#likely at Dain's command also

[reginrokkr]

𝐋𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈𝐈. Meaning behind Dáinsleif's visits to the Nameless City.

Today in this fine Sunday eve I choose emotional violence in thinking that Dain has now a reason to return to the Nameless City of the Chasm every now and then to place a lil Inteyvat in the same place that Halfdan drew his last breath.

[quimichi]

↳ ❝ [CALLING THE MONDSTADT BOYS YOUR GOOD BOY] ¡! ❞

Mondstadt boys x Creator!Reader

Dainseif, Diluc, Kaeya & Venti

Albedo's part here > ♡

Dainseif - What does freedom really mean, when demanded of you by a god?

"Please, come to me" you simply said, your voice echoing not only in the room, but also in his mind. Dainsleif doesn't hesitate for a moment.

He stands and crosses the distance between you without a second thought. His every movement is graceful and elegant. He would move through the ocean if it meant he could hold your gaze just a moment longer.

Now that he is close, he kneels once more. He wants to be on your level, he wants to be near you. "I am here, Your Grace." He stays on his knees, silent, waiting for you. If you want him to move, he will; if you want him to speak, he will; if you want him to simply be here, just within your presence— he will.

"Dain?" It only takes your utterance, your voice, for his head to snap in your direction.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"You're my good boy aren't you?" The words are music to Dainsleif's ears. He loves nothing more than to hear you call him something so loving. "Yes," he whispers, the word a breath of reverence. "I am your good boy."

"And why are you my good boy?" His cheeks flush as he looks up to you, eyes glowing like a star. His lashes flutter against his cheeks as the thought of being your good boy floods him with happiness and contentment.

"Because I am yours and have always served you." His words are firm, with the certainty of one who has never strayed from his purpose.

"Mine?"

"Yes. I am yours."

"I exist to serve you, to serve your beauty, your kindness, and love." This is truth to Dainsleif. He cannot imagine himself being anything but yours. "And thats why youre my good boy, Dainsleif" "Yes, Your Grace." He smiles at you, joy and contentment overflowing inside of him.

"I am happy to be your good boy. I am proud and eager to serve you, to honor and adore you." His expression is loving, warm, and peaceful. Dainsleif stays on his knees, head cocked to the side. His blue eyes are shining with love and affection. "What would you like me to do for you?" He asks, eager to serve you with all his heart.

"I want you to stay with me forever..." "I would love to stay with you, Your Grace." Dainsleif would die a hundred mortal deaths if it meant living in your presence for even an hour. The very thought of being near you stirs something inside him; his heart leaps into the sky, his breath catches in his throat.

He is entirely devoted to you.

Diluc - Though it is still not enough, I will always face the darkness.

"Please, step a bit closer to me" such a simple request it is but your command startles him. He looks up at you, and his eyes go wide. He is utterly taken aback, but that is not an excuse. He is yours to command.Diluc complies, and steps closer to your side.

"Are you my good boy, Diluc?"

"Y-yes," he responds at once. He bows his head as he speaks but, if it were possible, he bows even further. His heart is thumping against his chest as if it wants to jump free. He is utterly devoted to you. Every inch of him yours. "I'm sorry i didnt quite heard you, could you repeat that?" You're teasing him, how could you not? Diluc is more than embarrassed, but it is not his will to refuse you. He is yours, after all.

"Y-yes," he says, and his voice breaks slightly from the embarrassment.

"Once more, please, for me?" the opportunity is to good to let it slide. "Yes!" he says once more, and the blush on his face spreads throughout his body. Embarrassed, thats what he is, embarrassed. Your smile alone makes his stomach jump like it's trying to escape. He cannot understand how you make him feel this way.

He is still shy about this ordeal, but he knows that he cannot look away. He is there to serve you, after all. "Good boy~

"Diluc smiles despite himself at your praise. He knows better than to be happy at this moment, but some part of him thrills at the feeling of your gaze on his skin. His heart has a mind of its own, however, and it seems like it knows no boundaries. "Thank you," he says, and bows his head yet again. His embarrassment remains, but it is balanced with the thrill of your praise.

Your good boy...

Kaeya - Life's greatest illusions are the ones we believe in ourselves

"Kaeya?" Kaeya glances up at you, but he doesn't move from his comfortable position— at least, not yet. In fact, he appears to have become more comfortable, resting his head against your thighs and taking small, deep breaths. He stares down at you and smiles, seemingly amused by the situation. "I'm not moving," he mutters. "I'm perfectly comfortable here."

"Oh? Is my good boy all comfy?" "...Mhm." Kaeya's smile is genuine. With one hand, he reaches up, brushing his thumb against your cheek. "...I love you, Your Grace." Please let me stay here. I don't ever want to leave.

Hes so enchanted by your presence alone, he seemed to not process every word you say. Kaeya takes them as they are..."Did you hear me? I said youre my good boy" You're just checking, thats what youre telling yourself. But und truth, you just want to see a reaction, hear how his voice changes with realization.

"Of course I'm your good boy." Kaeya closes his eyes now, nuzzling himself against your legs. "No one else could be, after all. They don't worship you like I do."

"Your devotion's a gift, you know." Kaeya's tone is one of playful teasing, though the compliment is very much sincere. "You know I wouldn't let anyone else here give me physical affection, but for you, I make an exception. Why? Well, for one thing, you're deserving of it." You notice that Kaeya's leg is twitching— he wants to move, but it's as if he physically can't manage it. This may just be the most comfortable Kaeya's ever been, even if he can't say it out loud.

"Isn't my boy nice, huh?" "What can I say? I'm at your service... always." Kaeya's grip tightens about your thighs slightly. "Your approval means the world to me... I'd do anything to keep in your good graces."

He pauses for a moment, his expression becoming almost solemn. "...You know what I most desire, Your Grace?" Kaeya keeps his eyes shut, as though he's ashamed to speak."I would very much like to be yours," he says quietly.

"I want you to choose me."

Venti - Videtis illam spirare libertatis auram

"Yes, your Grace."

Venti complies instantly, quickly moving to sit down on the seat beside you. As soon as his body settles down, he starts idly swinging his legs up and down as if he's a toddler waiting for his mother to take him to the playground.He doesn't say a word, instead contenting himself with simply smiling up at you.

"Good boy" such small words, but they hold a way bigger meaning behind them. As Venti hears your praise, he almost falls into a completely euphoric state. He is practically quivering with excitement, unable to control his emotions for even a second longer. He starts muttering to himself, unable to comprehend what he is feeling in the presence of your grace.

"Please— please, don't call me a good boy again... please, please, make me yours..." Venti flushes pinker than a rose. "I— I meant your worshipful servant!" His eyes are fixed on you adoringly and desperately.

"Your dog, even!" Venti is too lost in the moment to realize how awkward his words were, and he starts desperately scrambling to come up with something even more degrading to call himself.

"Your footstool, even! Your carpet, your chair! Even your floor...!" His words are garbled and desperate, his mind completely blank right now. "But Venti, you're my good boy, not my chair or my floor...my good boy"

Venti's eyes widen as he hears your words. His face is still bright red, but your praise is enough to make him lightheaded. "Am I— am I your good boy.." he mumbles quietly, but he sounds genuinely baffled. "Are you sure..?"

"Yes" Venti is practically panting with excitement now, having gotten the confirmation that he is yours. "Y— you really mean it.." Even when he speaks quietly, you can hear the excitement in his voice, the thrill in his heart.

"Then I really am your good boy, aren't I...?"

"Yes"

"Then I will do my best to be the very best good boy for you, your Grace," Venti whispers reverently.

Even in his excitement, Venti remains reverent towards you. To be your good boy... He can't think of anything he wants more.

[the-massive-simp]

Question of the Day! 🗣❗️🍓

Your Top 3 Underrated Genshin Men & Why

I FORGOT TO ANSWER THIS I'M SO SORRY POOKIE💔

3) Diluc

(almost) no one simps for him like the good old days anymore and it pains me😔 he's so delicious but people are sleeping on him :( he's so big and beefy and yummy and has so much potential for most prompts </3 he can be literally anything you want. cute and warm cuddler? got it. soft and passionate lover? got it. caring and doting husband? got it. hard and rough sex? can do it. your wish is his command.

2) Dainsleif

dain stans come out of their graves once a year to fangirl about him for like 2 weeks and then disappear. where's the dedication??? the commitment???? this man is so fine so that's a pity</3 let's just all agree to talk about him the whole year :3 and don't get me started on the abyss infused dick also @/all angst lovers: CANT YOU SEE HIM??? you can write the most heartbreaking angst known to man with him (hehe)

1) Kaveh

alhaitham this alhaitham that BUT WHAT ABOUT KAVEH MH??? he's right there!!!! all whiny and subby and needy!!!!! just waiting for you to let him make you feel good<33 I can't even express my love for him without starting to roll on the floor with my mouth foaming. he's so cute!!!! and gorgeous!!!!

[callsign-rogueone]

assessments

Aaric Graycastle x reader part two of Aaric and Sunny's story words: 1.7k ���: set during Iron Flame but no real spoilers. canon-typical sparring. very vague mentions of injury (a bruise and a bandage.) more of Sunny's backstory perhaps.. I promise these titles will start getting more creative after this. this one's technically a double meaning -- assessment day for Emeterrio's class, and our bbs slowly starting to figure each other out.

You consider yourself excellent at reading people, a skill you’d honed in your years of working in a tavern in Calldyr city. It made long shifts more bearable, and earned you better tips — you knew exactly how to talk to each kind of person who walked in, what to do and say to make them like you, to think you were just like them.

All you need to do is look at someone for a minute, watch them and listen to them speak, and you can gather everything you need to know about them -- where they’re from, and what their deal is.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out your entire squad.

Rhiannon, the squad leader, is the responsible, motherly one, but she’s still fierce, and has something to prove. She wants your squad to be the best it can be, and has her sights set on being a wingleader next year. 

Ridoc is the class clown who is almost never serious, but cares for his friends deeply and won’t hesitate to fight for them. He’s smarter than he lets on, and a good fighter, even though he’s smaller than some of the other guys — which isn’t saying much, because they’re all giant — but maybe you could learn a thing or two from watching him.

Sawyer, Rhiannon’s second in command and Ridoc’s best friend, who balances him out with logic and restraint, but is definitely still frequently dragged into his shenanigans — though he takes his role seriously, feeling the need to prove himself to the world.

Violet, the daughter of two generals, who was expected to follow in their footsteps despite her medical condition, incredibly smart and observant, and not to be underestimated despite her small stature. 

Sloane, who was forced to be here because of the Treaty of Aretia, as her parents were accused of treason, holds a grudge against Violet for her unclear role in the death of her brother, but seems to respect Imogen enough not to kill the girl.

Imogen, the unaffected cool-girl, was also forced to be here, but she seems to have taken it in stride. She’s clearly not afraid of anything — not to stand out, with her pastel pink hair, nor to provoke anyone, being a skilled fighter both with words and hand-to-hand.

Nadine fits into a similar category with her dark purple hair and her unrestrained laughter. She seems less serious than the others, not at all worried, but it remains unclear if that’s because she’s overconfident or underestimating the challenges that second year will bring her.

…. and then there’s Aaric. You find yourself watching him for confirmation of what you’re supposed to be doing, but also out of sheer curiosity, because you just can’t figure him out. He doesn’t fit in any box you’d sorted the others into. He’s quiet, but not because he’s shy like Sawyer. Serious, but not the rigid soldier that Dain is. There’s just something about him that you just can’t put a name to, some quality you can’t quite describe.

He doesn’t look tired at breakfast, so he’d probably heeded the wingleader’s advice to sleep early — and he must not have stayed awake all night worrying about being killed.

You’d tossed and turned, but you’d been comforted by the theoretical safety of your top bunk, a good five feet above anyone, in a corner where you can see the whole room, and your two knives — one under your pillow, one clutched in your hand like a child would a stuffed animal. 

You wear one on each hip now, tucked into the belt loops of your pants. You should really get one of those leather rigs that the second-years have to hold them in a better position. They look much more secure, and more comfortable. Maybe you can invest your last bit of coin in a card game and make enough to buy one in town. Or maybe they’re issued to everyone later in the year — most of the older cadets have something similar.

You’d been one of the first ones awake, re-wrapping your bandage and changing clothes quietly, brushing your teeth before everyone else woke up and wanted to use the bathroom.

