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aventurine-official · 6 hours
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a little red~ 🩸
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aventurine-official · 11 hours
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A place to call home 🥹❤️✨
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aventurine-official · 11 hours
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"That's a wise choice, angel~"
*Aventurine laughs softly, taking a piece of fudge and leaning against the bedframe.*
"Yes! The, ah-- the scar tissue on your shoulderblades? If that's what it is..."
*The blonde's gaze rests on such marks, and he focuses on eating the fudge to resist the urge to run his fingers along the skin.*
"Where did they come from..?"
Angel~!
*Aventurine pushes Sunday’s door open with his shoulder, walking in with a small crystal tray, its edges and top wrapped in tinfoil.*
It’s been a while~ I heard you broke down earlier— I apologize I couldn’t have been here sooner.
Had a meeting— it was very boring, but unfortunately necessary~
*The blonde sighs, setting the tray onto the counter and shifting his attention to Sunday.*
How are you feeling…? Better now?
*Genuine concern glitters in his eyes as his gaze meets the other man’s.*
I brought a treat, if that helps~?
~ @aventurine-official ♠️
[Sunday was lying on his bed in comfier clothing than his normal suit.]
Oh, Aventurine. Hello.
[He sat up with a slight stretch, his jacket shifting in a way that revealed his shirt was backless, with some marks on discolouration by his shoulder blades.]
I'm fine... ish.
What did you bring?
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aventurine-official · 16 hours
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due to popular demand i have brought more merman aventurine
as a bonus dr ratio is having his doctor moments
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aventurine-official · 21 hours
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bust... or maybe i'll take it all!
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(Ooc: I would very very very much like to read it akdnsjfjjfj ~ Mod Minie)
what if i told you i have written a version of final victor with fool!aventurine
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May all Aventurine wanters be Aventurine havers!! 🎟️
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(Ooc: Oh my god I wasn’t expecting you to reply so fast sjdjsjdkdkkskekrkrndj
Thank you so so much! I’ve actually brainstormed some lore in the DMs with a mutual of mine lmao I freaked out seeing your art and just started to rant to them… I sort of??? have a backstory down djdndjfkf
I’d gladly like to hear more of your ideas if you’re open to it! For authenticity ofc, I’d want you to be happy with my interpretation lol
My DMs are open if you need!
I am always interested lskdjdjd any lore chunks, playlists, I’d be happy to see, especially to make my vision align more with yours!
If you have any other art too, feel free to let me know! I’ll see what I can do for blog aesthetic rn ahaha
Thank you so so so much genuinely. I’m very excited for this! ~ Mod Minie)
I. I saw your Masked Fool Aventurine fanart and I absolutely fell in love with the concept gskdgkfkfsa
I'm always so envious of other people who draw well because it's all so impressive!
That specific piece of art sparked something in my imagination and now I have so many ideas gskdgskgsd
I actually rp as Aventurine on a few different blogs on here, and I was wondering if I could make a rp blog based on your art and concept with all credits to you ofc!!!
I haven't felt this inspired in a while kshkhdskhs so it may sound silly but I just wanted to ask!
I hope you're doing well, and no pressure to reply to this whatsoever!
~ Mod of @aventurine-official
asdkfdsk i would be so honored!!! i'd better make some more art and write some more things in that case.... i have more misc thoughts and a small playlist i can drop too if you or anyone else is interested! i love writing and making aus especially so please pick my brain if you want!! but yes, absolutely that would be okay!! thank you so much :,)
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Oh, can I help you?
“Fireflies are such magical creatures, aren't they? They may throw themselves at a flame or suddenly grow old, but every night before that, they will shine brighter than the stars.”
— FIREFLY 
A sweet and kind young girl who is doing her best. She attempts to help others out and is always more than happy to hold a conversation with other people. Firefly cares immensely for the people around her and has a lot of compassion for others. 
AGE: Adult
PRONOUNS: She/They
FACTION: Stellaron Hunters
— NOTES ABOUT THE CHARACTER
I HC Firefly as bisexual, but I don’t think I’ll be doing romantic roleplays with her. 
