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#girl x girl for real….
clottedscream · 1 year
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*pins you against a wall* you thought you could just come crawling back to us huh?
[image ID: a monochrome digital drawing of humanized versions of Tumblr and Twitter. Tumblr is an emo girl wearing dark clothing with a side shave hairstyle. She has a kandi bracelet that reads “nov 5”. Twitter is a shorter girl with floppy hair styled after the twitter logo, wearing a large barette of her logo in her hair. Tumblr is leaned over twitter and is holding her chin while pinning her against the wall. End ID.]
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nightthinker-08 · 6 months
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I couldn't sleep so I drew some Pomnies shes surprisingly fun to draw lol Oh and some doomed yuri too I guess xD buttonblossom is cute n all but calling them doomed yuri or digital yuri is a lot funnier to me
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1-800-zombify · 7 months
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Jake’s Advice 💪
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Neteyam x Metkayina!Fem!Reader
Warnings: Neteyam being stupid & has a crush, Jake has ok dad advice, Neteyam not knowing Earth terms/phrases, Y/N is Ronal & Tonowari’s kid, Y/N isn’t actually in this - she’s just talked ab
Summary: Neteyam musters up confidence to ask his dad for advice on how to win over a girl after struggling and embarrassing himself.
NETEYAM PEERED INTO THE marui, his shadow casting over his father. He sat on the floor with his back towards his son, methodically cutting fruit. Jake’s ears twitched towards the sound of Neteyam’s footsteps. Jake didn’t bother to turn to him.
“What is it now?” Jake mumbled, laying the knife down, as Neteyam sat in front of him.
A beat passed.
“Dad, I need your help.”
Jake pressed his eyes closed. His lips pressed into a thin line when he sighed, “What happened? I told you to keep an eye on your brother —,”
Neteyam frantically shook his head, “No, Dad, he didn’t do anything.”
“… oh,” Jake blinked. “Well, that makes things a little easier. What is it?”
He rubbed the corner of his eye, fingers slowly traveling up to his temple. His ears flattened with embarrassment, as his eyes darted across the floor.
“I, uh…,” Neteyam paused with a sheepish smile. He propped his elbow on his thigh, as he leaned the side of his face into his palm.
Jake eyed his son suspiciously, observing the dazed far-off look on Neteyam’s face, the way his tail seemed to wag like a dog’s. He furrowed his brows, “Spit it out.”
“Well…,” Neteyam sat up straighter, hands now sitting on top of his knees. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Jake replied bluntly.
“How did you make Mom like you?”
Jake scoffed, “She doesn’t. She just gave up trying to get rid of me.” Jake watched Neteyam awkwardly nod at his words.
He then realized where this was going, and his soul almost left his body.
The painful teenage conversation he prayed to avoid. Jake lightly hit his head, mumbling, “I’m joking.”
“Right,” Neteyam muttered. “Then… what did you do?”
“I went to the Tree of Voices.”
Neteyam winced, a disgusted expression creasing on his features, “No, Dad—,”
Jake raised his brows, blinking dumbly. Judging by that reaction — “Who told you about that?” Jake pressed, surprised.
Neteyam stuttered, “Uh — I, um,”
“Whatever, doesn’t matter,” Jake waved his hand dismissively. He mentally noted to hunt down all his teenagers later for a quick chat. He sighed, “Just tell me what this is all about.”
Neteyam swallowed, “I like someone?”
Jake couldn’t help flinching and immediately shutting his eyes at the inquisitive statement. His calloused fingers rubbed the top of his flat nose bridge, taking in a deep inhale, “Is that a question?”
“No?” Neteyam shook his head. He repeated the word more affirmably, “No.”
“…Who is it?” Jake uttered exasperatedly.
Neteyam flinched at the tiredness in his voice, his father’s yellow eyes boring into his. He nervously licked his lips, his gaze falling upon the floor, when he practically whispered, “Y/N.”
“Oh God.”
Neteyam looked at him, tilting his head, “Who?”
