#🌟star tag🌟
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cedar-sunshine · 10 months ago
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heads up seven up!
Thanks for the tag, @illarian-rambling!
Last 7 lines from Star - Orion POV!
He will be fine. He’s fine. He’s just- he’s just a bit weird, i guess. I can work with that.
Everything is fine.
The rain has gone from an actual downpour to just a light drizzle, although by now im sure that i’m already as soaked as i could be. It’ll be hard to start a fire, but that’s okay, i’ve done it before in worse conditions.
Featuring Orion's lovely way of dealing with mental breakdowns! Everything's fine. He's fine. This is normal. Everything is fine. Anyways!
Tagging @finickyfelix, @paeliae-occasionally, @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling, @jadiealissia, and anyone else who would like to play!
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systemasiderum · 2 months ago
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first art post on here! based on a true and very mean and evil story from our system earlier today.
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kingsillysmilez · 1 year ago
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Some oc icons
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eeveelikessoda · 4 months ago
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Chat how are we feeling
and by chat, I do mean the 5 Bittergiggle fans left after 6 months
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10yearsofdnp · 2 months ago
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February 10, 2015: Dan and Phil head home from Playlist Live, though it seems Dan is having a hard time HANDLING it! 😉☀️💼
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a-special-ship-safe-space · 28 days ago
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A lumi and her three boo-tiful ghost boyfriends. Get it ehhh? Ehhhh?
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starsandnoodles · 21 days ago
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So I’ve been putting off posting this but here is a concept I had for Kasane Teto in my Kirby Project Sekai AU. Since I have no actual doodles of Magolor (aka Anon M) in this one I ain’t going out of my way to tag him LMAO
Anyways, since Anonymous M uses the Vocaloid, Symth V, and Utah programs heavily in his music in the AU (especially for song demos and testing lyrics) I thought it’d be neat to make Teto (the main Vocaloid of his sekai besides Miku of course) have a dress to reflect that.
Her Cape is VERY similar to the one in Anonymous M’s character design (since Magolor uses a 3D model and hologram for his shows) the only difference is that the inside is red, the cape is shorter in the front, and the chain used to connect the cape together has little music notes.
Also, as a final aside, her headphones ARE the Master Crown because the design was a great idea. Argue with the wall.
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mizzfizz · 2 months ago
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hi lea :))) i'm asking for 4 and 40!! hope you're doing great 🫶
HEY CUTIEEE <33 i am doing better now that i am in bed oml, thank yew for checking up on me >:3
4. which cryptyd being do you believe in?
hmm.. i had think abt this for a minute, but i don't think i actually believe in cryptyds? i think the closest thing to a cryptyd i believe in are jinns!! they are kind of? like humans? honestly you'd have to search it up because i genuinely can't explain it 😔
40. did you have any snacks today?
I DID!! a couple days ago my arabic teacher gave me a little bottle of a sugar-free strawberry drink, and i froze it, crushed it, and ate it how i would ice. wasn't 2 shabby!! i still have some left over for tmw :33
questions from this post !
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merwynpersonalhub · 3 months ago
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Lumi redesign!! My luma baby i love her. Funny enough i could've made a oc based on like the bean folk from the beanbean kingdom bc that was originally where she was living, but now she just wanders around and sorta like a sister to luigi and mario! Instead of a hammer she has a yo-yo <3
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star-critter · 10 months ago
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Your local Tumblr opossum needs something to hyperfixate on,
HAND OVER YOUR SONIC OCS
/nf
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botanists-little-cookie · 3 months ago
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One Knee at Dinner
Desc: Asta comes to a family dinner on board the Astral Express, because she has a surprise for her girlfriend, Miya. Arlan and Peppy are there too.
(divider credit to @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more) (fic is utc as usual)
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"Dinner's ready!" Miya calls, pulling off her noise-canceling headphones now that the meal is finished. She washes her hands, before slipping her fishnet gloves back on. The other members of the Express come trickling into the room, with the exception of one - their father figure.
Miya pokes their head around the corner, watching as the door to the Express slides open. Asta comes in, followed by a confused-looking Arlan and an excitedly-bouncing Peppy. Peppy seems to notice Miya across the room immediately, barking excitedly and tackling it to the ground. Miya giggles, lifting a hand to scratch fondly at the dog's white fur. The dog just barks excitedly, licking Miya's face and barking.
Arlan comes over, whistling sharply to get Peppy to jump off of Miya. He then gives his sister a hand up, which they gratefully accept. They laugh softly, saying, "Thanks, Arlan. Did you and Asta come for dinner?"
"Mhm. It was Asta's idea, though I believe that Mr. Yang invited her." Arlan replies - which given how deep in conversation Mr. Yang and Asta are, that seems highly likely.
Arlan joins the Express Crew in the dining room, Peppy trotting loyally behind.
"Dad, Astie, it's time for dinner! C'mon!" Miya calls. Both of them jump, Asta's face burning red. She stammers out, "Oh, s-sorry love! We're coming!"
Miya ducks back into the dining room to set the table, humming softly as he gets everything settled on the table. Dan Heng and Himeko pull two extra chairs up to the table for the guests, and Peppy skulks around under the table while begging from anyone who seems like they'll drop something.
