Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media

PSA to fan creators who don't have a lot of regular contact with children: They are almost always bigger than you think. A 1-year-old baby may already be walking. A toddler is likely already hip-high. A 10-year-old may already be taller than at least one of their parents. A 14/15 year old may already have reached their adult height.

Vincent van Gogh, from a letter to Anna van Gogh. December 1889. The Illustrated Provence Letters of van Gogh selected and edited by Martin Bailey

literally no one is doing it like sam and jammer. they're always so smart and always coming to important conclusions in ways that make me lose my shit

have we talked about the logistics of Viren's nightmare version of Kpp'Ar (coloured by how Viren perceived him in the past and perceives him now) versus how Kpp'Ar might've actually been vs some blend of the two as being reality

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.

three of swords (heartbreak, sorrow, grief)

plus the lines because i still prefer the clean look of it

timkon stans stop tagging(!!) and whining about bernard challenge impossible

some of you just cannot accept that “i just don’t like it” is a complete reason to not engage with media or a facet of media

then, she laid before me her scales,

her sword,

and her blindfold

and told me to choose.