Robin- Honkai Star Rail
I finally got around to drawing Robin from HSR this week :)
I had a lot of fun messing around with the lighting and composition on this piece :)

#ryland grace#phm#rocky the eridian#project hail mary spoilers

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Robin- Honkai Star Rail
I finally got around to drawing Robin from HSR this week :)
I had a lot of fun messing around with the lighting and composition on this piece :)

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[ . . . ] he feels ridiculously out of place , like a fish out of water —— & though he'd brought his companion , taroumaru , as always , there's a lingering sense of dread / a feeling of isolation from the rest of the world . ( it has to be the silence that is evoking the foreboding apprehension , if a pin were to be dropped from across the room he'd swear he'd be able to hear it , loud & clear . ) ❝ i hope it's okay if taroumaru waits by the door , i don't want him to . . . uh . . . track in more mud than he already has . ❞ because he'd stepped right into a mud puddle 'fore their arrival & they had already been running late —— if he'd taken the time to wipe his best friend's paws off they'd be even later & he's already anxious enough just being in @halovien's presence . if need be he's more than inclined to clean up , once he's excused . ❝ ayato won't be able to make it today so i was . . . sent in his place . ❞ unwillingly , if that detail mattered at all . [ & though he's well aware that there's no one ayato trusts half as much as he trusts him it still makes him uncomfortable being his substitute for the time being . ] ❝ he tried to make it , i swear . ❞
and so , with his words , they , too , intertwine fingers in communion with that above . corpses always remind him of the war that plagued their early years , but the thought is cast away as quickly as it had come . instead , they focus on the task at hand — salvation for this poor soul . ezra feels a horrible sadness overcoming , as ever . but just like that , their attention is requested . he thinks a swift , ❛ amen , ❜ before rising to follow . ( he could spend eternity here , mourning just one dead , but gabriel always moves faster than him when addressing the passed . it wasn't always that way . ) he can't help the tears that flow already . they never did get rid of that habit . ❛ gabriel . ❜ a longer stride to catch up . ❛ we could've given them a moment longer . ❜ but it's never enough , a statement said more often than not . ❛ but i helped make some of the preparations before , so it shouldn't be too much . ❜
@halovien .
「 SQUEEZE 」 bc why not
( subtle nsfw / accepting !! )
𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄, but at some point Sunday had started taking up residence in her room. It was nothing egregious; her room, according to him, was simply the most quiet part of the Express due to its separation from the rest of the crew. The large expanse of it also meant that it was an invariably more comfortable and accommodating living space reminiscent of the lavish arrangements he'd been used to on Penacony. And, since no one else seemed to particularly trust him in full just yet, Stelle surmised it was also some strange self-imposed punishment to keep himself in check— on the off chance she had to break out her baseball bat.
Whatever. Stelle isn't really surprised that, once again, he's taken up space on her couch; though he pays her little mind beyond the occasional hum of acknowledgement when she speaks. His nose has been buried in a book for a good system hour at this point.
What are you reading? she'd asked.
He hadn't looked up. A book.
No— I know that; what book are you reading?
Sunday had the audacity to merely show her its cover instead of verbally giving her an answer. Stelle's irritation fluttered a moment, but then she reeled it in. It's wasn't worth it. If she kicked his butt now, she'd never hear the end of it from Himeko and Mr. Yang. She was the one that had been the deciding factor in his tenure on the Express, after all.
In hindsight, maybe Stelle should have been less of a pest.
At present, she tries peering over his shoulder a few times, but ultimately gets a wing blocking her view or he turns the book away just enough she can't see its contents. Stelle highly doubts it's because he's reading something potentially sensual. Somehow, she can't imagine the esteemed former Oak Family head and the concept of sensuality existing in the same space. He's pretty to look at, certainly, but a little too uptight. A little too straight-laced.
She opts for annoying him instead. She's good at that. Stelle pokes him once in the arm with little reaction. Then again, this time at his side. If he reacts at all, it's hidden behind that damn book.
May I help you, Miss Stelle?
❝ No, I'm fine. ❞ The reply is punctuated by a gloved finger pressing into the curve of his cheek. She thinks, for half a second, she can feel him tense. Stelle cracks a grin.
It goes on like this for several minutes. She pokes and prods, invading his personal space just enough to test the waters repeatedly without being wholly invasive and unkind. Her touches never linger for more than a second and never with more pressure than a feather lightness.
It must have finally reached a boiling point because the next thing she knows, Sunday's own gloved hand is sinking into the soft flesh of her thigh and squeezing. Hard. It feels like a reprimand.
She had planned to poke him yet again, but that thought derails off its proverbial tracks instantaneously with the contact. Stelle is stricken into dumbfounded silence. Where had that come from?
The trailblazer is unsure if he even realises the intimacy of such a gesture. She hates that her cheeks warm just thinking about it. That he has any sort of effect like that on her at all. With a startled clearing of her throat, Stelle withdraws.
Her phone is suddenly far, far more interesting and she misses the subtle upturn of his lips behind his reading.
@halovien ㅤ/ㅤ based on our convos. ♡
ㅤㅤwings. on one’s head. that was new. and fascinating. the caeling couldn’t help but fixate his golden gaze on those greyish feathers, unconsciously stepping closer to the stranger as he observed the subtle upward shiftings. winged beings were surprisingly sparse in the cosmos, and he’d never met anyone like the man standing before him. he wasn’t a bird, was he? he had no visible beak. and he couldn’t be a klavi’yn, either, since there was no lava coming out of his mouth… oh, his wings flapped! what was the word mortals used to describe what gave them warmth in their stomachs to the point they wanted to giggle and squeeze their object of interest again? ah, right. adorable.
ㅤㅤ“can you fly with those?” though they certainly didn’t look very aerodynamic…

