#hsr on the journey

[thg-rcg-simps]

HSR 2nd Anniversary Animatic; Character Masterpost (Part 2)

A breakdown which characters are seen where and when in the new animatic, soley based on characters, not story, song, lyrics, etc... Also this post is basically just Jing Yuan/High Cloud Quintet simping with their Rockstar AU hehe

Original animatic

(The whole thing is rather long so if you're intressted I'm suggesting checking out the entire list haha)

Previous part, Next part

You can skip over my rambles and only watch out for the Pictures/Time/Character stamps if you prefer that, also characters are always listed from left to right ^^

(Art on any picture seen is not mine and might be of bad quality due to it being screenshots)

14. Caelus has very pretty eyelashes and a very goofy smile, a trilogy

Time: 1:00-1:03 Character: Caelus (Trailblaizer)

15. Stelle on the other hand is just pretty and enjoying the astral view

Time: 1:05 Characters: Stelle (Trailblaizer)

16. Stelle's girlfriend looks absolutley stunning in this Celebrity AU (๑✪ᆺ✪๑)

Time: 1:09-1:10 Character: Firefly

16.1 Her shoes are very on point as well (hehe)

Time: 1:07 Character: Firefly

17. To the absolute delight this scene is!!! (I'll warn that this segment has by far the most photos and perhaps you can tell why, nontheless I have selected only the best haha) This rock star AU fits sooooo well!!

Time: 1:13 Character: Jing Yuan, Jingliu, Yingxing, Dan Feng

17.1 A little more of Jing Yuan's face because we sadly don't see a whole lot of it but, the emotions, the boy is feeling it!

Time: 1:13 Character: Jing Yuan, Jingliu, Yingxing, Dan Feng

18. Look at them, I know it's not a full shot of our husbando but like, it looks so cool! Not only him, look at Dan Feng in the backround, and Jingliu rocking on stage!

Time: 1:14 Character: Jingliu, Jing Yuan, Dan Feng

18.1 This point is kinda just to simp about Jing Yuan (and his hands) while he is holding a legendary guitair and looking amazing as ever <3

Time: 1:11-1:13 Character: Jing Yuan (hands)

18.2 More of Jingliu rocking the stage (and Dan Feng looking like he isn't but that's just his default setting, I'm promising he's having fun, probably) ^^

Time: 1:14 Character: Jingliu, Dan Feng

18.3 I love them so so much, but why can't we have at least one shot where all 5 are actually on it, happy and alive? T-T Whoever desinged their outfits did amzing tho, it really feels like them!

Time: 1:14 Character: Yingxing, Baiheng, Dan Feng, Jingliu

19. Obviously Baiheng gets her own point because, look at the happy girly! Her jacket looks absolutley stunning too, and she's just such a happy bean <3

Time: 1:15-1:16 Character: Baiheng

20. You know what is best than the High Cloud Quintet giving a rock concert? My precious children attending it and be all on one place and being happy!! <3

Time: 1:16 Characters: Silver Wolf, Bailu, Huohuo, Guinaifen, Clara, Pela, Lynx, Tribbie (+Trinnon, Trianne), Sushang, Little Herta

19.1 And because one picture is never enough to express how happy this scene makes me, have more of them <3 (Also, this is your reminder to be cringe cause cringe is just having fun and fun is always more important then haters ^^)

Time: 1:16 Character: Silver Wolf, Bailu, Huohuo, Guinaifen, Clara, Pela, Lynx, Tribbie (+Trinnon, Trianne), Sushang, Little Herta

21. What's more funny than Caelus? Of course Caelus in an insanly fast moving animation! XD

Time: 1:17 Character: Caelus (Trailbleizer)

21. Guess who is back in Belabog with our most favourite Robo Dad? Was throwing his only piece of clothing of of himself, necessary? Maybe not, but he's having fun, and that's the only thing that counts ^^

Time: 1:18 Character: Svarog

22. Remember our lesbians? Here they go! Is one of them supposed to be dead and not able to be here in the normal canon? No, but I headcanon that she's a better mother now that she knows her daugher comes after her and won't use her Soulgems (or talk to the cute white kitty thing)

Time: 1:19 Characters: Asta, Bronya, Seele, Jade/Himeko, Svarog, Cocolia, Sushang

22.1 Also, the big picture itself is confusing enough and I wouldn't normally dwelve on it but Cynthia!!! (It's probably just Jade/Himeko, but Cynthia is that you??)

Time: 1:19 Character: Cynthia!!

23. Not a character shot, but pretty fireworks in Belabog ^^

Time: 1:20

(Thats it for this part, here to the next part!)

