#so i wrote it!

[hauntedpearl]

Endverse, Kind of MCD, 2.4kwords, Gen (ao3)

At the end of everything, there is still him. Cas. There is still Cas.

It's just that Dean doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse.

His brother — Lucifer — is long gone. So is the other him. The one whose world hasn't gone to all shit yet. Who still has the chance to do the right thing.

Dean hopes he's doing it — whatever it is, because he sure as hell can't figure it out, even now.

Hopes that whatever happens, it doesn't end like this.

It hurts to move, hurts to breathe, hurts to think.

(He's doing all those things anyway. What else is new?)

"Reckless," Cas hisses from somewhere to his left. "I fucking told you it was reckless."

Dean doesn't respond, stares at up at the sky instead.

It's a good sky, all this considered. Here, at the end of everything.

Cloudless, and blue, like the world on the cusp of a warm summer. Like ice cream on a park bench. Sunglasses and sundresses.

Like his —

Like Cas' eyes. Or like they used to be.

It's a nice blue, is all.

Dean's glad to be looking at it.

"Sorry," he says, and his throat is scratched and torn, voice drenched in his own blood. He swallows, tries not to choke on it. Then, "Should've — Should've just stayed back, huh?"

Cas laughs, and it sounds like the rattling of the world. Like it hurts.

Dean's sure it does. Cas had looked like death warmed over when he'd crawled up to Dean on his hands and knees after everything, collapsing at his side.

He'd sighed, and the world went quiet, and it was selfish, but Dean was so fucking glad to have him, just then. Beside him. With him. Here, at the end of everything.

Dean doesn't know what exactly happened to Cas — if it was demons or the Croats or even Lucifer himself. Or a shitty fucking combination of the three. Cas won't tell, he knows, and Dean's not going to waste his last breaths asking.

It's the end of everything. And Dean's just glad for the company.

"Like that was ever a choice," Cas says, now, and he sounds bitter. He sounds helpless. A little smug, too. Sounds a lot like he has been for the past couple of years.

Dean blinks, drinking in the sky one last time. Rolls his neck so he's facing Cas instead.

"Fuck!" he swears, because it hurts like a motherfucker but atleast he can see Cas now. He can look at his face — human, and divine, all at once. It looks bashed in. Dean tries to not focus on that. Or the trickle of blood that carves its way down his chin. Tries to look at his eyes instead. The whites are shot with red — a burst blood vessel, if Dean would have to guess — but the irises are as blue as ever. Not the same as the sky, no, but close enough.

Dean loves them, always has. Loves looking at them.

"Of—Of course it was a choice," he says, now. "I — I didn't m—make you."

Cas smiles at him, close-mouthed, all bloody lips and regret. "Oh, you did, Dean. You always have."

And Dean knows what he means. Understands.

(He doesn't want to, though. But that's nothing new, either.)

"Th—Think you've got one last miracle in you, Cas?" he asks, and it's mostly in jest. But—

If—

Well.

Here's the thing about life— it can suck as all hell, but you'll still want to keep living it. All the time in the world, and it'll still never be enough. And Dean's here, at the end of everything, on purpose. By design. He chose this. Still — somewhere underneath all that hurt and hopelessness and the drive to just end it, he wants to live.

He's always wanted to.

He'll keep wanting to until there's nothing left of him to want with.

Cas pauses for a moment, almost like he's taking stock. Then, "No," he says. Groans as he turns onto his injured side, facing Dean. "'Fraid we ran out of those a while ago."

Just as well, Dean thinks.

Who knows what else he'd have had to endure if they did live to see another day. Atleast there's the sky, on this day.

Atleast there's Cas.

"Did he make it?" Cas asks. Coughs. Sprays blood everywhere. A drop of it lands on Dean's cheek.

Dean watches him as he wheezes, moans. Quiets a little. His eyes grow slightly unfocused.

It hurts to look at him.

Dean keeps looking anyway.

An angel who smote demons with a thought, reduced to the indignities of mortality by his calloused, human hands. Dean's done a lot of fucked up shit in his life but this — this takes the cake. When he's back on the racks in Hell this time, and for good, he'll deserve ever fucking second of it.

"Yeah," he says, shaking himself a little. "Yeah, he did. Just in time, too."

"Good," Cas breathes. Lets his eyes slip close. "That's — that's good."

There on his lashes is a tear.

Dean looks at it — a little universe on the edge of Cas' lashes. It's silver and blue, and shines in the light of the day. Dean wishes he was in it.

He thinks about the other version of him who went back in time. He wonders if he'd fix the fuckfest that this world has become. If it's even possible to fix it.