He ignored him, rubbing his eyelids. “Are you sure?” Jake inquired, repeating the name, “Y/N? Y/N, the chief’s kid?”
“Who else…?”
“That girl’s tough as nails,” he mumbled.
Neteyam blinked, “I don’t know what that means.”
“You — whatever, I’ll explain it later,” Jake paused. “You came here to ask me how to ask a girl out?”
He shrugged, “Yeah but…”
“But what?”
“I messed up.”
Jake’s eye twitched. It was more common to hear those words from his younger son, but it still stung nonetheless. “What do you mean ‘messed up’?” He asked carefully.
“Well… uh, I thought I could mimic the underwater dances Tsireya was showing us,” Neteyam awkwardly chuckled, nervously adjusting his armband. He looked up at his dad. Jake was amused to see his stoic son so flustered and worked up. “I didn’t do it… I didn’t do it right.”
Jake laughed, and Neteyam was bewildered.
“Dad —,”
The calloused pale blue pads of Jake’s hand pressed themself against the crown of Neteyam’s head, a meek attempt of fatherly comfort. Jake sighs lightheartedly, shaking Neteyam’s head, “I’m sure, if anything, she found it funny. You’re gonna have a harder time if you always take yourself seriously.”
“But she didn’t laugh,” Neteyam explained. There was a wave of sudden distress washing over his body. His striped tail slowly flickered from side to side, as he picked at his nails. “She just looked at me and did the finger-talk.”
“Neteyam, you’re fine,” Jake tossed the cut slices into a nearby wooden bowl. He picked up his small knife, resumed cutting the leftover fruit. “You know what she said?” He asked with a quick glance. Neteyam shook his head, and Jake continued, “You need to practice sign language more then.”
Neteyam rolled his eyes, “Dad,” he mumbled with slight irritation.
“What? You don’t know what she said, but you’re supposed to learn how to understand. Simple as that,” Jake shrugged. He wiped sweat off of his brow, the heat and humidity in the hut suddenly overbearing. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, kid.”
“How do I make her like me?” Neteyam had asked it with the teenage theatrics Jake recalled from Kiri and Lo’ak. His son’s elbows were propped on his folded legs, his slender hands clasped together like he usually did in old clan meetings.
Jake raised his brows. His thin lips were evidently entertained by Neteyam’s anxiety, as they curved into teasing smile. Jake shrugged again, replying half-jokingly, “You’re the son of Toruk Makto and are an exceptional warrior, I’m sure she’s already very impressed.”
“It takes more than skill to win a girl over,” Neteyam groaned, finding the conversation hard to live through. He rubbed his eyelids til there were colorful spots in his vision.
“You telling me?” Jake laughed, raising his empty hand defensively. Once his laughter died down, he cleared his throat, his ears twitching at the top of his head, as Jake fell into thought. “Girls don’t just like brawn, you need to be smart too, son. Be compassionate, observant, witty — be more like your sisters.”
“Dad!”
“You ask me for advice, and all I get is judgment. What do you want from me?” Jake scratched his head. He sighed through his nose, “Here’s what you’re gonna do: you need to make it clear that you like her. Give her compliments, make her gifts, whatever. Fight for her — okay, not actually fight, but you know what I’m saying?”
Neteyam nodded timidly. He listened closely on the little guidance his father offered, digging his nail into a scab. Jake resumed speaking, “Don’t be so easily discouraged, but don’t do what I did. You can be stupid, you can be head over heels in love, but don’t be annoying.”
Neteyam’s eyes narrowed with puzzlement. He spoke up, clearing his voice with a soft cough, “Isn’t it annoying when someone doesn’t give up though?”
“Oh, she’ll cave eventually. That’s one thing I can assure you, son.” He repeated wisely, “Eventually. If it worked for me, it’ll work for you, I’m sure.”
“And… if it doesn’t?”
“Don’t come home.”
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starry-bi-sky · 3 months
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(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)
...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.
She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.
Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.