You learn these things quickly when you live with half a dozen other girls. 

Sloane had been slower to get ready, but you’d waited for her, lingering by your bunk and giving her a nervous half-smile — silently asking if she wanted to walk together. She’d agreed, falling into step beside you out to the morning formation.

It’s easy to spot where you’re supposed to be — look for the pink, purple, and silver heads. 

Imogen looks relieved to see Sloane in one piece — then she turns to you, looking unamused. “What are you so happy about?” she asks, raising a dark eyebrow. 

You know they won’t really understand, but you tell them anyway. “I woke up this morning in a bed of my own, looking at a roof over my head, with clothes on my back that I didn’t have to steal.”

Both of them soften, realizing just how differently you’d grown up. Their childhoods and teenage years may not have been the happiest, but they were safe, and didn’t have to worry about where their next meal would come from or where they’d sleep that night.

Aaric hadn’t realized that the service could be an escape for some people, rather than a death sentence or an act of patriotism or a moral obligation. Whatever you’d faced in the city had outweighed the possibility of dying in battle — despite being incredibly underprepared, you’re the one of the three of them that wants to be there the most. 

He has several questions, none of which he can ask without giving away his little ruse — and it’s been less than twenty-four hours since you’d all crossed the parapet. But still, he wonders about you. What’s your story? Where had you lived in Calldyr City? How many miles from the castle? Had your paths ever crossed? 

For a moment, anger roils through him. He’s aware of the disparities within his father’s kingdom, the way the other half — the other nine tenths, more like — lives, but to hear you speak of it so candidly… it’s clear you’ve never known anything other than struggling to make ends meet. 

Just another item on the laundry list of issues that your dear king is so content to ignore.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, as if he is at fault for your situation, as if he had been the one to deal you those cards — but is he not implicated in your suffering? He’s certainly complicit, passive, letting it happen.

Not that his father would listen to him if he asked him to do anything about it.

You give him a reassuring smile — you know from experience that talking about your life tends to make people uncomfortable. “Don’t be. I feel richer than the king.”

That makes him feel worse, actually.

-----------------------------------------------------------

“Bell, and Hannigan,” the professor calls, already looking and sounding bored. If everyone in the quadrant has to do one this week, that must be at least two hundred. You wonder how many have already occurred, and how many more he has to go. 

And what are they going to do with this information? Rank you somehow, for sure. Maybe they’ll split you into groups based on skill level? No, they probably aren’t that nice. Everyone has made it sound like it’s kill-or-be-killed here, literally. They probably aren’t offering any remedial courses.

You recognize the other first-year girl. She was one of the few who were up and moving before the wake-up call.

You give a nervous smile as you step onto the mat. She doesn’t return it. Either she doesn’t remember you, or she doesn’t want to acknowledge that her bed is less than fifteen feet away from yours.

Maybe this place is just like Calldyr city. The school may as well be a city of its own, with its size and population, and the way nobody here seems to care about each other, or be friendly at all — friendliness and trust would get you robbed in the nicer parts of the city, or maybe even killed in the “bad parts”, but you’d survived there your whole life.

You’ll have to do the cold-and-distant thing, you suppose. It would be nice to have friends, a group of people you can trust like Violet does, but you’ve done everything for yourself for years. You can keep doing that.

She isn’t too much bigger than you, but she looks like she knows what she’s doing, and that she’s confident she’ll win. She should be — you haven’t had anyone to practice with, lest it give away your plans. All you know is what you’ve seen from watching the drunks in the slums swing at each other, and they’re not very good examples. 

She lunges quickly, but you slip aside with ease. 

You duck a would-be punch to the jaw, attempting to kick her legs out from underneath her, but her boots are planted to the floor — it only irritates her and probably bruises her left shin.

No time to feel bad about it; she’s pushing forward again. She’s determined, you’ll give her that. 

It becomes clear that your duck-and-dodge strategy is effective in keeping yourself unscathed, but it won’t win you this fight.

You attempt a punch like hers, unsuccessfully; she catches your wrist and uses it to leverage you to the floor, where she presses you into the mat, wrenching one arm behind your back and using her weight to keep you down. You struggle for a moment before realizing she has you pinned too well. “I yield.”

“Hannigan wins,” Emeterrio announces monotonously, writing it down.

She lets go, but doesn’t offer you an apology nor help you up. Cold and distant it is, then — with everybody but your squad, who are supposedly not allowed to hurt you.

You’re three steps away from falling back into your place beside Sloane when you hear a crack and a scream.

Then all hell breaks loose in your corner of the gym.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 4. Third Squad.

One tragic day changes Dahlia's life forever. Despised by her father and brother, she's spent her entire life trying to be the child and sister she use to be. But nothing she ever does is good enough. She joins the Rider's Quadrant to prove them wrong. Garrick now in his second year has proven he is more than the mark on his skin to his fellow riders, and taken leadership of his own Squad alongside Xaden. Little does he know the girl walking across the parapet is about to send him on a rollercoaster of a year.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist

“What the hell was that?” Dain asks as he rushes after me.

I roll my eyes at him. “Just leave it be Dain.”

I shouldn’t have said it. But I did. Dain was most likely going to go running to our father about it, but I couldn’t care. I was my own person here. No one really cared who I was. I wasn’t going to get any special treatment.

”No, you heard what father said only a few hours ago. And here you are already blowing it.” He hisses at me. Grabbing my arm to turn me to face him.

I rip my arm from his grip and shove him back. Luckily there is enough going on around us for no one to notice. Not exactly a good impression to already be shoving other cadets around.

”I am not blowing anything. I highly doubt Fen Riorson’s son is going to go running back to father and tell him what I said. It will be fine.”

”He could say someone to something else, then word spreads and you get us both in trouble.”

I roll my eyes. “You need to learn that his opinion isn’t everything. Be your own person Dain, you might be surprised what comes of it.” I hiss back before walking off into the crowd, leaving Dain to ponder my words.

All his life Dain tried to please our father in any way he could. Which honestly was easy for him thanks to me. Dain could have gone off the rails and still been the golden child in his eyes. Part of me hoped that this would be a reality check for him. Father wasn’t here to sing his praises, look after him. He was on his own, and no one cared who our father was. If anything it would put a target on our backs.

Dain and I had waited till later in the day to walk the parapet, meaning the rotunda is full of cadets. From what I had heard before climbing the stairs, nearly three hundred cadets had walked the parapet before me. But a decent chunk of those would have fallen victim to the parapet. I had heard countless screams while waiting my turn. It’s easy to tell the first years from the other cadets, standing at the back in small groups or on our own as they stand in squads or friend groups watching us.

A hush falls over the crowd, and I turn to see the last of the cadets walk into the rotunda, followed by Xaden and the other guy who had questioned me about my name. They’re easy to spot in the crowd, both of them towering over the majority of the cadets. Though his friend was significantly taller. Also helps nearly every cadet gives them a wide birth as they walk by to join the second and third years closer to the front.

”Two hundred and ninety of you have survived the parapet to become cadets today.” The all too familiar voice of Commandant Pancheck says, his voice carrying across the rotunda as he gestures to us. As per usual he’s talking with his hands. “Congratulations. Because eighty of you did not.”

Damn. That’s one of the higher numbers I had heard. Clearly the wind had claimed a few extra victims today. Or we had a bunch of cadets willing to kill anyone who stood in their way. Which sadly was not uncommon. But I can tell I’m not the only one with these thoughts, as whispers pick up around me.

”As the Codex says, now you begin the true crucible! You will be tested by your superiors, hunted by your peers and guided by your instincts. Now amount of training or who you are will prepare you for this.” His eyes landing on me before moving elsewhere in the crowd where I know Dain is standing. Wonder if father told him to include that in his speech. “If you survive Threshing, and if you are chosen, you will be riders. Then we’ll see how many of you make it to graduation in three years.”

Three years. I could do this. Despite what Panchek said, my training would give me some advantages early on. I had spent countless hours training various weapons, weight training and running. Enough to prove myself. But after that, no amount of training could guarantee me a dragon at Threshing. Or take the target off my back once everyone knew who I was. The majority would not care who I was, but the marked ones would. And extra obstacle to overcome.

”Your professors will teach you. But it is up to you how well you learn and how you use that knowledge.” He gestures to the professors near the academic hall watching us all, before gesturing to the wingleaders behind him. “But your discipline falls to your units, and your wingleaders. And if I have to get involved…” The sinister smile I’ve seen too many times in my years spreads across his face, one that never fails to send a chill up my spine. “You don’t want me to get involved. But for now I leave you to your wingleaders. And try not to die.”

Easier said than done.

A male with blonde hair steps forward, eyes scanning the cadets in front of him. Just like the other second and third years, his uniform is altered to his liking. An upside to being in the riders quadrant, our uniform policy was on the looser side. His jacket is void of sleeves, in what I assume is a vain attempt to show of his muscles. Which honestly were nothing to talk about compared to some of the other cadets.

”I’m Damon, the senior wingleader of this quadrant and the head of the Fourth Wing. Section leaders and squad leaders, take your positions. Squads take your positions accordingly.”

The cadets before me start to move into formation. Four wings. Three sections in each wing. Three squads in each section. Without the first years, a lot of the squads look quite empty. Obviously taking a hit from last years third years graduating, or not many first years surviving last year.

”First years. When your name is called, take up formation behind your quad leader.” Damon instructs as another wingleader steps forward. A short brunette who barely comes up to his shoulder.

One by one cadets names are read out in quick succession. Each cadet quickly taking their place with their squad. Dain’s name is called for Second Wing, Flame Section, Second Squad. I look up to see him take his place next to a girl with bright pink hair. She immediately scowls at him before turning her attention back to the front. God I hoped she gave him a hard time. And something tells me she would.

I breathe a sigh of relief as they move onto the next squad. I wasn’t going to be with Dain. Part of me had been worried we we’re going to be paired together due to our last name. But apparently luck had been on my side today. But despite that I can’t help but be nervous about where I will be placed. With each name being called, my heart beating faster and faster.

”Tail Section, Fourth Wing.” The brunette calls out.

The last section to be filled. This is where I would be placed. I look over to see the last three squads remaining to be filled. I immediately recognise two of the squad leaders. Xaden and his friend from earlier. Maybe the odds weren’t in my favour. Dain or father where sure to blame me for somehow being placed in a squad run by a marked one. First and Second Squad fill up, leaving one squad left. And one squad leader. Xaden.

”And lastly third squad.” She calls out. “Bodhi Durran.”

A boy that looks so much like Xaden, they could almost be brothers steps forward. As he passes Xaden he gives Bodhi a pat on the back. Definitely family.

”Dahlia Aetos.”

I step forward, feeling majority of the eyes on me as I walk towards my squad. Even Xaden turning to look at me. He hadn’t even turned to watch Bodhi walk forward. In front of him his friend also turns to look at me before briefly looking at Xaden, almost like he was worried or concerned. But Xaden doesn’t look remotely phased by me being in his squad.

I join Bodhi in the formation, standing tall and trying to keep my expression neutral. It doesn't escape me that Xaden's gaze lingers on me for a moment longer before he turns his attention back to the brunette reading off the names. I let out a breath I didn't realise I had been holding, preparing myself for what's to come. Ready to prove that I belong here, no matter what my last name is.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch

[mrsjoeythehurler]

When I Met You

(OC FMC x Liam Mairi)

All characters except for Aurora Sallow who is my OC and the FMC of this fic belong to Rebecca Yarros. The plot of Fourth Wing also belongs to Rebecca Yarros.

Content warnings: most of the warnings that are for Fourth Wing are also going to be in When I Met You. That includes: Blood, death, injury, violence and war. The only content warning I am adding is panic attacks (2)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟAurora Sallow ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

After Commandant Panchek's speech, we are given the rundown of what will happen for the next few months leading up to Threshing and what will happen after it. Then, we are all placed into our respective sections with our respective leaders.

Of course, Violet, Rhi, and I were all placed in Dain's section as he requested. We're now members of Second Squad, Flame Section. And even though I may not like Dain that much, Violet trusts him, and that's good enough for me.

