#AVEN PLS PLS PLS PLS

[smolsadred]

mer aven design to paint on my mirror:3

[akasika]

quick sketch for warm-up but music is so sad i can't-

[kinsagi]

has anyone talked about MobiVill (Mobius x VillV HI3) and Ratiorine (HSR) or am I gonna have to wait for someone to think of it too

[bernardellinewsagency]

back with even more trigun x honkai star rail crossover thoughts, this time inspired by @jiinglespurs's veritas the punisher fanart :D though i'm not sure if i can call this just "thoughts" when it's turned into uh... several paragraphs of rambling and then a 2k word ratiorine fanfic about it. it's mostly unedited because i think i wrote most of it in some sort of possessed/fugue state where i was solely consumed by the need to have aventurine as vash, veritas as wolfwood, and for them to hurt my own feelings, but yeah in total this is around three thousand words in one post. i'm gonna hide it under a cut for everyone's sake :)

to start, no man's land is now penacony, of course. instead of seven cities, it's twelve, based on the twelve dreamscapes. now, most of these cities are just there to exist in the background and/or be destroyed. the lore important ones are midnight, sol, and morning dew (idk if the names should be changed to sound more like locations but trigun has cities named after months, names like morning dew aren't entirely out of the question).

midnight is where ships first crashed onto the planet, dooming humanity to a lonesome existence in this new world. however, despite being the vash and nai representative characters, this wasn't because of kakavasha and sunday. no, it was mikhail and gopher wood, the watchmaker and the dreammaster whose actions helped shape the penacony storyline in canon. these days, it's mostly a ghost town, the remnants of the first human civilizations on the planet. and morning dew is the july of this world, the location where shit will be going down, since it's where the dewlight pavilion is in canon so it'd be wherever sunday hosts his currently unnamed religious fanaticism organization.

in canon, sol is the dreamscape known for museums, libraries, and academies. thus, this becomes where veritas is from. to take more from wolfwood's backstory, he would've been an orphan there, brought up in an orphanage and not really able to get a proper education. luckily for him, i feel like he'd be a pretty self sufficient learner- he could've stolen books and snuck into buildings to help teach himself math, science, philosophy, etc. seeing his potential, the orphanage probably would've wanted to help send him to school, but he would insist that if they sent anyone, it would be the other kids who'd need it more than him, or that they save their money for food and supplies. a pity, perhaps if he did go away to school then he wouldn't have been taken and made into a killer rather than a scholar.

remember how i said that things would've been caused by gopher wood and mikhail? well, both of them are dead now. mikhail would've died first, which is rather unfortunate because then gopher wood would've been able to make a power grab and form the currently unnamed organization (though it'll probably be named after smth to do with the harmony or the order) incredibly powerful and influential within penacony. he would've had grand plans, and i think sunday should coup him before he could do much with them. kill his father, take his power, be more ambitious that he ever could.

speaking of this unnamed organization, its members are this au's versions of the gung-ho guns and can really be any character who shows up in the penacony quests. there's veritas the punisher, of course, and it's now led by dominicus, the name sunday goes just like how nai goes by millions knives. very transgender of both of them. then there's gallagher the hound, sparkle the fool, and while i don't have any ideas for robin, those three would be in the upper echelons of this group; both because sunday wants to keep his friends close and his enemies (of which gallagher and sparkle are certainly both possibilities) closer, and because the four remind me of the four harmonic strings, and sunday would definitely love the symbolism of that. i've also got two other ideas for its members: acheron the blade, an accomplished swordswoman known for never unsheathing her sword in a fight, and samuel the cavalry, an unknown young woman cloaked in both brutality and a fearsome armor made from lost tech.

why is kakavasha on the run from sunday and his organization? he's the vash adjacent character in this au, but he's not actually related to sunday, the two don't have any original closeness to utilize. but the glory of an au is that you can put canon into a paper shredder and say things like "maybe the avgins were there before anyone crash landed onto the planet. maybe kakavasha is still the last of his kind. and because i can, maybe he's got some fun powers that i can use to make him get homoerotic with veritas but can also serve as a reason why sunday is hunting him down." really i just need to be able to make him suffer more than jesus for my own entertainment.

and finally, i love the thought of eve being jade's real name, so it's jelena and eve who end up traveling with kakavasha across the world. they're meant to be like the insurance girls, financial sector employees who have ended up sticking with him because of the monetary disasters he keeps causing everywhere he goes.

ONTO THE GOOD STUFF. IT'S FANFIC TIME.