Thank you for reading, here a cookie🍪^^

-TakumiHairGuy & RikkaCatGirl

[aventurineswife]

Aventurine, Sunday and Ratio w/ a Memokeeper...? 👀

“Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us”

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Memokeeper!Reader, Character Study, Existential Themes, Introspection, Emotional Growth, Intellectual Tension, Mysticism, Loss, Haunted Past, Unresolved Regret, Journey of Self-Discovery, Temporal Manipulation

Warnings: Existential Crisis, Trauma, Philosophical Discomfort, Emotional Weight Vulnerability in Characters, Mature Themes (regret, guilt, and self-worth).

Ratio, with his signature plaster sculpture concealing his face and his wavy hair cascading just past his shoulders, was a figure both revered and feared within the Intelligentsia Guild. His sharp eyes, the color of fading twilight with a ring of yellow at their core, saw everything and everyone, evaluating, analyzing, dissecting.

It was here that you, a Memokeeper from the Garden of Recollection, first encountered him.

You had come to this world, as you did with every other, to preserve memories, to seek out moments that spoke of the lives lived, the forgotten faces, and the stars that fell into oblivion. In the endless cycle of existence, you had learned that the only thing that truly mattered was memory. To think, to feel, to exist—those were not just ephemeral things, but imprints on the fabric of reality itself.

But when you met Ratio, it was as if all the weight of time had been condensed into a single moment. He, too, had an unyielding belief in the importance of knowledge, in the idea that ideas, too, were immortal. He understood the power of remembrance, but to him, it was intellect, not memory, that was the truest form of immortality. A fascinating paradox.

"You're a Memokeeper, aren't you?" His voice was smooth, like velvet over steel, his eyes locking onto yours, seeing straight through to your very essence.

You nodded, concealing your true form beneath your disguise, as was customary for those like you. In this world, you were just another scholar, another wanderer with a collection of knowledge to trade. But unlike the others, your knowledge wasn’t of facts or figures. It was of memories, of moments suspended in time, of people long gone and forgotten.

"You believe that memory is everything, don’t you?" Ratio's gaze never wavered, as if he was testing you. "You think that by preserving memory, you preserve the soul of a person. But memories are subjective, fleeting. They are not absolute. Ideas, facts, theories—these are what endure. These are what define existence."

His words were confident, dismissive even. But you knew there was more behind them, a deeper yearning to understand what lay beyond the limits of mortal comprehension. You could see it in the way his hands gestured as he spoke, the sharpness of his thoughts revealing a man who, despite all his brilliance, was searching for something more.

"You misunderstand," you said, your voice calm but full of a quiet intensity. "Memories are the only things that cannot be erased, not by time, not by entropy. They are the proof of existence. Without them, what are we but ghosts, vanishing without a trace?"

Ratio's eyes glinted with something unreadable—was it interest? Curiosity? You couldn’t tell, but it was enough to pique his attention. "And how do you preserve them? What makes your memories so… important?"

You smiled faintly, an ethereal expression. "I don’t just remember, Dr. Ratio. I preserve. Through the Garden of Recollection, I collect and store memories, not just from the world I come from, but from all worlds. I can live through them, feel what they felt, see what they saw. I can carry the memories of thousands, and in doing so, they live on."

For a moment, there was silence. Ratio’s gaze remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable. "And what of your own memories?" he asked, his voice softer now, though still brimming with intensity. "Do you ever remember yourself? Or are you too lost in the memories of others to even recall your own?"

It was a question that struck deeper than you had anticipated. You, who had shed your mortal form long ago to live as a memetic entity, could not remember the life you once lived. The body you had was but a vessel, an illusion of the past. Yet you held the memories of countless lives, each one a thread in the grand tapestry of existence.

"I remember," you said quietly, your voice distant, as if recalling a long-forgotten dream. "But only fragments. I carry the memories of all those I've encountered, of all the lives I've touched. And in that, I live."

Ratio stared at you, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker in his eyes—a momentary crack in his armor. "Fascinating," he murmured, as if the concept of your existence challenged everything he had ever known. "You are a paradox, then. A being of memory, yet unable to fully grasp your own existence. How… tragic."

You tilted your head slightly. "Perhaps. But in some ways, it’s beautiful. Every life I encounter becomes a part of me, and in that, I become part of them. A perpetual exchange, a never-ending cycle of remembrance."