He wonders if it would matter.

Once, when things hadn't been so bad, Cas would talk to him about these things — Timelines and multiverses and the effect of the flapping of a single butterfly's wings. He bets Cas would know what would happen if the other Dean made a different choice this time around.

Bets he would know if it would matter.

Then, the tear rolls down Cas' cheek, across his nose. Falls to the ground in a bloody splash.

It's all — it's too much. It's overhwhelming.

"Cas—," he calls. Cas hums. Doesn't open his eyes. Dean wants him to open his eyes. Wants to look at the blue of them. He wants to see them smile, one last time. He wants —

"Lo—look at me, man."

"No," Cas says. There's the tinge of something horrid in his tone. Dean hates himself for being responsible for it. For being responsible for everything.

"Pl—Ple-ase, Cas," he begs.

Cas breathes. Dean watches his bruised chest swell, the slight rise in his shoulders. The way his too-long hair, matted and sweaty and bloody, flops in a lazy curve over his forehead.

Then, he opens his eyes.

Duller, now, but there, atleast.

Yes. There.

"Hey there, Cas," Dean says. Tries to smile. The skin across his bones stretches painfully.

Cas' face softens, then. Something that mirrors Dean's own smile carves itself into his bloody cheeks. There's something old, and quiet, and familiar about the shift. "Hello, Dean," he says, and Dean's heart lurches.

There you are, he thinks. There's my Cas.

After all these years. After everything.

It's still him, it's still them. At the end of it all.

Dean doesn't know if it's a blessing or a curse. He doesn't know.

He's not a big fan of deathbed confessions, but — well. Here they are. Cas is fading, he can tell, and his own thoughts are starting to scatter. They don't have long and this — this one thing.

Well. Dean's life has always been a cliche filled nightmare. Why would it be any different now?!

"C—Cas. I wanna—," he starts. Pauses when his breath sticks against the sharp edges of his broken ribs. Groans. Forces himself to keep going.

Just a moment, he prays to a God who's never listened. Give me one fucking moment.

"Dean?" Cas calls. Watches him struggle to breathe. "Dean!" He crawls closer, wiggling on his side. Presses a shaky palm to Dean's chest. Something cracks under his hands but somehow, somehow, the breath whooshes out of him.

He gasps. Then gasps again. And again.

"Th—Thought we were out of miracles," he manages between breaths.

"Wasn't one," Cas replies.

"Right. O—Okay."

But it feels like one, anyway. Every fucking thing about Cas feels like a fucking miracle.

The world is quiet, and Dean's dying under a bright blue sky, Cas' hand on his chest.

That feels like a miracle, too. And, well, isn't that something.

"Thank you," Dean says, after a moment. "For. Fo— for everything. I ne-ver do s-ay it—," and he doesn't. Dean doesn't. Even on frenzied nights that they spend trying to sate the hunger buried under their skins, or the morning-afters when the world is quiet and soft, and easy, if only for a moment. Dean never says it. He's a right fool for not saying it. "B—but. I couldn't — Not without you."

That didn't make sense, he thinks.

Cas just looks at him, his hooded eyes fending off exhaustion, fighting to stay open.

For him, Dean tries again. Says, "Every— every day. Always. I've needed you. And you've been here. Even when I — I didn't de-deserve it. Even — now. I need you, and you're here. You're always here. So— th-thank you. I just—," he trails off.

Cas is quiet.

Dean wonders if maybe he's gone. If perhaps the slight light in his eyes is not life but the echo of it. He cannot stand the thought. It keeps coming at him anyway.

Wake up, Dean pleads. Prays. Say something!

Then, Cas laughs.

And the world keeps spinning. If only for another moment.

"Fuck you, Dean Winchester," he says, and it bleeds the anger and resentment Dean's poured into him for years. "Fuck you. I do— don't. I don't accept your confession. I will not— grant you — this— this absolution."

Dean wants to think that he isn't seeking absolution. But he doesn't know anymore.

Maybe he is. Maybe he wants to be forgiven. Maybe he wants to know that it was alright to want Cas. To love him. To need him.

To be told that it was excuse enough for everything.

Dean laughs, too, then. Because what else is there to do.

His bones rattle in his chest under Cas' hand. He wonders if Cas can feel them. If he can feel the way his heart slows.

"Do what you wa-nt, ass-hole," he says. "For-Forgive me for try-ing, I guess."

"No," Cas says. Heaves himself closer, still. "I won't. It's all too late."

Yeah, okay.

That much is true. It's the truest thing of all.

It is.

It really is too damn late.

