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anantaru · 1 year

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AND HIS TEARS FLOWED LIKE FINE WINE

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — dainsleif has been touch starved lately and can‘t seem to figure out a way to get rid of it himself.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ —2.7k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, fem! reader, handjob, m.sturbation, dacry.philia, perv dain but also unexperienced dain, touch starved dain, a lil whiny

dainsleif was growing frustrated, annoyed and irritated— he couldn’t recall on how many times he had nervously cracked his knuckles to distract himself or occupy his mind with simple tasks such as blowing out air from his lungs, rolling his eyes, attempting to get rid of the tumbling blonde hair strands repeatedly poking his eye balls.

he‘s desperate and feels it all— cursoring for a quick relief. Every bump and scatter of his erection would forcibly press against the confines of his tight pants with the pesky material only adding onto the painful ache. it’s all too much and anything would do, really, as long as the big tent in his pants wouldn‘t grow any further. please.

what made this troubling experience even more taxing was that, at the outset, dainsleif tried to please himself through his dense garments, bashing his hips into his large palm and kneading down softly, squashing down on his balls, yet, it didn’t feel as good as when someone else was doing it.

frankly, it made his blood boil, that even he couldn‘t distract himself from his pinching needs, that someone like dainsleif himself could be driven so far up against the wall that he's now thrusting into his hand.

"fuck! fuck, fuck!" he swears in a manifold of phrases and slants into the wall for support, a soft moan falling over his sweet lips when he squeezes into his erection, "ah- curses, why now?!"

dainsleif's face mixes into a cramped expression as he continues while distressfully chewing on the inner surface of his cheeks. his knees were swirling with shakes, on the brink of feeling numb— but then, if this situation wasn't punishing enough, his eyes suddenly grow at the size of saucers, open wide, when he notices how someone in particular was pressing down on the door handle of the closed room, swiftly opening the entry to his chambers.

he doesn't know what to do, what to think, how to behave or what to say— but he's full of fear and fast moving when he pushes himself off the wall while spinning his back so it'd face the door, so the unknown person who let themselves in wouldn't catch the prominent bulge in his pants.

"dainsleif?"

he wonders if this day could get any worse.

why— out of all the people, does it have to be you to find him in such an embarrassing position as this one? "y-yes, what is it?" he exhales heavily through his nose and replies almost a little too swift, as if he had planned out a reply beforehand.

"um, why aren't you facing me?" his awkwardness made you wonder, your welcoming smile flattens as you return with a worrying glare, the subtle shakes in his legs too, most prominently his calfs, had made you think something terrible must've happened to him.

"i'm quite busy."

"busy with looking up at the ceiling?" you awkwardly giggle, stepping closer, "wait don't!" and he stops you with all the required power he currently was in possession of, "are you hiding something from me?"

just as it is not your place to pry or poke your nose all up his damned business, you were still in the mood to further provoke his density. "my oh my." you get closer— enough for him to sense the sweetened aroma of your fragrance.

dainsleif was fixedly averting his gaze from you, determined, "it's almost as if you're mad at me." and you imitate a pained tone now. he couldn't remember the last time he was this dedicated in something while also concentrating to ignore the twinge in his boxers— that was now, growing bigger at nothing but your voice alone.

"i'm- i'm not mad at you." he's squeezing his eyes together, not registering that you took another step closer, "i'd never be—." and he silently yelps when you, in a trice, place your palm on his upper back, taking him by total surprise.

"never be what?" you poke and he makes a mistake— cradling his head a little so he could face you after all, yet in shock and panic on how to proceed with utmost caution without blowing his cover, but also taking into account that he might cum untouched by the mere sight of your beauty.

"i could never be mad at you."

you see the concern in his mannerism, and an ink of a crooked smile, "are you feeling sick?" while now, his eyes had been fixed on you like a type of riveted shadow, you trail down his lower region and suddenly, on an impulse, all of it made sense to you. "oh."

"oh what?" he stares at you curiously but neutral and then realizes what your eyes were looking at.

in all honesty, he could die of embarrassed right now.

"you.." sloping your head to the side, you curse yourself underneath your irregular pants that you shouldn't have pried for once in your life.

"i'm so sorry, i shouldn't have-"

"no wait it's okay!" he cuts you off almost immediately and turns around, frowning, "i don't know how to fix that."

his pre cum had already soiled through the materials, outlining a deep pit in his pants, and you silently giggle to yourself, angling one of your hands to close around his heated cheek, smiling up and kindly brushing away the steamed hair strands bedaubed on his forehead, "why didn't you say anything?" a tentative whisper, nothing less, teasing his hopeful eyes.

as if he didn't think about it for the last ten minutes, he discloses to himself, in secret.

as a matter of fact, he had you pictured in his mind while roughly fucking into his hand.

he‘s truly awful, right? so nasty and lewd.

but dainsleif would imagine you doing it to him— sweetly encasing your smaller hand around his shaft and battering him up with his creamy cum. consequently, did he vulgarly fantasize about how you‘re bestowing him with a masterfully grand twist on the underside of his length, gripping around him and tracing the throbbing vein with your thumb until lingering your digits further into the base of his cock to knead his balls.

he thought about it— the whole time, wincing into the back of his hand at the unmixed imagination about you fucking him harder. and once you had been entering his room, there was nothing that could've torn off this shameful fantasy from his perverted mind.

"i didn't know what to say." he bluntly admits to you and his hand reflexively drew back to his bulge to press down, though you watch him tenderly, swiftly wrapping your smaller hand around his wrist to yank his arm away. "don't."

each word you spoke was making this scenario hotter, was turning dainsleif into a complete fool for you. Your sentencing was swinging in the steamy room, strong enough to have him wholly bleed into your skilled touch.

dainsleif delights into it, willingly, under the reflection of your warm skin on top of his.

he looks at you through puppy eyes, flickering up to watch and see what you're doing next. "let me do it." you purr and he listens, though content with reservations, "you- you really don't have to." but little does he know that you really want to.

you slump over into his chest so he could comfortably rest his head on your neck, silently mouthing over a sensitive spot on the damp skin.

"i don't want you to feel like you have to do this for me."

"i want this." your hand drifts off between his thighs, "i want this really really badly." and rest your cheek on his clothed chest while savoring in his needy, sloppy kisses on your neck and collarbones.

"so leave everything to me."

a low noise— something between a whine and a satisfied hum— blissful, enraptured, he was quite literally transported onto cloud nine. not only was he seemingly getting rid of the problem in his pants, but it was also you, without reluctance, aiding him as well.

he sees you, feels you and peppers you with sweet kisses as your hands eagerly unlatch his belt, the clamping resonate of the leather hitting the ground had his body captured in an involuntarily shake, the loudness spouting through the cold room.

with such loving embrace, you handled him with care, all of him, next— excitedly pulling down his pants and boxers respectively before freeing his aching cock. you spot the redness around it and dainsleif hisses at nothing but the freezing air making contact with his burning shaft.

you lick your lips at the arousing sight and watch his shy reaction through under your lashes, all sweetly and innocent.

dainsleif was cute— and for a moment you indulge and enjoy the view of a characteristically confident man gradually melting under your touch. how his jaw was closed off and his teeth rasped together, how he whined when you playfully ran your dainty finger over his quivering vein.

"dain." this damned nickname, it's homey and cradles a moderate warmth around his heart, "i‘ll make you feel good now."

you enter into it cautiously, as to not hurt him. starting off with unhurried but fitful strokes, placing plenteous attention on the tip especially, quelling the spilled pre cum over the velvety flesh and sleeving your entire palm with it.

as realized, this wasn‘t enough— even though he had a hard time containing himself and unmasked his longing for you, hiccuping when you allow him to bottom up into your hand, his pre alone wouldn‘t make it as pleasurable as possible for dainsleif.

so you did the only right choice in such a predicament— meaning, pawing your hand away while lifting it against your mouth, deliberately spitting into your palm two times.

you lure out a high pitched whine from his lips at the new required memory, forcing him to vocalize his pleasure. he's a panting mess, your mess, and it's more than evident when his hips purposefully push into you— clearly he must've lost his mind the second you stepped into the room, but he couldn't blame himself, you were so astonishingly sexy and beautiful— you can’t be real, you’re playing tricks on him. your contagious smile, or how all your clothes fit perfectly around your plump ass, accentuating your pretty figure.

it's been grueling working alongside you under such conditions and it makes his sizzling heart levitate around his chest that you‘re about to give him the best orgasm of his entire life.

his hands greedily drift over every inch and square of your hips and grab a fist full of your plush ass, heaving you towards him a bit more. Your hand curves around his stiff erection and moves up and down in leisure shifts, up and down, up and down, carefully gesturing your fingers over the sweltering patches he indulged and whined in the utmost.

dainsleif tosses his head to the side and slants into you, his fingers were sneakily crossing into the insides of your shirt to pull and fondle with your nipples while you‘re graciously letting him fuck your fist. He swallows back a whine when you use your other hand to touch his balls, trapping them in your palm to softly squish around them, a little more strength put behind and you massage them again, flattening down quite roughly but with enough observation to his responses— on what pleases him a little more prominent and what didn‘t.

"how does that feel?" you hum into his lips, placing a subtle kiss on each corner of his mouth to tease, "v-very good." he fervently nods and squishes his eyes shut.

"a-ah— good, good." he muses and snaps his rigid cock upward to fuck into you, using your hand as a fucktoy with his milky whites seeping down the sharp edges of your knuckles. It's entertaining, watching him crumble into pieces from your hand alone.

"more.. i need more." fuck, your hand feels so damn good and skilled it‘s bringing him to literal tears, his eyes felt heavy and he alternated between closing and opening them again, but then, they leap open wide when you directly spit on his tip to lubricate him further.

albeit, you can witness it after adding and fluctuating between your strength and the twists of your hand— the first out of his many bubbly tears beginning to trail down out of the corners of his glazed eyes, molars dwelling on his lashes.

you won't lie— but it crowds you with a closed hearing of pride that you were able to turn, the dainsleif, into a crying overstimulated mess of a man, but it makes you wonder how he‘d react with his cock being balls deep inside your puffy cunt, engulfed and dragged in and out of your spongy walls while you‘re constricting around him, milking him for all he‘s worth.