Ratio’s lips quirked upward slightly, a rare and almost imperceptible smile. "Perhaps," he echoed, his voice tinged with something akin to admiration. "You might be right, after all. Memory is the only true form of immortality. But don’t forget, my Memokeeper, that intellect and knowledge are what shape the universe. Without them, memory would be meaningless."

You met his gaze, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "And without memory, even the greatest intellects would fade into obscurity, leaving nothing behind."

For a moment, you both stood there, two beings of immense knowledge and power, staring at one another in the midst of a universe that seemed both infinite and fleeting. In that fleeting moment, there was no need for words. You understood each other, in a way that few could.

As you turned to leave, your final words lingered in the air, like a soft melody, echoing across time itself.

"Remember me, Dr. Ratio. After all, that is the only way I can truly exist."

He watched you disappear into the endless flow of time, his mind racing with questions, with curiosity. The Memokeeper had left an impression, a memory etched into his mind. And though Ratio would continue his work, seeking to change the world through intellect and knowledge, something had shifted within him.

Perhaps, in the end, the preservation of memory and the pursuit of knowledge were not so different after all.

The Astral Express hummed with the faint rhythm of its journey through the stars, its steady pulse a stark contrast to the turbulent thoughts that swirled within Sunday’s mind. He stood by the window, watching the unending expanse of the cosmos pass by, his eyes reflecting distant stars. His thoughts were as fractured as ever—an unyielding dissonance between his ideals and the weight of his past. Yet, there was something different now, something new stirring in him, as if the winds of change were gently sweeping through his world.

You, the Memokeeper, stood just a few steps away from him, an enigmatic presence, yet somehow, your existence felt more real than anything else. Your presence was like an anchor in a sea of uncertainty, a testament to a truth he had not yet fully grasped.

To think is to exist.

He had never truly questioned his existence in this way before. For all his lofty ideals about dreams, suffering, and the balance between them, there was something about you—your quiet, eternal purpose—that made him reconsider his place in the universe.

You had explained, on occasion, the nature of your kind. A Memokeeper’s task was to collect memories, to preserve them as proof of existence in a world where everything, even stars, would eventually fade. Unlike most, who viewed reality and imagination as distinct, Memokeepers saw them as one. It was a perspective that intrigued Sunday deeply, yet he struggled to fully comprehend it. Perhaps because, in the end, he wasn’t sure what was real anymore.

"How do you hold on to something so... fleeting?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a weight that betrayed the many layers of his thoughts.

You turned toward him, your expression serene, but there was a flicker of something deeper in your eyes, an understanding of the burden he carried. "We don't hold on to it. We let it flow through us, and in doing so, we become it."

Sunday looked at you, his gaze lingering on the delicate curve of your cheek, the ethereal quality of your being, and how it seemed as though you were made of light itself. "Do you ever feel... trapped by your memories?" His voice faltered at the question, as though he were reaching for something he couldn’t quite touch.

For a moment, there was silence, save for the distant hum of the train and the occasional flicker of stars outside. You took a step closer, your fingers brushing lightly against the air as you spoke, your voice gentle and calm.

"Trapped?" you mused. "No. We are the keepers, not the prisoners. Memories are not chains. They are bridges."

His brow furrowed slightly. "But what if the memories are of things you can never change? Things that haunt you?" His words were quieter now, as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. The weight of his past—of the choices he had made, of the lives he had shaped, for better or worse—pressed down on him once more.

You studied him with a knowing gaze, as though seeing through the veil of his facade. "Hauntings are but echoes of what was, Sunday. The question is not whether the memories are painful, but whether we let them define us." You paused, letting your words settle. "What you choose to do with them—that is what matters."

Sunday’s eyes flickered as if a distant thought had just emerged, one that had been buried beneath layers of rationality and philosophy. He had spent so long trying to change the world, trying to create a place free of suffering, that he had neglected the simplest truth: he could not change the past. He could only move forward.

"But how?" he asked, his voice filled with quiet desperation. "How can I move forward, when the past keeps whispering in my ears?"

You smiled softly, a knowing, almost maternal expression on your face. "You are already moving forward, Sunday. Your journey on the Astral Express is proof of that. The question is not if you will move forward, but how you will choose to remember."

There it was again: remember. It was a word he had often associated with pain, with the weight of regret and guilt, but somehow, in your presence, it felt lighter. It felt like a possibility, a way to reclaim something precious without being bound to it.

For the first time in a long while, Sunday allowed himself to truly look at you. Not just as a fellow traveler aboard the Express, but as someone who embodied a truth he had yet to accept.

"I... I think I understand," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Memories are not the end of us. They can be... a part of something greater."