"what the hell were you thinking, blondie?" veritas yells, crouching beneath a half destroyed wall as the top of it gets riddled with bullets, spinning the punisher around and firing backwards without looking. he doesn't have to; they drilled him on trajectories and distances and angles so much he doesn't even need to run the numbers, his hearing helping to pick up on where the bandits are and his hands naturally guiding his aim. it's not a guarantee that he hit where he wanted every time, but he hears the first three bodies drop like apples from a tree, while the fourth cries out in terror and moves in time to flee.

"i had a plan, veritas! no one was going to get hurt!" he's a damn good liar, that kakavasha, because veritas can smell the blood coming from his arm, enhanced senses tuned in to everything around him more than he would ever like to be. now is not the time to be overwhelmed by all that. covering his ears, veritas remains crouched as another explosion sounds off behind the two of them, and then he takes off. keeping the punisher close to his chest, he counts the footsteps he can hear as he runs, the way kakavasha's catch up to him.

he's taller, but kakavasha is faster. veritas has shorter strides despite having longer legs, it's just because of the way he runs while burdened with such a heavy weight. kakavasha barely touches the ground as he sprints though, especially when they aren't yet back to the sand that surrounds the sprawling metropolitan city of blue hour. an ever-growing town situated with a monopoly of the largest body of water in penacony means the people here certainly wouldn't struggle with shitty roads, and it also means it's a shitty place for them to have run into the fool.

ten more steps. five more. two- kakavasha overtakes him, and veritas finishes counting down the beats in his head. keeping perfect time with the fool's rhythm, he spins, firing a single shot at the explosive doll that's launched towards them. it hits perfectly, and even though whatever charge sparkle put in this one is stronger than the rest, it's still within the parameters veritas had set. kakavasha is out of the blast radius, and the punisher absorbs most of the force of the shockwave and the shrapnel from it, leaving veritas to deal with just a piece that nicks his side and the searing heat.

no time to waste after that; he turns right back around and keeps running, easily falling into step with kakavasha as they both time their steps with each others’. "you think you could have a plan to deal with this? you've heard about the fool before, right? you can't predict what's going to happen next, there isn't any game theory about the best course of action you can apply to this!"

"you predicted that bomb!" kakavasha points out, both yelling to be heard.

"yes, as a one time thing, not a broad overview of this entire scenario! there's no strategy to minimize harm!" he tugs kakavasha into a tight left turn, hearing footsteps from the direction they had been headed. "sparkle doesn't play by any games' rules, only her own. the only way we might be able to deal with her is to get rid of her stage and her audience, and that's this whole damn town!"

he'd have to be more of a fool than dominicus' latest assassin to miss the way that kakavasha looks at him, unnatural eyes wide and staring through those obnoxious pink glasses of him. "you sure know a lot about her," he says once they manage to stop for a moment to catch their breath.

veritas very nearly doesn't resist the urge to go and snap those glasses in half. "well, you heard what miss eve has said before. i'm quite well learned, for someone like me. i'm more worried that you don't seem to know anything at all about the people hunting you down!"

laughing nervously, the way kakavasha checks the ammo of his revolver is one of the most obvious tells veritas has ever seen, second only to the way his fist is always held behind his back as he talks monsters out of mayhem to spare others' lives. it's a tell that reminds him entirely too much of this martyr's opposite, and he forces the thought from his mind. "i'd really prefer it if they didn't have to do so, you know, it'd make this whole journey much more pleasant. after all, i've already got you here with me, right? no need for anyone else."

for all that veritas is well versed in practical manners, his body and mind honed to perfection, the heart and feelings continue to elude his grasp. he has no idea what emotion it is that overtakes him- rage? confusion? fear? something else entirely? all he knows is that he looks over at kakavasha, and that idiot is just grinning at him, just smiling as if he isn't hinting at everything that's been threatening to tear down veritas' entire world.

moving without thinking, dust fills the air as he slams kakavasha against the nearest wall, a hand gripped around his neck and not letting go. "what the fuck do you think you know about?" he yells, tightening his hold. "you- you fucking bastard, how long have you known?"

in the split second attack, kakavasha's glasses must have fallen to the ground, because he's met with the full force of that multicolored gaze that always cuts quick to his very core. "since we met," he wheezes, "i've known all along."

veritas drops him, watching kakavasha fall to sit on the ground as something unfamiliar writhes within his gut. "you knew? and you- you didn't do anything about it? how in the world could anyone, even you, make a gamble with such high stakes? just because you think you know me? were you just going to let me get close to you- no, not even you, were you going to play with jelena and eve's lives like that? just bet that i won't kill them, that they won't end up as more innocent casualties because of you, stampede?"