"it‘s okay." you’re smiling up all hot and breathless into his fuzzy eyes and blown out pupils, palming him securely, "just cum on me." and flatten your lips on his to muffle his honeyed cries, harvesting a silent proclamation of assurance.

with your body so close to him, dainsleif grits his teeth and moans out your name, blubbering chatter sewed together in midst the sobbing of his swellings and stings— you touched him in a way that had him whimper delicately, subtle but also hyper sensitive.

at the same time, you trawl over his angry head and feel how his thickened vein would throb and drum against your skin. It‘s absurd on how ridiculously harder he was in your hand and how the strangled moans were escaping him in between each of your enticing slides and seals— into the little tunnel of your hand— imagining it to be your battered cunt he fucks into, while he’s salivating in his mouth, threatening to spill it past his plump lips.

"fuck—im—close." he grunts, so needy, but with a broken tone, "im—close-close-fuck-i-" his stomach constricts, lurching with a closed off twist inside the deepest ends of it. and much to his deserved pleasure, with your last calculated thrusts, dainsleif cums all over your hand, tightening the muscles in his body to release his warm cum on you while still carrying on to drill his cock into your palm, letting you finish him thoroughly and milk him for good.

he exhales thickly, his erratic breathing bumped onto your lips as you peppered him with fleeting smooches around his face, drinking up all the dried up tears on his skin.

your hand was a mess, sticking together and you‘re lifting it up to parade it in front of his glowing eyes— so his cheeks would thrum in a snug enfold, even more wanting than before.

he could plunge head first into this, into the obscene bliss and joy you let him taste— moan at the bestowed vision of you lapping up his salty cum and humming after each gulp, like it’s the best flavor in the world while patiently waiting for it to twist on your tongue and mix with your saliva.

it's hard to remember your surroundings while being engaged in such situations as he almost collapsed on top of you if it weren‘t for the wooden desk supporting your weights from behind. "I'm— sorry." he coughs to hide his embarrassment.

"it’s okay dain~" there it was again, the nickname that made his knees shudder, but only when you said it. "you must be tired." while you had your fair share of fun tonight, you’d never give up on an opportunity to mess with him "yeah.." because, admittedly— dainsleif was adorable, cute and handsome at the same time. you're starting to think that maybe you should visit him more often.

regardless of such, dainsleif was continuously breathless and fucked out even after a couple minutes of resting, he pants, now whines, when you linger your wet tongue over his jawline and kiss the dewy spots. "good job." you coo with a deep self satisfied smirk and group your lips into a well pleased grin for him to see.

he couldn't handle your growing ego, but the clear confidence you showed was maddening and turned him on— he clicks his tongue and humorously shakes his head the second he thinks about the upcoming meet ups with you and how you’d mention this filthy encounter in the worst possible times.

at any rate, he lets you indulge in it momentarily, because maybe— only maybe, there will be a short split in time where he can redeem himself and please you matchless and beyond all comparison, so you could be faced with an equal amount of thrill.

#dainsleif x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #dainsleif smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #dainsleif x you #genshin impact dainsleif #genshin impact dainsleif x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #dainsleif x reader smut #genshin impact fan fiction #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines

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4seasonsofart · 6 months

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The light of the night sky never seems to brighten the burdens within Thorfinn's heavy heart. The cool chill of winter nips at his sides and freezes over his soaked clothes. Each constellation holds a memory in his heart. Many nights while traveling to avenge his father, he learned the stars above to track his travels. Tonight the constellation of his father hangs overhead, Dain, the constellation he learned on his first night without his beloved father so long ago.

He imagines that his father is looking down on him from Valhalla. He imagines that one day he may be able to reach the stars just like his father and join him. To be immortal. Oh, such bittersweet memories denied to him by the monster who has made him.

A familiar set of boots is heard by Thorfinn, although he stays put in his sitting position. The man that he has begrudgingly sworn to protect makes the decision to sit next to him on the grassy knoll. Thorfinn shoots a glare half-heartedly at Canute, who isn't directly staring at him. His ocean blue eyes are trained on the stars that Thorfinn so admires.

An unbearably soft and comforting hand envelopes Thorfinn's own without him realizing it. He is about to shout and curse at Canute, only to find that he is unable to do so. A sickeningly sweet emotion rises within his chest. It is light and airy, like Freyr's winds, and as precious as Thor's hammer. Thorfinn objects to this weakness in his body, but it has only been growing since he first set his hazel eyes on the young prince.

"You are injured and freezing." Canute states in a tone that Thorfinn is unable to identify. It is loving, tender, and sweet, and it reminds him of how his mother used to speak to him. Only, it was somehow so much different.

"Why do you care, princess?" Thorfinn sneers weakly as he is suddenly more aware of everything going on around him. The gentle snores of the animals in the woods, the small distance between the two men's bodies, how quickly Thorfinn's heart is beating while awaiting Canute's response.

"Is there a reason I should not?" He inquires rhetorically as he removes his royal cape and wraps it around Thorfinn's battered figure. Canute leans into Thorfinn to provide him with more warmth, and the injured blonde chooses not to move. Something in him seeks out the prince's warmth and covets it. An almost invisible blush creeps across Thorfinn's features as he stares at the stars instead of the man that is near him.

They both stay in the clearing on the grassy knoll for quite some time. Both of their sets of eyes stay trained on the stars. Both men know that some things are best left unsaid in this world. Although enough is said about how at peace Canute is while leaning against Thorfinn, about how conflicted Thorfinn feels while near Canute.

A little blurb from a fanfiction that has been in my drafts for over a year now. I never had the heart to finish it, so here is a piece in case I never do. I felt this particular part was too sweet not to share.

#vinland saga #thorfinn #thorfinn karlsefni #canute #vinland saga fanfic #thorfinn x canute #thornute #canfinn #i love these two #i love them so much #my favorite ship #I had to do them justice #let me know if you want the actual fic #that would be a lot of revisions and a long time from now but yk #thorfinn using constellations and loving stars has always been my headcanon #makes sense #right?

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haileyywrites · 1 year

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-> The queen of Khaenri'ah - though to fall with it's civilization, makes herself known to the traveler with a proposition

-> Spoilers for "We Will Be Reunited"! This story is not meant to be exactly lore accurate! Reader is fem aligned with the title Queen! Reader is the leader of the Abyss! Aether is traveler and Lumine is with the Abyss!

You sat upon a dark throne within the dark heart of the Abyss that seemed to stretch into eternity, stars glimmered all around you providing some light to your surroundings. It was cold and dark inside the Abyss, but you could barely feel it anymore.

Abyss Lector's and Herald's stood in row on each side of you, much resembling your counsil back in Khaenri'ah... Such memories almost seemed like dreams after the hundreds of years.

Yet, one of the Herald's was missing, you noticed - of course you did. Each and every one of them was important to you. They were what little remained of your people... This particular Herald had been tracking the Traveler and Dainsleaf after their surprising union.

Lumine stood by your side looking rather restless, an unusual sight to see as she had always remained stoic. Though it was for good reason - Dainsleaf was with her brother after all... It was unclear who she was more worried about, but it didn't matter.

This meeting needed to come to an end before someone got actually hurt. You stood from your throne to the opened portal before you, all of your subjects turned to watch your next move without voicing their worries or protests. Lumine was quick to tail you, but you dismissed her with a simple wave of your hand. You would handle this on your own.

The Herald was unable to escape due to your old knight - your Twilight Sword. He who used to be so loyal to you and your people. Yet now he worked against you in defense of the humanity of which he was not even a part of. All while denouncing the gods. How conflicted he must feel all the time, seemingly unable to choose a side.

You walked through the portal just in time to save your subject from certain death at the hands of the fallen knight. The look on Dainsleaf's face as you stopped his attack was simply priceless... As if he had seen a ghost. He had not aged a single day within the past decades, just like you. Yet you could barely recognize him as the man you once knew so well.

“Y- your Highness!” The Herald exclaimed. He would likely have fallen onto his knees before you, had he not already been groveling on the floor.

“Dainsleaf. I see you still cannot let us be in peace, even after we have let you live after your betrayal.” Your gaze was sharp, but you remained void of any emotion.

You raised your arm to harness the power of the Abyss to bind Dain in place. You were not here for him and you did not need him to intervene with the coming exchange. Your actions and his struggle caused the poor traveler to become nervous, conflicted on what to do next.

“Traveler - I've come to know you by a different name. Your sister calls you Aether, I would rather call you that if you do not mind.” Just the mere mention of his sister caused his eyes to widen and sparkle with hope.

“I can take you to your sister, if you only take my hand. The Abyss are not the monsters you think us to be - not the monsters Dainsleaf makes us out to be.” You sent Dain a glare from the corner of your eye.

“We are a people betrayed by the gods and Celestia, cursed by their vile deeds. Countless of my people lost their lives during the destruction of Khaenri'ah or later - their minds to the curse.” You still have nightmares of it everytime you close your eyes. All the lives lost, the horid curse that plagues them...

Your words caused the traveler to become conflicted and it was evident over his features. Could he truly trust you? Especially when he just meet you and the first thing you did was bind his friend... His eyes moved over to Dainsleaf who was still struggling against his bindings. His eyes were clear in saying "don't" - but how could he refuse this chance?

“Come. You will be free to leave at any moment and so is your sister. I will have answers to all the questions you might have - to questions some are not willing to answer.” You extended your hand towards the blonde, a soft and friendly smile resting on your lips.

A hesitant step was taken towards you, yet his hand still squeezed the hilt of his sword tightly...