"I know," Dean says. "I'm so-sorry."

And he is. He's so fucking sorry. He wishes— Well.

What does it matter anyway.

Then— he screams.

Pain blooms in his chest, sharp and bright, and the edges of his vision turn white. He tries to move, but cannot. Tilts his head down, just so. Watches as Cas presses his palm flat against his chest and pushes once more.

Another scream tears out of his throat.

Cas uses his leverage to push himself closer, until he's flush against Dean's side. He drops unceremoniously, then, sprawling on his stomach, his body half on top of Dean's broken ribs. His chin settles on Dean's shoulder, and Dean feels his every laboured breath against his neck and collarbone.

"I hate you," Cas says. Wheezes, really. "But I—," and Dean thinks Don't. Don't say the word. " I guess— Guess I needed you, too."

Dean's relieved when Cas borrows his words. His arm's pinned between their bodies but he wiggles his fingers until he's got a fistful of Cas' shirt in his hands.

"'S'alright," he says to him. "'S'okay. I'll t-take it."

There's only Cas' messy hair in his line of sight, so he closes his eyes. Counts the dark spots on the back of his eyelids so he doesn't fall asleep.

Not yet, he begs his body. Not yet. Not yet.

"Hey, Cas?" he asks.

"Hmm?"

"Th-think they'll figure it o-ut in ti-me?"

"The other ones?"

"Yeah," Dean says. Thinks about the ease in his other self's skin that seemed to have left him forever ago. Wonders if he's sane enough to make use of it while it's still there.

"I—I don't know," Cas says. Dean hears rustling as he moves against his side. (It doesn't hurt so much, anymore. Everything's numb.) Cas pushes himself up, and Dean feels the tip of his nose against his cheek. Cas' forehead falls against his temple. Dean presses into the touch. "I hope so."

"Yeah," Dean says. "Me-me, too."

Dean thinks about what it could've been like, if they'd figured it out sooner. If they'd had the luxury to figure it out. What his future could've looked like.

A log cabin, he thinks. Some place to come home to. Hunting together, maybe. Holidays where he would cook. A guitar. Birthday sex, and pie, and holding hands under the covers. A couch. Dean would've loved a good couch. Memory foam on the bed.

Dean loses himself in this dream that seems real, and vivid, and bright. So fucking bright. Brings his lax hand up to the Cas' on his chest. Threads their fingers together.

"Sing for me," Cas asks. Curls his fingers around Dean's. Holds tight.

Dean's too far gone to sing. So he hums instead.

Cas mouths the lyrics against the skin of his neck.

Take a sad song, and make it better.

They tried, he thinks. Despite everything. They did try.

The sky is the kind of blue that means sandalled feet, and busy beaches. But Dean's not looking at it anymore.

At the end of everything, there's still him. There's still Cas.

And the sound of a song in the air.

It's not too bad, when all's said and done. It's not bad at all.

[thenovelartist]

A Heart that Beats for You - Honkai: Star Rail fanfiction

Honkai did not let us have a DanStelle CPR kiss. I remedied that.

Dan Heng had been on many trailblazing missions in his time with the Astral Express. Even Stelle, who five months later was still the newest member, had racked up an impressive number.

Neither had faced a mission that had gone from bad to worse to terrible as rapidly as this one.

It was a fact Dan Heng was sharply reminded of when the rushing river sweeping him away from his companion slammed him into a rock, then a second before the current plunged him underwater. Even as a vidyadhara, he was struggling to escape this mess. Just how was he supposed to find Stelle when he could barely help himself?

Somehow, he was able to catch a break from the abuse, grabbing onto a rock and holding himself there. Even as he choked out water from his lungs, he frantically searched for Stelle. But all he got to show for it was losing his grip and falling back into the mercy of the current.

Rock after rock he was thrown against, knocking out the air he fought so hard to keep into his lungs. And when he avoided those, he was plunged underwater time and time again, hitting the bottom of the river or more rocks

Or a soft body.

Dan Heng only registered what he’d hit after he’d resurfaced, and automatically began searching for Stelle again, even as water blurred his vision.

There. A yellow flash. The ribbons on the back of her jacket.

He struggled towards it. Reached for it.

Caught it.

Even as he was once again plunged underwater, he didn’t let his grip on the ribbon go, yanking her towards him before managing to catch Stelle in his arms.

As he broke the surface, he gulpped down air as he began struggling for shore. He didn’t care which one, but he had to get to one of them. Between the rushing of the water, his own labored breathing, and the ringing in his ears, he didn’t register the sound of a waterfall until it was too late.

Until they were over the edge.