The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.
Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.
He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.
He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.
But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.
And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.
His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.
Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.
Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.
"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.
"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more
Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"
Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.
On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.
And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.
Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.
Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?
She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.
Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."
She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?
Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."
"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."
Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."
The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.
She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.
But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.
"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.
Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."
Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.
(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)
"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."
"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."
"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"
Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."
Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."
It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.
"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.
Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.
She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.
"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."
(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)
(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)
Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.
Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."
With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#danyal al ghul au#older brother danny#sam is one protective gal. this scene went differently in my head. way differently. but alas. i am not complaining.#sam: if bruce wayne abandoned my best friend i'm gonna physically transform myself into a dragon and incinerate him. how dare he.#bruce and damian got to watch in real time as a random girl who knows danny suddenly realizes he's related to them. which is comical to me#because she suddenly goes from being disinterested but weirded out by damian. to suddenly looking at bruce like she's gonna kill him#which is very funny to me bc from their pov at first its like this random girl just speedran hating bruce. and then her parents bring up he#friend danny and then she calls him danyal. and suddenly its starting to click into place like 'oh fuck wait we may just have a lead on --#-- finding danyal and his whereabouts.' especially after sam's mom mentions the scar on his face. like wow. what a crazy ten minutes.#not seen but def happened: sam gets her phone out to go text danny in the corner. she's not gonna bring up the bruce thing yet. she needs#a pick me up. related note: danny and tucker know she's gone to some gala thing with her parents but not to a wayne gala. if danny had know#he may have told her that he was related to damian wayne. just to prepare her for that. not so sure on the writing in this one folks#but i also dont wanna go through and edit anything its like half past one in the morning and i also dont wanna wait until morning to post#when i can just do it now. and get instant serotonin. i thought of this scene in various ways. like sam calling damian 'danny' out of shock#and then quickly correcting herself. and then excusing herself very quickly. or her mentioning that damian resembles her friend danny a lot#so she was just thrown off by him. because i def think that could happen if sam has no reason to think that she needs to hide danny from th#waynes. i also thought about her parents mentioning that damian resembles danny a little bit. only for one of them to go 'oh no no couldn't#- be. how insulting to damian since the daniel they know has this horrid scar on his face.' and then go from there. either way i thought#a scene like this would be fun. get to also kinda explore how danny looks like from his friends' povs. of which he is#'our lovable jerk who is an ex-cult member and whom we will maim someone over.'#not a scene that was added but i wanted to: sam mentioning in parenthesis that she and tucker think danny was part of a cult prior to the#fentons. and that sometimes danny will say something alarming and sam and tucker will stare at him until he frowns and goes#“that... isn't normal. is it?” and tucker will clap his shoulder and cheerfully go “no buddy. no it isn't” bc i think the idea is funny.#sam is so focused on the idea that bruce abandoned/ignored/was unaware of danny's existence that she momentarily forgot that bruce may have
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abbyandersnsgf · 2 months
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she’s sooooo girlfriend sweet little ladybug perfect beautiful princess baby angel girl 🌷🌷🩰🧸🎀🎀
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candyje11yfish · 9 months
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cool fanart challenge with lumity
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eddiesghxst · 7 months
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rockstar!eddie who comes home from tour for a month and spends it fucking you, his wife, in every position you can think of on every single surface in your home because he wants you pregnant by the time he finishes tour in a few months and he’s not wasting a single second making that happen
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deadpoets · 27 days
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GILMORE GIRLS 02.21 | Lorelai's Graduation Day
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electracution · 24 days
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Eowyn, 04.2024
I'm really happy with how this turned out, though the contast is much greater in real life. These are the limitations of traditional art, sadly.
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steve’s house in the show vs. steve’s house in my head
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mendingcross · 6 months
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Would.
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entrailseer · 5 days
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not pomni getting jealous...