You nodded, your eyes fluttering slightly as you gazed at him with an expression of quiet encouragement. "Exactly. And sometimes, the greatest gift you can give to the past is to let it go, while still carrying it with you."

Sunday fell silent, his mind now processing your words, considering their implications. Perhaps this was the true path to redemption—not the erasure of pain, but the acceptance of it, and the ability to carry it without letting it define him.

As the train continued its journey through the stars, Sunday found himself standing a little taller. He wasn’t sure where this journey would take him, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like he might finally be on the right path.

In the labyrinthine corridors of the IPC, where deals and schemes wove through the very fabric of power, Aventurine stood as an enigma, a master of manipulation with a heart haunted by the ghosts of his past. His smile, enigmatic and ever-present, was a mask that concealed the fractured man beneath. The ‘Aventurine of Stratagems,’ a name he wore with pride, was a title earned through unrelenting gambles and sacrifices, yet it was the one thing that kept him from truly losing himself.

But on this particular day, something—or rather, someone—was pulling at the threads of his carefully constructed world. Someone who didn’t need to gamble to see through the veil.

You. The Memokeeper.

A fleeting figure, a whisper of another existence, you moved through worlds unrestrained by physical boundaries. Memokeepers were creatures of memories—preservers of the immortal, the eternal. You had no flesh, no true form. Only the shifting remnants of memories you carried with you, the fragments of countless lives you had touched and stolen.

When Aventurine first encountered you, he had been intrigued. Memokeepers were not common, and your mysterious nature had piqued his interest. But it was your ability to navigate through time and space, your unflinching grasp of memory as a permanent artifact, that truly captivated him.

"You never forget, do you?" Aventurine's voice was smooth, laced with his signature mix of challenge and curiosity as you stood across from him in a darkened room, a flicker of memory flashing in your eyes.

You tilted your head slightly, a soft, almost imperceptible smile gracing your lips. "For a moment, I thought you would say 'never forgive.'" You said it with an air of knowing, your voice gentle yet profound. "But no... you are too familiar with your own regrets to seek forgiveness."

Aventurine’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second. The hint of vulnerability did not go unnoticed. The last surviving member of a lost clan, haunted by survivor's guilt—those wounds ran deep. His facade was usually flawless, but before you, it felt fragile, a thin layer barely holding back a flood of emotions he hadn’t let surface in years.

"You speak as though you understand me," he remarked, his voice regaining its usual confidence. "But I’ve played this game for too long to be an open book."

"Yet, here you are," you countered, stepping closer, the air thick with the power of your words. "A man who wagers lives as easily as others breathe. Do you think I can't see the stakes you're playing for? The past you can never escape?"

There was a moment of silence, one where Aventurine’s usual bravado seemed to crack slightly, revealing the ever-present tension in his posture, the subtle guarding of his left hand behind his back. He wasn't ready to expose his fragility, not yet.

"You play with the illusion of luck," you continued, your voice almost hypnotic. "But I know what you really seek. You gamble because you fear being forgotten, because you fear that if you stop playing, your existence will cease to matter."

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed, gleaming with a mixture of challenge and intrigue. He tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating your words, but his tone remained steady. "And what of you, Memokeeper? Are you truly immortal, or just a collector of lies?"

You didn’t flinch. "Memory is the only true immortality. Everything fades—worlds, stars, even gods. But memories... memories last longer than anything else. They are what make us real. What make us matter."

He chuckled softly, his lips curling into that all-too-familiar grin. "I suppose you would say that. After all, you're in the business of making things last forever."

Aventurine’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than he intended, and for a brief instant, he wondered what it would be like to have his memory preserved—not his reputation or his empire, but his very essence. Would someone like you, a Memokeeper, truly see him for who he was beneath the layers of strategy and artifice?

"I’ve seen countless memories," you said, your voice soft but heavy with meaning. "But there's something about you... You're not a mere gambler, not just someone who risks it all. There's something darker in you, a longing for connection, yet a fear of it."

He looked at you with raised eyebrows, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. "You really think you can see all that from just a glance?"

"You show more than you think," you said, your gaze steady, your words unshaken. "And it's those little things—the way you hide your left hand, the pauses in your speech, the smile that never reaches your eyes—that tell me you are more than the games you play."

The silence stretched, an unspoken challenge between you. He couldn’t deny it. He had always thought of himself as untouchable, an orchestrator of every move. But you? You had no need for power or control. You simply existed, transcendent and free.

And yet, despite all that, Aventurine felt something strange stirring within him—a desire to be remembered, not just for his gambles, but for the man he truly was.

