#honkai: star rail edits

[121231212i]

Honkai: Star rail | WHITE NIGHT

[delzinrowe]

"I dreamed of a scorched earth. A new shoot sprouted from the earth. It bloomed in the morning sun, and whispered to me, like fireflies to a flame... life begets death."

[moshaeu]

anaxa ✏️

[kimeoshi]

this mental image kept haunting me until I drew it, so here

[b1adie]

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 2

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 3] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[sleepy-waffle]

they give off that vibe that is bar to describe ✨

[majunju]

it took march 10 minutes to take this photo (they did not understand how to pose their hands)

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes, Arranged Marriage, Stalking, Forced Kiss

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You had thought for years that the prophecy wouldn't be true. It hung over your head like a crimson moon, equal parts beautiful and haunting, words lingering on your lips like a young lover.

As decreed by the Mnestia long ago, Kephale would one day take up a lover who would wield witticisms and words as weapons forged in an ever-burning mind. At the time, it had seemed preposterous that a Titan, much less Kephale, would take up a lover. If not for a servant scribbling those utterances down and telling his children, who told their own children, who told their children, so on and so forth, the prophecy would have been lost to time.

If it had, would you still be in this predicament?

The first time you had heard of the prophecy when studying poets of old, you had brushed it aside as a simple legend. Kephale had already laid down a prophecy of his own by this time of how new heroes would soon conquer Coreflames to inherit the Titans' divinities, but you knew none of the Chrysos Heirs.

After a period of study, you soon began to craft your own verses. You much preferred the solitude of your home to the bustling crowds of the city, so you didn't hear how quickly your works began to gain popularity. Bards had a new repertoire to learn, and schemes and conceits never once imagined flowed through the air.

When one of the Chrysos Heirs himself began knocking on your door every day, demanding your attention, you realized your popularity had shattered any preconceived zeniths. Phainon was his name, he said, and from what he had heard of you, he was enchanted. The look in his eyes was such a hazy, skylit blue, it seemed like he truly had been the victim of some bizarre spell.

Every day he came and encroached more and more upon you and your home. At first, he stayed outside of your door, but eventually, he began to barge in, sitting at your table or searching amongst your shelves for any subjects he could strike a conversation with you on.

Despite his idiosyncrasies and his forthright behavior, despite the occasional memory igniting in your mind, reminding you of the prophecy, you didn't worry about it. Phainon had told you many times how he longed to take the Coreflame of Nikador, not Kephale. When word spread through Okhema over Nikador's defeat, whatever lingering doubts seemed to be extinguished. You were fine. The prophecy wasn't true, or perhaps it was meant for another Chrysos Heir, another poet.

Weeks later, you found yourself regretting your assuredness. It started, as many no-good things did, with a knock on your door. As you begrudgingly walked to open it, expecting to see perhaps a bard or a fool, you instead were greeted by Phainon. Despite the weariness in his eyes, his hands shot out and clenched your shoulders with such speed and strength, you nearly leapt out of your skin. His nose nuzzled into your neck, taking a deep breath. For what seemed like hours, he mumbled and babbled and blathered and prattled about Coreflames, Nikador, Kephale, and the prophecy. After his tirade, his grip tightened.

"But, at least you're mine now." The words seemed to shackle themselves around your wrists, binding you and your attention.

For a moment, you were so dumbfounded you couldn't find the words to express what you wanted to say. Had your situation been any less confounding, you would've found your speechlessness a wonderful little paradox. "Phainon, wha-what do you m-?"

Before you could finish your sentence, Phainon sealed away any remaining restraint he had with a brutally tender kiss. He seemed to push against your lips with the goal of wearing them down until they molded perfectly against his. The kiss itself seemed to metamorphosize with how long it lived; at first it was tender, like new shoots of life growing in spring, but as it grew in age, so did its greed. Phainon seemed intent on savoring every second as an eternity in its own right.

When he did break the kiss, he gazed at you with an otherworldly devotion. It was a look of such sweet softness that it could kill. "I might not have Kephale's Coreflame yet, but I will. I'll do it. Just for you." Though he said he didn't have a Coreflame, his eyes burned with passion brighter than the sun. It scorched your tender skin, branding you with illusory markings of possession. A declaration, almost, that you were, in fact, the subject of Mnestia's dreadful prophecy.

[angelesca]

forbidden love: the tree and the butterfly w.c. ~800

cerces waxing fanfic about you and anaxagoras to maintain the agenda (w/ the chrysos heirs being silly)

23/04/25) edited! bc im a certified idiot with no braincells IM SO SORRYYYY!!😭😭

“Have you read the latest volume of 'Forbidden Love: The Tree and the Butterfly'?”

“Who hasn't?! The chemistry between the main characters is such a breath of fresh air! The two are constantly arguing, the tension had me kicking my feet!”

“Say... doesn't Broccoligoras, the male lead, remind you of Professor Anaxagoras...?”

“!!! You make a good point! A face as stern as stone, but a heart of gold. So dreamy~”

Anaxagoras simply smirks—heh—hearing his students behind him.

You gag, feeling the previously digested meal lurch. “So, Broccoligoras—I mean, Anaxagoras,” you speak up, trying to drown the voices. “Are you going to ask your dear parent to stop writing us in situations I would rather die before experiencing?”

“Cerces is not my”—Anaxagoras stops, taking a deep breath. Then, a knowing chuckle—“your childish ploys to rouse my temper work naught on me, blind follower of Romance. Try harder, won't you?”