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alissa3000 · 11 months
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I need him biblically, I need him in a way that is concerning to feminism 🙏
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rahabq · 10 months
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blueskittlesart · 4 days
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deeply refreshing to see someone critical of Swift who also like, genuinely likes her. Like i'm neutral to positive on her, but the online discourse has been absolutely rancid. flipping between "Taylor Swift has never done anything wrong ever and she's a fucking genius" and "Taylor Swift is the worst lyricist of all time and also a bad person" is exhausting, so thank you for like. nuance or something lmao
not to make it serious for a sec but i genuinely think that being able to like things that are bad is really important. like I think that it's an important skill to be able to look at something and see what you personally enjoy about it and then take a step back and acknowledge that objectively it's flawed. and to also be able to acknowledge that liking something isn't necessarily an identity or a moral stance. and i think that fandom space in general could really benefit from more people taking the time to learn how to do that. it's okay to like things that are bad
#people ask me sometimes why ill occasionally talk about something i like and then go 'but it's bad' and the answer is usually because it is#i love teen wolf. i love genshin impact. i love detective conan. and i fucking LOVE taylor swift. that doesnt mean theyre good#it just means i like them. and recognizing their flaws actually helps me better identify what i like about them!#it's like. in my mind bad > good is the x axis and i like it > i dont like it is the y axis yk. they're not mutually exclusive#tldr it's not that serious. we can all relax a little#irt taylor swift i do also think she has done some real harm to her fans in enabling them to deflect all criticism of her as misogyny#and i don't think it's fully the fault of these people who are parroting that response bc so much of her marketing has deliberately#reinforced this idea that to be a swiftie is to be a part of a sisterhood and that any attack on taylor is an attack on all of those women#who are in that in-group. when that's obviously not the case. but she's marketed herself as. for lack of a better term. 'girl music'#to the point where it makes her fans feel as though any criticism of the music or the woman responsible for it is an attack on their#personal experience of womanhood/girlhood/sisterhood/etc. and that's how you get all of thess bad-faith accusations of misogyny#i don't necessarily think this was her deliberate goal with her marketing tho because like. on first glance such a strong sense of communit#among fans sounds like a great thing. the friendship bracelets i got at the eras tour movie are really genuinely special to me.#but it does present a problem when your fans are unable to separate how they feel about the community and experience your music has fostere#from how they feel about you as a person. especially when you are a billionaire who absolutely CANNOT be above criticism in this economy#anyway. tldr i love taylor's music and i don't think swiftie hivemind is as deliberately malicious as it may seem#but it's obviously necessary to be able to take a step back and look objectively at what you're participating in.#anyway stream ttpd or don't idc <3#taylor swift
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harmonysanreads · 28 days
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I'm not sure if requests are still open since it's early in the morning where I'm from and idk how our timezones work, please delete this if it isn't orz. If it isn't too much trouble, a dainsleif fic mayhaps 🙏😔? I miss him so much and he didn't come home this patch, can be a short drabble ^^.
Not sure if it's leaning on your "things in consideration" list, but the prompt can be:
You've been under his radar for years but now that he's tracked you down, an unknown child who mirrors his blue Khaenriahn eyes guards you with his small and very fragile life. Those eyes... They're eerily familiar.
(side note: Dain isn't the type who thinks children automatically have a heart of gold lolol. He's kinda a hater when it comes to children cept for Yaoyao /jjjj, maybe that's some extra spice to add for the reason why reader is so terrified and left as soon as she had the opportunity?)
Reconteur
yandere!dainsleif x reader
cw(s) : yandere, implied female reader (the narrative is not gender specific but the word 'mother' has been used once)
wc : 1.7 k
this was an interesting challenge for me because this is one theme i've not done before, with a character i've also never written for! i'm extremely sorry for the wait as i got distracted by hsr :') and thank you so much for requesting<3
a delightful illustration by the loveliest person <3 (spoiler alert!)
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Stories are truly spectacular.