As we're waiting for the rest of the wings to be called, I can't help but think back to the boy from earlier. He was so handsome I couldn't get my mind off of him. I fight the urge to look for him in the crowd, but it's hard. I want our eyes to meet again. I want to get lost in them. It was only one look, but I felt it like a charge throughout my entire body. I couldn't get him off my mind.

The roll-keeper begins speaking again, breaking me out of my thoughts. Closing my eyes and shaking my head, I turn my attention to the dais.

Earlier, we found out that 100 of us cadets survived the Parapet, while sixty-seven did not. It was hard to hear, especially when you realize that none of the fallen cadets would get a proper burial.

When people die, instead of being laid to rest, their names are called once upon those who are there to listen, and then all their belongings must be burned, not even sent back to their families for keepsakes.

They will never get to see their families again, and their families will never be able to give them the proper goodbye they deserve. It breaks my heart, so I provide the roll-keeper with all my attention whenever a name is called. I want to hold their names in memory so that I can remember them and pay my respects.

Just then, Rhiannon leans in towards Violet and I. "What do you think they're talking about?"

I look to the left of the dais and see Xaden and the other Wingleaders talking amongst themselves.

"I have no idea," I tell her.

"Quiet." Dain hisses, not even sparing us a glance.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I don't think they'll hear us from all the way over here, but I don't tell Dain that. Something tells me he hates being wrong. Or he takes his job very seriously. Maybe a little too seriously.

Suddenly, the roll-keeper looks towards our group. "Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven's." She commands.

Wait, what? Are we switching squads?

Dain nods and tells us to follow him, so we do.

Right to Fourth Wing.

Why did we switch wings? I look at Rhi who gives me a confused look, mirroring my own. I then look over towards Violet, but she seems frozen…and a little pissed off.

"You're all cadets now," Xaden says, his voice carrying out over the courtyard. "Take a look at your squad. These are the only people guaranteed by Codex not to kill you."

Well, that's reassuring.

"But just because they can't end your life doesn't mean others won't." He goes on. "You want a dragon? Earn one."

Almost everyone starts cheering. I think Violet and I are the only ones who don't.

Xaden says, "And I bet you feel pretty badass right now, don't you, first years?"

More cheers erupt around us, but again, I stay silent. I don't think there was one moment in my life when I felt badass. I don't even think I understand the meaning of the word. Not even after completing the Parapet. I just felt relieved I got Sawyer and me to safety.

Xaden suddenly stops talking, and the sound of wings can be heard over the wind.

"Oh gods, they're beautiful," Rhi whispers from beside me as a riot of dragons appears.

I'm speechless.

I've seen dragons before, but only in the sky far away. Never up close.

Sometimes at night, when it was late, and I couldn't sleep because my anxiety would keep me up, I would sit beside my open window looking out into the night sky, gazing at the stars, and breathing in and out to the clouds passing in front of the moon. Occasionally, one or two dragons would fly in front of the light, creating the perfect silhouette. It would never frighten me, only make me feel comfort at a time when I needed it most. Like I wasn't really alone in my anxiety. Like the dragons were telling me they see me.

But these aren't far away like those I would catch glimpses of from my window. These dragons were headed straight towards us.

They all land on the outer semicircular wall: one red, two green, one brown, one orange, and one navy. All of them are huge and magnificent, but the navy one is massive—tremendously larger than the rest. Their large talons grip the edge of the wall, their scales shimmering with the sun's light gleaming off them, and their semi-translucent wings are gorgeous.

A few cadets around me scream, but I know better.

When I was a Scribe, I would read a lot about dragons. I wanted to know about the creatures that visited me each night beyond my window. I know what to do and what not to do when in the presence of one. You should stay calm and still and not make any noise. You also shouldn't show any fear, as they can sense it. Dragons are not dumb. You shouldn't make loud noises or try to run in the opposite direction, as this makes the dragon see you as prey. If you do that, you could die.

When I see a cadet from Third Wing make a run for it, I hold my breath. I know what will happen next, and there's nothing anyone can do about it unless they want to meet the same fate.

To my left, I see the red dragon open its mouth, revealing large, razor-sharp teeth and shooting flames toward the fleeing cadet.

He's ash on the ground in less than a second.

There are two more gusts of heat, one to the left of me and one to the right.

Two more cadets are gone.

"Anyone else feel like changing their mind?" Xaden shouts as he scans the rows of cadets, most with faces of horror after what just occurred. "No? Excellent. Roughly half of you will be dead by this time next summer." He goes on, "A third of you again the year after that, and the same your last year. No one cares who your mommy or daddy is here. Even King Tauri's second son died during his Threshing. So tell me again: do you feel invincible now that you've made it into the Riders Quadrant? Untouchable? Elite?"

Silence.

"Because you're not untouchable or special to them." Xaden continues as he points towards the enormous Navy dragon, but his eyes seem to be on Violet as he says, "To them, you're just the prey."

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

The next day, all of us are getting ready to go to our first Battle Brief.

We met in the courtyard earlier, where Captain Fitzgibbon read the death toll of the fallen cadets. We were then instructed by Dain and Sawyer to go back to our dorms to get what we needed for Battle Brief.

Actually, I believe Sawyer's exact words were "get your shit and don't be late."

Violet, Rhi, and I are in the hallway, walking towards our dorm, which we all share, when Rhi suddenly says, "That has to be hard."

I give her a confused look.

"Sawyer." She says. "Being set back and having to do this all over again."

"Better than being dead," Ridoc says, walking past us.

I roll my eyes at Ridoc. "Yeah." I agree as we continue walking. "But Sawyer's alright. He's handling it well. He seems to be doing okay."

"Oh yeah," Rhi says, giving me a smug look. "You two are close, aren't you? Do you like him? Is there something going on?"

I laugh as we all turn a corner. "No. I don't like him like that. But he is a great friend, and if either of you ever have a thing for him, I'll be happy to put in a good word."

Rhi gives me a big smile. "I may have to take you up on that."

I haven't told either of them about the boy from yesterday who I can't stop thinking about. It's not like anything is going to happen there. Besides, who even knows if he was looking at me the way I was looking at him. Maybe I had something on my face.

We're almost to our dorms when I hear someone whistle. All of us stop in our tracks. We turn to see Dain, and his eyes are set on Violet.

"I'll be—"Violet starts.

But Rhi cuts her off. "We'll grab your stuff and meet you there. It's under your bunk, right?"

"You don't mind?" Violet asks.

"Of course not," I say. "It's no problem at all. Go."

"Thank you." Violet smiles at us before heading off in the direction of Dain.

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

After Battle Brief, I return to my dorm to prepare for sparring.

Battle Brief is a class taught by Professor Devera, a woman with short purple hair and a purple Flame Section patch on her shoulder. It will be held every day.

It's an essential class in case any of us are called into service early. It's held in the circular tiered room that curves at the end of the academic hall. It is one of the only rooms that fits all cadets, filling every seat.

Because Battle Brief is a class that relies on the most current information, we are required to answer to Professor Markham, a scribe whom Violet and I know very well.

Violet and I were supposed to be mentored by Professor Markham this year at the Scribe Quadrant before he retires. Unfortunately, both of us were sent to the Riders Quadrant, so that won't be happening. Violet, especially, was going to be his star pupil.

During Battle Brief, we learned some new information about the upcoming war, which shocked every cadet in the room.

Professor Devera told us that last night, a drift of Braevi gryphons attacked the eastern wing near the village of Chakir because the wards faltered. Professor Devera said it took an hour for a squad to get there to protect the wards. Thirty-seven civilians were killed in the attack.

When we all heard this information, we were shocked. I swear you could have heard a pin drop in the auditorium.

When a first-year in front of me asked if this was the first time the wards had faltered, Professor Devera answered with a "no." All of us were even more shocked and confused.

Thanks to Rhi, well, it was actually Violet who told Rhi to ask the question, who asked what the altitude of the village was at; we found out it was a little less than ten thousand feet, which is way too high for Gryphon's to fly.

Gryphons aren't as strong as dragons and can't fly as high as they can. It made no sense for them to fly that high unless they knew the wards were about to fail. As Violet pointed out during class.

There's also no way those riders got there within the hour of the attack. It would have taken at least half that long to signal for help. Which means they were already on their way to the faltering wards.

Which also means they already knew the wards were breaking.

It turns out that Violet and I's suspicions were correct. Professor Devera told us that one of the dragons in the wing sensed the faltering ward and the wing flew to protect it. If they had not got there in time, there would have been more casualties, and the destruction of the village would have been worse than it is.

Xaden also made a comment during class that made me pause because it made sense. The gryphon riders were definitely looking for something, as the state of the village showed. Apparently, the buildings they'd already gone through were burned, and the others were being looted when the wing arrived.

The only question now is, what were they looking for?

That's something to think about later. Right now, I must focus on sparring and how I will get through this.

Considering my entire life has been focused on becoming a scribe and spending most of my time in the Scribe Quadrant, I have never done any sort of physical training. I have never fought another person in my life, and I wasn't planning on it. It's not like I had any time to practice before I got here. My parents didn't really give me a heads-up before they sent me here and away from my dream future like it was nothing.

After I finish putting my hair into a ponytail, I head towards my door and walk out into the hallway.

I turn the corner and bump into a wall.

Nope, not a wall. A person.

"I'm so sorry," I say, looking up and freezing.

It's him. The gorgeous boy from yesterday.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it." He says as he looks into my eyes.

He gives me a small smile that shows off a dimple, and I can't function properly.

Realizing he has his hands on my shoulders to steady me, I take a small step back.

Clearing my throat, I give him a small smile of my own. "I'm Aurora."

"Liam." He says, still looking deep into my eyes.

His eyes are so beautiful. He is so beautiful.

"Okay, well," I say, shaking myself out of my stupor, "thank you for not being a wall."

I hate myself.

Liam laughs, and I want to bottle it up and listen to it forever. "No problem, " he says, putting his hands in his pockets. "You're going to spar?"

"Yes," I say. "I'm assuming you're headed there too?"

"I am." Liam nods. "Can I walk you there?"

I look up at him with wide eyes. "You want to walk me there?"

He scratches the back of his head, and a blush creeps up his cheeks. "Yeah," Liam clears his throat, "if you'll let me."

"Um… yeah, okay, sure." I give him a small smile.

We walk in silence for a couple minutes before the anxiety gets the better of me.

"So you're in Fourth Wing," I blurt.

I'm realizing now that I am absolutely not good at small talk.

He still gives me that smile. "I am. I'm in Second Squad, Tail Section. "

"Cool. I'm in Second Squad, Flame Section."

We're silent for a minute before Liam continues. "So, how are you managing the Riders Quadrant so far?"

"I think okay. I'm not as prepared as the rest of the cadets here are, but I'm learning."

Liam looks at me for a long moment. "Did you not want to become a rider?"

"No," I say, clearing my throat. "I used to be in the Scribe Quadrant. That was my goal, becoming a scribe."

"What made you change your mind?" Liam says, looking down at me with those mesmerizing eyes.

"My parents. They told me two days before conscription day that I needed to become a rider."

Liam furrows his brows. "They didn't give you an option? They just told you that you needed to become a rider, and that was that?"

I look down, suddenly feeling stupid. "Yes," I murmur.

I don't tell him that I've never said no to my parents in my life. I don't like disappointing people or feeling like a burden, so when my parents told me that I was going to the Riders Quadrant, I went along with it—even if that meant destroying my hope for the future.

"I'm sorry." He says.

I shrug. "It's okay. My friend Violet is here too. We were in the Scribe Quadrant together."

"It's good that you have someone you know here, " he says, looking over at me. "I'm glad you have someone you know here."

Looking up at him, I give him a small smile. "Yeah, me too."

We continue down the hall in a comfortable silence until we reach the sparring gym.

[illshakeyouallnightlong-dean]

Take Me To The Sun (pt. 3)

Sorry loves it took so long for this next part. Not to be too TMI but my boyfriend lost his mother last Christmas so helping him navigate grief has been something I take seriously and therefore writing takes the back burner sometimes. But here is the new part I am currently writing part 4 as well so hopefully y'all can get that within the next day or so!

-K xoxo

Here is Part 2

Angry steps make their way towards the leaders seated at the dias. Xaden Riorson commands the very space, as if he were part of command. Violet Sorrengail makes her stand next to me, and the presence of the person on the right of me is one I can’t pay attention to - no matter how badly I want to turn and look, no matter how badly I want to cry. Colonel Aetos is furious, his red cheeks and furrowed brows do no favors as General Sorrengail questions everything that has been happening since the start of War Games. 