Entropy Loss Syndrome will be something I will mention in RP. 
She’s probably gonna go out of her way to help you if you’re not doing great. She’s a nice gal, even if she’s part of the Stellaron Hunters.
However I do think that she can be ruthless when she needs to be, so keep that in mind. 
— NOTES FROM THE MOD 
I use they/them pronouns!
I am a minor. NO NSFW. 
I love interacting w/OCS. 
If you want to RP a specific situation you’re free to!
I get wordy sometimes with my replies. No need to respond with the same amount of energy.
I respond quickly, even though I’m in school.
Feel free to say hi in the inbox!
No flirting with the mod. I’m taken. :) 
I am the same person that mods @yingchens-writings, @dreamingmachinery, @nihility-zel and @robbery-dollie, so the format is NOT stolen.
If you want to use my formats, ASK FIRST. I will say yes. 
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Hello! I'm Misha, and I'll be your bellboy!
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Welcome to the Reverie Hotel! I hope your vacation here in Penacony is satisfactory and that you have a pleasant dream!
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I’m here to assist any guests with whatever they might need! Working in the hotel has been a dream— joke not intended, aha…
There are so many interesting stories in the Reverie! Sometimes, I’ll be nearby and I’m able to hear some of the guests swapping tales of their adventures.
They’ve been to all sorts of planets, been involved in so many things, and it all sounds so exciting! Travelling the galaxy is my dream, but… I don’t really leave the hotel, let alone Penacony…
Maybe one day…? Sometimes the Trailblazers let me visit on the Astral Express, and it’s so cool! Maybe I’ll be able to travel with them in the future.
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Notes from the moderator:
Guidelines:
~ Keep the asks sfw if you please! nsfw will not be tolerated as Misha is a minor.
~ No random links in asks unless they are links to other Tumblr posts (if they are there, please specify what they are)
~ Be kind, please. Any hateful comments related  but not limited to racisms, sexism, homophobia, ableism, ageism and transphobia will not be tolerated here and you may be blocked.
~ I will not be shipping Misha with anybody-- self-explanatory, he's underage
~ Try to avoid sending DMs to the mod unless you are another mod (in which case, feel free!)
~ Anons are more than welcome here! You may have a personalized tag and everything :)
List of current anon signoffs here
Key (if applicable):
“ “ : for dialogue
** : for movements
( ) : ooc
Tags:
#in every shade of blue 🌊 : Art reblogs
#let me take your luggage! 💼 : Random thoughts and calm moments
#at your service! 🧹 : Asks from anons and others
#travel log 📝 : Interactions with other Honkai Star Rail blogs
#the land of dreams 🌟 : Interactions with characters from Penacony
#dear friend ⏰ : Interactions with / mentions of Clockie
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White Night 🌙
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Preserve [ added to inprnt ]
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"I wish you the best of luck."
This scene got me in shambles...
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clipped wings, burned scars
Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54268441
TWs: Panic Attacks, Unintentional Self Harm, Branding, Throwing Up, Vague description of blood
_________________________________________________________
The coarse sand under his feet. Rough, gloved hands locking around his skinny wrists. The fleeting glimpse of twinkling stars.
Loud, foreign tongues bellowing at him. The pain in his scalp after his barley-blonde hair is pulled relentlessly, mockingly. The spots in his eyes after some unknown tall, bulky men pulls at his eyelids and shine their torch to his bicolour eyes, hissing and jeering venom.
The heavy weight of the cold , rusted iron they lock around his neck and wrists. The smell of dampness and mould behind steel bars, baring him for all to see. The leftover rations in a plate they slid under his door, cold. The rags of clothes that cling onto his small, skinny frame, providing little comfort when he curls his back against the corners of his cell to sleep.
The pit in his stomach when he is thrown out of his cell, guards flanking his sides with pointed weapons and tasers.
The sack of sand he is handled onto, chin scraping against the material as they push his head down.
The heat of the furnace nearby when they take out a red-hot branding iron with a unique set of numbers, fresh from the blacksmith.
The bruising grip in his hair and back when they take off his neck shackle.