Can't believe there are over 90 of you following me! Thank you all so much <3

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apocalypticavolition · 2 months

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Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 47: The Grave Is No Bar to My Call

I have absolutely no idea how the game is played but it feels to me like this particular card is nowhere near as good as the real thing. They always gotta "balance" shit for the games. Very annoying. I never balance my posts; I just stuff them full as many spoilers for the whole Wheel of Time series as possible and hope for the best. It hasn't failed me yet!

We get the exciting Horn of Valere icon this chapter because it is about to be blown.

He had the Horn of Valere lashed to the high pommel of his saddle as if it were just any horn, but the dagger was in his belt, the ruby-tipped hilt cupped protectively in a pale hand that seemed made of nothing but bone and sinew.

One half-wonders if the only reason Mat could be a horn-sounder at this point is that the dagger had all of his glory-related thoughts under wraps.

“We will all take the Horn to Verin, and then you can help her take it wherever she says it belongs.”

Rand's early oscillating between "I can't trust any Aes Sedai ever, I will not be used" and "Let's do whatever they say so I don't have to make a plan" is great.

Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain. So many duties. Egwene. The Horn. Fain. Mat and his dagger. Why can’t there just be one at a time? I have to take care of all of them.

It's rather funny that Rand will spend the whole series trying to avoid the solution he's automatically gone to here: off-load the less urgent responsibilities onto Mat and Perrin.

“That’s all very well, but what about you? Burn me, you can’t be going mad yet. You can’t!” Hurin gaped at them, not understanding half of it.

Mat's denial is very sweet and boy do I hope the narration is wrong about Hurin not getting it by now. Did he get a head injury no one noticed?

Rand shook his head. Threads. Duties. He felt as if he were about to explode like a firework. Light, what’s happening to me?

Rand, you're buckling under the stress of not communicating with everyone. Get ready because this is going to define your day to day life for the next eleven books.

“Saving Egwene isn’t wasting time!” But Mat’s hand had tightened on the dagger till it shook.

Mat's still a nice guy despite the corruption. I really don't get the people who want to say that his early book characterization veers all over the place: it's definitely true that not seeing his thought processes makes him harder to understand at this point. And of course the dagger was fucking him up last book. But this book's outside glimpses of Mat don't seem qualitatively different than what we get in later books, except of course that Mat hasn't had all his character development and power-ups yet.

“Lord Rand,” Hurin muttered, “if that lot lays an eye on the Horn of Valere, we’ll never get it close to an Aes Sedai. We’ll never get close to it again ourselves.”

Frankly Hurin, I doubt your heads will ever get close to your necks again if the Whitecloaks hear you have the Horn.

Have to go back. Have to go back. The longer he looked at the Horn, the more urgent his thoughts became. Have to. Have to.

I guess everyone's getting focused on salvation just being near the Horn as it's about to be blown correctly.

His last thought was regret. Byar would not be able to tell his son Dain how he had died.

Rest in... something, Mr. Bornhald. You sure were an almost reasonable human being. Sucks you couldn't stick around to benefit from Galad's leadership. Better luck next life!

Rand could not see the trees around them any longer. Mat had lowered the Horn, eyes wide with awe, but the sound of it still rang in Rand’s ears. The fog hid everything in rolling waves as white as the finest bleached wool, yet Rand could see. He could see, but it was mad. Falme floated somewhere beneath him, its landward border black with the Seanchan ranks, lightning ripping its streets.

I wonder if the intent was for this levitation to be a feature of the Horn. I do not recall Olver floating off in the Last Battle, though if he had it would have been quite a sequence and a good way to catch up with everything, considering that Rand can somehow see Bayle Domon's face from this distance. Certainly without the Horn's doing this whole sequence seems rather more miraculous than the series usually is.

Golden-haired Birgitte, with her gleaming silver bow and quiver bristling with silver arrows.

Hi Birgitte! Look forward to getting to know you better later!

They were little more than a hundred, Rand saw, and realized that somehow he had known that they would be.

I'm going to guess that there's about 106 of them, less Lews Therin and Noal. It seems like the kind of number Robert Jordan would want.

To his surprise, several of the small host behind Artur Hawkwing chuckled, and Birgitte, testing her bowstring, laughed. “You always choose women who cause you trouble, Lews Therin.” It had a fond sound, as between old friends.

Oh Birgitte just you fucking wait.

“My name is Rand al’Thor,” he snapped. “You have to hurry. There isn’t much time.”

Naturally, Rand's not fond of his deadname.

Hurin is meanwhile standing off to the side, probably somehow oblivious to what Rand being called Lews Therin means.

“You are here. The banner is here. The weave of this moment is set. We have come to the Horn, but we must follow the banner. And the Dragon.”

Speaking of being oblivious, I'm impressed with the whole of the fandom that we never noticed that the rules for hornsounding were set right here.

Perrin hesitated only an instant before swinging down off his horse and striding into the mist. There came a chopping sound, and when he returned, he carried a straight length of sapling shorn of its branches.

I guess they haven't gone floating away just yet, no matter what the Horn fog is doing? We're rapidly approaching one of those weird metaphysical sequences.

It seemed as if no time at all had passed since the Horn was first blown, as though time had paused while the heroes answered the call and now resumed counting.

That's a pretty nifty feature too. I guess Hero threads get priority when it comes to the weaving.

In a way, he could still see them, but now it was the way he could see Falme, and the Seanchan. He could not tell where they were, or where he was. He tightened his grip on his sword, peered into the mists ahead. He charged alone through the fog, and somehow he knew that was how it was meant to be.

Perhaps also they're sort of in T'A'R too? The Horn blurs the line between the two realities so that the Heroes, permitted access to one realm, might reach another? That would help explain Ba'alzy and all the floating.

Rand was aware of the other things, too.

His far-reaching sight foreshadows his actual conflict against the Dark One where from within Shayol Ghul he can still see the whole of the battle.

“Fool! Did those other fools you summoned not tell you who you are?” The fires of Ba’alzamon’s face roared with laughter.

Ish tries to distract Rand from his real lies (that Rand is his one way or another) by highlighting the truth Rand finds inconvenient, to make all of his statements seem more plausible. It's a good tactic!

Rand was so surprised he felt it inside the void. He doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know! He was sure it must show on his face. To cover it, he rushed at Ba’alzamon.

Of course, the problem with Ishamael's techniques is that as effective as they are on ignorant country types, once the spell is broken there's literally no way to get it back. The only reason Rand insists on Ish being the Dark One from this point forward is the convenience it offers him, letting him avoid acknowledging his fate.

This time it was he who was driven back. Dimly, he saw the Seanchan fighting their way back in among the stables. He redoubled his efforts. The Kingfisher Takes a Silverback. The Seanchan gave way to a charge, Artur Hawkwing and Perrin side by side in the van.

The explicit connection between the specific struggle above and the general battle below is a nice touch. I'd comment more on the sword forms but... Effort. Most of these suggest vertical arcs to me, though of some different shape.

I have won again, Lews Therin. The thought was beyond the void, yet it took an effort to ignore it, not to think of all the lives where he had heard it.

The fact that the only compelling argument the Shadow has at this point stems directly from all the worlds that aren't speaks volumes to how pathetic an adversary it actually is.

For the first time Rand realized that Ba’alzamon acted as if the heron-mark blade could harm him. Steel can’t hurt the Dark One. But Ba’alzamon watched the sword warily.

Note that Rand can only acknowledge this under duress.

The picture formed of Egwene, collared, living her life as a damane. Threads of my life in danger. Egwene. If Hawkwing gets into Falme, he can save her. Before he knew it, he had taken the first position of Heron Wading in the Rushes, balanced on one foot, sword raised high, open and defenseless.

And again, Rand jumps entirely ahead of his character flaws. He hasn't really developed them yet, not fully. He also never comes to appreciate how it was this exact decision to trust in his allies being able to carry things out in the end is how he wins here - nor how it's the only way he gets to live after the overall war.

Rand screamed as he felt it pierce his side, burning like a white-hot poker. The void trembled, but he held on with the last of his strength, and drove the heron-mark blade into Ba’alzamon’s heart. Ba’alzamon screamed, and the dark behind him screamed. The world exploded in fire

Ish is so hilariously far from being a fighter, isn't he? He only does the damage he does and survives this blow through having stacked the deck so thoroughly. Poor Rand, though. From here on out things are only going to get tougher.

Next time: Ladies fight over Rand's body!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #rand al'thor #mat cauthon #perrin aybara #hurin #ingtar shinowa #geofram bornhald #bayle domon #gaidal cain #birgitte silverbow #mikel of the pure heart #paedrig the peacemaker #artur hawkwing #ishamael

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tenebriism · 1 month

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«... How much do you remember?» To invoke a dead nation's glorious past in broad daylight may not seem like the wisest approach. At first. In Kaeya's defense, this man had been the one to confront him with what had long haunted him. It was only fair that he helped to satiate his thirst for knowledge, for something... more.

«Tell me a story... From back then». His voice is quiet as he eyes his drink, playing with the glass's rim. Not a shy request, but a cautious one.

[ surprise, here's one for Dain too! www ]

The Boughkeeper supposes it was... expected. Eventually, this one would begin to inquire as to his OWN identity and backstory, their fates and stories intertwined more than, mayhap, even Dainsleif understood. " My memories are... selective, " he begins, CAUTIOUS as he speaks to the man with matching irises. 'Tis not that he does not TRUST Kaeya; if anything, Kaeya should not trust HIM, with how secretive he's been, and how OFT he has kept, mayhap wrongfully, to the shadows.

" One, in particular, that remains ever constant in my mind... is the day Khaenri'ah fell. I remember where I was. What I was wearing... who I was with, how my hair was styled. I remember how the sweat burned as it trickled into my eyes... how raw my throat felt as I yelled out for citizens and compatriots alike... "

Is this what Kaeya is seeking? A REMINDER of their fallen nation and a tragic recount of it? Mayhap not, but it is one of FEW memories that Dainsleif has that he can vividly recall, and retell, with confidence. Another one, more pleasant, comes to mind... just before the fall, of a life long lost to tragedy and time. A life where he knew how it felt to be human, and not the husk of the man he once was.