"hear what you're saying?" kakavasha sounds too smug, too fucking sure of himself, like he's already won this argument, and veritas turns around so he won't have to see the same expression on the bastard's face. "you care about them. you wouldn't let them get harmed in a fight, you're not about to go and hurt them yourself. you're a good person, veritas, and i trust you-"

"no," he spits, seething with vitriol bubbling up to the surface. "you're naive, stampede, you're a gambler and a fool-"

"funny," comes another voice, lilting and feminine, "i thought that i was the fool here."

the argument seems to be unanimously paused as both whip their heads around to stare at the newcomer, guns drawn and at the ready. she just laughs at that, raising her hands to show that she's not carrying any of the dolls she's been using to wreak havoc across blue hour. "easy, boys, no need for such hostility!"

veritas makes sure he's aiming right between her eyes. "what the fuck do you want?"

more giggles. "entertainment, of course! and this little lover's spat is more entertaining than what the rest of the town has become. those girls you mentioned spoiled most of the fun for me, taking away my grand audience and actors, so i had to look for something else!"

jelena and eve got the citizens away. veritas sighs with relief at the realization. there will still be piles of bodies and rubble to clean up, but the girls must've come up with some type of evacuation plan after the four got separated. his grip on the punisher loosens slightly, but not enough to not aim to kill. "so, did you get the entertainment you wanted?"

"of course! and even though you're entertaining, i know that you won't kill me, punisher, and your little blond puppy over there definitely won't, no matter how thrilling that would be to see! so, i'll see myself out, as i'm getting rather bored here. toodle-oo!"

even he can't see where she got the last doll from, considering he hadn't seen any with her, but maybe there is something to how lucky kakavasha seems to be when it only explodes into a cloud of colorful dust and bright lights. by the time he turns back, sparkle the fool is long gone. "damn it," he curses, lowering the punisher as reality sinks in. "damn it, damn it!"

kakavasha's touch is what snaps him out of it, a palm placed right over where he got hit earlier. he hisses at the sting, already reaching for one of the vials he keeps within the punisher. no more need to hide it if blondie's known all this time. "wait," he hears, and he pauses despite himself, unable to stop himself from indulging kakavasha's gentle request.

a warm sensation spreads from where kakavasha touches him, soothing his aches as it spreads through his nerves and veins, through to where blood has already started to clot now that he's no longer prolonging the healing by moving around. the pain was already negligible and nothing compared to what he's faced in the past, yet suddenly it's gone entirely. if he were to look, veritas is sure that he would be faced with the familiar sight of his flesh stitching itself back together until there's not even a single hint that he had been injured remaining. he doesn't look though, keeps his eyes trained away from the man next to him. "i- you-"

"we should meet back up with the girls," kakavasha says. he draws back after a few more seconds, his work apparently done. he picks something up from the ground; his sunglasses, veritas realizes, and it's only once he's got those back on that veritas can face him again.

grabbing onto his wrist as soon as he can get an opportunity to, veritas takes a few seconds to wait for words to start working for him again before speaking. "what the fuck did you just do?"

"oh, that? that's nothing! think of it as just a token of my appreciation, mkay?"

however fast kakavasha can run is not going to help him run away from this. "that's- you know that's not what i wanted to hear, blondie. you just healed me with nothing but a single touch. the only thing i know of that can do anything like that is the healing serum that asshole has been able to cook up for people like me. even someone like you could understand how suspicious that is, and i know i've got no leg to stand on for this, but you-"

"veritas." kakavasha doesn't want to leave him any room to disagree with him on this. "i said, we should meet up with the girls."

"they're safe, they can wait- wait." pieces click into place within his thoughts. they're still hasty and disorganized, but they show him the steps to take through the right method. "heal yourself first, you damn gambler."

"who, me? i'm not hurt, veritas!" he snatches his arm away the moment that veritas makes a move to yank his sleeve up, as if the two of them can't see the blood staining the outside of his jacket anyways.

it's a reaction he had been expecting. "you infuriate me, do you know that? i was going to ask you what you are, considering your little special ability, but i already know the most important answer to that. you're a martyr, and you won't heal yourself even though you can."

"it's just not effective on myself?" kakavasha tries to counter.