He remembers the small breath he takes in before pain. White-hot, pure burning pain against the left pulse on his neck. It burns his skin and the light from his eyes. He remembers the smell of sizzling flesh against the hot metal when they remove it.
Gloved fingers feeling up his new scar, sending rockets of pain until the mark settles, and only then are they satisfied. They dab it with a cold, damp cloth and lock his shackle back around his neck.
They don't feed him for another week.
He stops feeling the pain when, three months later, his persistent cells heal over the burn scars and his captors force him to sit still as a surgeon-lookalike carves the numbers into the same place, this time with tattoo pen and ink.
~~
Aventurine wakes up with his lungs on fire. He tries to sit up, regain his breathing, and the skin on his neck pulls. White-hot, burning pain sear the serial number set in his skin and he chokes. His pajamas stick to his back with cold sweat as he scrambles, pressing the cold back of his hand to the brand, pretends it's not there, and inhales shakily.
His stomach lurches and he barely makes it in time before his stomach empties its contents, acid burning the back of his throat as he struggles to pull back his hair.
His fingers brush over the not-yet smooth skin around his brand, phantom pain swirling in the skin where he became an asset, nothing more.
Half an hour later, Aventurine changes into his usual outfit: colourful, distracting. He hates to admit it, but Ratio's remark on him being similar to a peacock wasn't completely wrong.
But he can't grow out of it.
Just like how he can't get used to the feeling of nothing around his neck, so he settles for a leather collar snug around the base of his neck, and ignores the whispers behind his back about his apparent promiscuity.
Just like how his wrists feel unnaturally light without cuffs, so he wears the most expensive watch and bracelets he can find, reminds himself that he chose to wear it, it wasn't forced, he's not back there-
Just like how his mind yearns yet trembles at the idea of skin-to-skin contact, so he wears thin, low-cut gloves with rings so he never has to properly feel the shape of another's hand.
Just like how he misses the weight that his shackle once provided upon his shoulders, so he made sure his jacket had thick, soft fur lining along his neck to compensate, and to remind himself that he is living a better life now, he won't be starved if he drops a fork-
The pride Aventurine once took in being a Sigonian- an Avgin, died along with whatever semblance was left of his livelihood after years of xenophobia coated in venom.
So he wears rose-tinted shades, the same as the pink in his eyes in hopes of…… he's not quite sure.
His lungs are still are still burning, fingers numb when he sits on the couch next to the dreampool. His vision is blurring more with each passing second, fingers tangled tightly in his locks, glasses discarded next to him.
Aventurine blinks, and he returns to the cell of his nightmares. No, no, no, he can't be back there, he's with the IPC now, he can't-
He sees oversized shackles around small wrists, sees the chain connecting his wrists to his neck shackle, sees the dirt and grime caking his skin, his clothes, everywhere-
He gasps for air but grasps none. His chest burns with much more than a need for oxygen as he curls himself against the sofa as he once did against stone-cold walls, muscle memory more than consciousness.
He only registers that he is crying, when a salty drop lands in his gasping mouth, His scalp is numb  just like back then as rough hands his fingers pull at blond strands desperately.
His hands shake limply when it hits again.
Phantom pain of the same magnitude press itself against the serial number engraved into the skin of his neck, once smooth and pale now scarred and tainted.
He can smell the hot iron again- Oh Qlipoth he can smell the branding iron again, red-hot and smoking as it approaches him steadily, his head is pushed ruthlessly against a bag of sand, forced to expose the young skin of his neck-
Aventurine all but whimpers, nails clawing at the numbers burned into his mind, pain of the motion unfelt as he tries, tries to disfigure the mark, make it unreadable, scratch the ink out, anythingpleaseIcan'tdothisIcan't-
He only gives his torn skin repose when he feels warm liquid coat his digits and tentatively trickle red down his neck, the sensation not unfamiliar.
Still, Diamond's threat rings clear in his ears.
"Fail this mission and you knows what happens, Aventurine. Lose the cornerstones… well, then you wouldn't be Aventurine anymore, would you, [REDACTED]?"
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aventurine is good at flirting but cannot handle being flirted with send post
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