Until they were falling, falling, falling.

Splash.

His body hit the water hard, skin burning in the cold. But when he made it to the surface with Stelle still hanging over his arm, he found the water was quieter. They were still being pulled down the river, but it was much wider and deeper, allowing for a respite. Panting heavily and still choking on the shocking amount of water that ran down his face into his mouth, he searched for shore. Using every free appendage and ounce of energy that he could, he swam for the closest bank.

It was only once his feet managed to touch the bottom did it register in his mind that Stelle wasn’t moving. As if his heartrate wasn’t already racing, it somehow picked up speed. That ringing in his ears only grew worse, and his stomach dropped a rock.

Pressing himself to go faster, trudging out of the water and pulling the limp body with him, he collapsed onto shore, doing his best to cling to Stelle’s unconscious body. Hands shaking, he tried checking her vitals, pressing his fingers on her wrists and neck but finding nothing.

He didn’t hesitate before starting chest compressions, counting off each one in his head and still almost losing track. Then, even though he could barely get air into his own lungs, he tilted her head back, slamming his mouth against hers as he forced air into her.

“Come on, Stelle,” he called out in a panic, starting up a second round of fifteen compressions. Once again, he tilted her head back, breathing into her twice more.

By now, water was dripping from her mouth as Dan Heng pressed against her chest once, twice, three times

And she choked.

“Come on,” he muttered again, continuing his compressions a forth, fifth time before she convulsed under him, water already pouring from her mouth.

He flipped her over right as she violently vomited out the water in her lungs before gasping for air.

“Just breathe,” he encouraged, sweet relief flooding his body as he rubbed her back, hoping it would help coax that river water from her lungs. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

For a while, he stayed put, half hovering over her as she continued to cough and sputter. She was shaking as she braced herself on her elbows and knees, all her hacking slowly subsiding as she continued to gasp for air. Dan Heng was on his knees right beside her, his hand never leaving her back as he kept murmuring words of encouragement to her. Or maybe those were meant to reassure him that she was alive, that she was breathing, that she’d be okay. He didn’t know.

Slowly, she lowered herself all the way to the ground, her breathing finally steady with only the occasional cough.

Dan Heng was now grasping her shoulder, clinging to her as he hung his head in relief. Finally, the knot in his stomach eased, and the ringing in his ears had subsided.

Allowing him to hear the rustling of the bushes.

Instantly, he was on high alert, every muscle in his body tensing as he braced himself protectively over Stelle, eyes scanning over the area trying to find the threat.

He was so on edge that the mere touch of Stelle’s fingertips on his arm sent a jolt of lightning through him. “D-dan Heng—”

“Stay put,” he commanded.

She sighed, not arguing.

That’s when someone broke through the bushes. “There you are!”

Dan Heng felt himself relax only slightly as their guide on this planet came running down the bank towards them.

“Stay back,” he warned, voice taking on a growly edge as his lips curled into a snarl. “Give her space.”

The guide seemed to pale as he came to a stop. “She okay?”

“Yeah,” came the weak, almost inaudible reply from under Dan Heng, and he noticed Stelle throw a weak thumbs up at the newcomer. It would have been a lot more convincing if she’d been able to hold her fist off the ground for even a second.

“She will be,” Dan Heng said. “We need a place for her to recover properly. She almost drowned in the river.”

The guide nodded. “I know a place around here, but it’s a little ways away, so I’ll have to get a gurney.”

“I’ll carry her.”

“I can walk,” Stelle weakly protested.

“I’ll. Carry. You,” he growled at her. “And I won’t argue with you.”

He heard her sigh. “Fine, I… don’t have it in me.”

