#inspiration: aster

[galaghiel]

a glimpse into my dark mind (oc i ship w ctommy in my runaway au)

[typingwithmyhandstied]

I have probably said this before, but I always find it so interesting how those Morally Gray Hot Men are forgiven over the morally gray or hell just all female characters. BUT I also find it interesting which male characters are forgiven or aren't. Like one will be forgiven for killing hundreds of people and being really shitty while another will be villainized for feeling normal human emotions. This is totally not directed at Booktok (/sarc).

It's interesting to me both outside and in the text. Take the adult romance novel I read a month or so ago for example. The main character did not get mad at the love interest for being jealous and possessive. No, she thought that was hot. But when he went off to college and was really overwhelmed and feeling normal emotions and not writing her back but actually expressing to her that he was feeling overwhelmed and couldn't talk to her as much? She hated him. She was upset. She was ANGRY.

Does Booktok possibly need to humanize male characters again? Like let them feel emotions and not be just the Hot Guy.

Then, there's the ones who made one mistake, and it's off to the gallows. I have not really been paying attention, but I would be interesting to look to see because my bet is these are all the ones not described as hot, brooding man™️. Like killing a bunch of people when you are hot? Totally okay. When you are a red head and not conventionally attractive and you make one bad comment once? HORRIBLE PERSON WITH NO COMPLEXITY.

Please use empathy when looking at every character. I like to do it whether or not I agree with the characters actions. Whether or not they are forgivable. Whether or not they are evil. You can use empathy and still think a character is horrible and had no right to do something actually.

[astermath]

eddie who’s obsessed with his girlfriend’s tattoos. <3

when he first meets you he can’t believe another person in hawkins shares his love for ink. especially a girl. it’s not all that common for women to be into tattoos, so when he sees the intricate pieces adorning your arms and legs, he’s more than intrigued.

and the best part is; the closer you two get, the more tattoos he discovers.

it starts when you’re making out and he slips a hand under your shirt, lifting it slightly, suddenly seeing a gorgeous piece adorning your stomach, flowing so well with the shape of your body. then his eyes move up, and he can just see the hint of an underboob tattoo. suddenly he’s harder than he’s ever been before.

and so he finds out about all of them; the cheeky stick and poke on your hip, the “one you regret” on your ankle, and the one on your lower back that always excites him when it peeks out above your shorts.

but his favorite one has to be the one on your wrist. it’s small, most people wouldn’t even notice it, as it’s surrounded by so much other ink. it’s a little bat, to match the ones on his arm. he can’t stop looking at it ever since you got it. and now that it’s healed, he always presses a kiss to it whenever he can.

well, not like he doesn’t press kisses to all your other tattoos too.

[onestellarghost]

The day before my high school graduation ceremony a juvenile steller's jay hit my window and died before I could climb outside to hold him. I buried his body in the backyard but when I dug him back up a year later to honor his bones there was nothing left. Rest easy little guy.

[simlit]

