tea and tremors

FIRST OF ALL, CONGRATULATIONS TO US. DANBLAZER NATION HAS REALLY WON.

okay, on to the serious part:

as we all know, the content hoyoverse has been releasing regarding dan heng has been using stelle as the mc. this has sparked a lot of frustration from some caelus users and had been leaving toxic comments on various fan arts, fan edits, and even on official hsr pages.

please! let us not engage with them in discourse. i've seen many people fighting in the replies regarding this. please, let us refrain from arguing online.

we can simply educate by saying, 'caelus and stelle are the same' or 'please play the game on your own terms if caelus is your mc' and leave it at that. let us not be the source of toxicity ourselves.

i know it can be annoying, given that stelle is already receiving some hate for being a female mc (god forbid a woman becoming a well rounded main character), and the discrepancy between danstelle and dancae works has a significant gap. HOWEVER! let us not be a breeding ground for toxicity and negativity. let us all enjoy the game on our own terms.

let us live in a bubble that none can penetrate nor break. also, support your fellow fan creators!

BY EXTENSION!

this applies to any users that doesn't support danblazer as a whole. let us not coerce people into accepting the ship and let them interpret the story as they wish since each of us have a personalized experience in the game.

if they leave any negative comments, please ignore or, if you want, block them without any word.

i love danblazer since beta. in my gameplay, i use stelle so i have a bit of a bias with danstelle. after discovering the discrepancy between both sides of the danblazer ships, i dedicated my works to focus mostly on stelle. i don't want this fandom to be ruined because of toxicity so let us all do our part!

as thanks, here's a plate of vegetables from dan heng.

However, he does not talk. Instead, Dan Heng traces her spine with his gloved hand. She shudders as the fluttering touch of his armor beckons her. He does not care, even as the frayed threads of her shirt are entangled in the sharp blades of his golden bracer. They gleam in the peeking sunlight, perforating from the velvet curtains, reflecting the ambiguity of the rest of the world. And yet, Dan Heng persists, tugging at the seams. He takes a step forward, causing her to take a step back. This mischievous dance continues until she is pressed against the edge of the marble. “Dan Heng,” Stelle’s husky voice calls his name again. Such sweetness should never have been associated with his cursed being and yet, he relishes in this ephemeral bliss. His chest aches once more and it seeps into the rest of his body; agonizing; tantalizing.

Half-lidded eyes permit a glimpse of those heavy jades. While its sheen never falters, due to the nature of his power, it is hazy and opaque. Stelle is left to wonder what Dan Heng had to witness during her absence. Words can never convey the exhaustion of witnessing the recurrent zeniths. They cannot compare to the bleak silence he painstakingly endured. Somber faces pass him by, painting a parable. He lifts his head slightly to face her. All of it culminates into this moment. Underneath the acid curdling in his stomach comes trepidation. The furrow in his brows and austere gaze indicate his reluctance.

Stelle understands him all too well. To alleviate his pain, she kisses him again, snaking her arms around his neck. Her callous fingers tousle his long hair, and the jade pendant falls to the floor. Its sharp clink reverberates around the quarters but neither cared. His hair cascades over his shoulder, creating a veil around them. Dan Heng ensures that she is protected, hiding their tryst beneath obscurity. In this soundless, effervescent shelter, Dan Heng finds sanctuary. Maybe this time, it is not a vision anymore. For once, he is willing to break this carefully crafted façade. He claims her lips for another passionate kiss. Stelle responds with the same fervor, naturally drawing him in. Dan Heng’s rough, scarred hand encircles her back while the other gripped her hips, colliding with his. This makes her gasp softly which only emboldens the Vidyadhara. When he parted slightly, it is only to lick her lips, almost chastely. Their eyes met briefly, then came another swift kiss. Nipping her lower lip, he implored entrance and she caved in, quite willingly.

His grip on her figure never yields, wringing the warmth of her body into his selfish hands for the life of him is only enduring, embellished in its ache. Meanwhile, his tongue seeks to coax her into a wholehearted submission. Out of desperation, Dan Heng implores her, trailing kisses down her throat. Stelle takes another peek at him due to curiosity. She meets his horns instead. Golden, tangible, and firm. Unable to restrain herself, Stelle’s hand reaches for it, coiling her fingers on the scalp around the cartilage. The jade adornment feels cool to the touch but the same cannot be said for the other. Dan Heng hisses against her collarbone and he accidentally bites a little too hard. Stelle bites back a moan. In one swift stride, Dan Heng lifts Stelle, perching her on top of the opulent, marble balustrade. The curtain strains slightly against its affixes, but not enough force to collapse over them. Stelle rests against the magnificent, ivory pillars and wraps her legs around his hips, warranting his captivity. “Say something,” she beckons him.