Those words were far less reassuring than he’d like them to be.

~~~

Her lungs were on fire. Her throat felt scorched. Every breath she took physically hurt.

And yet, she was so cold.

Dan Heng had made good on his word to carry her who-knows-how-far until they arrived at some little inn on the edge of town. She and Dan Heng had been given changes of clothes but only a single room. It’s all they had to offer, but it was fine since Dan Heng didn’t seem like he would be leaving her side any time soon.

And to prove that, he stood in the corner facing the wall as she changed.

She should likely be far more uncomfortable with the idea than she was, but she knew he wouldn’t turn around. He wouldn’t dare unless she collapsed and he had no choice. They hadn’t known each other long, but the amount of trust she had in him was staggering.

While wanting to be quick about it, she also wanted to take her time drying off before getting into the loaned clothes. The river had been cold, and she was shivering uncontrollably now. Maybe it was her body’s reaction to almost dying.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, she supposed.

Roughly, she toweled her hair dry before tossing the towel aside. She slipped into the shirt first, then the pants. They were loose, borderline falling off of her, but she didn’t have a choice. Frankly, she was just thankful they were dry.

“Okay.” Newly exhausted, she collapsed onto the bed right as he turned to face her. “Your turn. I won’t look.”

“Are you dry enough?”

“Dry as I can be,” she returned, playing with her damp hair. Her towel was too wet to remove any more water from it. Thankfully, it wasn’t too bad. She’d manage.

“I can see if they have another towel.”

“I’m fine,” she assured. “And if you’re going to ignore me, then at least change first.”

He hummed. “Fine.”

With that, she laid down on the pillow, facing the opposite direction. She would have closed her eyes anyway, but now she did so because they were growing heavier by the moment. She was tired. And cold.

Very cold.

A shiver wracked her body as she pulled the covers up around her, curling into a ball underneath it.

She heard Dan Heng pause, then sigh before continuing to get dressed. After a moment longer, she felt the weight of a hand on her shoulder. “Are you certain you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she answered, looking up at him, only to be overwhelmed by the concern etched into his features. “I’m breathing, at least.”

“Yes.” His grip on her shoulder tightened. “Thankfully.”

She couldn’t stand that tense look on his face. “I’m glad that March was right and you are good at CPR.”

He didn’t crack a smile. On the contrary, his eyes narrowed. “Not funny.”

Unsure what to say, she turned away, a guilty warmth rising to her cheeks. Fisting her hands in the covers, she pulled them up to her chin.

She could hear him sigh. “You had me scared,” he muttered, sliding his hands under the covers so as to lay his hand over hers. “You coughed up so much water. I just want to make sure there’s no lingering effects.”

His fingers wrapped around her hand, his thumb pressing against her wrist. It took too long for her to realize he was checking her pulse.

“I’m okay,” she said, turning onto her back so she could look up at him comfortably. She made sure to keep hold of his hand, twisting her own hand around to lace their fingers together. “Really. Maybe a little tired and cold.”

“Do you want me to see if they have another blanket for you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “This should be enough for now.”

He squeezed her hand, nodding. “Okay. Tell me if you need anything.”

“I promise,” she assured, if only to calm her companion down.

It seemed to do the trick, as his death grip on her hand relaxed.

“Thanks, by the way, for saving me.” She definitely said those words too late, but better than never. “And carrying me here.”

Finally, his tense expression calmed. He squeezed her hand, conveying what he couldn’t put into words.

She squeezed back, shooting him a thankful smile. “Are you okay?” she asked. Words that, once again, were spoken too late.

“I’m not the one who almost drowned,” he countered.

“Sorry for wanting to care for my savior,” she retorted, trying once again to lighten the atmosphere between them.

This time, she was successful. “Sorry,” he murmured, ducking his head slightly. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“You always say that,” she said, reaching up with her free hand to cradle his cheek. “But I always do.”

His jade eyes widened at the contact, but his gaze soon softened as he leaned into her touch. With his other hand, he reached over to hold her wrist, keeping her hand in place.

“So I’ll ask again,” she repeated. “Are you okay?”

He sighed, his eyes drifting shut as he savored her touch for a few seconds. “I am now,” he finally answered, his eyes slowly opening again. “Maybe a little tired.”

Finally, you admit it, she thought, small smile crossing her lips as she did. After pulling her hands away, much to both of their dismay, she scooted over on the bed so as to make room for him. Once the spot she had been laying was free, she patted the mattress. “Then rest.”

He looked hesitant, and Stelle wondered if he’d decline for one reason or another. However, when he gave a nod, she felt relieved as she watched him slip into the spot she had inhabited.