“I was directed to take a squad beyond the wards to Athebyne and form the headquarters for Fourth Wing’s War Games, and I did so. We stopped to rest our riot at the nearest lake past the wards, and we were attacked by gryphons.” Xaden states, fists at his side as he looks at both General Sorrengail and Colonel Aetos. “It was a surprise attack, and they caught Deigh and Fuil unaware.” He pivots slightly, telling the wing the rest of what we don’t know. “They were dead before they ever had a chance.” My Wingleader looks at my briefly for the first time in what seems like years, for a moment there is a crack in his ever perfect expression. 

I must have blinked, I must’ve staggered. My knees crash against the hard floor for a moment before arms reach themselves around my waist to hoist me up. We lost Liam? We lost Soleil? I can’t hear anything other than the rushing of my own blood through my very veins, the beat of my heart as if it were to come out of my chest. Violet flits her hands around my face, her mouth moving but for the life of me I don’t know what she’s saying. 

Liam was so good. Too good. And just like that he is gone? 

“And we almost lost Sorrengail.” 

Violet’s eyes widen as she takes in the horror in my eyes. My friends were in trouble and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there. Tears blur my vision, and all I can do is breathe through the rattling in my chest. 

I will never forgive you. Pushing the thought towards Xaden. Watching as his spine stiffens, the hurt flicker in his eyes, before shoving it all away. 

“Breathe,” a warm voice whispers against my ear, “ Or you’ll pass out.” The emotions of everyone in the quadrant are too much. However, Garrick Tavis’ were always those of beacons to me - I was nothing more than a boat lost at sea in this very moment. Feeling his grief, his anguish, but also his relief, was enough to calm and steady my breaking heart. 

“Let go of me,” shrugging myself out of his hold, I get back into proper formation. Violet watches warily, unsure of what to do. “Go help our Wingleader, Cadet Sorrengail.” Hurt flickers from her emotional tether, being dismissed was something she didn’t think I would ever do to her. In this moment I don’t know who to bother with anymore. However, in a matter of less than a day it won’t matter anymore - I will be long gone, a new post, a new death sentence. 

Making myself numb to the rest of the questioning, I don’t bother with the insistent touching from Garrick as he tries to get my attention. I don’t bother with the few glances from Xaden, and unfortunately I can’t be open to the bond between Rathnait and I - not able to hear her in this moment despite her ramming against my shields. I know it isn’t her fault, this hurt and sense of loss that I feel - but I’d rather be alone. 

With dismissal from command, Xaden and Violet get back into formation. There is words exchanged between them and Dain, but again why does any of it matter anymore? As Captain Fitzgibbons calls out the additional names to the amended death roll, there are no tears shed, there is only silence, deathly still silence. Commandant Panchek takes the stand and addresses what is left of the riders remaining. “Beyond military commendations, there are no words of praise for rider. Our reward for a job well done is living to see the next duty station, the next rank. In keep with our traditions and standards, those of you who have completed your third year will now be commissioned as lieutenants in the army of Navarre. Step forward when your name is called to receive your orders. You have until morning to depart for your new duty stations.” 

The orders I received earlier feel like weights against my breast pocket. I had received mine earlier as a taunt, a warning since command had already believed that my Wingleader and his squad were dead. My duty station was punishment for whatever it was that Xaden and Garrick had been involved in, what they are still involved in. 

“Garrick Tavis!” My heart feels like it lodges itself in my throat, as if it were to splatter all over the floor as I look at him, fully look at him for the first time in days as he strides towards the commandant. A new scar lines from his jaw to his temple, deep and red - fresh. His wide strong frame grabs the paper and lets out a breath as he reads the duty station he is assigned to before looking at me as he makes his way back to formation. For the first time, I note an emotion that is rare from him, from someone I have come to know as unwavering. 

He’s scared. Garrick Tavis is afraid. 

[ktsumu]

three ticks and i’m home.

pairing: dainsleif x fem!reader, 4.2k words

summary: gods are never innocent; neither are godless men.

(or: a timeline of dainsleif's grief through the life of his broken watch, one that ticks backwards and the one you fixed, first.)

note: someone tell me to stop reading his lore and i will. beware for plot holes because genshin is nuts. crossposted to ao3 also!

content: major character death, destruction, angst, talk of children, you're a clocksmith, angst with like a sprinkle of fluff in one scene, a lot of worldbuilding regarding khaenri'ah + the cataclysm

Five years before.

Dainsleif is a serious guy.

He needs to be — it’s a must-have quality for a Commander. He smiles at children that look up to him, doesn’t leave bars with women who want to. His schedule is so tight that some say it wears a corset, or at least his friends do. He takes his job with the pride of a boy who grew up watching the soldiers march, a boy who now leads them.

Dainsleif runs a tight schedule.

That is, until his watch breaks, and disorder comes soon after.

He complains in the bunks for twenty minutes that night about the chaos his time regulates until one of his friends recommends an old friend, a clocksmith in the heart of the city. 

( “Get a digital one while you’re there. That thing’s ancient.”

“People are allowed to like old things, Halfdan.”

“Not things that break like that.” )

Dainsleif visits you the next day, setting the metal watch on your counter with his arms crossed. His brows tug together and his expression is more wary than it is expectant.

“Can you fix it?” he asks.

You look it over, rubbing your thumb over rust. “Who’s it from?”

“Can you fix it?”

You set the watch back down, looking back up at him with a little grin.

“For a price, Commander.”

Dainsleif swallows, rolling his shoulders back and digging out his wallet.

It takes you four hours to fix his ancient watch, and you even get the rust off of the band for him. You clasp it back around his wrist and tell him to get back to work when he tries to thank you, standing around for way too long. When he leaves, you set aside and refund his money.

15 years since the Cataclysm

“What do you mean you can’t fix it?”

“They call us horologists, sir. Not magicians.”

Dainsleif huffs, leaning on the counter and shaking his head. “My friend recommended you,” he says, pleads. “He said you can fix anything. Even this. Did you try?”

“I—”

“Try.”

The watchmaker tilts his head, an unsure look on his face. Dainslef’s shoulders fall. “Please,” he whispers. “Try.”

The man purses his lips, sighing, and extends a hand. His fingers wriggle.

“For a price.”

Dainsleif takes out his wallet and pays him double what he paid you — the watch takes four days to fix, and he doesn’t remove the rust. Dainsleif collects it with haste.

“Sorry, couldn’t change the time,” he tells his client. “That thing will always run backwards.”

Dainsleif nods. “Oh.”

Four.

Your favourite day is Sunday.

Dainsleif allows himself one day to relax, one day that he’s mandated, and what day other than a day reserved for a god you never had would be a better fit? On Sundays, you stay in bed, under your linen sheets and against his chest. Neither of you move until absolutely necessary; sometimes hours, sometimes less.

“Breakfast soon?” he asks. 

“I thought maybe a little while longer.”

“That’s fine.”

“Ugh, I love it when you agree with me,” you tease, giggling when he scoffs. He agrees with you most of the time; you’re reasonable people. 

Dainsleif sighs, humming when you curl further into his side. He's a serious guy, but that doesn’t count on Sundays. Not during your beautiful, godless mornings. He raises an eyebrow at the vase on your dresser, “Those are new.”

“Hm?”

“Inteyvats,” he comments, “the flowers.”

“Is it so wrong of me to show some nationalism, Dain?”

He grins, shaking his head as you laugh. You laugh and it shakes your shoulders. You laugh and it shakes his chest. 

“I just didn’t know you liked them,” he says, “that’s all.”

You settle, humming against the cotton of his shirt. “I love them.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Maybe someday, we’ll have someone to use their name.”

He thinks for a moment, “A daughter?”

You tilt your head back so you can see him, to the point where it aches to hold yourself up like that. “Would that be so bad?”

Dainsleif thinks for a moment — you and a daughter. “No,” he says, “not at all.”

“That’s down the road, anyway,” you laugh. “You know what isn’t?”

“What?”

“Our anniversary,” you say, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “How do you want to celebrate it?”

Dainsleif thinks about your one year anniversary, lying in bed with you on a Sunday, talking about a family and the flower you’ll start it with. He thinks about how content he would be if you did nothing at all but this; lie against his side and kiss his jaw, talk about the daughter he hopes will look just like you. He doesn’t think he could ask for anything more.

“This is okay.”

“Mm, alright,” you say, your smile against his collarbone. “I love you.”

Dainsleif tilts his head so you can stay where you are. “I love you," he echoes, "I love how you speak our language.”

“Oh? What’s so special about it?”

He smiles to himself.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Fifty years since

The watch breaks again on what would’ve been your seventy-fifth birthday.

The smith Dainsleif found this time looks over the stuttering clock hands, the numbers written in something unintelligible to him. He tosses it in his hand, a curious look on his face. “Old watch, no?”

“Very. Could you restore it?”

“By ‘restore’ you mean…”

“Fix it to tell time,” he clarifies. “And to still tick backwards.”

The clocksmith looks up with curious eyes, one of his eyebrows quirking up. “You want me to fix it ... to be broken?”

“If you can.” 

He hesitates. “I’ll do my best.”

Dainsleif lets him swivel around in his chair, flicking a light on over his desk as he hunches over. The shop he operates out of is personal, messy — never Dainsleif’s style, but he can admit it is quaint. Quilts and sewn tapestries line the walls, textbooks from the Akademiya line a bookcase filled with papers; a frame hangs on the wall.

A painting of a flower; inteyvat.

“Excuse me,” Dainsleif coughs, “I can’t help but notice your painting.”

“Hm? Oh, the flower.”

“Yes — you know where it’s from?”

The smith hums a laugh, nodding. “Khaenri’ah hasn’t been gone long enough to forget it.”

Dainsleif swallows. “I was just surprised to see it, is all.”

“Most are,” he replies, his eyes not leaving the watch he works on. He rummages through his drawer for tweezers. “It was a gift for my daughter.”

“Your daughter?”

“Yes,” he replies, happily. “We named her after them.”

Dainsleif takes a deep breath.

Three.

When Dainsleif comes home from his shift, you’re sitting at the table with your chin resting in your hands.

“Good evening,” he greets, shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his boots. He doesn’t seem to notice that you don’t reply in the twenty or so seconds it takes to writhe out of his uniform, or that you don’t bother to even look in his direction at all. The only time he realizes that something in the room has shifted is when you move away from his kiss. “Hello?”

You grit your teeth.

Dainsleif crosses his arms, slowly rounding the table to face you from across it. “What is it?”

You look up at him, finally. “Where’s my blueprint, Dain?”

He blinks. “I — your what?”

“Don’t act dumb,” you say with a pointed finger, your head shaking. Your body might as well be, too. “My analog blueprints, digital ones — they’re all gone and guess who is the only one I trusted enough to tell?”

He opens his mouth, closes it. “It wasn’t me,”

“Who else was it, then?” you shout, standing up to try and match his height. “Who? Tell me, Dainsleif, who else could it have been?”

He swallows, pulling one of your dining table chairs out. It squeals against the floor like it hates him just as much as you do. “Sit, please.”

“You know what I think, Dain?”

“Sit down, please.”

“I think you stole them for the factories you Guards don’t tell anyone about,” you whisper, “the metal soldiers you make.”

“They’re field tillers,”

“Field tillers don’t have missiles in their chest,” you spit. The air thickens as you shake your head.

He gestures to the seat you once sat in, but you don’t bite. Not that easily, not ever.

“Lie to me again and I’m gone for good.”

Dainsleif swallows again, folding his hands and looking down at them. You’re scorned and he’s holding the heat; there is no explanation he can offer that makes this look any bit okay to either of you. He’s dug his grave — now, he lies in it, shovel at his side.

“Tell me,” you plead, “tell me what you’re making an army for.”

Dainsleif shakes his head.

“Gods don’t like godless men,” he says, so low you hardly hear him. So simple, like he's being reasonable.

You shake your own. “Godless men don’t even like themselves.”

His eyes meet yours.

“I want my designs back,” you tell him, more desperate than you let on. “Every page, every scribble, everything. And I don’t want anything made with them.”

Dainsleif takes a deep breath, his eyes averting themselves back down to the table. He doesn’t need to see your face anymore — not when he knows you’ll hate him once he tells you.