"Perhaps you're right," he finally said, his voice quieter, more contemplative. "Perhaps there is more to me than even I realize."

You smiled, a soft, knowing expression, and for the first time, Aventurine’s smile seemed a little less rehearsed, a little more genuine. The idea of someone, a Memokeeper no less, understanding the depths of his soul was an uncomfortable yet fascinating thought.

"I don’t need to gamble to know your worth, Aventurine," you said, your eyes twinkling with an almost imperceptible warmth. "But perhaps, just once, you might stop playing and let someone else remember you. For who you really are."

For the first time in a long while, Aventurine didn’t immediately respond with a quip or a strategy. He simply watched you, his mind turning, calculating the possibilities. What would it mean to be remembered? To be seen beyond the mask of the gambler, the strategist, the survivor?

In that moment, Aventurine felt the first stirrings of a gamble he had never before considered: the gamble of letting someone in.

Oh damn, this was long af... 🫣😨

Also I couldn't come up with a better title so yeah...🧍‍♀️

[baeshijima]

OH

OH MY

OH MY GOD

[thedangoratio]

They’re not from the same universes but they met anyway

Follow up here

[rainstrace]

I drew the designated characters of my friends! It's obvious that I'm super partiality🫣

⬆️My Eugavus⬆️

[riddler-elinoir]

Would you look at that? It's been a while since the last time I interacted with a Riddler. Why, my greetings, miss.

🌌 @masked-genie

Elinoir raises a brow, the voice catching her attention as he turns around to see the owner of the voice. She meets face to face with a stranger, seeing him bow.

She smiles. "Oh hello there." She greets. "Seems like someone knows that I'm a Riddler. Any business you want with me perhaps?"

[kabobroaster]

Regency serval and Natasha looking goofy. Gepard is a smash though.

This could be Caelus from a weird angle/different hairstyle but he seems like either a new character or a reveal of someone we know of: my money is on Elio or more likely in my opinion Giovanni since the hair color matches the model of him we have.

Sparkle being the only character to maintain her normal outfit over the course of the whole differing time periods section of the video is interesting. Also she isn’t waving to Robin she is looking straight into the camera.

Background shot of exhausted Argenti

I thought the character on the bottom was Bailu for a second but it definitely isn’t. I think they could be a new character. Everyone at the table is an arbiter general or slated to become one (Fu Xuan) so new general drop?

The people departing are Gallagher and Misha

The people getting on are Sunday and Black Swan

Jade and Sushang are both in the background of this image.

These are from a quick flash sequence near the end of the video. The characters appear to be Firefly, Blade, Robin, Sunday, Caelus and Jingliu.

Finally the final group shot includes a lot of characters. Jingliu, Jing Yuan, Gepard, Blade, Firefly, Tingyun, Robin, Sunday, Aventurine and Acheron.

[ironunderstands]

Ngl it’s so funny when I see ppl run face first into hsr’s themes and still not get it, like wow, two characters who’s story revolves around overcoming their pasts to live for themselves and TRAILBLAZE a better future? In Honkai Star Rail? Nooo, it can’t be

[aventurineswife]

Can I request Argentine, Sunday, Aventurine (our beautiful man), Dr Ratio, and JingYuan meeting their newborn? Unless you’ve done that already? If you have how about their baby’s first steps? I love Hsr as dads🥺

“Aren't they lovely? Made from love...”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Parental Love, Newborn, Tender Moments, Character Growth, Protective Parents, Family, Emotional Journey, Vulnerability.

Warnings: Light mentions of exhaustion and emotional vulnerability, Heavy emotional themes around parenting and legacy.

A/N: I love HSR men as a dads too ☹️🥺💖 ugh... They make me sick 😔💔

The sterile scent of the hospital filled the air, but to Argenti, it was all a blur. He stood, frozen at the threshold of the hospital room, gazing at the bundle in your arms. His heart swelled, and his breath caught in his chest.

“Is this... truly our child?” His voice trembled, barely above a whisper, as his gaze lingered on the tiny face that was so delicately nestled within the blankets.

You nodded softly, your tired eyes filled with warmth as you carefully rocked the baby in your arms. The light from the window highlighted the soft glow of the room, casting gentle shadows over the peaceful scene.

Argenti stepped closer, his armor clinking quietly with each measured step, as if the weight of the moment demanded reverence. When he reached your side, his hand gently brushed against your arm. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the baby, whose small, perfect features were barely visible beneath the blanket. His heart swelled with a strange, unfamiliar emotion—a tenderness so deep it almost frightened him.

The baby stirred slightly, a soft whimper breaking the silence.