“I’ll make an exception this once,” he said. “Because I… would feel more comfortable watching over you for a little longer.”

Stelle felt her heart warm at his admission. For as cold and stand-offish as Dan Heng appeared to be, many months traveling together had allowed her to see just how deeply he cared about those on the Express, her included. “Thanks. Although, I doubt you’ll have to resuscitate me again.”

“I’d prefer not to,” he commented, reaching out to lay a hand over her shoulder. “Ever.”

“I’ll do my best to make sure of that,” she sheepishly said, her cheeks growing warm at his touch.

He gave her a relaxed smile, and she felt the knot in her stomach release. “Get some sleep,” he coaxed. “And tell me if you need anything. Don’t be afraid to wake me. I’d rather know right away if you start feeling worse.”

Oh, she was feeling worse by the moment, but that had nothing to do with almost drowning in water. “Like if I feel a little queasy and find it hard to breathe?”

His eyes narrowed. “Yes,” he said, already propping himself up on his elbow to look over her. Honestly, he looked ready to move on a moment’s notice. “Especially that.”

The way he was leaning over her, his gaze sharp as he examined her, was doing things to her heart. But her mind was also a mess. What was she saying? What was she doing?

Well, considering she had him on alert, she had to follow it through; Dan Heng wouldn’t take “just joking” for an answer. At least, he wouldn’t take it well.

Reaching up, she wrapped her hands around the back of his head, trying to coax him closer—

“Stelle?”

—and closer until his face as right in front of her.

“This isn’t a time for games,” he warned. “If you’re not feeling well—”

She didn’t let him finish. Instead, she silenced him by pressing her lips to his.

He stiffened, pulling away before she could truly be satisfied. “Stelle.”

His voice held a sharp edge of concern that had her backtracking. “Mouth to mouth is supposed to help with that, right?”

He choked, then grunted out of frustration. “Don’t play with me like that,” he growled, a worried anger seeping into his increasingly loud tone. “I watched you drown. I could have lost you. Don’t you understand how terrified I was?”

“Exactly: I almost died,” she countered, loud enough to cut into his rant. “For the second time in my life. I don’t know how else to cope but to keep rolling like it was nothing.”

“You…”  Rendered speechless, he looked away, heaving a sigh.

Her stomach sank. He was mad. No, he was furious. And she wasn’t helping.

Slowly, guiltily, she pulled her hands away. “Sor—"

Instantly, his lips were smashed against hers. She failed to swallow her squeak of surprise, but by the time he was running his fingers through her hair to cradle the back of her head, she became putty under his touch. She met his kiss with enthusiasm, taking taking taking whatever he’d give her.

It was a shame he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” Dan Heng said. “I… didn’t realize how it would have affected you.”

Great, now he was apologizing. Like that made her feel any better. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

His lips pursed as he fought for words, his fingers gently scratching the back of her skull all the while. “I… er.” He swallowed, trying to gather his composure. “We should talk… before this continues.”

He was right; they really should. But she was also tired and dizzy and a mess of emotions she wasn’t sure she could control. “Can I convince you to sleep first?” she asked.

“All right,” he easily relented. “I… I think that would be wise. We’re both too on edge and emotional for it to be productive.”

Logical as ever, she thought. But then her heart reminded her it wasn’t a dismissal of her feelings.

As if she wasn’t a mess before…

Dan Heng pushed himself away, rolling back onto his side of the bed. Suddenly, that felt too far away from her.

So she pressed closer, which only caused him to freeze. “Stelle?”

“I’m still cold.” It was an excuse, and a flimsy one at that.

And yet, he relented, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her close. “We will talk about all this.”

“I know.” She draped her hand over his shoulder, snuggling in closer to this man she’d spent too much time falling for. “But I don’t see us talking ourselves out of this.”

She was so close she could feel his quiet sigh more than she could hear it. And she definitely felt the way he ran his hand up her back, curling around her protectively. “I don’t, either.”

With a happy little hum, she let her eyes drift closed, trying to fall asleep while her heart beat wildly in her chest.

A heart that he’d sparked to life in more ways than one.

[karlyboyyy]

Movie night! - A Buddy Daddies Fanfic

(Sorry, I’m not familiar with the proper tagging system for fics, but this contains a heavy make out sesh, so take what you will from that 🤷🏻)

The living room is awash in the soft glow of the tv screen as the credits of the movie they had just watched begin to roll. Miri is asleep in her beanbag chair, limbs sprawled in what looks like an extremely uncomfortable position (does she care? Absolutely not). Kazuki leans back in his seat and rests his left arm on the back of the couch. He peeks over at Rei, who is sitting to his left with a small gap between them. Rei is sitting cross-legged and tightly hugging a large plushie (it’s supposed to be a black cat, but it looks more like a giant egg with cat ears). His chin is resting on the top of the toy, between its pointy ears. “We bought that for Miri, but he loves that thing,” Kazuki thought to himself.