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Happy Holidays
@halovien // c.
This was likely the first time he'd met someone affected by Lady Bonajade who hadn't already fallen into immeasurable ruin. It had all the hallmarks of a Stellaron, but wasn't what he was inquiring into. What had begun as some hope of spreading intel on Amphoreus had dovetailed into an unexpected--but not unwanted--meeting with the former Oak Family Head. As a former Memokeeper, he couldn't help it; their ilk were inexorably drawn to the makers of history no matter who they were, and someone who'd spent much of his life in a land that was the offspring of Remembrance and Enigmata was no exception.
"...There might be a way of defying that deal you two were more or less forced to make," the entity insinuated, arms folded as he leaned against a slanted wall of the Party Car, mostly unnoticed (Aeons, was Shush's voice disconcertingly familiar--). "As a Doctor of Chaos, we're one of the few factions that deals closely with the occult. If you were contracted into a deal where you can't communicate directly with your sister, you have to approach this like... the fae. I'm not saying it'd be a magic bullet, but every contract has its loopholes. Even hers."
✧・゚ @halovien sent: ❝ r-really vasha, you needn't be so gentle with them. ❞ gabriel clears his throat, mentally scolding himself for the slight crack in his voice. his wings spread out across his shoulders, grand and fluttering when the blond so much as grazed them. he damned them for being so sensitive, yet he truly couldn't be too upset when it also felt so, so wonderful. his wings were often tucked back within his hair due to their size, so having them unfurled in their whole glory for the other to caress left him feeling expose. he was uncharacteristically shy and demure about it, golden gaze trying to remain indifferent ( though failing, if the blush across his cheeks were anything to go by ). ❝ i'm not fragile. you don't need to touch them as if they're glass. ❞ / unprompted, always accepting.
gabriel is terribly, sickeningly sweet. his gaze tracks those wings of theirs with such keen interest so often that he had given up on any pretext of not being utterly fascinated — by the soft, delicate things that would betray the halovian with a slight flare, a fidget, flitting as though they had a will of their own in such a manner that had aven’s words trailing off, distracted, and an apologetic smile playing on his lips: he hushes the other now, guides him to settle back down against his chest and relents with a hand straying to card through his hair, soothing. they’re bigger than he realized, now that the entire wingspan is laid out before him like this. divine. but still gentle, still soft beneath his featherlight touches. “ you're cute, birdie. ” he could humour those claims nonetheless, would be content to keep him here, soft and pliable, merely admiring without disproving that which is patently false… but he knows there is an unspoken trust in being allowed this close — being allowed to touch. gabe would never permit it if this wasn’t okay, and if it became too much, he would stop in a heartbeat. “ but are you sure…? ” his hand returns with the ghost of a touch, just to watch with satisfaction as their shoulders tense in anticipation, the wing ruffled, and he huffs out a laugh that is embarrassingly fond. smooths the feathers back out, a movement as gentle as his hands were capable of producing. “ seems pretty sensitive to me. ”