" I had a home... " He begins, voice quieting even more, if such was possible. He's never been particularly loud spoken, but vulnerability has seized what little volume he normally manages, " ... one with a garden. Friends who would bring me seeds to plant. A kitten who would bat and bite at the leaves... a man who would warm my bed from time to time. He would weave the blossoms into the strands of my hair, and amidst sweet bliss, I would forget they were there... only to show up to training that very next day looking like a flower myself. The laughter that would ensue... it is quiet, distant, but I do... remember it. "

All of it, gone... all of THEM... g o n e. The alcohol clutched betwixt his own fingers won't do anything--- nay, he shan't be found stumbling over himself from a couple glasses of liquid poison, but oft does he wish it would. These knights are able to forget their own hardships, however briefly, with the very thing Dainsleif currently swirls around in the glass he clutches a tad too tightly--- but that, too, is merely something else that makes THIS ailing knight less human, and more a shell of his former self.

@frozenambiguity ;;

#frozenambiguity #[ kaeya is... helping him somewhat heal in a way.#recalling old memories both painful and fond... it helps dain. ;_;#and i hope kaeya somewhat benefits too. <3 they could both use some closure and healing for varying reasons ]#muse ;; DAINSLEIF ( ANSWERED ASK )

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obsidiancreates · 5 months

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As My Friend Has Stood By Me, So Shall I (Part 20)

Favoured, Yes...

While the next morning comes with great concern when Bilbo shows up to breakfast with a burnt and blistered hand and deep bags under his eyes, and then a great deal of convincing from Bilbo that he’s fine and he just didn’t realize how hot the logs were after his fire went out sometime in the night, the rest of Spring passes with an unexpected and welcomed calmness.

The Company, for their part, seem to be contented with the shared meals most days and stop being quite so pushy with him- oh, they still force him into plenty of outings, each one taking a turn at least once a day to see to him and drag him on some small task or another, but at least now when he says he’s drained and done for the day they don’t put up a fight about it- though he does notice a steady increase in tension among them. It’s not quite a fighting tension, but it’s… similar. Not unlike what he’d felt in the air as they waited for a morning, months ago, where Elves and Men would slaughter they few fourteen in empty, death-ridden halls.

He tries to ask when he first notices it, about two weeks after he gets his clothes back, but they just wave it off by saying there’s mounting stress with the repairs. And no wonder- when Thorin steals Bilbo away one day for a bit of discussion on the land he’s having cleared and readied for Bilbo’s garden, Thorin ends up admitting that he and Dain have been locked in a fight with one of Dain’s generals about the matter of The Arkenstone. Apparently the general was an Ereborian refugee’s son and felt it an almost personal dishonor to his mother’s memory that The Arkenstone was now put far, far away where none could see it.

It’s clear to Bilbo how those kinds of tensions could bleed out into the rest of The Mountain. It’s not the first time he’d heard mutterings by some about how Thorin, great and honorable a warrior as he is, may not have the right mindset to lead a kingdom that was no longer poor and struggling.

If any dwarves he overheard saying such things from then on found unseen presences knocking tankards of ale into their face or feeling a swift and rough tugging of their braids or things of the like occurring immediately following the complaints, well, Bilbo could only say he was satisfied.

And of course, thankful for his Luck for helping him get a little revenge in Thorin’s stead.

Beyond that, it’s quiet. Quiet in terms of activity, anyway, not in terms of noise. Bilbo still finds himself frequently slipping The Ring on and sneaking away to the gates on days he knew lazy, sleepy guards were posted, or to The Secret Door when he wanted true alone time, and yes… once or twice to the treasury, when he had a feeling he needed to be able to hear if The Company called for him.

His garden was started just before the end of the first month of Spring, and flourished well. As it turned out, for all his concern that Orc Blood would make for poor soil, Blood was Blood and like the blood of any other creature it actually nourished the dirt across the battlefield.

He would’ve preferred to just use accidentally left-to-long-to-cook meat scraps like in The Shire (or the poor little critters that he would strike down with stones in his youth like his mother used, to his father’s quiet dismay), but as long as he didn’t think too hard about it and was just glad for the growing he could manage.

Ori in particular spent a lot of time with him in his garden, the second most frequent visitor being Thorin and the third being Bofur. Thorin and Bofur were always a little stiff, a little wary- the garden was close to the water, after all, and the memories were starker for them than the then-unconscious-Bilbo. But Ori, having no such memories made and needing good light for a lot of his scribe-apprentice duties anyway, enjoyed it as much as any dwarf could enjoy gardening.

He also developed a habit of asking Bilbo quite a lot about Hobbit Culture, which Bilbo was usually happy to explain- though he was under no impressions that Hobbit were flawless, he still didn’t love explaining that yes, other races tended to view them as having no passions outside of food, and it was sadly understandable why when one only takes a passing journey through The Shire once or twice and never again. Ori claimed it was because, since Bilbo was part of The Company and a hero of Erebor, the records wouldn’t be truly complete without plenty of detail on just who and what Hobbits are.

Bilbo thinks it’s just because his friends were embarrassed when they realized how little of his culture they actually knew after he left it for theirs.

Which is very sweet, even if someone of the questions made his chest pinch in suspicion, like What do Hobbits value above all else? and What do Hobbits consider to be pre- valued heirlooms? and You were pretty protective of your tomatoes and chairs, do Hobbits get protective like that about everything?

The questions like that make him bristle and press his arm to his side, press his Luck closer to his body. Especially when Ori’s eyes trail down to his pocket while they’re being asked.

But still, no-one outright asks about his Luck anymore, which is good. Very good. It makes Bilbo happy. If sometimes his hand goes to his pocket, and he drifts away from the present and into some hazy, soft-voiced world far away, only to be dragged back with a sharp intake of breath when something impresses itself in his vision, and he blinks into awareness to find his friends barely reacting…

If sometimes he gets a little sick and a little desperate in those moments, it’s nothing. Just a coincidence. His Luck makes him feel better. Even when it makes him feel worse.

By the time Summer rolls around, he’s got an entire new wardrobe to spend it in, and a good thing he does because it is hot work in his garden with the absence of any shady trees to give him a little relief from relentless sun. Dori clearly has a good, efficient system set up with his brothers, though Bilbo privately wishes he would stop leaving the pockets to whom he’s pretty sure at this point is Nori. Ori just wouldn’t be okay sending those lazy stitchings to Bilbo.

But he’s got his sewing kit, so he just mends them up and says nothing about it. Dori makes sure he has pockets on every waistcoat and pair of trousers, so Bilbo won’t complain about them.

That’s probably why Ori keeps glancing at his pockets, really, knowing Nori did them. That knowledge still doesn’t make Bilbo feel better about it.

When he’s not gardening or wearing his Ring or wanting to be alone but still wants to be outside, Bilbo takes to sitting on a nice little outcropping and smoking his pipe and looking South.

He’s not sure why South. His eyes are just always drawn there, as his hand drawn to his pocket, and the two urges seem to go together like butter and bread. When he looks South his hand comes to hold his Luck, and when he holds his Luck while outside his eyes are drawn Southward.

It’s within the last two week of Summer that Ori asks him about it. “Why d’you keep looking that way?”

Bilbo, pipe in his mouth and dirt still on his hands, blows out a smoke ring. “What way?”

Ori gestures with his pen.

“Just a nice view, I suppose.”

“Of Dale?”

“Not looking at Dale.”

“What are you looking at? There’s nothing else there.”

“Well, what’s past Dale then, beside Laketown?”

“Not much but plains, I think.” Ori bites the end of his pen. “And past that it’s Ered Lithui, and then… Mordor.” Ori shivers a little.

“Mordor?” Bilbo’s eyes drift back to the South. “Sounds very welcoming.”

Ori nods, picking up on Bilbo’s flat tone as being sarcasm. “We’ve got lots of old stories about it in the records. We’re far enough away to be safe, but close enough to not want to forget why we shouldn’t go that way. I guess Hobbits live too far away from it to care?”

“We generally don’t bother with anything outside of The Shire. Honestly, I think most Hobbits would find Thranduil’s ‘keep to our lands and let everyone else fend for themselves’ quite reasonable.”

“... I’ll leave that out of the official records.”

“Won’t reflect very well on us, I expect?”

“Not at all.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Still nothin’?” Nori leans against the back of his chair hard. “I’ve never done a shoddier job of those pockets!”

Ori gives him brother a reassuring pat on the arm. “I’m sure they’re the worst.”

Nori pats Ori’s hand back in thanks. “Nothin’ worser!”

“Perhaps it’s just a very light item?” Balin suggests, but Bofur blows out a breath and shakes his head.

“I heard it clinkin’ down the gold that day in the treasury, sounded plen’y weighted then. Unless it was jus’ movin’ around coins, bu’ tha’ doesn’ seem right.”

“So we’re no closer to an answer than we were months ago,” Thorin growls. “Does he seem worse to any of you?”

There’s some murmurs of deliberation.

“I’ve only seem ‘im to train ‘im with tha’ wee sword,” Dwalin says. “No big issues.”

Balin shakes his head. “No news from me, either.”

Ori and Bombur both raise their hands, and Bombur nods to Ori to let him speak for them

both. “I told Bombur about wha’ Bilbo told me about Hobbit diets,” Ori says, pulling out his large notebook, “We’re both sure now tha’ he’s eating less than half what he should.”

The news brings about a dark mood. Less than half. Even now, when their adventure is done and the shock of battle and survival don’t flow through Bilbo’s veins to keep him going when by all means he should be unable to. Extended starvation is something none of The Company, and indeed no dwarf of Ered Luin, is unfamiliar with. But enduring it without reason…

“But,” Ori says, flipping his book open, “He is excited for his plants to start making food. He might eat more then.”

