There's An Instinct,

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.

Those fuckers really know how to make a trailer

cis men do not like it when you call their star wars memorabilia 'cute'. like im sorry your death star egg timer that makes an explosion sound instead of a ding is cute. that's what it is. you don't need to pretend its not. take my hand. come with me

Btw if y'all DC fans want a transmasc character might I point you to one of their recent additions, Julien Jourdain (Circuit Breaker)

Goofy goth trans cowboy

Thinking about how Soren spent days alone in ruins of Katolis seemingly there by himself having not changed or cleaned his armor or even wipe the blood from his face until after everyone arrived.

I also want to know where everyone was before they moved to the lodge and what they were doing.

Was Hat still under the care of Opeli, nervously chittering when yet again Soren hadn’t returned from the ruins?

Did Barius try to comfort Soren the few times he got to see him and tried offer him some food?

Were the other members of the Crownguard worried about how long Soren was spending in the ruins even after they had gotten all salvageables and recovered the bodies?

Reblog to make the person u reblogged this from comfy n cozy

alysontabbitha on IG

Description: [A video of a white drag queen dressed as a doll while lip syncing the song “Doll on a Music Box” from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. At the beginning of the video an automated voice says “Your video from this year that should have gone viral”. As she lipsyncs she rotates and moves her body stiffly to the music.

The lyrics are “What do you see, you people gazing at me? You see a doll on a music box, that’s wound by a key. How can you tell I’m, under a spell? I’m waiting for love’s first kiss. You cannot see, how much I long to be free. Turning around on this music box that’s wound by a key. Yearning. Yearning. While I’m turning around and around”.]

Watching as libraries and museums and history itself are put to the torch is harrowing and horrifying

i was possessed;