You roll your eyes at his challenge. “Why are students of the Grove of Epiphany so engrossed with this... interesting literature, anyways? I would never share a bed with you, just because there happened to be only one.”

“That's not the important part,” Anaxagoras tuts, crossing his arms. “Cerces must possess iron guts, to be massacring my upstanding character without a care."

“You mean with how Broccoligoras is handsome, smart, green, and tall? Unlike you?”

“Excuse me?” Anaxagoras shoots a glare. “Those are all truth (he's green?), especially the tall part—what I'm referring to is some of the degrading remarks by Broccoligoras about dromases, written in poor taste.” Tut tut.

You mumble, “You crazed dromas freak...”

“Do you think that offensive? That is of highest praise—I am not to be categorised with laymen, thank you.”

Before you can retort, Hyacine suddenly appears, stopping you in your tracks, eyes gleaming. In her hands—you sigh—a volume of 'Forbidden Love: The Tree and the Butterfly'. Is this secretly Cerces's plan for world domination?

Hyacine shakes your hand, and then Anaxagoras's. “Congratulations on the engagement you two!”

You almost exploded on the spot. Hyacine was one step away from being charged with your murder. “What?!"

She tilts her head, opening the book. “Am I wrong? But Cerces wrote it here...”

“Page two-thousand-and-two-hundred,” Anaxagoras says, “is when the main character proposes to Broccoligoras after debating him for twelve nights straight. Then, they rode off into the sunset on a dromas. Quite romantic.”

“Oh, right!” Hyacine nods. "My favourite part, very romantic indeed.”

Two-thousand-and-two-hundred pages? Is Cerces's only hobby to torture you both with their prose? You rub your temples. “I hate to say this, but I think their propaganda is working.”

Anaxagoras shakes his head. “You mean to say—heh... You are enraptured by my greatness after all?”

Your hands goes straight for his throat, in your head. A thought crosses your mind. “Wait, how did you know the exact page?”

Silence. A single bead of sweat rolls down Anaxagoras's good eye. He doesn't even blink it away. “Only a scholar is allowed to question. I won't answer.”

Suddenly, a student barges into Anaxagoras, thud, shouting a hasty apology as they run off. You look down at what dropped from Anaxagoras, stunned.

Hyacine beams a bright smile. “Oh, Professor Anaxagoras! You're a fan of 'Forbidden Love: The Tree and the Butterfly' too?”

... Behind a wall were Tribbie, Castorice, Phainon, and Mydei huddled together, spying on you and Anaxagoras. Aglaea, clearly the only mature one, had better things to do.

Phainon holds the latest volume of 'Forbidden Love: The Tree and the Butterfly'. “Wow,” He reads a page in the book, looking at you and Anaxagoras. “It's just like in the book.”

“Let us see!" Tribbie pulls Phainon down to her level, scanning the words. “Wow! Just like in the book! Do they ever tire of arguing?”

Mydei grunts. “What are you guys on about?” He peers over Phainon's shoulder. “Ugh... it's just like in the book.”

Castorice nods slowly. “I have collected O' venerable Master Cerces's (?) books since the first release. I can say too... Wow, it's just like in the book.”

Phainon pauses before saying, “I thought you weren't on good terms with Cerces, Castorice?”

"We made up after they revived my favourite character, Costa-Rica, in the twentieth volume."

Mydei groans for the hundreth time. "Cerces is not even trying to hide it," He scans the book. "My-day...? Oh, come on. And Paimon?"

Phainon asks, "Who?"

"Hey!" Tribbie averts the topic. “The book! What happens next?”

“Right,” Phainon clears his throat, recclaiming the book from Mydei. “Next... A carriage hits Broccoligoras into the main character which results in an accidental kiss–”

A loud crash is heard. The Chrysos Heirs are too stunned to speak.

Mydei scratches his chin. “Does Cerces happen to be a fortune teller? Maybe I'll pay them a visit to see if I need to re-evaluate my friends.”

...

... Huddled behind a pile of books in their sanctuary, Cerces works through the endless books while brainstorming.

“Hmm... soulmates? Or should I write childhood sweethearts next? How about marriage of convenience?”

a/n: forbidden love: the tree and the butterly is an actual book in the game, which is where i got the inspo from lmao. cerces just like me frfr. 3.1 hurt me, so i have silly fluff drafts for all of us after the pain</33

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

Okay look, I know people are gonna characterize Aventurine as the kind of yandere that manipulates everything behind the scenes and is always coming up with ways to try and make his darling unable to rely on anyone but him. But honestly? I can see him as the desperate needy type who needs to have your attention on him, he NEEDS to be the only man you'll ever want and look at, and GOD, he just desperately needs you to own him in his entirety.

He'll do anything to keep your attention on him and make sure that you at least will keep him around long enough for him to enact his plans of keeping you by his side. You want a dog who does whatever you say and will crawl on hands and knees for your amusement? You want a pretty little toy that you can break over and over? You want him to take the lead and make you unable to think or walk anymore? He'll do it, he'll do whatever you want, he'll do anything to keep your attention on him until he can make you his.

[121231212i]

Honkai: Star rail | Jing Yuan & Yanqing

"If you treat him as a child, he'll put on the airs of an adult. If you treat him as an adult, he'll show the temperament of a child."

[delzinrowe]

DR. RATIO Honkai: Star Rail | 2024

[nanakorobiyaokii]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙧. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙤𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙚𝙧. 𝘼𝙣𝙖𝙭𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙨.

[daz4i]

i was originally planning to make an amphoreus specific meme compilation but a few unrelated beloveds slipped in. sorry :/

[b1adie]

THIS IS AWESOME