Chosen of the Sun | | forest // seventy-five

| @maladi777

next / previous / beginning

ASTER: Well! She certainly seems like a cold one. And I’ve known my fair share of frigid women. KYRIE: Frigid does not begin to describe her. ASTER: To your credit, you two don’t look a lick alike. Maybe apples really do fall far from the tree. KYRIE: Elora isn’t my mother. She raised me, if you can call it that. But that’s the most credit I’m willing to give her. ASTER: Oh… you’re adopted… KYRIE: That’s one way of putting it. ASTER: Well, you’re in alright company. My mother didn’t care to keep me, either. But you know, something, something, one person’s trash is another person’s readymade punching bag. KYRIE: laughs That’s a much better way of putting it.  Anyways, did you need something? ASTER: Oh, no, no. I had just heard the news you’d finally woken up and decided to drop in. Thought I could play you a song or two. Music always helps the soul to heal. KYRIE: Ah, so your music’s returned to you after all. I’m glad of it. ASTER: And here I thought you’d just been babbling nonsense. How did you know? KYRIE: Must be the nightingales singing in my head. ASTER: Hm. Well, in any case, you were right. The gods took pity on me, it seems. KYRIE: It was well-earned. Perhaps gods, or ancient beasts... Who knows anymore the forces pulling our strings. ASTER: Your Grace might have made a fine bard in another life. KYRIE: laughs If only. ASTER: Ever thought of it? You know, what you’d do if this whole priest business hadn’t panned out? KYRIE: No, I never thought of it. I never thought to think of it. ASTER: Think of it now. KYRIE: I couldn’t begin to wonder. I don’t know. Maybe I’d take a leaf out of your book. Travel around and belong nowhere. Free to do as I wish. ASTER: It’s a good life. Actually, this whole situation had me questioning if I meant all that. KYRIE: And what did you decide? ASTER: That I was honest, deep down. I quite like my life. Even if I couldn’t play or sing, it’d be a godsdamned pity not to see it through. Maybe it means little, especially coming from me, but I thought you might need to hear it, too. KYRIE: I appreciate the sentiment. ASTER: Now, Yor Grace, I don’t know much about you, whether you’ve things you love or passions of your own… But you were there for me when I thought I’d lost it all. Even if reluctantly. But then, no one likes being dragged halfway across the continent in the wee hours of the morning. KYRIE: Oh, Aster. You can make anyone smile anytime you like, can’t you? ASTER: One of my few gifts. Though it’s hardly returned in earnest. You’re one of those earnest sorts. KYRIE: Only accidentally, I’m sure. ASTER: No, that isn’t it. I don’t know what to make of this whole curse mess, but I wanted to at least tell you I don’t think you should give up so easily. And, I expect, a part of you really wants to give up. KYRIE: More than a part. ASTER: Yeah. I’ve been there. But looking back on it, I’m glad I didn’t. I’d like to believe one day you’ll come to see that. Assuming you live that long. KYRIE: Thank you, Aster. Will you play for me? ASTER: Of course I will. Nothing I love more than obliging a fan. KYRIE: Just hearing the happiness in your voice again, makes me feel better already. ASTER: That’s very good of you to say, Your Grace. I’ll play you one of my favorites.

[asterlune]

written in the stars — aster lune

[gracebethartacc]

been brainstorming other stars specifically asters technically guardians/the wishing ground keepers? Liked the idea they were based on zodiacs and then my friend helped with coming up with ideas where their animal or theme plays into some kind of Disney movie or character 👀?

[princessmacedon]

what will remain

Beyond the monastery's stone walls, within the woven forest just beyond, inside that ventricular green grove, there is a statue. Its dais lays in ruin, and what once burned as passion bright now smolders 'neath the rain, smoke in the form of fragile, verdant tendrils curling between the cracks. From its two palms joined as one, beseeching in their reach, a young girl infers that it may have been a prayer, once. Or perhaps it was a story? It could have even been a miracle, but it is lost, now; only its afterimage remains.

Maria presses a thumb to a conjunction of marble and moss; she turns her hand, plants the point of another digit at the edge of its reach, and lets her palm run gently down its surface. How could she so carelessly touch such a precious thing? But she is not careless; in this moment she loves it, perhaps not as well as its maker had, but more sweetly than the passing seasons that pull it year by year back into earth's embrace. She would hear it, if she could. And she tries to do so anyway.

Being a child of Macedon, there is something strange yet fascinating in the idea of a history old enough to be lost and forgotten -- something that aches every so often, like the bones of old soldiers on a rainy day. What had been hers had been new, a still-bright thread in the weave of the world; what had been lost had been proudly kept, recited to her as a child beneath her blankets, looking up with beamish eyes. Nothing born of that seaside kingdom had lain in the earth and grown old, a fledgling thing that closed its eyes not to rust, but blood.

And so she cannot help but in turn wonder: how will what remains of Macedon look some hundred years hence? What will still sparkle in the gardens she once laughed in, and what will look like this?

There are cracks in the marble, all filled with moss. The once-delicate curl of its fingers is marred, forever, by loss, a piece of the statue broken off and vanished without a trace. The young daughter of a bygone kingdom folds her hands over its wound, its coarse, ungentle edges pressing into soft skin.

So even statues have their calluses! When she pulls her hand back, it lingers playfully at her chin, laughter flowing across nail and knuckle alike to a brook happily a-babble. How lovely it is, to her -- how she wonders if it is everything her brother fears.

Because though the gentle Hero-King had not ground their kingdom to dust beneath his boot, he had with sword and valor unified their continent -- and to begin, there first must be an end.

And there is an end: to Macedon as her brother had loved it, as he had told her its histories where their father-- in his brief presences-- would read her fairytales; as he had recounted shackles shattered and freedom won, as he had burned, brilliant and bright, with passion, with resolve, until fire splintered his bones to broken pieces and still he burned with everything he had. Like this, Maria knows of no one who loves Macedon more wholly than he.