“If ‘e can wait that long,” Dwalin grunts. “Skin and bones.”

“That’s a tad dramatic, brother, for all he is thin,” Balin says.

“Won’ be soon.”

“Enough.” Thorin is pale from the idea of Bilbo so wasted away. “So he is not worse, but no better.”

No, no better. Still has moments where his mind drifts, where he reacts with strange sharpness, remains secretive and suspicious and protective of his pockets. He still locks his door tight every night, even when sometimes they can hear a faint shout of alarm in the late hours that undoubtedly come from a dream borne of warrior’s weariness, the feelings amd actions and images of his perils haunting him long past their ending. Does he dream of The Five Armies? Of the thing he told Thorin he met in the goblin tunnels? Of the wargs snapping at them all from the bases of trees, or of giant spiders that he and he alone heard speak, or of whatever he endured with the dragon before he was joined? He won’t speak of it, so they can’t say. But it’s clear he doesn’t sleep well.

“What about Gandalf?” Thorin looks to Kili. “Your elf-maid made to find him months ago now.”

Kili winces. “Dunno, Uncle. We still can’t send ravens to Mirkwood and she hasn’t sent any word.”

“You’re sure she didn’ run away? Tell Thranduil one o’ our own is unwell?” Dwalin looks at Kili very unhappily. “Af’er you told her wha’ was wrong with ‘im?”

Kili sinks lower into his seat. Thorin, and by extension everyone else, had forgiven him and Fili forgetting that they agreed not to tell of Bilbo’s issues, but forgiveness and forgetfulness are not one and the same. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“And I trust your judgment of her,” Thorin says, glaring at Dwalin until the old warrior grumbles an apology to the prince. “But I do not trust the other elves. They may be delaying her if they know she was sent by our line.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tauriel had been granted entry to the halls of her home, but not to beyond. Not without a deal.

Her King had seen her, and made it clear she was not banished- but was not wholly forgiven, either. For all that she had betrayed his orders for a real and pure love, she had still betrayed them, and in doing so led his own son into great dangers and treasonous actions of his own, even if unintentionally on her part.

“You’re welcome in our halls, of course,” he’d said, “And among our people. But permission to hunt through our forest is granted only to our guard, which you are not.”

“I do not hunt for enemies, my lord,” she had said, “But for an ally. Mithrandir is needed in Erebor.”

“Mithrandir may not even be within this first anymore, for all I am aware of his dealings.”

“I must start with what I know, my lord.”

“... I shall grant you your hunt,” Thranduil had said, beckoning her closer to his throne, “But only when you have fulfilled a task for me. You were our best Captain, Tauriel, and with my son gone on a journey of his own I have need of you more than ever.”

She had bowed. “What task awaits me, my lord?”

“There is a new creature spreading filth among our lands. The spiders are all but driven out, and the rot is clearing, but still Fell Things are drawn beneath our canopies. The guard have spied a creature on more than one occasion, but have been unable to catch it. It is small, pale, and I’m told resembles something of a starving child but with terrible evil in its reflective eyes. It mutters to itself at all hours, but when it is caught and knows it it becomes as silent as you or I and disappears without a trace. They’ve found mauled, eaten raw animals scattered through the forest, and heard the shrinking of carelessly-caught creatures echo through the trees.”

Tauriel nods. “I will find and catch this foul beast for you, my lord.” It seemed such a simple task then, such a quick challenge with which to gain free roam of the woods she called home.

But it was not. The creature was cunning, and crafty, and used the remaining sickness of the land to its advantage. It was too at home in the foulest of areas, areas so choked with Evil that Tauriel could hardly stand to enter them. Her search dragged, on and on, even as Thranduil assigned more and more to assist her.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Nasty elfses. Nasty, nasty elfses! Hunting us, hunting us Precious! We do nothing to them, gollum, gollum!”

“Ooooh, they hates us, Precious! They would kills us if they could!”

“But they cannot find us. No, no, keep them guessing, gollum! Gollum! Yesss, hiding, sneaking…”

“Sneaking and hiding, we are lost, Precious! Lost, lost, as lost as our Precious is, oooooh!”

“Shut up! They are close… we finds it soon, yes, soon, Precious… gollum, gollum.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Close, close. It hasn’t been this close to It’s Master in an age.

Awake, alive, It knows he calls for It. He is close, and It is close.

This new one, this new Bearer, he is sturdy of mind and will but he is claimed. It will have him. It is awake. It is alive. It is close to home.

He must not go back, away, to the rolling hills and peaceful green of his longing. Never, never, It will Sleep there. It will sleep long, long years, and he will love It and protect It and keep It but he will not fall, fall, fall into It’s Power, not fully. He is Strong, he is Kind, he is Good. It must work, work, seep and curl and claim.

It likes him. He is Good and it despises this, but he is also… fun. He is among Good and he may taint it. He is among Hope and he may kill it. He is surrounded by Love, and he may Crush it. Yes, crush it, they may watch, may watch him wither and weaken and wane and they may despair, they may see His Power and His Will and see their loved fall to Him, to It, as all will.

Yes, yes, It likes him. He uses It in such interesting ways. To escape a dragon an to warn a king but he cannot tell of It, still, no… no, his Good is in It’s grasp, and It sees him use It’s power how he thinks is Good, and he gives himself to It more and more as he does… and he loves it now, loves it as The Others, the bearers before. Yes…

Baggins. He is Baggins. It’s Baggins. Corrupted and Claimed. He belongs to It, yes, yes… he will belong to Him, when It returns home, yes…

Favoured bearer. Favoured victim… yes…

#the hobbit #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

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reginrokkr · 4 months

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𝐂𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐋. I think that among all the AQ Dain has participated so far (including Caribert), Requiem of the Echoing Depths is the meatier one in terms of what we learn about him not solely by getting new information, but because we also see him being more emotional and on the edge in certain moments. Because of this, it'll be split in various parts.

✦ While this is something I mentioned in the past on brief occasions, it never fails to impress me that for all the tricks the Abyss Order can pull out of their sleeves and go as far as to even have the capability to corrupt the minds of former deities or creatures affiliated to gods, that every time Dain comes to corner strong opponents such as Abyss Heralds they just run away instead of trying their hand at capturing him or defeating him. I think that this is telling of how feared he is and that they probably think that it is for the best to escape than to face him, as most likely than not over the past 400-500 years they saw that he's an unwavering soul that can have his way against them.

✧ The premise that Abyss portals are an entire network instead of leading from one point to another of their desire is highly interesting to me and somehow reminiscent of what the Aranara can do by using their connection to the Ley Lines and using these as their own particular network. Considering that Ley Lines spread everywhere to sustain the world with the seven elements that come from Irminsul, it can be a really handful trick by itself to somehow counter the Abyss'. It would be interesting to give a thought of what exactly there is to make a network, some energy already existent or that they deposit somewhere or if they can go wherever they want arbitrarily without nothing that can be present there for them. Furthermore, based on Dain's experience of being bamboozled into reaching the Stormterror's lair, it's safe to assume that this place is of the Abyss Order interest.

✦ I won't go too deep into this one here as I did in other posts, but it's always painful to think that one of the reasons of the journey during the Cataclysm around Teyvat is to find his fate in a moment where he had lost everything he had and he doesn't know what to do.

✧ In the past I talked about the difference between the curse of immortality and the corruption (what turns people into Abyss monsters), but hearing Dain again saying that the environment of the Chasm soothes the effects of the curse laid by the gods confirms, once again, that this curse has ties to the Abyss and that the reason why it's soothing to linger in the depths of the Abyss is because of the influence of the sapphire nail Phanes dropped to mend the land from the Abyss during the Apocalypse, out of fear that the world would be destroyed otherwise.

✦ ◜For centuries, I have suffered daily from the curse that was laid upon me. But here... I suddenly feel a small amount of relief from this suffering. And right here, right now, I can feel my body sending a strong message to me... It is telling me, "stay".◞

This speaks volumes of the cruelty of the curse of immortality, about how much it hurts to be aware of the pain it causes day by day. At first I thought it would only be in a mental way, but later on during AQ: Caribert I came to the conclusion that it must also affect to the body given Chlothar's struggle to make a potion. The notion that Dain can find a place (potentially other places too where this soothing aura is present) where he feels relief is quite emotional to even think about, after all those centuries.

✧ ◜The curse of "immortality" denies death to those affected with it... and yet, it does not truly mean that they will never die. The body and the soul will continue to be eroded until they are virtually nonexistent, even if "death" is not the form that this erosion takes.◞

In a way, I can't help but think that while people who bear this curse can still die, they won't die in the typical way everyone thinks of first. Egeria might be a good example for this, even if she wasn't affected by this curse. While she's considered to have "died", her spirit or lingering energy still exists in the Realm of Farakhkert and still has such a manner of sentience that she can still suffer from the surrounding corrosion. So as Dain explains, the soul and body become virtually nonexistent, but there will be something there that will continue to exist. If I'm not mistaken, something like this is addressed in Hu Tao's SQ in which she explains that her family's duty began with the existence of something left behind by death during the war and the need for someone to cleanse it out or taking it somewhere else, lest those remnants cause illnesses to the living.

#◟༺✦༻◞ Events to be remembered in blue veins ┊Addendum.┊#honestly it's a great refresher to do this #I know that in the following post I'll have feels over Halfdan #and seeing Dain become even more emotional #but this is already nearing 1k #so it's good to make a pause for now djfhjg

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vodika-vibes · 5 months

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I feel like talking about Cal (oc) and Spark (oc) and the Daines Home this morning, before I get to asks (and while I wait for the tylenol and caffeine to kick in).

So, the Daines house used to be a series of connected townhomes that Cal purchased with her inheritance, and then proceeded to turn into one massive house by removing walls. She used the last of her inheritance to make the house sound proof, that way they can throw as many parties as they want.