"you and i both know that isn't true, but if that's the way you want to play this, fine. let's go back to the girls, and i'll make sure that jelena guilts you into letting me bandage you up properly."

a faux gasp. he's brought them back to more familiar territory. playful sounding bickering that still holds its edge, conceding to his wants while using them against him. half casual conversation, half the strategy of a hostage negotiation. "you wouldn't dare!" kakavasha exaggerates. "i'm her favorite, you know."

he grabs ahold of the unsaid conversation. "no, you're eve's favorite. jelena likes me more than you, she says that i'm more reasonable." in bickering about the two of them, it's what goes unsaid that means the most. they can talk like this because nothing is going to change between the four of them. kakavasha isn't going to tell them anything, for better or for worse. "listen, gambler-"

"no need to say anything, veritas." his eyes don't look as odd when they're accompanied by a genuine smile. "we've all got our secrets, right?"

he looks away first, hauling the punisher back over his shoulder and letting the weight dig in uncomfortably against his back. "yes" he whispers, knowing kakavasha would still hear him, "yes we do."

[daybreakrising]

@avaere: "BRO? ARE YOU GOOD?"

See , news travel fast in Inazuma , and a little too fast when your ears happen to be as nosy as an old woman's , resulting in a menacing pose on top of the many , tall fences of the Kamisato estate . Seated on top of it was a wide-eyed oni , perhaps a little confused and perplexed to find Thoma ... as Thoma-ish as possible.

"MAAAAAN!" he would scoff, leaping from the fence and (almost onto his face) onto his feet. "Got a bro all worked up for nothing !!! Someone said that you were a green flag and I got SCARED that fluffy pink maiden had done some wonky stuff ... you look as ginger as always , house-bro !"

He grips the broom handle in his hands casually: so casually, in fact, that only observant eyes would have seen his grip shift, momentarily, into something more akin to a fighting stance. Broom handles are not so dissimiliar to polearms, after all.

But there's no danger. At least, not of the sort he should be worried about. The only danger here is that which Itto poses to himself.

"... What??" Truly, the only response he could give.

It takes a moment for the pieces to fall into place, and then the housekeeper laughs - not an unkind laugh, of course, but one of genuine amusement and, dare he say it, fondness. "You can relax, bro - it's just something people say about someone with good character. It's not meant literally."

Of course Itto took it literally.

"Well, since you're here, do you want to come in for some lunch?"

[honeyboyfelix]

im gonna need aventurines banner to come faster actually i feels like ive been waiting for years 😭

[gemkun]

guess he needs to go look for another shielder who does their job properly

[yinyuedijun]

every horny r*tiorine art I rb just know that I am projecting on ratio

[iiryoku]

Caelus can ram his flaming spear into me.

-Aven

his boyfriend might be broken

[pantachorei]

@kushtibokt : There is an overwhelming feeling of want nagging him, strong enough to prompt this sudden approach, though he knows this time not to indulge in his impulsive need to touch—it is bad enough that what he wants is already plenty bold, so even without his unwanted contact, he couldn't guarantee yet to have the scholar agree to indulge him.

So he can only stare, even though his hand is itching to grasp his fingers and drag the other towards him, with him, away from all. He directs his focus to his eyes, instead. Warm, beautiful, just like the whole man.

"Doc." He begins, and then pauses for a moment as he digs between excuses for a justification. Nothing feels suitable, that he could tell the other would accept without getting suspicious or upset.

His gaze ultimately turns away in defeat, as if dodging the embarrassment of pushing himself to admit, at last. "—I want your attention today. It doesn't matter whether you just hang out with me, or lecture me, or teach me something, anything. I just want your focus on me entirely."

With another pause, he blinks, and peeks over his face before adding. "If you're not busy today, of course. I'm done with my workload." It had left him strangely empty and wanting.

almost   every   encounter   with   the   stoneheart   had   left   the   scholar   feeling   empty   and   wanting.   exchanges   of   little   value   were   vexing   enough,   but   aventurine   had   a   tendency   of   offering   glimpses,   mere   sparks   of   what   ratio   wished   to   submerse   himself   in   entirely.

their   shared   kisses   and   touches   never   seemed   enough,   their   conversations   intriguing,   if   often   frustrating,   but   never   touching   on   the   topics   he   truly   wished   to   discuss.   being   with   him   seemed   a   downright   impossibility,   albeit   not   for   a   lack   of   desire;   the   gambler   was   guarded   fiercely   by   what   the   doctor   rightly   assumed   to   be   past   suffering.   knowing   parts   and   deducing   others   left   him   aware   that   he   had   endured   much,   and   he   understood   that   it   likely   did   not   ease   the   strain   showing   any   vulnerability   might   bring.