It’s dark in the room, so Kazuki couldn’t quite make out the expression on Rei’s face at first. But after a few minutes of staring, he noticed there was a glint of light reflecting under Rei’s eye. A teasing grin spread across Kazuki’s face as he whispers, “Reiii~ are you crying? It was just a kid’s movie, ya know.”

“…I’m not crying,” Rei whispers back.

“Oh come on~ it’s okay! Let your emotions out!” Kazuki leans in closer to Rei.

“Shut up, I said I’m not crying.” Rei turns his head away and makes a not-so-subtle sniffle noise.

“Heyyy don’t be shy! Come here, I’ll comfort you!” Kazuki scoots closer and pinches the sides of Rei’s abdomen.

“H-hey! What are you doing?! Quit that!” Rei whips around and uses the stuffed animal to push Kazuki away. His whisper wasn’t really a whisper anymore.

“You better be quiet or you’ll wake Miri!” Kazuki continues to pinch and tickle random spots on Rei’s stomach and sides as Rei squirms in place.

“It’s your fault if she wakes up!” Rei continues to struggle, pushing the plush toy into Kazuki’s face. It doesn’t work. Kazuki is relentless.

“Kazukiii, plea- hnngGH ah!”

Kazuki immediately stops in his tracks. Rei’s squirming also stops.

“What… was that?!” Kazuki thought to himself.

Rei’s expression turns icy as he tilts his head upward to face Kazuki. His eyes were shooting daggers, but his cheeks were flushed beet red. “…You heard nothing.”

Kazuki about lost his mind right then and there. He had definitely heard something escape from Rei’s lips moments ago. And the look on Rei’s face in this moment lit a fire inside Kazuki.

Kazuki grabs the stuffed toy from Rei’s hands and tosses it behind him. In the same motion, he leans in toward Rei even more, pushing him backward onto the couch cushion.

Kazuki hovers on top of Rei, his right knee nestled in between Rei’s legs, pressed against his groin. Kazuki’s hands are pressed into the couch cushion on each side of Rei’s head as he holds himself in position.

Rei shifts his bewildered gaze up toward Kazuki. He notices the raw desperation in the eyes that stare back at him. Rei suddenly realizes that he’s waiting for Kazuki to make his next move, but it doesn’t come.

“Ah… he’s waiting for me to say this is ok…” Rei contemplated for just a brief moment before finally reaching his hand up to Kazuki’s face. He let his fingers gently graze against Kazuki’s cheek, feeling the slight stubble of facial hair that would be shaved off in the morning. Kazuki’s gaze softens, and he tilts his head into Rei’s touch.

Rei slides his hand behind Kazuki’s ear and firmly grasps the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he lifts himself up to meet Kazuki’s face half way. Rei presses his lips gently against Kazuki’s.

“I guess it makes sense that he’s my first kiss. I hope it feels ok for him…”

In that moment, Kazuki presses his body even closer to Rei and returns the kiss with a sort of gentle forcefulness. He continues to hold himself up with his left arm, but uses his right hand to reach down toward Rei’s hip. He grips tightly, and Rei lets out a soft whimper.

Rei weaves his fingers into Kazuki’s hair and tugs. He feels Kazuki’s tongue slip into his mouth, and can’t help but notice the slight taste of popcorn and cola from earlier. Even still, his face and ears are on fire from the rush of blood, and he wants more. He reaches his other hand up to Kazuki’s back and pulls him as close as they can comfortably get.

Rei only just now notices the placement of Kazuki’s knee, because he realizes that his lower half has started to rhythmically grind against it. Kazuki notices this too, and begins to move his body in a similar motion.

Kazuki lifts his head slightly and gazes upon the sight underneath him. Rei is bleary-eyed and is quietly panting, attempting to catch his breath in this brief moment. Kazuki leans forward yet again, only this time he plants light kisses on Rei’s jawline. As Kazuki works his way down toward Rei’s neck, a thought crosses his mind, “I wanna devour him.”

“Kazuki papa… what’re you doing to Rei papa?”

Both Kazuki and Rei jolt, whipping their heads to cast a glance at the small child who had been sleeping in her beanbag chair a mere six feet away.

“Kazuki papa… don’t fight with Rei papa. He di’n’t mean to burn down the kitchen…” *snoooore*

“…”

“She’s… talking in her sleep?!”

“Hey, what the hell is she dreaming about??”

Kazuki turns his head to face Rei once again. The two of them are still in a very… compromising position. To Kazuki’s surprise, Rei lets out a deep, hushed chuckle. Kazuki then bursts into laughter as well, but quickly buries his face in the crook of Rei’s neck to muffle the sound.

“Huu… That was a close one”

Kazuki’s head pops back up. “I know, right?! We’re such terrible papas! What were we thinking??”

Rei suddenly felt a twinge in his chest. “…Yeah. You’re right, it was a mistake.”

“What? No, I just meant that we need to be more careful next time and make sure Miri isn’t in the same room.”

“…Next time?” Rei’s face and ears are now a bright shade of pink.

Kazuki chuckles, and uses his free hand to cup Rei’s cheek. “There will be a next time, yeah?”

Rei nods.