The House has a rotating list of temporary residences, and then they have 20ish permanent residence, including a teacher (a male togruta), a doctor (a female twi'lek), and a computer engineer (a Zeltron female).

Everyone pays a potion of their rent based on their income (and the rent then goes to heating/electricity/waste).

The biggest thing about the Daines home is that anyone is welcome. A disenfranchised clone found wandering the streets of Coruscant? Gets a mattress, a thick blanket, a warm meal and a hot shower...as well as an ear to bend while they determine what they want to do. A teenager got kicked out after coming out to their parents, gets the same thing, but they also get a shoulder to cry on from one of the people who went through the same thing.

The only people who aren't allowed to stay are people who are violent or who are threats to the people living with them.

And now on to Cal and Spark

Cal was the star wars version of a southern Belle when she was a child. Pale blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin...the whole shebang. She was adopted as an infant by her fathers, a Togruta and a Twi'lek respectfully.

She played her part well, even as a child. She did the language lessons, the riding lessons, the dancing, the gymnastics, the music lesson. She even went and did the whole debutante ball with the dress and the dancing and the announcements.

And when her fathers said that they were sending her to Coruscant to go to law school, she just shrugged and went along with it. It was easier than arguing, because she would always lose.

And two days after she moves into her College Apartment, she meets Spark.

He's...larger than life to Cal.

Everything about him is big. His personality, his voice, the way he carries himself. He holds the attention of the people around him without even trying.

And for some reason, he latches onto Cal.

And when she confesses that she's not happy with her life, that she can't remember the last time she was happy, and that she absolutely does not want to be a lawyer, Spark encourages her to find her joy.

Spark buys Cal her first bottle of bubblegum pink hair dye. And he's the one who sits behind her until 3 am while they wait for the dye to finish. Spark is the one who introduced her to color contacts, and he even bought her her first set.

Spark helped Cal find her own sense of fashion (mini-skirts with knee high boots, and tights. Leather jackets in every shade of color imaginable. Tank tops and graphic tees that are so worn they're barely recognizable as graphic tees anymore).

Spark encouraged her to drop out, if she wasn't happy.

And Spark held her when her dads disowned her. And he introduced her to his friends, who introduced her to music and dancing for fun rather than performance.

They helped Cal build a new family, a family that loved her for who she actually is, rather than who she appeared to be.

And when the war started, it was this particular subset of people who were the first to protest the war. The first to protest the use of Jedi as generals ("They're peacekeepers! It's as senseless as asking a toddler to write a dissertation!"). The first to protest the use of a slave clone army ("Language is important, we have to call them slaves to make people listen.")

#star wars #star wars oc #oc: Cal Daines #oc: Spark #Look in my head #Sparks looks a little bit like Hobie Brown #Only he's Kiffar so he has the face tattoo #and his hair is purple #Also #In my head #Spark and Dogma are a thing because I find the idea hilarious

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myth-blossom · 9 months

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Thank you for the tag, @cicaklah! Your picks were great and I’m adding them to my reading list <3

Rules: List ten books that have stayed with you in some way, don’t take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard - they don’t have to be the “right” or “great” works, just the ones that have touched you.

As a preface, I‘ve been a voracious reader since childhood. I typically prefer fiction and I remember more of the stories I’ve read than I do their creators and titles (to my great dismay). There came a point in my life when I wasn’t able to dedicate much energy to read for fun and instead focused on reading for my studies and my professional duties, which got to the point that I was getting quite burnt out on one of my favorite hobbies of all time. So I did think harder on this list than I should’ve because the past is somewhat weighted, but I’m hoping to add to my list of impressionable books and new memories in the near future.

In no particular order:

Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien - I like to joke about the *thorough* detailing that Tolkien often provides, but I really do love LOTR and the fantasy and lessons it offers. But what I love most about it is my mother and I read it together when I was young, and I was so engrossed in the pages that I would immediately point out where we left off amongst the many generous details.

Magical young wizard books & Chronicles of Narnia series - I’m tagging these two series together (and leaving the obvious young wizard title vague) because these were books my grandmother would read to us. It was nice to share these stories with her, which also led to her taking us to some of the films and sewing a witch costume for me for Halloween.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley - I read this for a class on gothic literature in film and it left such a mark on me. I have many thoughts but I’ll only offer one recommendation: please give this a chance if you haven’t already.

Dracula by Bram Stoker - I also read this for the first time in the gothic class mentioned above. It was really cool to analyze the text and how the vampire legend has been adapted differently over time in media. Plus, I enjoyed the horror and spooky pacing.

Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. White - like I said, I read many many many (did I say many?) books as a child. But one of the strongest memories I have is visiting the library, finding this book on the shelf, and being so engrossed with the story of the trumpeting swan. It’s nice to get caught up in a book like that.

Tortall Universe by Tamora Pierce (specifically the characters Alanna the Lioness, Kel, Daine) - Ironically, I bought a later series of the Tortall Universe before realizing I had the original books on my shelf, not yet read. I really wanted stories with strong female characters and these three were fun to read and explore the world of.

The Prince and The Dressmaker by Jen Wang - this book, OH this book, I love it so very much. I read it in less than 24 hours. I should’ve savored it, but I was just that taken with the story. If you like graphic novels or want to give one a try, I would highly recommend this one.

The Female of the Species by Mindy McGinnis - brutal is really the best word to describe this book. It contains a lot of triggering content (so please protect yourself, dear reader) and isn’t something I would normally pick, but it’s been nearly 7 years now and I still strongly remember the emptiness it left me with when I finished it.

The Yellow House by Patricia Falvey - I’ll be quite honest, I hardly remember the story itself. What I do remember is the show-and-tell that day from one of our book club readers. She shared stories from when she lived in Ireland and brought in items from her friends, and it was a lovely and emotional experience to witness.

Agent 47: Birth of the Hitman by Christopher Sebela and Jonathan Lau - As I mentioned, I found myself so burnt out from reading that it had been difficult to commit to a book for quite a while. Fanfiction really rekindled my love for reading and I decided to check out the Hitman comics. I was so happy to have the drive to finish a book again! I enjoyed the comics and the new headcanons they caused.

If you have a list of books or readings you’ve enjoyed, please feel free to share them! :)

#Book meme #Tag game

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genshinluvr · 2 years

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HAIII it’s the anon that just read all of ur writing…! i read absolutely all of it and i discovered your account through the first part of the ayato thing at around like 1 or 2 am? found myself reading everything from your masterlist until like 7 am where i thought i went too far and went to bed but continued reading throughout the day ^^ i had to take breaks in between paragraphs to kick my feet in the air and giggle and scream and HRHEHEHGVS it made me so happy… i did however skip most of the smut (i did read parts so don’t worry you are one of the best smut writers i’ve ever seen and i have …… read quite a few stories) for personal reasons but MMDBRNBE please i hope the best things in life come to you!!!! i really like how you write zhongli and dain in particular, and the relationships and stuff between everyone are so nice… the only criticism i have is that a) reader gets sick so often it makes me feel a bit guilty (but it’s SO fun to read… i’m thinking maybe find other ways to be stuck in such a position?) and b) THE FAVORITISM… personally out of all the genshin guys i like (romantically) zhongli far less than others for he feels like a dad to me but i totally get it! if i had the skills and control i would definitely let my favorites get special treatment. honestly, i don’t think you should even change this because it’s just so!!!! you!!!! without the bias towards zhongli, it wouldn’t feel much like your writing, so i like it a lot!!!

may you win absolutely every 50/50 and have the best luck, health and happiness in your life i love you so much 🙏

Criticism is totally understandable! Trust me, I've been getting requests where people want the reader to fall violently ill 😭 I don't like putting the reader in pain, but I love putting men in pain. It's all I do! As for the favoritism part, yeah, that showed so much in my fics LMAOOOOOO 😭 trust me, I'm trying to minimize it! I'm giving Zhongli is own series soon (idk when exactly, but he is getting his own series soon). As for the smut, I always cringe when I read my own smut or type it out because idk how people will react. I have an upcoming smut this week (Crave 3) and Itto's smut so far is ALMOST 3K words long 💀😭

Overall, I'm glad that you like my stories! And smut, surprisingly 😅 thank you for reading my fics, I'm glad you like them! I wish you the best in luck and happiness as well anon! :) and I love you too! :> ❤

#genshinluvr #genshinluvr answers

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boneless-jellyfish · 2 years

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I'm back with a plot because in letting this simmer I am now able to articulate thoughts clearly, perhaps the reader is like dain, perhaps they didn't get so lucky, perhaps they weren't fond of the abyss, they didn't hate the gods because hate is still a form of worship, they were indifferent, uncaring and unfeeling as to what happened to the archons and celestia alike. Then one day, when a young boy accidentally fell into the abyss, when he climbed back out he neglected to check if he properly closed his exist. So something else slipped out, seeing as it's canon that abyss lectors can take on human form items not exactly irrational to assume they would do so.

Naturally they decided to keep an eye on the boy who fell into the abyss, because the abyss is like few places else, though the mountains, chasms and forests of teyvat have a similar effect not to the same extreme: you either come out of the abyss changed, or simply not at all. I'm thinking that they become an ally of the fatui, a well known contractor amongst the upper ranks as far as information goes or if there's a job someone needs to get done outside of the official title.

To further add to this headcanon I think that at least within the human characters, a sort of uncanny valley is involved by those like scaramouche or albedo, maybe even xiao and zhongli to an extent but not nearly as much. After all they aren't actually human they only look human, such would apply to a former abyss lector, they aren't an abyss lector anymore but neither are they human, at least not in the mortal sense. Perhaps this is why scaramouche first noticed something, though what he couldn't actually say, in them. The shared kinship of wearing the skin of something you were not, of looking all the more human the less you were.