They're capable of preserving bygone memories ; changing, adapting and sometimes, becoming far too distant from reality. Like saplings of the tree which extends its roots throughout Teyvat and, their seeds are welcomed by the flighty wind, soon to be cultivated by the torrents of time. The present will one day become history and that history will be archived for posterity to learn and criticize. One such story inspires much intrigue, dressed in charming rhetoric and is thus cataloged among fairy tales : a bittersweet tale of a Knight and an Angel.
And in classic format it goes — once upon a time, a defiled Knight cried out to the heavens, for he could not win against the temptation of seeing the forbidden pearl. This blatant defiance earned him but a curse of eternal agony and soon, he begged the skies for salvation. The clouds softened and sent him a little Angel, who quelled the fires of his pain bit by bit, until it became an infinitesimal dot in the Knight's soul. Brimming with gratitude, the Knight offered his very being to the Angel's service and of course, they lived happily ever after.
Now suppose, fundamentally speaking, if fairy tales are but stories and the retelling of history follows the same pattern — who are the storytellers?
The victors, of course.
The dull thud of pages colliding shut assuages Dainsleif, for the story which now finds itself beside children's bedside tables serves no other purpose than to instigate dulcet fantasies, losing credence before the trials of history. It brews a litany of feelings in his numbed heart until they intertwine and transform into a yarn of befuddling human emotions ; echoing in his ears that this is what his past has become.
Albeit, this hardly astonishes the Bough Keeper. When a war ends and the winners hoist their flags, they'd obviously be privy to recounting their glories — none of them would ever write that the Knight in the story had never begged the heavens for forgiveness and no such Angel was sent. Instead, he'd seen fit to snatch the Messenger that'd implored him to return to his right mind and one would think that Celestia had taken great offense in this act, but no one batted an eye.
That is because the Messenger, too, was forsaken by their home, a fallen angel with no wings and no divinity left. Whose existence became synonymous to that of a firefly and the Knight, became the darkness that allowed it to glow. When two broken individuals unite, they either complete their flaws or destroy one another and sadly, in his case, it was the latter.
But is it such a sin to wish for a normal life? Dainsleif muses as he passes by giggling groups of unassuming humans, desperate vendors trying to sell their wares and many more individuals who might carve their places in the next epics of Teyvat. Often is it said, you only learn to value things after they leave your grasp and while his memory does erode day by day, he'll forever remember that Angel's — your countenance, how the corners of your lips used to curve before they did no longer, how every word of yours bewitched his decaying mind and built it anew.
He was an ant chasing after the fragrance of sugar, a mindless bug blinded by a speck of light, an apophyte clinging desperately to the bough, a sinner. And sinners do not deserve luxuries called normalcy, love or a home. The aftereffects of the Cataclysm that befell his homeland drove uncountable masses to nihility, some embraced their hatred while others rotted in corners of this world. It is testament to Dainsleif's willpower that he'd not been conquered by insanity yet. Indeed, he's always practiced rationale and patience ; which have also aided him in his prolonged search for you.
He investigated till every rock of this wretched world became his acquaintance and he kept on hanging to the last traces of your existence. But, as every expedition led to a dead end, he was forced to accept a lamentable realization, that he missed you. He missed you so much. He'd vowed to never kneel before those who took everything from him, at this point in his life though, he found himself one breath away from begging that floating island — if only it'd bring you back to his side.
Rain. It'd rained before that catastrophic day and on the eve you trespassed in his life as well. Would you laugh if you saw him in this state? Or, would you coax him up from his knees and shield him from the rain? A hoarse chuckle leaves his lips, how shameless does one need to be to still expect comfort from the being they hurt repeatedly? He'd rather not hear the answer.
“Mister?”
The sky growled at his misery but he could not differentiate it from a mocking sneer. He blinked upon feeling the absence of raindrops falling on his person and raised his head to stare.
It is as though the stars gazed at him back, “Why are you kneeling on the ground on a rainy day, mister?”
Dainsleif stared owlishly, his mind momentarily ceased to comprehend the present. The boy that'd reach his knees at most if Dainsleif had been standing returned his gaze in equal interest. Though the man failed to decipher those familiar eyes, it seemed that the boy had reached a conclusion.