Still, despite her plea, Dan Heng does not speak, kissing her exposed cleavage instead. The haze makes everything blurry. Her senses are fuzzy. Unconsciously, her grip around his horn clenches. A guttural groan escapes from Dan Heng’s throat, prompting him to speak, “Stelle…” a warning. Stelle placates him with a kiss on his forehead. The manner in which she strokes his hair is enough to elicit the throbbing pain plaguing his chest. Dan Heng is brimming with affection and cannot be stifled anymore. He is feverish and pale with desires that can transcend lifetimes. Unapologetically, he is possessive in his control and desperate in his kisses. As their cruxes met, he hisses, head sinking into her shoulder. The friction continues, each more bittersweet than the last. Stelle throws her head back. It has been so long that it almost feels so foreign. Minuscule touches, as chaste as it may seem, reduces her to a delirious state. His eyes glimmered in a way she had not seen before, brimming with zeal that came in torrents. Stelle feels as if she is back home.

Deft fingers make quick work of her skirt, unbuckling the leather before pulling at its seams, bringing her underwear down with them to be forgotten. Dan Heng dives back into her cleavage once more, gracing her soft skin with reverent kisses. He takes pleasure in her response—the way she arches her back and mewls softly, clenching on nothing but anticipation. Meanwhile, she continues to tug at his turtleneck, fiddling with the zipper and pulling it down. Pursing her lips, she complains, “unfair.”

He attends to her request, removing his bracer before his inhibiting clothes. Stelle misses seeing his toned body, especially when she would bare her hands over the pronounced dips and scars. Dan Heng throws his turtleneck on the floor, starkly abandoned. Like before, its embellishments clatter against the floor, creating an alarming sound. He finds reassurance, however, keeping himself tethered to her existence in a smothering embrace. “Stelle.” Her name is uttered like a prayer. A call to worship. Placing his heart into her hands once more, Dan Heng concedes, admitting his deference. Fleeting; those doleful orbs reveal the vulnerable soul underneath. Another heavy sigh follows and it hums into her chest. Resignation does not always mean forbearance. She knows how it has worn thin. “Please,” she mumbles, placing a chaste kiss on his horn. His eyes glower gold.

Heavy with lust, Dan Heng leans over her and kisses her senseless. Beautiful, flustered hues paint their pallid lips, breathing life into their reverie. The friction of their fraught hips makes her dizzy. Her naked folds pulsate as the shape of him teases her, and she drips arousal down her ass and into the marble. Stelle grumbles, itching to remove the annoying fabric of his pants. Her walls clench on nothing, yearning for intrusion. Barely, she moans his name, making him tremble. A cold shiver runs down his back and towards the tips of his fingers. A sharp inhale follows. Hastily, he releases his aching girth. It twitches against her folds, effused and agitated. Stelle puts pressure on his scalp, tugging his tousled, raven hair. “Dan Heng. Please.” The rabid eagerness makes her audacious. Dan Heng hooks her leg over his arm, lifting the limb slightly. He lunges at her, burying himself to the hilt. Stelle lets out another cry. His embrace continues to be her comfort.

Eventually, he moves. Every thrust is deliberate. Dan Heng gives it purpose. He reaches deep, sheathing himself with a brusque stroke. He calls her name repeatedly, laden with lust, coveting such marvel like a proprietor. Stelle bucks against him, an involuntary action as the result of the ecstasy. Arching her back, she offers her body to his whims. “Ah, fuck…” she cries after a particularly hard thrust. Her body oscillates with violent tremors, each a step towards completion. Stelle loses sensibility, obliged by his generous girth splitting her apart. Soft cries continue to spill from her lips; encouraging her to spiral into a moaning mess underneath him. Stelle missed him so much that it hurts; not a word, not an action is marked with desolation.

Marred with ardor in its purest, Dan Heng fills the gap with his groans. His tender caress is twinged with his sharp thrusts; a paradox of feelings that has stirred inside him for so long. As time moves forward towards doom, so does his broken heart.