“You can’t.”

“You—”

“I can’t,” he says. “It’s too late.”

150 years since

“Wow, this watch is beat.”

“It is — can you fix it?”

This one is in Fontaine, the clocksmith is — she’s eclectic, a little disorganized like you were, with a scary love for crushed velvet by the look of her shop. There’s metal dust everywhere and things that don’t belong to clocks or watches, but someone swore up and down she knows her stuff. Knows it well, too. 

She looks back up at Dainsleif with a wink. “Got Mora?”

He tosses a pouch on the counter. “Anything you need.”

He doesn’t bother watching what she takes from it, instead opting to turn and watch the bustling streets outside. He’s fond of Fontaine, it’s full of life and running water — every shop is full from wall to wall.

The girl he’s trusting to fix his watch is trying to speak to him, but he’s not listening; all he can see is the eye of a Ruin Guard that hangs in the window of a pawn shop across the street; marked down to half value, less if you trade-in for credit. Dainsleif thinks about the lives those parts were worth almost two centuries ago. 

No one in Khaenri’ah was ever worth just a couple hundred coins. 

Two.

Taverns in Khaenri’ah have so many songs that they fill walls with the lyrics.

They are loud and they are lively — you know something’s wrong when you catch one quiet and half-empty. The windows all made of stained glass, rustic to contrast the world around them; taverns in Khaenri’ah are like a world of their own. In them, people dance like such.

You dance that way, yourself. Not with him, but it’s nice to watch you spin again.

Dainsleif watches you clutch someone’s shoulder; he doesn’t know who he is but he’s wearing his uniform, someone he leads. He thinks he remembers you saying that you made an exception for him — you don’t date ‘snobs from the Royal Guard.’

(Dainsleif has hope that, maybe, you still remember your pact and, maybe, you try to keep it now.)

The wooden floors groan beneath stomping feet and gliding boots, the room a whirlwind of exhausted workers and the select few from the Guard that deem little places like this worthy of their presence. 

He catches your eye for a second, only one, but your smile fades quick enough for your dancing partner to whisk you around again. A blur of your dress, and then, you’re grinning again.

Halfdan sets a drink down on the bar in front of him, kicking out the stool beside Dainsleif and sitting down. He follows his commander’s eyes and they land on you; they typically do on Friday nights.

“It’s alright,” Halfdan says, with a heavy-handed pat on his back. “Everyone has the one that got away.”

Dainsleif shakes his head, you laugh against his knight’s chest. “It’s different.”

“How so?”

“It does not matter, now, does it?”

“Mm, and yet, you’re still watching her.”

Dainsleif sips on the drink that was brought to him, turning to face the bar instead. Halfdan purses his lips, drumming his fingers on the table.

“You know,” Halfdan says, “I worry about the … field tillers.”

Dainsleif nods. “They’ll work.”

“Godless doesn’t mean we need to create our own, Captain,”

“You don’t know the things that I do,” Dainsleif cuts, harsh but not mean. “All of this has been discussed before. Let us make the orders, Halfdan, let yourself follow them.”

Halfdan hesitates.

“Captain Dainsleif,”

“Halfdan.”

“I apologize for overstepping,” he says, “but I’m just afraid of what will happen to us.”

Dainsleif rolls his shoulders back, nodding subtly. He clinks the bottom of his glass against the table.

“I am too,” he replies, tilting his head back and his glass up.

When he sets his glass back down, swallowing with a wince, he turns around. You’re the only one still on the floor, and you’re looking right at him.

500 years since

Dainsleif has spent his life figuring out where to drink. He finds that Mondstadt is the best place to.

The taverns there are quiet enough, and he isn’t bothered by anyone — they’re less lively than the ones way back when. It's a blessing that he isn’t haunted by the laughter, and a curse that he forgets what it sounds like. The tap beer is good, too. Mondstadt only serves you in bottles or chilled glasses.

But Dainsleif knows that no good comes after two in the morning, and nothing good comes from watching the Knights of Favonius pour in. 

(It’s a little too familiar; he’s watching his bloodied soldiers laugh and topple to the bar.)

Dainsleif leaves enough Mora to cover his tab and tip, and bolts for the door.

He makes a beeline through the center, cutting the body of the bar in two as these faces he recognizes comment on his attire. He knows he looks like a fish out of water, he feels like a fish out of water. Five hundred years spent in this place and he still feels hated — he’s sure the next five centuries won’t change.

He knocks shoulders with someone near the door: “Woah there, pretty small hallway this must be, huh?”

He’s about to apologize, too, maybe count it as his crooked form of atonement, until he looks the guy he hit in the eye. Yes, eye — there's only one showing. The other hides beneath an eye patch.

He’s looking at him, but somehow, he’s now looking at you.

He’s lost in them, his eyes, and this new guy seems to notice — judging by the way he’s dressed, Dain guesses he’s a captain. He clears his throat.

“I know you’re heading out, but maybe another drink wouldn’t hurt?”

Dainsleif panics, because now he’s trapped. He doesn’t see you until he sleeps — not until he’s locked in bed somewhere, until it doesn’t matter what he says because no one else is there to listen but you and him. He can’t see you here, and he can’t see him.

“Sorry, but I’m afraid that I'm in a rush. I apologize for hitting you.”

(He doesn’t get very far.)

The man takes his wrist, making him turn around. 

“Please?” he asks, but it’s not really begging. More like a proposition, probably. “I’m not sure how to say that in Khaenri’ahn.”

Dainsleif lets out a breath.

One.

It is your old day, Sunday , when Dainsleif enters your shop again, the broken watch on his wrist thrumming against his pulse point with every jerk of its hands.

The bell rings above your door and he’s almost surprised the door isn’t locked — he remembers unlocking it for you after he had to go, way back when. Kissing you goodbye, apologizing for holding up your business. You aren’t far, either; you come out with a smile that fades quicker than he likes to admit.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” he says, all too formal. He winces, almost. “Uh, it's broken again.”

“Of course it did. It’s ancient.”

He just sighs a laugh, nodding, undoing it from his wrist, from beneath his sleeve. “Yes, it is. Do you think you can fix it again?”

You glance between him and the watch. Him, and the watch. “Let me see it.”

“Of course,”

“Okay.”

You examine it with delicate fingers, screwing off the back of the body with a small driver, squinting at its insides. Dainsleif watches you.

“Dain, this thing isn’t gonna last long.”

“I don’t mind. I can pay double.”

“Why do you like this watch so much?” you laugh, dropping it on the counter and crossing your arms. “I mean, they don’t pay you enough for a digital?”

Dainsleif shakes his head. “I like this one.” He coughs. “You fixed it, first.”

“Yeah, and I’m shocked it still works.”

“You craft well.”

The two of you don’t speak for a moment; you dwell on the watch, its body pulled apart on the table. Your fingers pull at your threading jeans, and Dainsleif must see you mutilating your pants because he leans on the counter, lowers himself to you.

He lets you look at him for a moment. “What is it?”

“Nothing,”

“What is it?” he asks again, like it isn’t the second time.

You take a deep breath, tilting your head up.

“I’m sorry about your designs. Every day.” He shakes his head, looking in behind you. Your desk is still full of paper. “I will reap what I sow, and that’s the only comfort I can give you.”

“I know.” “I’m sorry. Endlessly, I am.”

You huff. “I’ve had better things since. It’s not what bugs me, Dain.”

“What is it, then, my dear?”

Your tongue pushes against your cheek, regretful hands reaching out to grip his own. It’s like you know you’re doing yourself no favours, but you’ve always been a masochist.

“Are we going to be okay?” you ask. “Not us. This place.”

He can tell you’ve been sitting with this thought alone, he’s just not sure how long. Since you brought up the field tillers? Since his last expedition? When was he last here, he’s not entirely sure.

His thumb wipes over your knuckles. He doesn’t tell you whether you’re going to be okay.

“I will protect you,” he whispers, “even in my dying breath.”

The second time he meets the Traveller is when they ask him.

“What happened to Khaenri’ah?”

ZERO.

There is little you can see in smoke and ash. What Dainsleif can see, it is blurry and most likely dead.

(He doesn’t want to think about what happens to those who live — simply surviving is not enough, they’ll seek retribution in the living, too.)

He feels guilty for saying it, but he was glad when the castle fell — relinquished of his sworn duty, free to run to where your shop lives. It came down in a blow of fire, the castle did; more than just four mighty walls, built of minerals made to last. He’s afraid to think of what happens to simpler stones.

(He runs like you stand a chance.)

He’s running in the opposite direction of other people — hell, he’s directing them out of there. Whatever is behind them is a lost cause, for him it’s a little hope. The havoc being brought down on this place is proof that they’re not allowed to have hope, but he promises it’ll be his last bit. He’s assuming they can hear him when he prays for it.

The windows of your shop are blown out. He ignores the sound of crunching glass because you’re screaming his name.

(You stop when you see him, swallowing it. He drops to his knees and says you’re allowed to yell, even when he’s there.)

“Dain,”

“Just breathe, hold on,” he breathes, chest pumping as he starts to heave the rubble off of you, the thick pillars that bar you from moving. He lifts one, another falls down. He lifts that one, and another, and another.

“Dainsleif.”

He’s still heaving, grunting now. Sweat lines his forehead and he’s coughing up soot he smelt ages ago.

“Dain,”

He’s crying.

“Dainsleif,” you spit, grabbing his wrist. You shake your head. “You’re hurting me.”

“I have to get you out,”

“To where?” you whisper, voice shaking. “Where are we going to go?”

Dainsleif doesn’t cry intentionally. His eyes are so wet that he can’t see clearly and they’re cleaning off his cheeks, but if tears were invisible you would never be able to tell.

You shake your head. “I’m not going to die in the street.”

“Don’t be so blunt, dear, please.”

“There is no other way to p-put it,” you say with a shiver, swallowing the hurt that threatens to spill out between your teeth; you smile instead. You feel weak already, even weaker in front of a commander. “Don’t cry about it,"

“I can’t stop it,” he chokes out, shaking his head. He cradles your head in his lap, brushes back your hair until his fingers get caught in knots. “There is nothing I can do.”

The weight of your life, his world, is in his lap, and he thinks about tomorrow. One, or both of you, will be dead, and yet that weight will still be there.

“There’s no one but the gods that could stop this, Dain,”

“I—”

“I love you,” you gasp, “I forgive you. I love you.”

“No.”

“Say it back, you stubborn, stubborn man,” you grit. 

(Dainsleif keels over you, and he says it back. He repeats it until he feels your grip on him loosen, until your head lulls the other way. He repeats it until he feels sick and out of breath, because he knows he will never say it again. He repeats it until he's about to gag.)

He remains in your shop for the next few hours, unmoving, leaned up against the front desk that amazingly still stands. He’s holding your hand.

Dainsleif waits for something. Probably a sentence, to death or otherwise. He waits here for a chance for the roof to cave in, or to be struck down by someone that finds him. He hopes the gods get to him. He hopes this shop still stands if they pry him out of it. He hopes they call him Atlas and tell him to hold it up.

“This watch is never gonna work.”

Dainsleif blinks at the man across the counter, who looks at him with raised eyebrows — probably in shock that he even thought it was fixable — and a condescending frown. “You are sure?”

“Dude, this wasn’t supposed to work the last time you had it fixed. This looks like it’s centuries old.”

“It…”

Is. He doesn’t finish that.

“It’s an heirloom,” he says instead. “It's impossible, then?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m pretty good at what I do, but this is … miracle talk. This should have been up-cycled three hundred years ago.”

“I see.”

The two men stand in silence for a moment, and the clocksmith brings a hand down on the watch.

When he strikes it, he knocks the last bits of air out of its lungs; the watch ticks a final one, two, three times, and Dainsleif hears laughter to his left.

He turns, and there you are.

You’re sitting on a bench, alive, breathing. You’re holding a popsicle and leaning back like you don’t have a care in the world. 

Dainsleif thinks of all the things you can say to him. That you blame him, that you love him, that you hate what he did. That you wish he could save everyone, that you wish he could’ve maybe saved you. That you’re thankful you died and never had to live as a curse. That you think of him, too.

(You don’t do any of that.) 

Instead, you smile, close-lipped and gentle. And you wave.

The watch stops after the third tick. He loses you in a blink for one second, and you’re gone.