So he must be very afraid, she thinks as she throws herself against a beast that would set a different kingdom's brother's heart to stop. Her dear friend, however, is to her as natural a companion as horse or pegasus -- more so, in fact, for this precious homeland she ponders is a land of wyverns and endless skies. The former supports her, neck acting as brace and cradle as it curls around her; she lets her head tip backwards with a laugh, and there sprawled across the heavens above, in turquoise shards, the latter peeks through a canopy of leaves.

Giggles fade to silence, and Maria lets rest her hand against her forehead, palm turned upward as if to catch the dappling sunlight.

...Perhaps Michalis sees Macedon in its solid lines, its monuments and castles, its territories and independence. Yes, then he must be afraid of such a fate as awaits this eroded statue in nameless nowhere. How of the glory and pride that had inspired its creation, only its decay remains; how the future it had been made to yearn for already lays forgotten, buried in the past. All things as made them human -- their efforts, their ambitions, their trials and losses and at last, their triumphs-- gone, to dust. Of the story behind this once-beautiful, still-beautiful statue, nothing remains.

"But Brother," the last of their kingdom murmurs, "Life does."

To the eyes of a youngest sister, there is nothing to fear in the crumbling of lines. The colors they once withheld may change in time, but so too will they spread -- they will bleed as much as they swirl, becoming less here, and more there -- and more there! Though the hues of Macedon will cease to be so distilled, they will have become a dazzling shade in a magnificent prism.

If only you could see as I do; if only I could have you understand. A sentiment he must mirror, she is sure, toward not only herself but their shared sister as well. Yet try as she might, there will always be a part of them that she cannot understand, so different were their upbringings. She had never known the weight of a crown as Michalis had, nor its looming, suffocating shadow as had Minerva. Her two beloved siblings had grown tall well before she had ever been born, as shield and blade, as well and as spade, as heritors to a proud but fledgling history and Maria, a flower in that garden, plucked and then sold.

She drinks the sun even now. It lays breezy kisses against her palm until her arm grows tired, and she turns to her side and giggles, a fearsomely tenacious dracoknight in her own right... though the words be split rather than sum. She is a dracoknight for the blood in her veins, the history in her tapestry, the friendship she forges and all the places it takes her; and she is fearsomely tenacious because she dreams not only of what Macedon will be on the morrow, but in all the days to come. Because she is sure that come a decade, come a century, come a millennium or more, wyverns will still soar in endless skies over verdant mountains, and her homeland will endure.

It will endure, Maria knows, in all the ways that matter: in the pride of a stubborn people, fearsome foes and stalwart allies; in a love of the sea's shores and the ever-climbing mountains; in bonds born in their blood, man and wyvern taking to the heavens, ineffably, irrepressibly free. That, she believes, is the wish their great grandfather had made. And so when kingdom gives way to country, when the millennia turn over in their graves, in this way, Macedon will remain.

[sunnybunnybabs]

FTFO art and meme, ch 34 related

Who knew drawing characters youve never drawn before is hard!!! Fuck you XGaster

Healer protection squad consisting of deities, someone from a different multiverse and the multiverse itself who want you fucking dead!!

It was just something funny I thought of since I just want the Gasters n Alphys dead n gone

Xtra funny lil meme I've been thinking about

[theearlgreymage]

Uh. So. Hi. I promise I'm not dead out here.

Life has been chaotic and my brain hasn't been interested in doing anything I want it to lately.

But. We're trying here. On the bright side, my classroom is immaculate and ready for the new school year to start this week.

Anyways.

Thank you so much to every single one of you that have continued tagging me 😭 It means the world to still be included in everyone's Six Sentence Sunday and WIP Wednesday Posts -

@ic3-que3n @artsyunderstudy @shrekgogurt @wellbelesbian @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @hushed-chorus @aristocratic-otter @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @rimeswithpurple @j-nipper-95 @ivelovedhimthroughworse @foolofabookwyrm-activated @cutestkilla @confused-bi-queer @facewithoutheart

You are all amazing. And I'm sure there are names I've missed, but I only went back three weeks, haha.

Now, enough babbling from me. Here's what you're all here for - a variety of 6 sentences from some of my projects that are rotting my brain.

