This Is All Part Of My Buff Tim Drake Agenda .

I wrote Part I of a self-indulgent fic about Sarai and Soren based on my post detailing my headcanons. If you like the excerpt below, feel free to read and support the rest of it here on AO3!

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Sarai lay in the bed, watching the royal physician closely as he examined the frail boy held in her arms. From the corner of her eye, she could see Lord Viren and Lady Lissa across the room with their hands interlocked, knuckles white with tension. No one said a word as the doctor placed a device against the child’s bare chest and brought it to his ear to listen. Not that he needed the instrument, in Sarai’s opinion. Every shaky breath that little Soren took was accompanied by a thick, crackling sound. The Head Crownguard gently ran a hand across the boy’s head to wipe away the feverish sweat that plastered the golden locks to his forehead. Soren was none the wiser of the movement around him, eyes screwed shut in a restless slumber.

Occasionally, one of Sarai’s recruits would ask her why she spent so much time cooped up in the bedroom of the High Mage’s son. She’d answer curtly that as a Crownguard, it was her duty to aid the people of Katolis in whatever way she could, including High Mage Viren and his family. Who was Sarai to deny a sick child company, especially when he asked so nicely?

It was no secret that Soren adored Sarai. She saw the way his face lit up when she walked through the door. On the good days, she’d play with him while his parents attended court or spent time with their daughter. Soren would grab his toy sword, and Sarai would grab his little dragon plushie, and they would take turns chasing each other around the room, playfighting.

During the bad days, she’d lay on the bed with Soren and tell him about the Crownguard. Sarai ensured that Soren knew he wasn’t expected to make conversation, or even keep his eyes open. She just spoke, and he listened or tried to sleep – and the only response to her stories would be the sound of soft wheezing. Sarai would stay with Soren long after he fell asleep, only getting up when his parents returned to take her place at his side.

Harrow, Lady Justice bless him, would check on her after every visit with Soren. He knew her history with the breathing sickness and how it affected her. She’d, of course, politely assure him that she was well and thank him for keeping an eye on Callum while she was unavailable. They’d stroll through the halls, and Harrow would tell her all about which area of the castle he had helped Callum explore that day.

there's an instinct,

a moment of truth.

and in that moment,

you hesitate.

trans people will literally go “i have a complicated relationship with my history with gender and sometimes see it as a gender i ‘used to be’ and i don’t really look like a cis person of either gender and i don’t think i can fit it into simple categories” and everyone will spontaneously combust

me age 13: been getting really into doctor who lately

me age 18: i can’t remember the last time i’ve felt genuine happiness

me age 22: been getting really into doctor who lately

Minor fable

In which Soren feels like he's breaking @sorinethemastermind This is payback for putting the whump into fluffcember Listen to Minor Fable by Luis Berra for extra immersion

Soren was tired. That was the one thing he had been sure of for a long time. 

Nothing else had been solid enough recently, more like a raging river. But now it was still, and he still wasn’t sure what was what.

A lot of Katolis was still staying at the camp outside the Banther Lodge, and Callum and Ez were leaving tomorrow, but for now, they were all staying in New Lux Aurea.

Soren had a tent to himself, which seemed like the manor of tents. It was quite large, and tall enough for him to be able to stand up straight in without his head hitting the top. There was a cot, elevated off the ground, a small desk with a chair, and a tall mirror on the desk, leaning against the canvas of the wall.

I should probably check on my cuts. He thought. He could feel the dried blood crusting around the cut near his jaw and the one on the side of his nose. Either was likely to scar, but he wasn’t completely sure.

He walked up to the mirror, looking at his reflection. A bit of blood was clinging to his hair, which was easy enough to pick out. There was another small cut severing his eyebrow, which was less of a new cut and more of the split of an old one, from the fall of Katolis.

That one was definately going to scar.

Stupid rock.

His mind wandered, which was dangerous nowadays. He had a habit of wandering back to moments he shouldn’t be lingering on, and this time was no different.

“Take my heart.” He had said to Viren.

“Soren, I- You know I can’t do that.” Viren’s eyes were… afraid. 

Soren didn’t remember ever seeing him afraid until then.

“You have to do it. You’ve been fine with doing it my whole life, just do it!” His grip tightened on the relic staff. “Why can’t you do it when it matters?!”

