would only put him into more danger, trigger the worst in them.   ❝  I don’t know who the person you’re asking about is.  ❞   He is honest in this, and maybe his body language supports it a little. Besides, what would a blindfolded man be able to help with?   ❝  I don’t think I’d be able to anyway; as you can see, I can’t.  ❞

@sanatoris / plotted

Amelia didn't think she had ever run faster, but the sprint to the door felt like an entire lifetime. Everything she had been working for, peace and retribution, was just on the other side. Her hands are sticky with blood, so she doesn't bother to grab the handle, kicking the door wide open not to waste a single moment. She barges over the threshold, wild eyes scanning the room, looking for the monster that haunted her every waking moment.

But there was no familiar face ⸻ just a pretty one, unscathed, attached to a beaten, and bloody body. This was the last room. This was where he was supposed to be. ❝ No ⸻ ❞ Amelia practically chokes on her desperation, circling the stranger in the chair, looking for any sign of her quarry, as if he would suddenly appear.

It feels as if the ground gives way beneath her feet and she nearly collapses to her knees, but the shuddered breath of the bound victim rips her back to focus. Weakness can be allowed in front of a corpse, but not by anything that lives or breathes. Steeling herself, the assassin turns quickly, leaning in close as her eyes burn, to viciously demand: ❝ Where is he!? ❞

[sanatoris]

texting starters send a symbol for…

🌻 a worried text.

🐰 a goofy text.

🦋 a loving text.  

🧦 a half-asleep text.

🌳 a happy text.

🍎 an apologetic text.

⚠️ a text meant for someone else.

🕰️ an early morning text.

💫 a late night text.

🗑️ a text that wasn’t sent.

💡 a scared text.

💀 an urgent text.

�� a supportive text.

🔪 a hateful text. 

🌊 a sad text.

⚡ an angry text. 

🚀 a goodbye text.

[sanatoris]

It is imminent, and he knows it: the THUNDERING ACHE in his head growing by the second, the vision disturbances, the nausea, they are all leading to a full blown migraine, a one that might need more than the trash can he has asked for; probably in-hospital assistance and care: fluids, intravenous painkillers and rest for quite a while. This case has been messing him up bad, and the fact he is against Gabriel being his attorney -fearing for their life for the people he is against are no joke- is not making it any easier. This man, he has known already to be kind despite the monotonic voice and the almost empty facial expressions they present with, he can’t sacrifice such a soul for his own benefit nor merely endanger it. Yet, does he have much of a choice? Probably not.

❝ Yeah. ❞ His first confirmation is more to himself, attempting to convince his body of it. ❝ Yeah.. ❞ Now the second is for them; trying to assure them of his wellbeing despite the scene unfolding before their eyes, his hand, despite the EXCRUCIATING pain, is gentle against their forearm, barely squeezing when the pain escalates and now he has to hold the offered trash can in place with both hands, his already empty stomach expelling its own chemicals, the stinging, burning feeling of his throat and mouth evident of it, and so is the yellowish end result that pours into the bag. It takes about five minutes before he can finally put the can down to the floor, forehead resting against the edge of the table. ❝ Sorry.. ❞ For the mess? For wasting their time? For dragging them into this whole thing? He doesn’t know anymore.

( @sanatoris )

i need a trash can.

Dark, solemn hues fall on the other, attention taken away from stacks of paper and pinned only on him. The case file is pushed aside, can pulled and stuffed right under the man's head, the other hand to his back to ease him if he goes to hurl.

"Here." Gabriel reassures, voice sinking despite its monotony. "You're alright, Felix. Easy, now." Words of reassurance mumbled only for the two of them to hear, the walls too far to be reached by such low, considerate volume. Utterson is assuming - or rather surmising from past events - that this is a migraine devolving before his eyes, and he pities Felix dearly though his face bears little marks of it.

[sanatoris]

my cat passed away after a really longstanding fight with multiple issues, he was a fighter, a real survivor, im forever proud of him, but i will always miss him, it will never hurt less with time… idk how to describe it, but yeah, jsyk where i’ve been at with life n why im not anywhere for a while

[sanatoris]

listennn! I swear I usually engage with the stuff u post, send memes when u reblog some, like starter & plotting calls, reach out for new mutuals and etc but I’ve been hella busy like literally BARELY on the dash tbh !! so if I don’t like/reblog/send/reply then it means I did NOT see it ! im taking ages with replies too and answers bcuz well life is hella busy recently and I have a big exam (actually two) at the end of this month , if I don’t make it I won’t pass this year! GOD! so consider it a HIATUS until I figure my shit out with life n exams too! u can always reach me on disco or through ims <3

[sanatoris]

. They take it better than he does, their mind at least keeping the reality of the situation a possibility at the back of their mind. He, on the other hand, is consumed by FEAR of the worst, by ACHE in every muscle and joint as a result of a painful transformation that he was lucky enough to sleep through. 