Eirly's (a COBB project with @artsyunderstudy & @shrekgogurt)

He’s alive.  Everything I’ve done. Every line I’ve crossed.  It was all worth it.  Now if only he’d put down the bloody sword and help me out of this infernal trap.  “Snow?” I call out to him.

Aster & Narcissus (a COBB project with @ivelovedhimthroughworse)

Still, there’s too much power nestled in his hand. I could sense it when we tumbled down the hill. It was like having a sparking ember crash into my chest. He was so warm in my arms as I grabbed onto him in the fall. And when I offered him my hand, I felt that power even more concentrated. Mixed with a feeling of unbridled urgency. 

Infinity in Your Chest Pocket

Why is this slowly starting to feel like a date?  It’s not. I know it’s not. But I still can’t stop my mind from wandering down a path where it is.  As soon as Vera has left the room, I’m rushing to put my violin away and fish my phone from my jeans pocket. There’s no way I’m going to be able to handle being alone with Snow for an entire afternoon - watching him try on clothes and eating food with him. 

An Untitled Project

"[redacted]," I plead. I beg. I've never been more desperate as I am in this moment. My heart has lodged its way into my throat. If [redacted] doesn't breathe, then neither will I. I'll choke on my own heart right here before I leave him. 

Tags Under the Cut

Hello there my lovely friends. I hope you have all been doing amazing lately!!

@bookish-bogwitch @captain-aralias @ebbpettier @erzbethluna @fatalfangirl @gekkoinapeartree @henreyettah @ileadacharmedlife @ionlydrinkhotwater @johnwgrey @krisrix @larkral @letraspal @martsonmars @moodandmist @mostlymaudlin @onepintobean @orange-peony @palimpsessed @prettylightsbigcity @raenestee @skeedelvee @stardustasincocaine @stitchyqueer @tea-brigade @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @whogaveyoupermission @yellobb

[logictxt]

Can you give us the option to hug Rigel & Vega <3

(/SILLY)

I see the tone tag but you're not the first (or probably the last) to ask me this!!

short silly answer to your ask specifically: you're stuck with hugging your display X)

long less silly answer about this type of questions in general: aster is done and won't get new features, only some tweaks and quality of life stuff at most. additionally hugging/kissing/giving items just doesn't fit with my vision of them being like Actual virtual assistants in a fish out of water scenario. i was told before that other ukagaka have those features and I just. Do Not Care (not mad), as Aster isn't other ukagaka

[frisky-bitz]

if i ever become president, im making it law that all american high-schools have to read homestuck in their english classes

[astermath]

next stop; aster's 1K celebration.

₊˚⊹♡ you guuuuyyys, we hit 1K! that's amazing! i'm so grateful for every single one of you silly followers, whether you're here for my writing or my dazzling personality, i appreciate you all so much. that's why i've decided we must celebrate!

this celebration will run for an undetermined amount of time, basically; until i say so, or until requests run out! feel free to send in as many as you like, i'll try to get to all of them! again, thank you so much for being here, it means the world to me. ₊˚⊹♡

♡ daydreaming; send in a prompt from one of these prompt lists, along with a character, and i'll write a blurb / oneshot about it!

♡ love letter; mutuals only, send this in for a bit of appreciation about your blog and yourself!

♡ heart eyes; send in a prompt / idea / aesthetic / song along with a character and i'll make a moodboard based off your request!

♡ cupid's arrow; send me a short description of yourself (also personality) , along with a fandom and gender preference and i'll tell you who i'd ship you with!

♡ mirror mirror; mutuals only, send this in for a moodboard based off your blog!

₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚ tagging my mutuals!

@inkluvs @stevebabey @taintedcigs @sunshinesteviee @lilacletter @ghostlyfleur @loveshotzz @lovewheeler @skullrock @vnusology @supernovafics @reidslovely @katsu28 @kaicubus @bettysupremacy @dizscreams @kingsteve @bpdtistic @steph-speaks @lighteyed @astrxq @ang3lik @cupidsarrcws

[onestellarghost]

been in residential treatment for my mental health for the past month and things are really hard right now and making art is really hard right now and it's hard to find the silver lining in the moment but there's still good things to hold onto in spite of it all

[innocet]

What allos think a qpr is: cohabitation, possible coparenting, platonic marriage, basically just Diet Romance

What a qpr actually is: vows of destruction and violence, using other species’ political conflicts as a battleground for your petty bullshit, gay sex, a friendship older than your civilization and infinitely more complex, calling each other “my dear”

[inspirational-places]