Soren glanced back into the mirror, but didn’t see himself.

Instead, he saw Viren’s reflection staring back at him, in the same clothes he was wearing when he casted the Hearts of Cinder spell. His eyes were dark voids, with streams of red pouring down his face from them.

“Soren,” His voice was warped beyond recognition, barely recognizable. “You are me. You will always have my blood flowing through your veins, and nothing you can do can or will ever change that.” His face turned into a sneer. “I should’ve taken your heart when I had the cha-”

Soren’s fist collided with the mirror, splitting it into dozens and dozens of pieces. A sharp pain split through his hand as he staggered back. His blue eyes looked back at him in the broken pieces of mirror, split over and over and over again.

His hand throbbed profusely, and looking down at it, he watched rivers of blood spill from his knuckles. Small shards of glass stuck out from the tender skin, coated in the dark red.

He didn’t even notice that he was crying until he felt his tears land on his hand, causing the cuts to sting.

Soren sat on the cot, curling inward whilst still holding his left hand out, so as to not jostle the glass wedged into it. Hot tears streamed down his face, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or from what he saw.

It might have been from both.

“Soren?” He heard a muffled voice from outside the tent.

Corvus.

“Yeah- uh, yeah come in.” He quickly wiped the tears off his face with the palm of his right hand. The last rays of daylight streamed into the tent as Corvus stepped in through the tent flap, and Soren could see his eyes darting around, taking in each bit of information that stuck out to him.

He also noticed his eyes go from the shattered mirror to his hand, still bleeding and dripping blood onto the ground.

Instead of asking the expected questions like What happened? and “Are you okay?”, he asked something else.

“Do you want help?”

Soren looked back at him, seeing the worried crease between his eyebrows before silently nodding. He didn’t trust his voice at the moment.

Corvus sat down silently beside him, removing his bag from his shoulder and opening it. Soren’s gaze followed him, watching him pull out a roll of gauze and tweezers before gently taking his hand.

He turned his head away before Corvus started pulling the glass out, biting his inner cheek hard enough that it bled, filling his mouth with the metallic taste of blood. He hadn’t said anything then, either.

Soren had counted about four pieces of glass before the pulling stopped. He had thought there was a lot more than that.

It had felt like it before the pulling, too.

He felt Corvus start to wrap his knuckles with the gauze after. Every touch was gentle, like a stream of water being poured over a blazing fire, calming the nerves in his hand.

Corvus always seemed to have that effect on him, somehow. Soren could never figure out how or why, though.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Corvus asked him, breaking the silence after he had tied off the gauze, wrapping around his wrist.

Soren shook his head, before leaning his head against Corvus’ shoulder. He didn’t even want to think about it, but the image of Viren looking back at him in the mirror, with a soulless void filling his eyes, was ingrained into his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, even for a moment, he saw it.

I should’ve taken your heart when I had the chance.

“Can you stay here tonight?” His voice was raw. He hated how the words made him sound like a child. But part of him knew he might not make it through the night if he was left alone.

Corvus nodded, and Soren felt him wrap an arm around his shoulders.

He felt like heated glass most of his life; bending and molding with everything that hit him. 

But the glass had cooled now. 

And he felt, if something else came swinging…

He’d shatter into a million pieces.

“X bodily fluid is just filtered blood!” buddy I hate to break it to you but ALL of the fluids in your body are filtered blood. Your circulatory system is how water gets around your body. It all comes out of the blood (or lymph, which is just filtered blood).

if you want me to consume a new media you MUST catch me at the exact moment when the stars are aligned and the air pressure is equal to the current degree of the sun’s peak against the horizon and all the cosmic energies are perfectly unified (aka my old interest is fading out) or i will nod and say “im adding that to my list!” Knowing theres no chance i will check it out

I love the first meeting of Dick and Commissioner Gordon in Batman and Robin: Year One

Jim is so done with Batman having a young sidekick, and for a good reason. Like, this boy is around his daughter's age, he should be on bed instead of chasing criminals.

And Dick, bless his soul, is so energetic and excited since it's his first patrol. Probably, his childish manners make him ever more ill suited for this job in Jim's eyes.

Everything about this scene is perfect.