still   he   seemed   brazen,   seemed   to   boldly   request,   to   want,   when   ratio   felt,   more   and   more,   as   though   he   was   tolerating   behaviour   that   only   truly   had   the   power   to   leave   him   dissatisfied,   irritated   and   regretful.

he   didn't   even   seem   to   address   him   by   name,   what   hope   was   there   that   their   encounters   would   ever   truly   bear   any   more   fulfilling   qualities   than   fleeting   pleasure   ?

ratio   held   his   gaze,   a   soft   prickle   beneath   his   skin   lingering,   defying   his   unwillingness   to   eternally   entertain   the   executive's   whims,   and   those   brilliant   eyes   of   his   only   seemed   to   assist   in   that   endeavour.   that   averted   gaze   of   his   saw   him   lift   a   brow,   a   temptation   to   uncover   the   reason   for   what   seemed   to   be   sheepishness   flaring   briefly.   it   was   promptly   snuffed   out   with   his   request.

eyes   narrowed   lightly,   his   expression   promptly   became   considerably   more   displeased.   it   seemed   obvious   that   his   request   was   not   fuelled   by   hubris   but   rather   by   simple   want;   seldom   did   aventurine   seem   so   hesitant   to   state   his   desires.   still,   to   that   day   he   had   not   been   given   any   reason   to   believe   that   there   was   lingering   meaning   behind   his   affections,   that   they   would   ever   be   anything   but   non-committal.

it   did   not   help   that   hearing   him   say   he   wanted   his   attention   solely   on   himself   did   tug   ever   so   gently   on   his   heartstrings.

❛    why,   exactly,   should   i   heed   that   request   of   yours   ?   ❜   he   questioned,   head   canting   lightly.   while   spending   time   with   him   did   sound   pleasant,   a   mere   demand   like   that   was,   admittedly,   quite   out   of   line.   ❛    unfortunately   for   you,   i   am   not   at   your   beck   and   call   to   be   toyed   with.   ❜

[iniziare]

" i'm not proud of my part in everything . i wanted to do something nice , so that maybe we could start fresh ? " i had to combine these two , obviously because they fit together a little too well , but it gives Robin to Aventurine post-Penacony , perhaps even over the phone as she's making rounds to everyone that was affected by her brother ...

Prompt: Unprompted. // @avaere

One, two, thirteen, twenty-four; how many nights had passed him by since that Emanator's words all but riddled his mind with a truth that unsettled him, one that would weigh his dice and chip with a different weight, one additional, and almost cruel. 'But before the end, there are many things that humans can do while on their journey. And because of this, the "end" will thus reveal a completely different meaning.' For was hope not a cold, and bitter mistress? What fate would tempt a gambler such as himself, to bet, and hope to not lose more than just himself? Hope, he should damn it really, for he didn't want it, not now.

"And now, ladies and gents, it is once again time for Penacony's very own... Through the shadows of despair, oh, in silence, hopes we share, whoa, whoa"

Twenty-five nights, seventy-nine hundred— his limbs were perhaps the least reliable narrators to identify any semblance of time that had passed, for they knew a fatigue that even the Aventurine stone could have never shielded them from. If anything, was a body this mortal capable of bearing the power held within even a shattered part of the stone whose properties he had all but claimed for himself? Curiosity tugs at a certain analogy in that one, but it slips through gilded-covered fingers like sand in an hourglass. Instead, the cold metal of a phone's case that had buzzed relentlessly for the last twelve hours (at least), claimed its space within them instead. A finger flicked through notifications with a certain habitual expertise developed only by nurture, a drawn out sigh escaping at the accumulation of the sheer number of them that had become more grandiose than even he craved. The necessities had been addressed, of course (even if only briefly so): Jade, Topaz, and even the doctor had gotten an unlikely prompt response. Friends deserved respect and gratitude, after all. Opal? Unread. Inaccurate 'I told you's could wait. Sunday? To be indefinitely left on unread. Not in the mood today, nor tomorrow, or a week from now. Not ever again, really. Yep, some clients answered, others redirected— there truly was no rest for the wicked (not truly, any way), even for a Stoneheart that could have met a much more permanent demise than this. Where was the empathy? Sheesh.

"Heads up, the wheels are spinning, across the plains and valleys deep. To dawn, the wheels that sing, an unending dream..."