Argenti’s breath hitched, and without thinking, he reached down, his fingers brushing against the baby’s tiny hand. He froze as the baby grasped his finger in a reflexive hold, a bond formed in an instant. His chest tightened with a profound sense of responsibility, but it was more than that—this was a moment that transcended duty, that spoke to a higher purpose.

“This is our legacy,” Argenti murmured, his green eyes shimmering with something beyond pride. “A new beginning... a new creation of Beauty.”

His voice faltered, the weight of his idealism tempered by the joy of this quiet moment. It was his deepest honor, his most sacred path. He wasn’t just a knight of Beauty now—he was a parent.

You smiled, and without another word, you gently placed the baby in his arms. The warmth of the newborn’s fragile body against his chest made his heart leap. Argenti’s breath was steady but strained as he held them—he was no longer just a knight. He was their protector.

“Welcome,” he whispered softly, his voice a quiet vow. “To a world of beauty, my child.”

The room was still, the gentle hum of hospital machinery in the background as Sunday stood at the threshold, his eyes fixed on the small figure in your arms. His wings fluttered behind him in subtle movements, reflecting a deep sense of awe.

His usual reflective demeanor was replaced with something tender, something uncertain, as he crossed the room slowly. His steps were quiet, measured, as if he were entering a sacred space, a new reality that was no longer just his own.

“Is it... truly happening?” he murmured, his voice barely audible, almost as if he feared disturbing the fragile beauty before him. His gaze fixed on the baby, their tiny face framed by soft blankets. The baby’s peaceful sleep seemed to mirror the calm he had once sought for himself, the tranquility he dreamed could exist in the world.

You smiled, looking up at him with exhaustion, but your eyes sparkled with the joy of the moment. “They’re ours, Sunday. Our child.”

His gaze softened, the golden halo behind his head glowing faintly as he approached you. There was an ethereal stillness in the air, almost as if the very world was holding its breath. As he reached you, his hands hovered hesitantly over the baby, his fingers shaking just slightly. It was rare to see him unsure, but this was no ordinary moment. This was the culmination of a dream, of an idealism he had once longed to protect.

With great care, you placed the baby in his arms. Sunday’s breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded in his chest, but it was a strange, unfamiliar rhythm. The baby shifted slightly, letting out a small sigh as they rested against him.

The tenderness he felt overwhelmed him, and for a fleeting moment, he felt the weight of his past fade. This moment, with the baby in his arms, felt like a redemption—a chance to embrace a future untainted by doubt.

“They’re so small,” Sunday whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and vulnerability. “So pure...”

His wings fluttered again, this time with a subtle warmth, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to the baby’s forehead. His usual philosophical distance melted away in the face of such innocence. In their smallness, he found a quiet hope—a vision for the world he had long sought to create.

“I promise to protect you,” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, filled with a devotion he had never allowed himself to feel so openly before. “You will never be alone.”

Aventurine leaned against the doorframe of the hospital room, the usual confident smile still on his face, but his eyes... his eyes were soft. His usual bravado faded as he took in the sight of you holding the tiny newborn in your arms. His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t help but chuckle softly to himself.

“This feels like a game I wasn’t prepared for,” he said, his voice laced with a playful lightness, though there was something else beneath it—something more vulnerable. He stepped into the room, his usual confident stride faltering slightly as he crossed toward you.

You looked up, exhaustion evident in your expression, but there was an unmistakable joy that made the hospital room feel warmer than it should have. “It’s real, Aventurine. Our baby.”

Aventurine’s smile wavered, and for a moment, he seemed lost in thought. His eyes lingered on the baby, who had barely begun to stir, their tiny fingers curling in a peaceful sleep. There was something about their quiet form that unsettled him, yet at the same time, it soothed him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“Well, this is a gamble I’m willing to take,” he said with his usual smirk, but his voice was softer, more vulnerable than you’d ever heard. “Not sure how much I’ve got to offer, but for them...” His hand, adorned with rings and bracelets, reached out hesitantly. He paused just before touching the baby’s tiny hand, his expression shifting for a brief moment, like he was uncertain about the stakes of this particular game.

“Would you like to hold them?” you asked softly, your voice inviting him into the moment.

Aventurine’s gaze flickered to you, a mixture of admiration and fear in his eyes. He took a deep breath, then stepped forward, allowing you to carefully place the baby in his arms. His usual air of indifference disappeared the moment the baby rested against him, their warmth radiating through him in ways he hadn’t expected.