I have no idea what happens in the mean time but my tldr is that after inazuma goes down they enlope and are currently living their best lives as far away from everyone else as possible, "i hate everyone but you"/villainous-bastard-husbands/murder wives/scary-to-everyone-but-each-other-spouses. The weird purple chess price on the mantle? Oh it was a gift form one of their mothers' don't worry about it, the weird glowing book in the bookshelf that seems to radiate elemental energy despite a vision being both not near to it or in anyway connected to it? Found it at a thrift store for a discounted price, totally just your average partners living in a secluded area very far away from humanity for no particular reason in one of the few places that is not either underground or cold as fuck that the gods' have no reach, nothing suspicious don't worry about it.

i don't think either of them would have gender but i do think that at least abyss!reader would enjoy fucking with other people's perception of theirs, i had no way to organically fit this in so it's just kinda here

oh..OH THAT'S SUCH A GOOD IDEA BUT I SHIP THEM MORE WITH CHILDE NOW BECAUSE WHAT IF THEY ARE BOTH IN THE FATUI AND BOTH OF THEM RECOGNISE EACH OTHER BUT NEVER MENTIONED IT

And I think for Childe, it would be relieving and somewhat comforting to find someone who understands the abyss like he does. I think he doesn't hide the fact that he fell into the abyss, he's a very straightforward person after all who doesn't like keeping secrets (the only exception to that is with Teucer) but people either didn't believe him or didn't understand. To have someone who understands him and doesn't judge him even if he is kinda mentally fucked up...

#ivyanswers

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pen-observing · 2 years

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paimon, the mysterious letter & an all knowing narrator

warnings : / this theory is connected to the 2.6 chasm quest update (specifically the new knight enemies) + the first half of it reaffirms the popular theory regarding paimon’s relation to celestia; the second and third parts try to decipher and build on the letter/

everything is under the cut to avoid spoilers

this update has had so many interesting things connected to lore but what i obsessed over was this particular quest. I will divide this into three parts so that you can read what interests you.

1. REAFFIRMING PAIMON’S IDENTITY AS CELESTIA’S PUPPET.

I do not feel the need to explain this theory from the start since it has been done by many people. however, every new quest brings more things that support it and fighting the knights in 2.6 is precisely that. as we approach them, they say very interesting things. since we forget that paimon is always with us, we might think they are referring strictly to the traveller.

serkir is not greeting us - the scribe is greeting paimon and wants vengeance upon her for the events that transpired. “a puppet of celestia” is equal to “an envoy of heavens.”

paimon, at this very moment, is not aware of her role hence the title on the puppet. the truth that has to be faced is by her about her true role; which, conveniently right now exists in fragmented memories that are locked from her.

I’ve decided to keep this relatively short but the reaffirmation exists best in what edgetho says aka. breaker of the oath of silence. if the ones who know the true truth were forced to go under oath (as knights usually do) edgetho breaks it by saying the truth out so clearly. paimon is the tyrant since the destruction of khaenri’ah is always described as ‘fated’ for arrogation; and we are the companion. the second part connects to two other theories i like to call : ‘the events of 500 years ago happened because the sibling took the same journey’ and ‘time travel exists’ which is why kaeya and makoto are as we know them.

once we defeat 9 of these knights, we collect 9 orbs and open up a secret door we get the achievement titled ‘crede tenebrae’ which translates to ‘believe in the dark’. telling us to believe the knights or the abyss order.

2. THE MYSTERIOUS LETTER.

after we unlock the door and get the achievement, we get a mysterious letter of 12 lines. eleven are randomly blurred so you can only see one of them. combining all of them until we get a translation (found here and here). the two versions are indicating the very same thing and feature the same themes.

the subject of the letter is desperately searching for their friend and it seems like they are borderline obsessed over it. this could have been caused by the dark mud since we saw it strengthen or change people’s initial personalities. however, the cause is not the true concern.

why khaenri’ah? why the wind? the wind simply beacuse of how venti seems to have lore connected to every single region + the god of time.

khaenri’ah because the true subjects of the poem are either the siblings or someone from khaenri’ah searching for someone from enkonomiya.

(this next part features poem analysis)

the connection is quite clear.

this poem is largely derived (with very few changes) to catullus 58b. catullus himself was a latin poet of the late roman republic and 58b is about his friend camerius who is a direct tie to catullus 55. dain tells us that he does not recognise the upside down city as khaenri’ah even if it has some similarities but we see clear connections to enkonomiya. the way catullus calls onto his friend it by saying ‘step into the light of day!’. to me, at least, it seemed like a mix of both. just because the speaker refers to themselves by saying ‘even if I am not the protector of khaenri'ah ‘ - it does not mean that they once were not one or that they were not someone living there.

however, catullus 58b and catullus 55 have one major distinction. 58b is not historically believed to have been written by catullus himself but 55 has.

in short: this shows us that the author of the poem that is the mysterious letter, is different from the one described in it. they’re two different people.

i believe that mihoyo did this on purpose to give space for an all knowing narrator who remembers khaenri’ah and has possibly been able to somehow ‘avoid’ the curse just like dain.

3. THE ALL KNOWING NARRATOR.

in the collection, catullus has more poems that were not written by him.for most of these were need to take away the romantic context but they still provide insight into things/characters/ nations that we know of.

some seem to mention: the golden apple archipelago, the true narrator saying we should not be afraid of the things they know, of a sinner known for generations on.

however, the most interesting one to look at is most definitely catullus 68b. (warnings about the poem: includes the abuse you would expect from roman and greek myths) some of the references:

signora or the tsarista ‘there with gracious gait my bright-hued goddess betook herself, and pressed her shining sole on the worn threshold with creaking sandal; as once came laodamia, flaming with love for her husband(...)’

tsaritsa ‘the tide of love swallowing you in so great a current bore you off into its steep abyss’ + ‘ but deeper than that abyss was your deep love.’

celestia ‘not yet had a victim appeased the lords of the heavens with sacred blood’

kaeya ‘ who, [an heir] found at last for the ancestral wealth, scarcely having brought his name into the public records, casts off the impious joys of mocking kinsmen and stirs away the vulture from the whitened head; nor so much does any dove rejoice in her snow-white consort.’

fontaine ‘to this the gods will add the many gifts, which themis once used to bring to the pious of old’

(themis is the goddess of divine law, order and justice. fontaine and their archon have already been confirmed to deal with law itself + all mihoyo games reference one another and i do not see a reason why tears of themis would be any different.)

a/n: this is all i got meme. also yes i got a bit too into it sorry besties but it was fun. i rarely get this bothered over now knowing what the lore is for but sometimes i gotta do what i gotta do so this is my take.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin theory #genshin lore #genshin chasm #paimon #kaeya #dainslief #genshin signora #genshin tsaritsa #genshin celestia #not om #not ob/ey me

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tenebriism · 2 years

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to five-year-old kaeya, the problems of the world --- those heavy, distressing things his father discusses at great length with the king, coming away looking far older than his age --- matter precious little; the world is still his oyster, and he's as innocent as can be, all dimples and toothy grins.

( little does he know these good times will be terribly short-lived. but for now ... )

the evening finds him running about with a freshly-picked inteyvat, eagerly looking to cause trouble for a certain someone ...

"sir dainsleif ! dain !" he practically trips over himself in his eagerness to present his gift to the bough keeper. "issa flower. bend over ... i'll put it in your hair."

Prompted Ask - [ ALWAYS ACCEPTING ] : @aalberich ;;

The Twilight Sword had never been good at optimism. At appealing to what may very well be nothing more than hapless, wishful thinking--- but, he thinks, as he watches the young Prince scamper about the flower fields, laughing without a single care or woe in this cruel world, he may very well start trying to be.

It's simply to prolong the happiness and CAREFREE lifestyle afforded to the young royal, in hopes of keeping him shielded from the brewing storm clouds just behind that, unbeknownst to them both, will bring a swift end to this peace. Dain is not so foolish as to cling to the hope that he could protect Kaeya from the crossfire forever--- he is, despite his mixed origins, a candidate for the throne should some few puzzle pieces be ALTERED to fit the mold, and, as such, he was expected to uphold the expectations placed upon him by his father and the royal family.

And as much as the stoic, unmoving Dainsleif is expected to see to it that nothing came betwixt Kaeya and the path his father was paving for him, the knight captain would silently wish for nothing more than for Kaeya to continue living, blissfully unaware, IN bliss.

" Ah. Yes ? " He'd turned to face the excitable Alberich upon the calling of his name, an arm instinctively jetting out in fear his superior may trip and harm himself, before retracting once certain he wouldn't need to fetch the bandages. " Careful, my liege. What is it you have found this time ? "

A flower. One bearing heavy symbolism and importance to their homeland. That Kaeya would immediately think to offer something of such weight to the undeserving man has him conflicted.

An extended spell of silence falls betwixt them, as Dainsleif stared into bright 'n vibrant eyes that seemed to behold him with such childlike wonderment that he questioned if, perhaps, there was someone else BEHIND him who Kaeya had meant to approach.

No, 'twas only them, as it always seemed to be.

" I will simply have to remove it during training, Prince Kaeya. " But his legs are bending so he may be eye level, and his head is bowing so those gentle hands may weave the blossom betwixt strands of golden sunlight. Though small, barely there, rigid lips do curl upwards, and that hardened gaze, so used to masking his emotions like second nature, soften considerably. " Thank you. Your generosity knows no bounds, your highness. "

There comes a day where the sentimentality of this single blossom -- this particular blossom, amongst many -- leaves his emotions bared and raw. He'd removed it during training sessions, yet preserved it as best as he could if only to give the young prince peace of mind that someone DID care for the things he did, both of his own accord and not.

It's the very first casualty, this flower, on that fateful day, when it fell loose from the strands of the knight's hair as he ran down that pathway after the royal family. They hadn't TOLD him, hadn't disclosed to him that Kaeya would be chosen for something so CRUEL -- and they likely knew that Dainsleif, trained to keep emotions SEPARATED from his work, yet swayed by the warming innocence of this mistreated boy, would fight against the decision tooth and nail.