“Oh, you must be in pain! Here, take one of my apples.”
The Bough Keeper jolted at the fruit that was shoved to his hand, in the blur of his confusion he'd not taken note of the bag full of apples clutched by the boy's other hand.
“My mother said that an apple a day would keep the pain away—ah, or was it the doctor? Anyway, please take it and don't look so sad. I should really be returning now…!”
Dainsleif opened his mouth (To protest, to question or to thank? He didn't know.) as the boy dashed away, the pitter-patters of the rain lulled his footsteps and left the man a great deal dumbfounded. He looked at the apple, now glistening with rainwater and recalled the boy's words. On normal occasions, he'd be tempted to immediately evacuate the vicinity after that mildly embarrassing encounter but, the memory of the starry gaze that rendered him speechless implored him to follow the boy's tracks.
At this point, his mind was operating on instinct, tracing the footprints of an unknown child without purpose would be the farthest thing he'd put on his agenda in his current state. The dense forest swallowed his form until it finally gifted him with a clearing, a small source of light peeked past a half open window and enticed him closer.
“...re…were…y…?”
The man only came to his senses after hearing muffled voices, standing before what he assumed was the door to the thatched cottage. For a second, he debated whether to continue this rendezvous but resigning that he'd come too far, he decided to take a peek through the window.
The rain lulled just enough to not be an outright nuisance, succinct yet unforgettable — there you were, separated by but a weak wooden structure and Dainsleif's stupefied mind. You are there. Are you really there? Right before his eyes, emerging out of nowhere after he turned Teyvat upside down just to find some reassurance that you're still alive? Your eyes narrowed in that familiar frown and rubbing a towel through a boy's hair—
Wait, what?
Fine strands of blonde clung to Dainsleif's forehead, a few drops of water dripping down to join the small puddle under his feet. He gaped like a fish at the scene and at the boy who led him to this epiphany, completely forgetting vigilance.
“Did you talk to anyone, son?”
Flowers bloomed in his heart at the sound of that familiar lilt and his breath hitched as he processed the contents you uttered. Son. You called that boy son. In the light of your humble abode, he noticed the boy's golden locks of hair that he'd previously foregone and a conclusion crawled its way to his mind. He has a child. He has a child? Dainsleif knew you have a knack for unpredictability but this level of surprise was not what he was expecting upon your first appearance after all these years. He dwelled on the question of how it was even possible for a while, he recalled the boy's eyes ; those characteristic star-shaped pupils would never lie. Voices reached his ear again and he decided to cast aside these questions for a later time.
“I did, but the man looked so sad all alone in the rain! So, I gave him one of the apples because I didn't know what else to do. I promise I didn't talk too much!”
You paused for a while, a cautious query followed, “What did he look like?”
The boy copied your silence this time, finding great interest in your nails before exclaiming, “Pretty ordinary!”
Dainsleif didn't know why but that gave a sting to his heart, he looked back to you to see the unreadable expression on your face slowly shift to a soft smile. You affectionately ruffled the boy—his boy's hair, the action somehow softened the ache in his soul. Until he remembered that he was ignorant of his own son's name. He was one who preferred to form his opinion of everyone from a neutral point of view and while he's not one to excuse children's behavior just because of their age, seeing his own son speak half-truths at this stage raised many more concerns to be dropped in the pile.
You're not someone who'd preach dishonesty to a child but considering the situation you are currently in and the things this child must've seen, he found himself understanding. The skies rumbled and Dainsleif barely pushed back the urge to kick down the door and take his family to where they belonged. But seeing the smile that he'd yearned for so many years, he hesitated. You'd fought hard to earn this little happiness and acting on his impulses now, however justified they might be, would be dishonoring your efforts. And judging by your reactions, he can already sense that you won't just sit idly by for him to pounce on.
So, he'll be patient for bit longer and when the time is right, it'll seem as though his family returned to his arms out of their own volition.
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