“Never thought I’d find myself like this,” Aventurine admitted quietly, his voice almost a whisper, as if he were speaking to the child and not to you. He adjusted his hold carefully, his usual calculated movements softer now. “But I’m not one to back down from a challenge, especially one like this.”

He smiled again, the carefree facade returning, though now it seemed tinged with something deeper—something more sincere. “You’re a high-stakes gamble, my little one, and I plan to win.”

He looked down at the baby, his sharp, calculating mind shifting toward this new, unpredictable chapter of his life, and for once, the gamble didn’t feel so daunting.

In that moment, he understood something he’d never truly grasped before—there was no strategy in the world that could prepare him for this. And for the first time in a long while, Aventurine found himself willing to bet on something truly precious.

The sterile hum of the hospital room was a sharp contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling in Ratio’s mind. He stood by the door, his usual confident stride stilled for the first time in years. The hospital room before him seemed alien, the soft glow of the lights and the warmth of the blankets a world away from his usual studies and experiments. Yet, there you were, cradling the tiny bundle in your arms, and everything else seemed to fade into the background.

“Is this... really our creation?” Ratio’s voice was lower than usual, a rare vulnerability showing beneath his usual sharp tone. His intense eyes were fixed on the baby, and despite his vast intellect, he seemed almost... uncertain.

You smiled softly, exhaustion in your expression, but your eyes sparkled with pride. “Yes, Veritas. This is our child.”

Ratio approached slowly, his mind still whirring with the logical implications of what had just occurred, yet his heart—unexpectedly—began to race. The baby stirred gently in your arms, their tiny hand curling around a corner of the blanket.

He knelt beside you, the brilliant mind now focusing solely on the life before him. His fingers twitched, hesitant at first, before they reached out and brushed against the baby's tiny, delicate hand. The baby’s tiny fingers grasped his in response, and Dr. Ratio froze, his breath catching in his chest.

“This... this is our legacy,” he whispered, the words feeling foreign on his lips but true nonetheless. “Our chance to eradicate ignorance.” His voice held a note of something deeper—an unspoken vow.

You carefully placed the baby in his arms, the weight of their small form bringing a strange sense of peace that Ratio hadn’t known he was capable of feeling. The warmth of the newborn’s body settled against his chest, and for a moment, all the grand theories and academic pursuits seemed distant. This was a different kind of knowledge—one of pure love and responsibility.

“Welcome to the universe, little one,” he murmured softly, his usual air of self-assurance softening. “I’ll ensure you have the tools to understand it, all of it.” His voice was firm, but there was a newfound tenderness there that even he couldn’t deny.

The room felt unusually still as Jing Yuan stood at the door, his eyes fixed on the small form you held in your arms. His usually calm and collected demeanor seemed to waver, and for the first time in a long while, a quiet uncertainty flickered across his face. The light of the hospital room reflected in his hair, making him appear even more ethereal, as if the moment was beyond his reach.

“Are they really... ours?” His voice, usually so commanding, was now tinged with awe, almost reverence. His gaze was soft, tracing every tiny feature of the baby nestled in your arms.

You looked up, your exhaustion fading in the presence of this tender moment. “Yes, Jing Yuan. This is our child.”

Jing Yuan’s gaze softened as he stepped closer, the usual air of composure replaced by something far more profound. He stood by your side, his large frame somehow looking smaller in the presence of such innocence. You carefully placed the baby in his arms, and for a moment, Jing Yuan seemed to freeze, as though unsure of how to hold this tiny life.

The baby shifted slightly, their soft breath a quiet reminder of the fragility of life. Jing Yuan’s hands, strong and capable from centuries of leadership, trembled ever so slightly as he adjusted his grip. His heart pounded in his chest, not with the rush of battle, but with something gentler, more protective.

“They’re so small,” he whispered, his voice almost breaking. The weight of the moment seemed heavier than any military battle he had ever faced.

He looked down at the baby, his eyes reflecting the love and wisdom he had accumulated over centuries. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead, and for once, the world seemed still.

“I will protect you, little one,” he vowed quietly, the soft flutter of his capes the only sound in the room. “You will know peace, just as we do.” His fingers gently stroked their tiny hand, and in that instant, Jing Yuan knew that the battle for this child’s future would be his most important yet.

[baeshijima]

BLADE MY BELOVED ON THE BIG SCREEN IN 2025 IS THIS A DREAM AM I HALLUCINATINHF

[thedangoratio]

When your ex’s alternate self shows up where he’s exiled from and you have to explain to your coworker that he’s not here to steal identities again

Or alternatively

When you hitchhike and travel beyond your universe and see an alternate version of your ex and he’s kinda just in a different outfit and has a job now

Part 1 here but it doesn’t really have much context

(Next)

[gabiwritesboox]

Happy birthday Kakavasha!