And they were right. Yet, by the time he realized what was transpiring, it was too late.

Indeed, that flower had been the first casualty, and as Dainsleif listened to the cries of a broken hearted mother as her precious boy was hoisted away like cargo, his heart swiftly became the next. If only he had known how many more would follow, amidst the fall of Khaenri'ah, perhaps he wouldn't have lamented the loss of that flower that had been swept away by the wind by the time he'd found the strength to turn back.

--- and maybe, just maybe, he really COULD have held onto that slither of optimism that, at least, his prince had not been here, mixed within the devastation. Dainsleif had already failed him ONCE.

Were Kaeya to witness him failing the entirety of their homeland, Dainsleif wasn't sure he would be able to live with himself.

#aalberich #[ oh gosh. i really hope this makes sense and doesn't like..#step on the toes of your beautiful Prince Kaeya verse any. ;v ;#if it does. I'M SORRY. but i hope this is okay!!#I enjoyed writing it SO much. ]#muse ;; DAINSLEIF ( ANSWERED ASK )#muse ;; DAINSLEIF ( VERSE . TWILIGHT SWORD )

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 2 years

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I’m Not Letting You Go | Genshin Impact | Dainsleif

A.N. im back :) and now im rewriting a scene from outlander instead of focusing on finals because im tired. hope yall enjoy. this is... really rough. i havent written anything in a good while so be honest in the comments

Word Count. 1747 words

Page Count. 5 pages

Description. After leaving Teyvat for only a few years, you return to your husband, finding over 500 years have past- and your home has fallen into ruin. Many things change as time goes on, and some of these changes can cause us to fall, and become overwhelmed when thrown into the fray.

Reader. fem!reader, afab!reader in mind when writing

Warnings. yandere-ish themes, mentions of pregnancy

But now? You don't think home was in Teyvat. It wasn't with Dain. Not when everything had changed, even if he hadn't, too much had molded your place in the world into a lost memory, lost to 500 years of time. Of the shattering of a Kingdom, the corruption of its people, and the fight to live from its survivors. You barely care for the creak of the heavy door, opening and closing, smooth yet uncertain footsteps make their way near the bed.

The blind noise of laughter and dinning was minimal in the scene you were captivated in. Women and men together in the first floor of the sizable Inn, uncaring of the crisis your mind and heart were going through, your room being one of the many meant to be spent in with a partner. The oak wood of your room was dark, contrasting heavily with the soft candlelight, the fireplace from across the bed creating most of your ability to see. Rushing between one end of the room to another, you just needed to leave, your mind racing with everything and nothing at all. You were coming back, back home, back to him-

"Let me explain, Starlight."

"It's a little late for that." You huffed, throwing your clothes into a bag, some matching the land of Teyvat, others matching your own modern time. With hair a mess, unkept and in no particular style, the natural flow was interrupted with your erratic movements. The fire that warmed the room was the loudest thing at the moment, other than the rush of your blood deafening your ears to the worried huff Dain let out, a poor attempt to calm himself. His cape was thrown on the bed from earlier in the day, with the rest of his uniform, leaving him in nothing up his black shirt and pants. He feels exposed, unworthy, unable to keep himself together in this moment. Everything was moving too quickly.

"I didn't live with her. This was before Khaenri'ah, before it fell, for her safety. Nothing happened." He starts, with hesitant steps, moving towards you as you continued to stuff the bag with everything that came to your mind.

"It... was a great mistake. The marriage. Between Lumine and I." His voice is steady, calm, wanting to make things right.

"With a child? A bit late, don't you think?" You're huffing, rolling your socks into your feet before moving to fin your boots, thrown somewhere from your earlier excitement to be with Dain. Your thoughts weren't in the right place, only half listening to him, the other half telling you to leave, the thought of him leaving you for someone else left you damaged you never thought was possible- and your sense and logic were paying for it especially with all the emotion that overtook you at the moment.

"Child? You mean Klee? She's not mine, I'm not her father."

"Really?" Exhaustion came from your voice, the tears from the news of his second marriage, and to Lumine of all people. "The little girl with the blonde hair?" Dainsleif chuckles to himself, mainly from disbelief, before going to his usual tone.

"Well there's other blonde haired men in Mondstadt, Starlight." He reasons, and the nickname he's chosen for you slips off his tongue so naturally, like breathing air or letting the comfort of sleep overwhelm you- the name he's given you ever since you fell into his life half a millennia ago, giving light like no other. The light that not even stars could compare to. You saw it before you had left, so why couldn't you see it now? His love for you was undying, never lessening in all your time apart, but you simply ignored him as you picked up your shirts and dress. You continued on your desire to run.

To run from him. It pained his heart, and his mood molded into something slightly panicked, wanting you to just stop trying to leave. He couldn't handle anymore time apart. Especially from a misunderstanding. One that meant nothing to him when compared to the prospect that is you.

"Please- it was only for a short time. Before Khaenri'ah fell and the monarchs demanded she'd be wed into close rank, especially after they suspected her ties to Celestia. It was before the war, and we've been at odds since the Abyss came to be, Hell, I didn't even sleep in the same room as her." He voiced his panic, a hand reaching forward in some sense to soothe, for you or him he wasn't quite sure.

"And that makes this alright? Huh?" You paused to look at Dain, the shock in his face was evident of your distress, your belongings piled in your arms as your own pain shone through the dark. His heart fell at the sight, wanting to rid you of the distress immediately, but he knew it wouldn't be easy. The situation he was in after you had left Teyvat wasn't any easier either. This world was much different from yours, and with his kinder heart at the time, he didn't wish for even Lumine to be condemned. Teyvat was in harsher times, ancient and less accepting.

"It's Lumine. She tried to have me killed!" Dainsleif rattled your words, before moving back to your bag, Dain following you closely. Your breathing is heavy, unable to look at him in the moment.

"You're the one that told me to be kind to her." The shock made you stop, his confusion only made your anger rise, eyes wide and looking him up and down.

"I said to thank her. Not marry her." You continued to your bag, Dainsleifs figure stepping into your way, his hands gripping at your arms to keep you in place.

"You're not going anywhere." He's firm, unyielding. His eyes are narrowed, dangerous, daring you to stand against him and his need for you.

"You're not stopping me... you lied to me. You said you never loved anyone else." You started strong, only to slowly break. The tears started to spill ever so slowly, the weakness in your voice made his knees nearly give out, to simply fall to the ground and hold onto you. To beg you to stay, keeping your being with him, the embodiment of his sanity.

"I did not fall in love." He softened at your pain, his grip easing immediately.

"You told me about Kaeya, why couldn't you tell me about this?" Dain fell silent, his jaw clenching, brows furrowed in thought for a clear second. His mask was nowhere to be seen on his face, allowing corruption to pulse in the poorly lit room, the light only shared between the two of you.

"Why."

"Why? Because, I am a coward. That's why." He slowly stepped away, unable to face you.

"I couldn't tell you in fear of losing you. And... I couldn't bare the thought of losing you again." His voice became harsh, in a whisper that feared becoming too loud.

"I wanted you so bad nothing else mattered. I would sacrifice Hell on Earth, our family, life itself to see you again- to lay with you again. Even though you left me!" Dains voice started quiet and strong, building in temperament and volume as he continued.

"Left you? Left you! You forced me to go back! I would have died, gladly, in the fall with you... and now you want to blame me for that?" Your tears fell freely now, unable to mask the pain, the items in your hands falling to the ground immediately.

"I'd never blame you for that. You had to go, for Freyja and Odinns sake, I can't regret that." He shot back, not wanting you to feel as if leaving was your fault. The back and forth between the both of you left you tired, whiplash taking its affect on your mind, the emotions just kept rushing up no matter how hard you attempted to contain yourself.

"But you blame me for coming back?" You cried, taking a step back from Dain.

"No... yes... no." His voice and mind shook, unable to comprehend what even he wanted to say, hands moving as he spoke, his mannerisms becoming less refined and more emotional- something he hadn't been able to be in such a long time.

"Gods no. Do you know what it's like to live 500 years without your heart? To live half a man and accustom yourself to the bit that's left?" He starts off, heart bleeding for you.

"Do I know? Do I know? Yes! I do know how that feels, yes, you bastard I know! Or did you think that I went back to Morax and lived happily ever after?"

"Sometimes I hoped you did." A growl slips through his throat, warning, touching an anger held deep and locked away for years on end. His chest was heaving, shoulders tense, as if he was holding himself back from screaming.

"But sometimes... I could see it. Lying with you day and night, taking your body, holding my bairns?! Gods, I could kill you for it!" He's nearly snarling at this point, his entire body moving as he took steps forward.

"Well I don't have to imagine Lumine!" You shot back.

"Lumine?!" He yells, turning to throw the small table near him to the wall, cursing loudly before going back to you just as quickly.

"I don't care about Lumine! I never have!"

"Oh? So you marry a woman you don't even want and just discard her the second you're done with her?!"

"Well, I'm damned one way or the other! If I felt anything for her I'm a faithless fuck of a husband and I didn't I'm a heartless beast!"

"Well you should have told me." You finished, turning to walk away before he grabbed you by the arm, pulling you in close to meet face to face once again.

"And if I had you would have turned on your heel and left without a word, but having seen you again? I would do far worse than lie to keep you." He said in a low voice, eyes digging into your own, but your own anger started to leak through the sadness that had overtaken you. The silence was deafening, and your glare was blank compared to his sharp one. It was detachment against focus, a promise settling into your bones, and a shaky breath leaves you once again.

"Then I'll stay."

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dainsleif x reader #fem!reader #x reader #reader insert #gi x reader #queen.writing #dainsleif #genshin impact reader insert #outlander au #genshin imapct outlander au

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