"Let me hear more." His gruff voice reverberates into her ear, steeping into her eardrums. Then, he places a kiss beneath the flesh. "Stelle... let me—"

Stelle screams into his shoulder, muffling its charming melody. He bites back a curse, hands clenching on her waist as he maintains control. However, this is becoming the hardest battle in his life. The fog of pleasure clouds his mind, reverting him into an corrupted creature, void of principles. It is overwhelming him. “Love… you…” Stelle whispers. The sound of his name leaving her lips, filled with affection and desire, leave him helpless. Dan Heng cannot disappoint her. He responds in kind, yet his voice is as strained. Nonetheless, they fill the depths that is deeper than Phagousa’s seas. “Allow me,” he beseeches in between labored breaths, “and my devotion, Stelle.”

Dan Heng is lost in her. Clawing his hands against her flesh does not help him surface. He keeps drowning, swept away by the currents, utterly consumed by the sensation of Stelle’s impeccable body as they move together in passion. Clenching, grasping, and so sweet-Stelle yearns to stay together. Neither a caveat nor an indication, Stelle gasps when his tail coils around her calf, keeping her legs spread for his unsatiable hunger. “Let me, Stelle.” His name, a prayer and a curse, falls with compassion. As they make love in the midst of everlasting sunlight, the need that possesses Dan Heng has become relentless and punishing, bordering on anguish. As his glowing, golden orbs stare into her citrine irises, Stelle prepares for her fate. Intoxicating, surrender is easy, enticing. Stelle succumbs to the pleasure, sobbing into the crook of his neck. And yet, Dan Heng does not stop, chasing after his high with wild abandon. His pace becomes erratic and shallow. When he releases inside piercing grunts echo around the enclosed balcony. He peppers her temple with gentle kisses, helping her recover from their high. As Stelle stares into his eyes, the glow dissipates gradually, returning to its usual teal color.

“Hey. There you are,” she greets, guiding his face to meet hers. Time moves insensibly inside Amphoreus, heartless at the heed of its subjects. In this cycle, even if she kept track of the years, Stelle would have already forgotten the details. And yet, Dan Heng’s agility only remains absolute, sundering amidst the chaos. It tells her that everything has not completely changed. “Look at you, handsome,” she cheekily says, running a hand across his hair before halting just before his horns. The protector of the earth-the waning dust that inebriates with the air; the rich soil that nourishes life-under his meticulous command. “Don’t say things like that,” he gently admonishes her.

“You think I’m bluffing?” Stelle laughs. She misses teasing him like this, especially after intimate trysts, when his skin is flustered and soul vulnerable. Dan Heng permits her however, just this once. Although he hates to be apart from her, Dan Heng releases her calf. Skimming through the red marks, the traces are glaring. It will take a while before they disappear. His heart skips a beat, realizing the consequences of his actions. “I should put in a request for a different set of clothes for you,” Dan Heng says, stroking circles over the dip of her skin. “You shouldn’t go out like this.” “Being fussy again, I see.” Dan Heng briefly gives her a glare before attending to the marks on her shoulder, glossing over the hickeys with Cloudhymn magic, soothing its sting, before hiding the remnants with her hair. Over the course of their separation, they grew longer but even more unruly. He sighs, unable to hide his abiding endearment fixed solely for her.

“Don’t be so surprised,” he replies whilst making himself decent. The Vidyadhara rushes to retrieve her thick jacket, wrapping it around her frame before lifting her from the balcony. Further into the empty terrace, Dan Heng finds a triclinium by the opposite end and sets her there. Heaving another sigh, he berates himself for not noticing the klinē sooner. Lust and desperation have indeed clouded him, rendering his senses incorrigible. Another kiss lands on her cheek, he is unabashedly affectionate today that it makes her heart flutter. Stelle hums, leaning against his torso. “You did good,” he says. “The sex or everything else?”

Grumbling under his breath, the tip of Dan Heng’s pointed ears are stained in soft, scarlet hues. Stelle snickers, enjoying his plight. “You fought well,” Dan Heng eventually answers. Running his hands through her hair, he smoothens the frizzy locks. “And yet, you—” He kisses her lips, preventing her from continuing. Her forehead creases in perplexion. The Vidyadhara carefully smoothens those protruding lines with his thumb. “I don’t need those sentiments.”