To celebrate my favourite stress toy (affectionate), here's a little headcanon I made for his birthday last year:

After the events of Penacony, Acheron learnt about Aventurine's birthday and decided that the little dude deserves to be celebrated. To do so, she organised a surprise birthday party and invited everyone she associated with him to the group chat, so essentially Ratio, Black Swan, Topaz, Jade, Caelus and Stelle (because I headcanon them both existing at the same time and the concert trailers show them both). As you can imagine, most of them weren't the most excited for his birthday but decided to join in anyway. Since Acheron was responsible for the logistics of the party, the rest of them were only really concerned with buying gifts and attending.

Stelle and Caelus cracked their heads and stayed up all night trying to think of something, Ratio in a truly Ratio fashion left the group chat immediately after obtaining necessary information, Topaz was debating whether she really wants to be a part of it or not, and Jade and Black Swan were the only responsible adults.

Now, Stelle and Caelus finally came up with a genius idea (individually) and both left for Herta Space Station. There they passed Ratio, who was leaving the station, and they stared at each other basically like

But you know. No spoilers for now.

On the day of the event, Acheron and the others practically broke into Aventurine's apartment (Topaz made Numby steal the keys or something). In the doorway, Stelle, Caelus and Ratio met again, each holding a cat cake of their choice in hand, looking at each other incredulously until Ratio finally decided for all three of them: "Not a word about that."

Jade didn't attend the party but she made sure Aventurine could leave the work early (but she had to stay overtime, equivalent exchange queen). Aventurine came back home very confused (mostly because he DEFINITELY locked the door when he was leaving but it was open now and his keys were gone). Suddenly, everyone left their hiding spots singing 'happy birthday', nearly giving Aventurine a heart attack, but hey, some party decorations are better than an assassination attempt. Then everyone gave him their presents: first Topaz, with some fluffy cushions or plushies, acting the sweetest she could with him; then Stelle and Caelus with their cat cakes, acting oblivious to the fact that they prepared basically the same gift; Ratio handed him the critter without a word; Black Swan gave him The Pajamas™️ saying something like "They looked slutty, it reminded me of you"; and finally Acheron... didn't have anything for him, because she was so busy with the preparation she forgot about that.

Nevertheless, Aventurine loved the surprise. Only now he had no idea how to suddenly take care of three cats.

[flightnight]

A crack theory: we are still in the perfect dream, based on 2.7.

(It's some kind of Sunday-centered dream.)

1. His whole return arc seemed to me as saccharine and unsatisfying as the first Dream we witnessed (when Jing Yuan and Dan Heng saved the day together and then everybody became friends). Everything went too perfectly for Sunday.

So how has his journey of seeing real life been going so far?

He was always in a good mood, perfectly comfortable, and nearly always in control of the situation, exactly as he used to. He was never challenged or inconvenienced in a meaningful way that was out of his control.

He didn't return to the unsightly Dreamflux Reef, free from the Family's control, he returned to the happy and familiar Golden Hour.

There was a convenient Robin for him to talk at.

There were convenient Tingyuns in need of a savior with exactly his set of skills, allowing him to play a hero.

Even the seemingly out-of-control occurrences lead to positive outcomes for him. He split in two to have somebody to have a nice chat with and indulge in some light, unchallenging soul searching.

He conveniently bumped into Welt, who was able to see through his disguise, only for Welt to offer him a lift.

Which of course results in him boarding the Astral Express (because the whole crew was conveniently on Penacony too), surrounded by his new good friends who are some of the most interesting and powerful people in the universe, on their way to their next exciting and fulfilling adventure.

Because that's the best way to see real life—in the most convenient, safe and luxurious way possible.

Turns out we even had a convenient piano for him to play!

2. Let's look at the normal antagonist to playable character pipeline in HRS:

They do a bad thing;

They get defeated by us in a boss fight;

They openly admit that they were wrong and unambiguously indicate that they also realize why they were wrong;

They decide to stop doing the bad thing.

Sunday is currently hanging out between steps 2 and 3. Just saying.

[yuxinso]

sunday time???

im on an art journey and i tried to do soft lighting but lowk gave up halfway but yay !

[jude-began-pestering]

Boothill didn't just lose his daughter.

He lost his entire life.

[hoyotunes]

On the Journey from On the Journey Vision Wei, Nea, Ruby Qu, Eli.W, HOYO-MiX