The sound wasn't quite as fancy as one would expect from in the suite of this cavalier gambler donned in some of the galaxy's finest silks, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose worth a pretty penny farther out of reach than even Penacony's very own 'dreamscape' for most. No, the radio that carried her voice to the shell of his ears, lingering there, and ever louder now than even a mere twenty seconds ago, was old-fashioned, vintage as those older then he would likely correct him for, (right, Diamond?) But there was something about it, an authenticity that made it far too easy for a glimpse of a memory of two siblings to veil his line of sight. It's not that she had never caught his eye, any such assumption could only be made by a blind man, but the flattery had to be reserved for he who had held the answers to the secrets that he'd sought within the palm of his hand. But those that held a scrutiny ever sly and precise, could have caught that his gaze had never let her pass to ignorance. If it had, how was it such a simple feat to call forth the recollection of lilac tresses, and the bell flowers that lay nestled amidst a halo that could never fit any other in Penacony more. How did he recall the dress, colored in such complimenting halves that only proved the expertise of the finest tailors that the planet held? Ah, and the eyes that possessed domething he hadn't been given the time to discern. Tough break, Mr. Pretty-eyes yourself, but business would trump pleasure (and personal, selfish curiosities)... well, let's just settle on 'often'.

"And we hope in the light of truth, whoa, whoa. To break free from chains and—"

There was a certain cruel comedy to be found within the timing of the interruption, leaving the song's suggested freedom to suffer at the hand of a device encompassing things usually so very void of pleasure. It was enough to pull the corner of a lip into a smirk, one borne in mock of oneself. Nothing could quite hurt if you condemned yourself to it first, right? And yet, the number was unfamiliar when held before him, pulling the strings of previous memory from his mind entirely. A new focal point threading the fine line of curiosity for the unknown, and the lingering fatigue that had clung to him like a fever for what had felt like weeks. And yet, it was the press of a single digit that proved that curiosity— held no true opponent in life, and it was at the recognition of the sound of a voice that had resided within the walls of his room for the moments prior, ever clearer, and louder, in his ear now, that served as proof as to why. "Miss Robin," was the emphasis on her title intentional, you wonder? A linger on its pronunciation, ever so smoothly coaxing its ending so that it could slip effortlessly into something akin to audible velvet, as if it were more a caress, than the delivery of one's title. "What a surprise; to what do I owe the pleasure?"

And in that moment, though it would not once drown out the timbre of her voice, gentle and warm as it was— a memory of recent past would accompany her. A young man kneeling before an even younger boy, one familiar and yet distant in familiarity, with hope for a prayer on the horizon. And he remembered the youthful voice as clearly as if the moment had occurred only now:: 'But you still seem nervous…' Nervous for what, some who would overhear the exchange could wonder, but he? He'd known, then and still now, more certainly than any other truth that he had learned in that sea of Nihility: nervous to take chances that would allow other pieces on the board to move alongside his own. 'I seem that way because I am nervous. You know what? Maybe you can help...'

Had it helped, the touch of a hand to one so much smaller then— present to past, to still the unwillingness to venture forth, to take a chance, to risk beyond his own chips? Well, perhaps, the answer lay already within the smile on his lips that tickled him from the warmth that radiated through an object as cold as any equipment of technology could ever feel, as an offer that he could refuse arose. For once, a personal, emotional curiosity, a pleasure, if one would dare to call it, would find itself indulged. "I do believe that sounds like music to my ears."

[aria0fgold]

I just realized that I now have two princesses male characters in hsr that puts one of their arms behind their back and adds a field effect to the battle. I'm going to be collecting two more on the side then to have a full team of princesses em.

[stagehunt]

when i say that aven is not an easy or straight - forward muse to "jump in" to a ship with i do mean it without exceptions. i love shipping and i think that he deserves happiness and true companionship more than anyone in the world, but i say this as something you should be aware of when we're considering / developing a ship. i don't want it to come as an unpleasant surprise to anyone that aven is not one for delving straight into soft fluff and domestic slice of life things (romantically) vwithout a very strong foundation of trust in a relationship. not adding this to my rules around shipping bc i'm already quite selective but i feel like i've just ,,, encountered a lot of difficulties with shipping for some reason so this is a gentle psa

[kinsagi]

Yuriii

[milkloafy]

fellas are social media au’s still a thing because i have the feral urge to make one for streamer!aventurine 😵‍💫🤒

[rukkhashavaaa]

"admit it, you're tired" hits a little too close to home ngl