“Heheh thought so!” Kazuki plants several tiny kisses all over Rei’s face, which causes Rei to squirm around. Eventually Kazuki stops and pulls Rei to an upright position with him. “Alright, let’s get the kid to bed.”

“Okay”

“Where’re you sleeping? Bathtub or my bed?”

“….Bathtub.”

“What?! What’s wrong with sleeping next to me??”

“Kidding,” Rei says, with an awkward smile.

“Oh you’re a jerk, you know that? Well now I don’t wanna share my bed with you!”

“Wait, why?”

And the bickering continues…

[doverstar]

So vecna’s not showing up at all in Your fic? Interesting 🧐

He's mentioned throughout, and of course he's pulling the strings the way he is in canon, but will there be any scenes with him in them, directly speaking to anyone? No. :] The fic is about Eddie and Chrissy primarily, and I don't have plans to change the general plot of the show, so there's no real need to feature Vecna. Does that make sense? The only changes I'm really making are that Chrissy and Eddie both live. An incredibly unoriginal concept, but hey, we all wanted it! I got plenty of exposure to the blood-soaked psycho licorice stick in the show, thank you. Not going near him if I can help it!

[dreadsuitsamus]

friendly reminder it's okay to write things out of order for your story. don't let that perfect dialogue you thought of in the shower go to waste bc you're 'not there yet' in the story

[cadmium-free]

terribly charmed by my sibling sending me a voice message that just said “i just always take ibuprofen at the wrong time. i had a headache all afternoon, from three to eight pm and then i took an ibuprofen half an hour before the headache went away! i could have just saved an ibuprofen!”

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[arowrath]

[the-nefarious-vampire]

as an aroace, im particularly dangerous, because i wont fuck or marry. i only know how to kill.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

[bigolialragu]

dungeon meshi as my favorite new girl scenes (and i change drawing process halfway through sshhh dont be scared its normal i swear)

[xuroky]

marriage proposals

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

[lilislegacy]

did anyone else ever find it odd how easily zeus offered percy godhood? and how it almost seemed like he secretly wanted percy to accept? well i did, and after thinking long and hard about it…

i don’t think percy understood what turning down godhood really meant

demigods do tasks for the gods because they don’t have to follow any rules. they aren’t controlled by anyone or anything. demigods are a strange hybrid - not god, not human. they are in between the laws of immortal and mortal. they are not supposed to exist. yet they do, which is what makes them so extraordinary.

percy is crazy powerful. of course, there’s the aspect of raw power. he has domain over air (storms/hurricanes), land (earthquakes and volcanic eruptions), and sea (monster waves, tsunamis, floods, basically anything that involves water.) he can control bodily fluids. he has super strength (with one hand, he held up an unconscious annabeth who was being pulled down by both arachne AND the forces of tartarus). he has super speed (he moves faster than bullets in TTC). no matter how badly you hurt him, he automatically heals and regenerates the second he touches water (an ability no other demigod has). he’s an extraordinary swordsman. very skilled in combat and warfare. he’s smart, and thinks of plans quickly. but he also has a great deal of social/poltcial power… i mean, he’s a leader and hero to both the greek and roman camps. if he says “attack,” all demigods, greek or roman, attack. no question. do you have any idea how threatening that is to the olympians? he’s also best friends and has an empathy link with the lord of the wild, which basically means all of nature is by his side too, including all land creatures. he’s also prince of horses, which means pegasi too (both of which are extremely useful in battle). and of course all sea creatures, including the mythical ones like krakens and leviathans. not to mention many of the gods really like him. hermes, hephaestus, athena, aphrodite, and dionysis have all gone out of their way to help him. artemis holds him in high regard, especially since he saved her. apollo literally considers him his friend! and poseidon - his dad, the god who is the biggest threat to zeus - is fiercely protective of him and cares about him a great deal. many minor gods also like him because he demanded them to be given more respect and for their kids to be welcomed at the camps.

percy unknowingly has more power, both physical and social/political, than anyone should ever have. he may have absolutely no idea, but it must scare the living daylights out of zeus. by accepting zeus’s offer to become a god, percy would have submitted himself to the control of zeus. zeus would be his king and ruler. zeus would then have complete control over him.

but percy said no. therefore, percy remains out of zeus’s control.

percy had no idea what he was doing. but thank the gods he made that choice. thank the gods he’s an incredible person. thank the gods percy jackson has no desire for power, because he has more of it than anyone should ever be able to have.

[caramiaaddio]

all this talk about goncharov but i dont see anybody posting the soundtrack??? like how are you gonna talk about this movie without the music

[hansoeii]

It's about who.