“Can you hit it again?”

“When I tell you that was its last life, I really mean it. I’d guess it had ten of them.”

He swallows, nodding, staring down at his broken watch. He’ll never see you again, hear it tick three times and go back to your bed on Sunday, hear it tick three times and listen to you say you love him in his native tongue. He’ll never go home, but he’s glad he saw you one more time.

He’ll never go home, but he’s glad he saw it one more time. 

“So? You gonna try and bargain, or…?”

Dainsleif is staring at the bench you were just in; his fingers itch for it. If he has to spend the next lifetime looking at that bench, he’s going to do it alone, and he’s going to learn how to do it without you.

You deserve to rest — he was the one cursed to live forever, not you. You did not die in vain.

He turns back to the clocksmith, who honestly looks pretty bored of him by now.

“Can I sell the parts?”

[timtamtomme]

GUESS IM STILL ON THET TF2 GRIND--- Ever since I resketched them all in my new style, I have been thinking about ACTALLY designing my merc ocs!! SO I FINALLY DID!! Plus they all share colors, proper, so they look so nice together!! I kina miss their story, so I'll see about exploring that more too.

Of course, to show off their scars and features, I also made a bare version! This will likely double as dress up dolls for future outfits I may make LMAO

Though a couple share names with cannon TF2 mercenaries, their lore and personalities have long since branched off from their canonical counterparts. If you're interested in some details about them, here's a quick mini-bio for each one!! I'm also open to answering any questions about them, because they have at least 6 years of history behind them, haha!

BLU MEDIC ~ Hannes Augesburt

German ~ He/Him ~ Demiromantic Bisexual Hannes is the closest you can get to the 'villain' of the story without looking beyond the mercenaries themselves. He's an egotistical sadist who wants nothing but complete and utter control of his team. He will do anything to win, even willingly replace his perfectly working arm for a far more powerful alternative.

BLU ENGINEER ~ Dallas "Dell" Conagher

American (Texas) ~ He/Him ~ Homosexual Dallas is a nepobaby for sure, only working for BLU because of his father and fathers father's loyalty to the Administrator. Graduating college for the first time at age 15, Dallas is an incredibly intelligent man, but all of that goes out the door when it comes to Hannes. He is extremely permissive and rarely has the guts to talk back or otherwise disobey the Medic's orders.

BLU SNIPER ~ Bernard {>REDACTED<}

French ~ He/Him ~ Homosexual No one really knows who he is or what he's about. Bernard spends most of his time alone doing god knows what; half the time he isnt even in the BLU Base when they're off work. The closest thing he has to a friend is the pyro, who has done what she can to include him in group activities to get him out of his room. The most personal thing she's discovered that he has a knack for knitting and crochet.

BLU PYRO ~ Ana Maria Garcia-Lopez

Mexican-American (Kansas) ~ She/Her ~ Pansexual Ana is a passionate and confident woman. She does what she can to inspire confidence in her team and lend them a hand whenever she can. The glue who keeps everyone together, she is often the first to rebuttal the Medic's commands if she perceives him going too far, though she's gotten a lot more quiet since the introduction of his new robotic arm. She fears what he's capable of.

RED HEAVY ~ Mikhail "Misha" Medved

Russian ~ He/Him ~ Heterosexual The often quiet muscle of the Red team, Misha spends most of his free time reading in the public spaces of the RED Base. He enjoys listening to others ramble and replies infrequently. However, when he feels like he has something to say, he is a loud and boisterous personality who has no shame or fear in his own opinions and humor.

RED SPY ~ Jourdain "Dain" {>REDACTED<}

French ~ He/Him ~ Bisexual An almost complete recluse, Jourdain takes no joy or comfort in interacting with his team; at least, that's what he lets on. Jourdain is a man who's so deeply fearful of getting hurt, that he refuses to let anyone get close enough to have the opportunity, and thus, he only spends time with his team during work hours. He does his job well and doesn't even slack on it, even though he believes it to be below him compared to his old jobs.

RED SCOUT ~ Nora Peterson

French-American (Massachusetts) ~ She/Her (Transfem) ~ Sapphic Bisexual Nora is a loud and proud Bostonian girl who has a love of sports and art. After she dropped out of art college, she needed to make up for the wasted tuition and pay back her mother, so she got a job fast. The first one she could find and paid the most was a mercenary job, though she didn't know what it actually was at the time. Since arriving here, she has settled in well, and soon settled into herself with her transition. Being a mercenary is terrifying at times, but she's felt freer then she has ever felt before.

[avelanlorelay]

A random question suddenly popped into my head: why is Cardan's mother called Lady? Like, whenever I think of her name alone -Asha- it feels like something is missing lol.

I understand that it could be because of her age or as a title. If it's the latter, wouldn't being a courtesan be like a title? And why isn't Oriana also called Lady? Dain's mother is also mentioned in TCP, but Jude doesn't call her Lady. Taryn marries an important member of the court, but is not called Lady. So why does only this witch deserve this respectful title?

Sorry I'm just being a Lady Asha hater lol

Ps: Wren's mother is also called Lady, but she is the mother of a queen and commands an important territory, Asha has nothing but a wonderful son.

[wingedshadowfan]

i've spoken about this before but let me dissect one of the most controversial fourth wing paragraphs:

Tairn puts us into position, hovering about twenty feet aboveground as Liam flies for the gryphons above us, wielding spears of ice into the injured wyvern’s throat. Blood streams as the wyvern falls from the sky with an ear-piercing cry.

liam's signet is farsight, so how was he wielding ice?

possible theories:

marked ones have two signets and that's just liam's second one (i don't like this theory, it makes them too op and they already have the advantage of being immune to melgren's battle outcome foreseeing powers when there's at least three of them together; i also don't like the possibility of xaden's second signet being mind reading, if marked ones really have two)

it was just a mistake and it was meant to be another third year who was wielding the ice spears and not liam since ice wielding is rather common (i don't like the idea that there was such an obvious mistake left in the book since liam's signet being farsight has been mentioned multiple times, all in that same stretch of chapters - before breaking into lilith sorrengail's office for war games, when he tells king tauri at the reunification party, when they arrive at athebyne and he sees the venin)

saying 'liam' is a figure of speech and it was actually his dragon deigh who was wielding the ice spears since her name means 'ice' in scottish gaelic (i like this one but we don't know for sure if grown dragons can do things like that, we know they have their own magic - like tairn keeping violet seated, or some but not all dragons sensing the wards faltering meaning some might have powers related to weaving/unweaving wards, like mira/nadine do - but its extent is still unclear to us)

my theory:

liam was wielding ice himself - his only signet is farsight, and his ice wielding is some crazy form of lesser magic that he developed himself and kept secret!

supporting evidence/explanation:

Since Dain told me about the patch denoting his top secret signet, I’ve been paying close attention to the patches other cadets have sewn into their uniforms. Most wear them like badges of honor, but I recognize them for what they really are—intelligence that I might one day need to defeat them.

-violet's comment on the importance of knowing someone's signet or abilities (because we know from liam and garrick's patches that they can also denote wielding weapons or riders' hand to hand combat strengths, not just their signets)

I notice not for the first time that other than his Fourth Wing and wingleader emblems, he doesn’t wear the patches others are so fond of displaying.

-xaden not wearing his signet/combat skill patches, then saying this later on in the book:

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone about the time-stopping,” Xaden asks as we head back into the tunnel, but it feels an awful lot like a command. “It’s not just for your safety. Rare abilities, when kept secret, are the most valuable form of currency we possess.”

if ice wielding isn't as rare then why did liam not do the exact opposite and keep his farsight a secret instead (lying his signet is actually ice wielding)? probably because farsight is not as useful in direct combat and he's easily underestimated when he says his signet is just farsight, which is exactly xaden's point

“And your gift?” King Tauri asks Liam. “Farsight, Your Majesty,” Liam responds. Melgren’s eyes narrow on Liam’s exposed rebellion relic, then rise to his sash. “Mairi, as in Colonel Mairi’s son?”

liam is incredibly good at hand to hand combat, and with his lesser magic being ice wielding, he made shish kebab out of that wyvern, so i'd say keeping that ability secret (and only showing it in front of other marked ones and violet in a life vs death battle) was a good call.

the biggest plot holes here are that we don't know much about lesser magic yet:

we know mage lights, speed, voice amplification, etc are lesser magic multiple people have learnt to wield (so far we've seen only marked ones do it but it's probably because riders are taught to do it in later years): so what are the extents of lesser magic? is ice wielding even possible as lesser magic? if wards for example can be both lesser magic (xaden warding violet's door) all riders are taught in their third year, and a signet at the same time (mira's), then so can ice wielding

if so, wouldn't that mean many people can just learn to do it (ice wielding as lesser magic)? so did liam teach himself? or did someone else teach him and only him? when? how? because we're left with the impression that ice wielding isn't a rare signet but we've never heard of anyone having it as lesser magic - it's probably quite hard, and maybe liam isn't as good at it as those who have it as their signet

[baeshijima]

so... i finished the new natlan aqs...

spoilers utc w/ very long rambles haha... mainly abt capitano—

first off, wow. i actually did not know what to expect going into this version's aqs, but good lord they were so well-written?? i genuinely cried and sobbed at some parts, namely ororon's realisation where he wants to live for himself and fights to retain his soul and chuychu's death with chasca grieving over her... there were so many amazing aspects in acts 3 & 4, with the fights and cutscenes being so, so well done, the lore bombs (seelies being confirmed to be /past/ angels) and the music??? ohh the osts were so good... and the theme that came up in the capitano scenes.... ourhgghg...

speaking of capitano, may i just say: wow. what a man. i genuinely love his character so much and the writers did him so much justice?? like, he has his own goals and ideals but doesn't let that get in the way of being kind and caring and upholding his honour, and isn't beneath apologising and admitting his mistakes when proven wrong...

another thing i love is his relationship with his subordinates !! like, the concern he showed for them on several occasions and the concern & admiration they have for him is just... so nice to see? idk it just feels so refreshing to see a mutually appreciative dynamic with the fatui especially ;w;; and then his progressive relationship with our main natlan cast... him saving xilonen, not once, but twice (that should've been me—), how he went from being dismissive of ororon to caring for his well-being, his growing respect for mavuika and hers for him, and how he decided to ditch his plan in the end to help be part of mavuika's one.... i am so unwell...

and not to mention that last scene with him???? like sir wdym ronova sent u and u know that mavuika has to pay a debt with her death and that u have a bone to pick with that final for which means u are more than likely to also join us both into the night kingdom for the final fight with the abyss which may or may not lead to u sacrificing urself in mavuika's stead so she doesn't have to die and—

oh lord i am not ready for the future story with him...

ALSO HE IS FROM KHAENRI'AH DURING THE CATACLYSM AND WAS A COMMANDER????

sobbing the pain in his voice when he was relaying how he lost his comrades, family and nation, fleeing to natlan with his remaining platoon once realising khaenri'ah couldn't be saved despite his attempts in hopes of escaping the carnage and giving what was left of himself and his comrades some reprieve only to face the abyss invasion again in natlan...

but oh my god when he was saying how the chief of the masters of the night-wind, ayizu, and how he didn't treat capitano any differently despite being from khaenri'ah and most ppl believing khaenri'ah and its inhabitants to be the cause of the tragedy, thus making himself duty-bound to help natlan ;w;

AND TSARITSA MENTION??? HER ALLOWING THE HARBINGERS THE FREEDOM TO DISCOVER THEIR OWN MEANING AND FOR IT TO TAKE PRECEDENCE OVER HER ORDERS IF THE TIME CALLS FOR IT??? we stan a homie !!