They increase the distance between one another, and though it is but an expected and natural reaction, it makes his heart SINK a little; look what is becoming of you, a monster dressed in a human’s attire, a freak made by a destiny he had no say in. Unfair. Cruel. 

The question is fair, and it anchors him a little, pulls him back into the reality around. He has to think, and for someone as intelligent as him, he sure takes longer than expected to be able to form words, the answer is still unclear to him. Yes, he knows it has to do with the whole the One bullshit, but how? He does not know. Is it a curse casted by another? Is it even real or they’re in a vivid nightmare?   ❝  I-  ❞   The words are heavier than ever before, especially with his vocal cords allowing a new voice out, unfamiliar, uncomfortable, he swallows and clears his throat as if by doing so he could regain his original tones.   ❝  -don’t know…  ❞   Gaze darts to one palm, questioning the reality of all of this, closing it into a fist then opening it repeatedly as if to clear the picture for a better reality. Sadly, this is the reality he has dragged them into with himself. 

Oh— 

His eyes widen and spark like a child finally finding the perfect idea to draw onto paper with their crayons. Arm stretches to reach for the closest shirt, it does not matter if it is his or theirs now, while his other hand grips at the sheets covering his torso until the top is donned onto his smaller frame, hair disheveled in result. Now he can get up freely—- well, almost; his undergarments slide a little and he has to grab it by the waistband to prevent a hilarious scenario, hands swiftly make a knot at its side to anchor it to his hips. Better.   ❝  I think-  ❞   God he can’t get used to this voice. His hand reaches for the phone, first proof of identity: entering the correct passcode. He fiddles with it, getting the desired contact.   ❝  -the cult would know!  ❞   Second proof: knowledge of the cult and his own destiny. Someone answers the line, but there is only the sound of breath from the other end. Disappointment starts to swell in his chest, but then their security system alerts them of an intruder, he locks gaze with them as if to find answers in their eyes.

There seems to be this disconnect between them ; his own bewilderment being met with slight annoyance until they’re moving in the same flustered confusion that he had caught himself in just moments ago. 

[1] What were they doing here?  [2] How did they get here? [3] And more importantly who the hell were they?

He waits, careful to make his judgment or to presume the worse. This could be a prank. A joke. Something else that would make more sense than his worst fears or dawning realization. Felix may have mentioned before that this curse of his when drawn out has some unexpected reality bending effects but he’d failed to anticipate this. 

If it is what it is, that is. 

He pulls back a little. Careful. Unsure. A not so simple question hanging off the tip of his tongue. 

     “ How? ” 

[sanatoris]

The comfort of the sheets wrapped haphazardly around limbs is a familiar feeling by now, yet something distinct- almost weird about the way they slide against his skin, softer. The voice of a man he has shared more than just a bed with rings in his ears; he needs more sleep, the migraine threatening to strike again—- wait! What? Despite the slow regaining of consciousness, their words SNATCH him back to reality; what do they mean who he is supposed to be? Is this some kind of not so funny joke? He has just opened his eyes for fuck’s sake.   ❝  It’s too earl———-  ❞  

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? 

His voice is a softer tone, a feminine one, it forces his sight to his own physique—- no; that is not his body. The panic is apparent on his face as he almost jumps onto a sitting position, and now he can’t blame them for looking almost as confused as he is. How is he going to explain this to them when he can’t even to himself? 

It is instinctive when his hands grab the covers to hide his exposed new shape, face tinted red, the words stuck in his throat for at least thirty seconds, wide eyes locked with theirs in a failed attempt to reach them, to explain, assure.   ❝  Fe..lix—-?  ❞   He tries, but it comes out as doubtful as they must be of him, rightfully. Please just— miraculously believe!

@bruz3r

[sanatoris]

just felix on motorcycles ?? y e s

[sanatoris]

i keep thinking of this

[sanatoris]

𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲  𝐧𝐨  𝐨𝐧𝐞  𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝  𝐲𝐚 , ​ ᴴᵃʳᵛ ᵗᵒˡᵈ  ᵐᵉ  ʷʰᵃᵗ ?  𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃  !

◖ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 / " 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 " ◗  of  BATMAN / DC  COMICS . bisected by 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑 formerly @/facesplit / 2022 / revamped 03/27/2024 .

indie /  sel  / 21 +  / headcanon - based with inspiration from multi-verse  [ comics /  animated universe / btas / arkham / telltale /  cinematography ] mutuals  only /  crossover  friendly  +  oc  friendly !

𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃 . 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 .

[sanatoris]

𝘄𝗲'𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗻 𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗼𝘁𝘀.

[sanatoris]

me watching rom trying to get out of it by acting like they let felix go n not the cult interrupting the master plan: >:| liar !

@catfcng & @halfdent

[sanatoris]

idk if im gonna be anywhere near even if i do it’s just to quit my mind

[sanatoris]

Their scent is breathed in, like drugs dissolving into chemicals that conquer his brain. The hand in his hair seems to grip in desperation, want, need? He gives them more, oh he would give them everything. His right hand does not part from the flesh of their mound, teasing, kneading, circling around the most sensitive of it, almost touching but not yet, just a little more. His lips lock with theirs, tongues dancing, a light bite to the lower of them before the trail of kisses reaches their neck then collarbones, sucking enough to ignite their nerves but not enough to elicit pain, his free hand travels to their abdomen, into the territory where it’s so close to their arousal yet too far for a touch. He is a master of nerves, after all.

The space of what’s left of his garments lessens, tightening around his own evidence of pleasure. Still, he gives it no mind, prioritizes their senses over his, their comfort, their pleasure. That is why he steals a look at their face, coated with lust, before his tongue slides to the neglected part of their chest, lips wrapping around the darkened skin, tongue swirling around and poking against the tip, his other hand finally allowing a finger to graze the tip there too, to give it the attention needed, deserved.

Hands rest at his shoulders when their lips collide again, gaze fluttering closed as a light hum escapes her; dinner can certainly wait for a while now. Head tilts to grant him more access, a soft breath escaping when he reaches her pulse point. He's gentle, something she finds to adore when she's laid back atop her bed, emerald gaze half-lidded as she watches him stands over her.

He's more fit than she expects, and the piercing gaze resting on her as the shirt is removed is enough to bring a light heat to her cheeks, gaze flickering over him as a soft smile reveals on her features, hands nearly reaching out for him when he returns against her, a hand gently against the side of his neck, the other cupping his cheek in the returned kiss.

Hand on his cheek shifts lightly to his hair when his lips trail lower, head resting back against the sheets as a soft gasp escapes her at the attention being given to her chest, breaths slowly becoming lightly heavier.

[sanatoris]

Two heads with a stone instead of a brain, too stubborn for their own good; he knows arguing with them is as useless as doing so with himself, but he decides to act like the wiser adult of them this time, a sigh in purposeful defeat, a nod of head to further punctuate it. He can try, at least, but there is no promising more than that; the same reason that has deprived him of a most needed rest might strike again, diminish any effort put by the both of them. God, how he hates this; EXHAUSTION won’t be a good look for patients to see on their caregiver’s face. ❝ You know we both are. ❞ It sounds like an argument, but there is a silent ‘but’ in the way he pauses, laptop closed, blue screen glasses put down on the table next to him along with the laptop, his body slides down a little, one pillow held against his torso. ❝ We can take turns. Three hours max. ❞ No, there is no for arguing this time, his eyes already draping, back of wrist against of eyes and bridge of nose as if to block the light or hide behind, a habit.

She can tend to be be just as stubborn when it comes to the care of other's as such other's can be obtaining such care; the exhaustion seems rather obvious to her, and if she could bring some means of assisting in his slumber, even if that means staying up all night just to check on him - she's more than willing. Understanding what his nightmares are might be more difficult, but she can understand having restless nights because of such nightmares plaguing the mind. First days out of the field in recovery, the nightmares that plagued her then, & sometimes even now, there's an understanding

" I'm use to being up this late - you however really look like you need the rest. The research will still be there in the morning."

[sanatoris]

I’m okay. I’m just down to limping for the rest of my life. that is not something a KID would utter, not a mentality a kid should have, and oh he knows from experience how it must be SUFFERING that has shaped such a young soul into a mature one already; the need to grow up and learn to survive.

There is SADNESS in his heart for what they must have went through, but it stays in his chest, does not allow it to reflect on his features, only soft and kind. ❝ Did the doctors tell you that? ❞ Was there no hope for them despite the evolution in medicine? Or was there another reason? A hidden one behind their warm, innocent smile.

@moralpuppet : " Oh my leg ? It's been like that for a while . I'm okay I'm just down to limping for the rest of my life ! "