#dain (he/it)

[mysterylilycheeta]

Rhiannon: Don't you just hate men sometimes? They can be so useless! Imogen: Right? They're terrible! Jesinia: *signs* 100% Violet: Definitely. Xaden, Garrick, Bodhi, Ridoc, Sawyer, and Dain: Liam: Violet: Not you Liam, you're perfect! The other girls: Honestly, he is! The boys: Wh-

[birdsofpasssage]

[violentdelightshavevioletends]

“Dain is just an imperfect 21-year-old kid who trusted his dad, and is a little over-protective telling his chronically ill friend to sit the fuck down.”

[violetsorengail]

fourth wing ch. 16

everyone else was cut off and then there's sgaeyl just mocking xaden the whole time. the dragons are like... having an emergency business meeting yet she still has time to whack his ass #girlboss

[ruebird]

guy i like a lot!!!!

[sankta-wraith]

It’s so important to me that he lets her hit him. He’s her wingleader. Hitting him is probably insubordination or something. And it probably fucking hurt. Violet gives them impression that he could have pinned her wrists before she hit him, but he doesn’t. He lets her hit him twice. Sloane is someone who is very hotheaded, and in general a very angry person. (Not a criticism at all. I think we need more angry women in literature.) She tends to need an outlet for her anger as well. In IF she mostly directed it towards Violet, but it OS a considerable amount of it seems directed towards Dain. It’s not like she’s trying to take it out on people, she just needs burn off that anger somehow, and doing it on the people she blames for her brothers death is the easiest way for her to do that. I think one of the reasons she had such a hard time accepting Violet was because if she had let go of her anger, then she would have had to face the pain, which would have been far worse. In OS, she doesn’t have that anymore. She kind of has Dain, but I think by then she’s realizing that the only people she can really blame for Liam’s death are leadership and the Venin. Combine her lack of an outlet with the fact that she can’t go on the mission and her guilt over Lilith’s death, and she’s pretty much a tinderbox of pent up rage and frustration. I honestly can’t blame her for charging that captain. If I were here, I would’ve murdered someone months ago. The fact that Dain recognized that is incredibly sweet. The fact that he saw how badly she needed an outlet and let her hurt him so she could calm down a little without screwing up diplomacy is just so important to me. It’s such a subtle thing, but it says so much about him and how he feels about her. As far as I’m concerned, it might as well be a declaration of love.

[passerbyyye]

Seeing all the Dain/Sloane fanarts and I can't stop thinking of Xaden daring to give Sloane a similar speech to the one Mira gave Violet when he comes back

Xaden: You get one chance to pick your boyfriend, and you choose my girlfriend's EX crush, the quadrant’s resident CODEX BOY, the son of the man who orchestrated your brother's DEATH, and the one who tried so hard to be just like ME? This is your choice for the most important relationship you could possibly undertake?!

Mira: Shut tf up. You're both losers.

Brennan: What is it with little sisters and their choice of men? *glares at Drake*

Violet: We don't get to choose who we love.

Xaden: *grins*

Brennan: You literally set the standard. Maybe sit this one out.

[kuroizuna]

[dreamsuvivor]

can we talk about how nobody ever apologized to Xaden? The amount of times that man is called traitor or traitor’s son by the same characters who later join his side and support the very cause his “traitor” father was executed for, without ever acknowledging what he went through. You made his life hell and you won’t even acknowledge that you’re the one who’s been on the wrong side all along?

[crisalidaseason]

Brennan: how did you survive the first few challenges?

Violet: poisoning people, your book helped by the way

Dain: you were poisoning your opponents? How???

Xaden: it was actually fucking obvious, Aetos

Professor Emmeterio: it sure was.

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[intairnwetrust]

Shh! I am hunting a wingleader. Let's see which species I will trap first.

[purple-mushroom-cap]

okay i don't know if i'm reaching but like hear me out

(the wicked king, right after nicasia shoots at cardan)

so there's a few ways to interpret this right cardan's mother was never a consort, so these may very well be her old rooms. she and cardan have a tumultuous relationship, he was content to let her rot in the tower of forgetting, but elevated her to a position of power after jude was banished and he thought she chose not to come back. so yeah, maybe he did choose those rooms to like, be closer to his mother? find answers? who knows. however, at this point of time, cardan thinks of jude as the person he serves right? he thinks he's just playing at being king and knows she's the one with real power/sovereignty. so if he's in the rooms of the "high king's lovers who weren't consorts" were not in a secured position of power, what if he chose those rooms because that's what he considered himself?

what if he considered himself just as much as jude's creature as she considered herself dain's?

[ruebird]

mister alberich

[ionlylikemycat]

okay hear me out: Tortall animated series that starts with daine and doesn’t get to alanna until season five

season one: daine 1&2

season two: daine 3&4

season three: kel 1&2

season four: kel 3&4

season five: alanna 1&2

season six: alanna 3&4

season seven: aly 1&2

this is the hearing me out part

if you start with daine, the whisperman plot gets way. more. fun. with chronological order, you know george is the spymaster and it’s funny thinking of everyone being so afraid of our sweet murder babe george

if you do it with daine first, you can draw that out. you could even have the whisperman and george cooper as separate identities, like whisperman is Known and Scary, but george cooper? nah he’s just alanna’s goofy husband. it could come out at the end of daine’s seasons, or kel could find out some info she doesn’t know what it means but the Clues are right there and you could pull it all the way to the kel’s second season with the smuggler reveal when they’re crossing the river to rescue the kids

and the difference between young george and old george and getting to see this guy we know to be pretty cool and friendly being Super Dark and legit murdering people and the whole king of thieves arc, getting all this background on alanna and george once we already love them

and just think about how wild the jon and alanna theories would be after four seasons

and then like the absolute tragedy of their romance is heightened even more bc we’ve met their lovely spouses and sweet children and know they’re both happy

seeing everyone young would be really fun too, like how they did in queen charlotte or this is us, where you know the character and where they end up but not how they got there and the fun is finding out. in the books we know raoul and gary and jon are dorks and it’s cute watching them be grownups, it would be equally cute seeing these Vast Impressive men as little boys laughing at fart jokes

like imagine when you figure out the cat laying at the goddess’s feet in season two is the same kitten she gives to alanna in season five i would start Bawling and then at the end knowing how faithful dies??? Dead. Gone.

daine’s books get going quicker, which i think is important for tv. the suspense of it all, not knowing what’s happening to daine, why she has these powers. learning her secret, that she almost lost herself, would be a ‘the storm’ moment like in atla with aang and zuko’s backstories. and then the immortals war is just visually very appealing especially in a animation format, i mean stormwings? so. cool.

thoughts?

[loadingbones]

Choir Dain doodles and some HolyVicar!