ALSO DAIN MENTION RAAHHHHH

"he carries a degree of pain and hatred that far surpasses my own" oh. so we're going down that route, huh. i see how it is. but also the way he also calls him "dain" ;w;; ueueue also rotting corpse/flesh... i wonder if this is in the literal sense or an abyssal rot/erosion like dain's arm? hm...

okay but now i really want to see how dain reacts to us mentioning capitano, and if he would instantly know who we are referring to since dain knows a lot despite his deteriorating memory, and maybe we might get a capitano name reveal...? also is this us being one step closer to seeing dain in an actual main story aq?? ALSO THE ABYSS SIBLING BEING KHAENRI'AHN ROYALTY CONFIRMATION RAAHHH

anyway before moving on to the heavier parts of the quest have some capitano mavuika interactions bc i love them and their old married couple-esque bickering :((

(also ororon just standing in the middle of them during their squabble like a son and going "can i say something?" 😭)

++ kinich and ajaw being... well... kinich and ajaw.

okay. haha. the war. :)

genuinely was not expecting it to be depicted so... dark? like, i know it's war and that natlan is the nation of war, but with genshin's streak of not going in depth to explicitly show death and the like (though they have been bolder in recent updates, namely fontaine), i wasn't expecting to see literal corpses of the npcs and saurians strewn on the ground after the abyss got stronger, and that whichever area we picked over another would have consequences... the devastation i felt when realising the other area i could have helped was completely wiped out... gosh...

our choices actually having consequences and changing what happens during the war + depending on how long u take to defeat the enemies also heavily impacts the death count??? LIKE WHAT

and then paimon becoming progressively distressed the longer it went on and the more found dead genuinely broke my heart like 😭

and oh god... chuychu's death... chasca momentarily losing control of the abyssal contamination due to grief only to rein it in a moment later.... and then chasca becoming recognised by the ancient name due to it and becoming the final awakened hero... ourgh....

and when walking around the stadium to talk with those who made it back and there's this one baby saurian waiting for its person and saurian friends/family to come back...

LIKE STOP THIS HYV DO U WANT ME TO END IT ALL???? WHY WOULD U INCLUDE THIS BITBKSAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

BUT OMG THE CUTSCENE WHERE ALL THE AWAKENED HEROES + MAVUIKA FORMED THE CIRCLE WITH THEIR POWERS GOING TO MAVUIKA AS SHE MAINTAINS THE SUN-LIKE POWER IN THE SKY??? ONLY TO THEN LATER DEAL THE FINAL BLOW TO THE ABYSS STRUCTURE AND PIERCE THROUGH IT AND REVEAL THE FAKE FUCKING SKY????

WHAT THE FUCK????? CONFIRMATION THE SKY IS FAKE AND THAT SCARA ALL THE WAY BACK IN 1.0/1 DURING THE STARS EVENT WAS RIGHT AND THAT POST ACT 4 U CAN STILL SEE MOON FRAGMENTS IN THE SKY????

man. got chills from the war depictions. got chills from the cutscenes. got chills from the fake sky confirmation.

also this was such a cute scene with everyone + mavuika in the distant background that i had to take a screenshot ;w;

but ourgh... the amount of sacrifices we witnessed and were too late to help prevent just really set it in stone just how devastating and powerless it can make u feel... it's only 5.1 and it's gotten this dark just how much darker are u going to take it with the abyss final showdown hyv 😭😭

also capitano feeling admiration for everyone who stood up and fought the abyss...

i am unwell i love him...

now. mavuika.

sobbing i love, love, love her so much !! she was mothering so hard as always like??? taking care of us, being the one to being the light that pulled ororon out of the darkness so he could find his way out (pls don't touch me i sobbed so hard during that entire scene where he realised he didn't want to self-sacrifice anymore but instead live for himself and for those who care for him, thus awakening as one of the heroes... holds him gently...), showing how much she cared for her people...

but it also really puts into perspective just how much she chose to sacrifice and put behind her (her loved ones and her then life) for a chance to be able to finally put an end to the war with the abyss and free natlan...

she was so radiant like the sun that she became one :')

but also...

they brought back the seeing past loved ones mindscape scene... sobs i don't wanna see what happens in the next update bc of mavuika's debt death and capitano's potential sacrifice intervention but at the same time i do 😭😭 (also she was so stunning here i had to take a screenshot aha)

BUT GENUINELY I GREW TO LOVE THE NATLAN CAST SO MUCH??? xilonen, citlali and ororon especially with them being new and i wasn't sure how much i would like them, but oh god i love how they were written and how real they felt with strengths and flaws ;w;;

but also with the drop that paimon will be staying behind while us and mavuika go to the night kingdom for the final battle, her separation anxiety is going to go through the fucking roof good lord... i also predict we will die and get resurrected at some point in our time down their bc... ain't no way are they giving us an ancient name for it to not be used for resurrection in the night kingdom...

anyway it's 4am and i spent like. 2 hours typing this up and i have so much more i could talk about but then this would be neverending so um. haha.

if u read to the end (here) then

1) thank you for reading my nonsensical rambles and cries <33

2) why would u put urself through this?

3) have four cookies for the time spent on this post 🍪🍪🍪🍪

[silkjade]

Jade you get me on the picnic sex. it’s everything.

now think about knight Dainsleif accompanying you, the sweet princess, on a picnic. he’s your guard, solid as he stands in watching while you sit upon your plush blanket, pulling out little snacks the maids in the kitchen had made for you. your bare feet being tickled by the grass when you lay out to bask in the sunshine, your guard ever unmoving like a solid rock of protection for you.

until you call for him. it’s magical, the way Dainsleif instantly looks to you, the one he has devoted mind body and sword to. your dress rucked up to your thighs, skin glowing under the rays, enticing and tempting. you smile and command, softly, for your knight to join you, for perhaps a scone? a sip of lemonade? he will do whatever you ask, you both know this.

Dainsleif makes love to you among wildflowers and birds singing. your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders while he swallows your cries from his slow and deep thrusts, calling you his dear princess as he leaves you breathless and hungering for more under the sun, but even more so under the stars in his gaze

what the f u ckk T^T no but like the irony of picnics being sweet and innocent when really what ur doing is anything but ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ and oh my godddd the way u have to initiate it first and being a bit of a bad influence on dain turning him from a goody goody royal guard into someone who indulges in such scandalous behavior 🤭🤭 its no longer a want, i need him i need him i need him inside me right now ++ slow and deep omg byeeeeeee belly full of not only picnic food but also his cum 🤰🏻🤰🏻🤰🏻

[an-amber-in-the-ashes]

PLS write about the MMC with shadow powers trope, it feels like the grisha trilogy subverted it and then other authors just looked at the darkling, took him and ran with it straight 💀 fourth wing is so tropey man like why does xaden have shadow magic other than to solidify him as the angsty, brooding LI of colour for the petite white FMC

This is kind of long but bear with me

I do think that authors used to use shadow magic in books where they wanted the main characters to be different from the masses and to stand out. It was also a pretty good way for them to give characters weird and creepy powers in an elemental magic system.

I think it was new and novel and exciting at first but now it is just so oversaturated and overdone that I don't think anything new can be done to this trope.

At this point I literally just stop reading books whenever the MMC has shadow powers.

I can't help but feel like whenever the MMC has shadow powers, the character isn't really fleshed out at all and is just a carbon copy of all his predecessors.

'Omg look I'm so dark and mysterious and haunted. I have dark hair and dark eyes which suppress a glimmer of kindness, happiness etc. Everyone irritates me but I'm so loyal and protective towards my friends even though I treat them like crap.'

Like all of them are edgy white boys who were abused by some or the other person and hate the main character.

And like why does the main female character never have shadow powers, why can't she be mysterious and deadly and creepy and unhinged. (but thats a completely different thing I could go on and on about)

Another thing that confuses me is the logistics of it all. Like shadows aren't physical objects like fire or water, they are the absence of light. so theoretically if someone can manipulate shadows, they should be able to do the same with light.

The Darkling's powers confuse me the same way because he had been honing his skills for hundreds of years yet Alina managed to command at almost the same level in a few weeks. Make that make sense.

This is especially bad in newer 'booktok' fantasy books because they are basically an amalgamation of tropes arranged into a semi-cohesive thing specifically meant to sell. They have no heart at all and as a result are not original at all.

The author wanting to have their book be enjoyed by as many people as possible simply decides on a random magic system and throws in shadow powers as a way to include whatever they want in it. It just comes off as low effort at this point. They don't even try to do something new.

Fourth Wing being the poster child of unnecessarily long and trope fantasy novel is especially bad in this regard because Xaden is literally just a caricature of a mysterious fellow. I feel like Rebecca Yarros in trying to make him popular and interesting turned him into a shadow (pun intended) of what he could have been.

There were so many other interesting powers Xaden could have had. Like Dain (or whatever his name was) has an arguably better and more interesting power than him.

People freaking devour these books until they realise that its kind of bad actually and we never see them again

It's just that these days many books are designed to sell as fast as possible to a consumerist society and these books are the ones that succeed. Better books with better stories and better authors remain unpublished.

At the end, who wants to read books anyway, ao3 is where its at.

I kind of derailed at the end but this annoys me so so much. They are all the exact same 😭

[angstywaifu]

The Lost Sister - Part 27

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: Just letting you guys know I have now started posting this series over on A03 as well now. So if any of you do see it over there, it is me posting it and not some random taking my work. The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

My squad screams and yells around me as Liam faces off in the last challenge of this portion of the squad battle. I had technically beaten the guy currently in Liam’s leg lock. Which should have given us the win for this portion. But it had not. They had deemed the guy I had beaten would face off against Liam. Utter bullshit. We had technically already won. But here we we’re, watching as Liam made easy work of the guy. Rhiannon screaming at him to tap out. I was honestly surprised he hadn’t yet with the way his back was arched. . Liam easily had this. We would jump from seventh into third with this win. Though as Dain had pointed our very angrily to leadership, we had technically already earnt our win. I had never seen him so angry or passionate about something. He wanted that win. But without knowing what the next portion was, it would be hard to tell if Liam’s win would help us solidify that. The cadet from second wing cries out in pain, nearly everyone wincing for how ear splitting it is. Liam knew exactly how to make it hurt, pushing the cadet towards tapping out.

”Fuck me, that looks like it hurts.” Violet mutters from next to me.

”Yeah, he’s not walking for a while,” Ridoc agrees as Liam manoeuvres the cadet in the hold, their back arching in a way I’m sure their spine is about to snap.

As if sensing that’s about to happen the cadet slams their palm into the mat three times, our squad and the crowd roaring and cheering. I can barely hear my squad as Liam rushes over to us, embracing us, I even register Imogen’s pink hair in the fray before I’m squished into Liam.

”You’re winner!” Professor Emetterio shouts, his loud voice carrying throughout the gym as Liam steps back from the bone crushing hug we were all just in. “Liam Mairi from Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing!”

Liam raises his hands in victory, turning in a small circles as the crowd cheers again for him. We’ve now moved up to third place. I’m half surprised I don’t hear the gloating of Dain. But as I look around, I note he is missing. And I can tell Violet notes it to as her eyes also scan the crowd. He had been so vocal when my win had been dismissed.

Commandant Panchek steps onto the mat, and Liam moves to join the rest of our squad. I make a show of wiping of the sweat from my arm as he brushes against me, Liam just rolling his eyes.

”I know you were all expecting the last portion of the squad battle to happen tomorrow, but the cadre and I have a surprise.”

Every riders attention is now on him, all hooked on his words. Waiting to hear what he has in store for us.

”Instead of telling you what the final, unknown task will be and giving you tonight to plan for it, your final task will begin this hour!” He grins, throwing out his hands and turning just like Liam had.

”Tonight?” Ridoc whispers as he looks over at all of us in shock.

I literally feel the dread take over Violet. I was now able to sense the emotions of anyone in close proximity to me without any effort. It was a good and bad thing. Bad as if someone was feeling some strong emotions, it was hard to separate them from my own. Luckily with some focus I was able to separate them and move on.

“Dain isn’t here. Neither is Cianna.” Violet states.

“Oh shit,” Imogen whispers as she looks over the crowd. I look around the room, and note than anyone with a position in leadership was missing. Every single one from executive officers and squad leaders, all the way up to the wing leaders.

”No one from leadership is here.” I add.

Everyone around me nodding in agreement. They had taken away leadership to see what we would do. Would someone stand up and fill their void? Or would we all crumble into chaos and run around like headless chickens. I had no doubt their eyes would be on us the entire time during this challenge.

”As you may have noticed, your squad leaders and their executive officers have been…. shall we say, sequestered with your section leaders and wingleaders, and no, before someone asks your task is to not find them.”

Damn. The thought of having to rescue someone like Xaden and Garrick would have been funny. Though Dain I would be happy to leave somewhere locked up and ‘captured’. My thoughts must be echoed by a few other riders as a few chuckles and sighs are heard throughout the room.

”You are to break into your squads and accomplish a unique mission this evening without the leadership and instruction of your squad leaders.

”Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of having squad leaders?” Someone stupidly asks.

I almost feel the whole room roll their eyes at the question.

”The purpose of a squad leader is to form a tightly knit unit that can carry on with a mission after their demise. Consider your leaders…. demised.” Panchek shrugs with a gleeful smile.

With pleasure.

”You’re on your own riders. Your mission is simple. Find and acquire, by any means necessary, the one thing that would be most advantageous to our enemies regarding the war efforts. Leadership will serve as unbiased judges, and the winning squad will be awarded sixty points.”

”That’s enough to put us into first!” Rhiannon whispers excitedly, worming her way between Violet and I, linking her arms through ours. “We could win the glory of going to the front!”

”What are the boundaries?” Someone asks.

Surely they wouldn’t let us fly off somewhere and get what we wanted. No we would have to stay nearby. Panchek confirming my thoughts.

”Anything within the walls of Basgiath. And don’t you dare let me see you trying to haul a dragon back here. They’ll incinerate you out of sheer annoyance. You have,” Panchek pulling out his pocket watch, “three hours, at which time we’ll expect you to present your stolen treasures in the battle brief room.”

The room is completely silent. None of us had expected this to be our final task. And now with no leadership to guide and direct us, and only three hours to find something, everyone’s mind was in overdrive.

”What are you waiting for? Go!” Panchek motioning us with his hands to get going.

In seconds the room is in chaos, squads rushing to group up and discuss their plans. Everyone is a hot mess. In Dain’s absence Imogen steps forward, raising her hand.

”Second Squad! Follow me!” She yells, leading us across the gym floor over to the weight room.

We quickly all find seats around the room. I sit on the floor infront of Violet, Rhiannon and Liam who have taken a spot on one of the benches as Imogen asks who wants to be in command, which leads into a small argument as Ridoc tries to suggest himself. Eventually we settle on Imogen after some back and forth. Not even the third years wanting to step up.

"We have a little less than three hours. What are your ideas?” Imogen asks, looking over us all.

Yet again we start a back and forth. Weapons and somehow Panchek’s underwear coming up courtesy of Ridoc who promptly gets shut up by Rhiannon before he can defend his answer.

”Come on guys! Think! What’s the most useful thing to our enemy?” Imogen asks.

I don’t miss a beat before the answer comes from my mouth.

”Information.”

Everyone turning their heads to look at me. Some nodding in agreement. If battle brief has taught us anything, knowledge and information can change the outcome of a battle easily. Don’t have enough and you’ll get slaughtered before the battle’s even really started.

”Violet, what about stealing news missives from the archives? The ones that come in from the front?” Liam asks.

Good idea, except for the fact the archives are now sealed shut with no way in or out. Something Violet and I both knew from our time living here in the college. Both often taking classes in their. The it hits me. That day in General Sorrengail’s office I had seen Melgren literally scouring the bookshelf as if looking for something. He had been looking for information. General Sorrengail’s office was literally full of information. And I had even found something in my time there. The map on her wall. The map that had been so different from the one we saw in our battle brief classes. A map we we’re told was up to date. But despite the fact I had not seen the map that day, the next day when I had gone into that class, the map did not reflect what I had seen in that room. But I had no way to verify if the map in that office had been changed. Regardless, that office was a wealth of knowledge and information that would be vital in a battle against out enemies. I look up and meet the eye’s of Violet. I can see the cogs turning in her head. As if we can both read our minds we both nod at each other. Both of us knowing where we had to go.

”What are you two thinking?” Imogen asks as she notes the way we look at each other. The room falling silent.

”It’s probably nothing.” Violet says nervously. But she knows its not nothing.

”It’s not nothing.” I add before sighing and standing and turning to face Imogen. “It’s mad. Nearly undoable. We’d get thrown in the brig if we’re caught. But it means no other squad would be mad enough to attempt it.”

”We can wield right?” Violet asks as she stands and joins me.

Heaton nods. “By all means necessary.”

Violet nods and rocks back and forth. “All right. Ridoc can wield ice, Rhiannon can retrieve, Sawyer can manipulate metal, Imogen can mind-wipe recent memories-”

I can see the plan forming in Violet’s mind. Yet again using her mind as her strength. She was the only one left in our squad without a signet. But she knew all of ours, except mine. If we used all our signets correctly, we could hopefully get in and out without anyone knowing. Hell, I could probably do it on my own with half the stuff I could do. But some of the useful stuff that would make this a walk in the park was not fully controllable. My illusions still having a slight sheen to them. But at night would that really matter?

As Violet gets through everyone else in the room, they all turn to look at me. “Can you tell us yours?”

Imogen and Liam go rigid, something I note Violet notices as her eyes flicker to them. She knows they know what I can do.

I shake my head. “No, but it doesn’t mean I can’t use it to help us.”

She seems relieved that I will be willing to use it to help. But I note the nervousness radiating from Imogen and Liam. Xaden hadn’t fully deemed her trustworthy to ask about a signet like mine, but I couldn’t not help. My signet could throw this in our favour depending what we would encounter. I would just have to face the consequences of my actions later. Xaden could deal with it.

”So what are you two thinking then?” Imogen asks after a few moments of silence.

”You’re going to tell us we’ve lost our minds.” Violet starts.

”But if we pull this off, we’re guaranteed the win.” I add, grinning from ear to ear.

”We’re breaking into my mother’s office.”

“And we’re going to steal the map that’s on her wall.”

Somehow we managed to get past the guard without me needing to use my signet. But we weren’t out of the clear yet. We had to get the massive map off the wall and get it back across to the riders quadrant, which would be no easy feat. It would require a lot of luck and stealth.

”This map is different to ours.” Imogen notes as we stand infront of it, taking in all the details.

I was glad to see this map was still different to the one we had in battle brief. Meaning this would definitely give us the win over anything else the other cadets would find tonight. We had just secured our win.

”Do you want to tell us how you knew about this?” Rhiannon asks as she turns to look at me.

”Melgren brought me here the day I got my signet. While he was distracted by some books I managed to get a good look at this and noticed it was different to ours. It’s a gamble, but I’d wager anything to say this map is way more up to date than the one we get in battle brief.” I tell him, everyone around me nodding in agreement.

”Definitely more up to date. Garrick and Xaden would kill me for saying this, but I’m kind of grateful Melgren brought you here that day.” Imogen says with a smirk as she motions for Ridoc and Emery to start getting the map down.

”We would have found it anyway. Violet also had the idea to come here.” I state as I meet Violet’s eyes.

”Yes, but you already knew about this. Saved us pulling her office apart and having to deal with the consequences of that tomorrow. We owe this win to you.” She says with a smile.

”We haven’t won yet Sorrengail.” I tell her.

Imogen just laughs and shakes her head. “Oh but we have Riorson. There’s nothing more valuable in this college than this map unless we want to go kidnap Melgren for his foresight signet.”

I shudder at her comment causing Violet, Imogen and Rhiannon to laugh at my reaction. “Hard pass on that one thank you.”

After a few minutes we’ve managed to haul the map down and cut it out of its frame, and a few more to secure and roll it. As we finish the last tie, Liam whistles. All of our eyes going wide, and panic ebbing from everyone.

”Shit!” Ridoc races towards the door and cracks it open as we all ready to flee. “What’s going on?”

I barely hear Liam tell Ridoc the guard is banging on the door and it wont hold for much longer. He holds the door open as we all race into the hallway. With the size of the map, it takes two people to carry it out of the room. Imogen and Sawyer struggle to get through the door. As they clear the doorway the door at the end off the hallway kicks open, all of us freezing on the spot. I lock eyes with the guard as he goes to yell out at us, willing him to not see we’re here and the hallway is empty and safe. And as if he does, his words fall short. His head darting back and forth before slowly edging his way down the hallway. Scratching his head as he goes. I did it. There was no sheen to the projection. I had perfectly replicated the hallway in his mind. But in his mind, we were nowhere to be seen. To the guard, the hallway was completely empty. Imogen and Liam start smirking, knowing exactly what I’ve done. Rhiannon appears at the end of the hallway, the map disappearing from Imogen’s hands and into hers. She stares at us in shock as they all watch the guard at the other end of the hallway.

”Why the hell aren’t you moving?” She whisper shouts as Emery appears at the end of the hall with her, ready to push the guard back.

”I don’t think he can see us?” Ridoc asks hesitantly.

”He can’t, but I can’t guarantee for how long so move.” I whisper as sternly as I can.

They all look at me in shock, knowing I am the cause of this. And with slight nods of agreement we’re walking as fast as we can down the hallway. For good measure Emery launches the guard into a wall, Violet hurrying over and pouring something into his mouth to make sure he won’t wake for a few more hours. Giving us plenty of time to get back to the quadrant.

Fifteen minutes later we burst into the room, chests still heaving from the run we had to do to make it here in time. I can tell Dain is not impressed even from down here. Feeling another pair of eyes I look over to see Garrick and then Xaden looking at us with furrowed brows. Both also clearly not impressed with our arrival or how close we are cutting it. I ignore them and follow my squad over to our seats just as presentations begin. As the squads present their findings, I can feel us all become smug that we have found the best thing. Though a few squads come close. One squad going as far to kidnap a scribe. They look terrified. Before we know it, it’s our turn. Sawyer and Liam holding the top corners of the map so it is fully visible to the room as it unrolls. I take my place next to Imogen and Violet at the front of the group. Garrick, Xaden and Dain all watching us with intent. I swear I see Xaden’s eyes widen as he takes in the map. Everyone else in the room seems confused.

Imogen nudges Violet and I. “This was your guys idea. Present.”

As Violet and I step forward, Markham and Devera stand, both their eyes wide and mouths hanging open as they realise exactly what he have grabbed and presented.

Violet clears her throat and gesture to the map held between Sawyer and Liam. “We have brought the ultimate weapon for our enemies. An up to date map of all current outposts of Navarrian wings, to include troop strength of infantry battlements. As well as the locations of all current skirmishes in the last thirty days. Including last night.” She says proudly as whisper ripple through the room.

”And how do we know this map, is in fact current?” Kaori asks, clutching a journal another squad had acquired.

I can’t help the smirk that appears on my face as I place my arm around Violet’s shoulders and pull her into my side. Garrick and Xaden going slightly pale as I lock eyes with them before shifting my attention to Kaori. ”Because we stole it from General Sorrengail’s office.”

Chaos breaks out around the room. Riders rushing the stage to congratulate us and try get a look at the map. I look up and see Dain still seated staring at us in shock. Before shifting my gaze to Garrick who is beaming at us and shaking his head as if he can’t believe what we’ve done. Even Xaden can’t hide his smirk and satisfaction at what we’ve achieved. All of us knowing we’ve just won the Squad Battle. And no other squad in history could top what we’ve just pulled off.

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books @side-angel

[loudtrashphantom]

While reading ACOSF, I'm also dabbling in Iron Flame. I'm 300 pages in. I finished Fourth Wing earlier this year, got 200 pages into Iron Flame and kinda dropped it? Then I read almost all of the ACOTAR series and saw a spoiler for the last of Iron Flame so now I'm reading it and my thoughts so far……

Aaric knows!?

Violet needs to stop this shit with Xaden. He has secrets he can't tell. She is basically doing to Rhiannon what Xaden is doing to her! How can she be mad at him when she's doing it? She knows the concept of the "not my secret to tell" but doesn't understand it with him?

Also, because of the spoiler I saw, I am now looking suspiciously at every time he touches her face. Like, Xaden, I know what you're doing. It became prominent after she tells him she almost told Mira and he immediately touched her cheek. Sir!?

Imogen is growing on me. I love Ridoc and Bodhi and if anything happens to them I will cry. I've already lost Liam (my literal favourite and who's death I sobbed over), I can't lose them too.

That new Commander is pissing me tf off. Dain's dad was bad but this fucker is ugh.

Dain. Dain. Dain. I never liked you. I really didn't. And now you're being pushy!? Forcing Violet into a challenge while injured just to talk to her when she's made it clear she has no interest!? Fuck outta here.

And Rhiannon! Let her in, Violet! She has never shown you that she can't be trusted!

I'm still thinking about my feelings on Sloane. She's Liam's little sister but I don't know how I feel about her. Ya know?