Miya chatters animatedly the entire time, enjoying having her girlfriend and brother over for dinner.
What they don't notice, however, is when Asta drops something under the table. Peppy picks it up, giving it to Arlan, who pockets it.
After dinner, Asta fidgets in her bag, growing more and more frantic. Mr. Yang shares a glance with Asta before he catches the attention of March 7th, Dan Heng, and Himeko, getting the other three Express members to clean up the dishes and leftovers from dinner.
"Lady Asta, you dropped it. Peppy picked it up and gave it to me. Here you go." and then Arlan presses something into Asta's hand, before whistling to get Peppy to follow him out of the dining room.
This leaves Asta and Miya, alone in the dining room.
Suddenly, Asta is flustered - more flustered than Miya's ever seen her.
"Well... here we are. Here we are," Asta says, flushed bright red. The thing Arlan had returned to her is being twisted in her hands, while Miya just stands there, waiting.
Suddenly, Asta drops down to one knee.
She reveals the item in her hands - a red velvet box.
"Awe, that's a cute box," Miya says, before it suddenly sinks in. When it finally hits, Miya's face grows just as red as Asta's. Finally, Asta speaks again, her voice shaking just a little.
"Miya... will you marry me?"
She opens the box, revealing the contents of the box. A ring with a rose gold setting. The main stone is a gorgeous ruby, with smaller sapphires dotted around the setting.
Miya can only stare for just a minute, blushing and stammer as it tries to answer.
"I... I..."
Asta looks up at him with hopeful eyes, which helps Miya find his voice.
"Y-yes! Yes, oh, Aeons, yes! Of course I'll marry you!"
Asta leaps up, sweeping her into a dip and a kiss. When they finally pull apart, Asta slips the ring onto Miya's finger.
Cheering from the doorway to the kitchen makes them both look up. The rest of the Express stands in the doorway, where March 7th is cheering for them. Dan Heng is smiling, a real one. Himeko also gives them a fond grin, and Mr. Yang nods at Asta with a smile. In the other doorway, Arlan is smiling too.
Quietly, Asta tells her, "I did get Mr. Yang's permission, since I know how important it is to you. He and Arlan were the only ones who knew."
"I had to prevent her from blowing too much money on your engagement ring, by the way!" Arlan interjects, which causes Miya to snicker. Asta flushes with embarrassment, burying her face in Miya's shoulder.
After a few moments, Mr. Yang speaks up. "I tried my hand at making a dessert for the occasion. It's nothing as fancy as what you make, little bird, but I think I did well enough," he says.
Miya smiles at that, saying, "Let's dig in, then."
So they settle down as Mr. Yang brings out the dessert he'd made, while Miya and their fiancée get congratulations from everyone else.
And now they can call Asta their fiancée. Holy shit, that's their fiancée.
And she's just getting happier and happier as the days go by.
"...I love you, Astie."
"I love you too, Miya."
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cedar-sunshine · 11 months ago
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Star Excerpt
I've been going back and forth on posting this for a while, but here it is! Feat: Tristan being depressed, Ori being a little off-putting. This is the VERY beginning of star, the opening words. Comment if you want me to post more anytime/if you liked it!
TWs- internalized transphobia (not incredibly overt), discussion of SI, discussion of death, discussion and minor representation of visual hallucinations.
I wrote this when I was dealing with REALLY severe depression and it hasn't been seriously edited since, so I can't vouch for it being great. Hope you enjoy it!
Tristan
It's getting cold faster than usual this year.
It feels like just yesterday that the first couple of leaves fell from the maples, but now I'm walking over ground that cracks and snaps with frost, and my breath hangs in the air like fog.
With hope, the coming winter will pass just as quickly as fall has been, collapsing in on itself in what remains of my mind. Realistically, I'll probably die before that can happen. The main question now is whether I'll die from the sickness, starvation, hypothermia, murder, or the other option. Guessing which one is going to finally take me out is the only thing left in my life that I could call entertaining, in a twisted, fucked up way. There's also a chance I eat the wrong plant and die from poisoning, but I'd argue that that falls under the last option, especially as I've practically memorized the plants in the northwest. It's been my only pastime for the past year and a half, if you don't count vivid fantasies of my own impending death.
You're never really aware of all the interesting ways one can die until you are, aren't you?
As it is, I've decided that my most likely fate will be turning back on my trail, finding the people who I've been running from with less and less conviction for the past eight months, and letting myself be ripped to pieces in whatever horrifying fashion they desire. It wouldn't be much worse than what's going on in my head already, I'd guess. And they'd be right in whatever gruesome thing they have planned for me. It's not like I haven't been asking for this since I ran.
I'm not exactly sure where I'm going, other than a vague idea of 'east'. If I even have the direction right. For all I know, I've been going in circles for months. I can see the mountains in the distance, though, so I can't be too far off. I know the silhouette of the rockies.
My half-formed plan when I first fled was to get to the rockies and find refuge in a cave, gathering food like a bear in the fall, and then count on my pursuers not being able to survive in the mountains. I'm not sure why I had thought that a half-dead, psychotic fifteen year old with identity confusion would survive out there any better than they would, but it's the only plan I have, and without a plan, I don't really have much to do other than sit down and die.
Honestly, that option has been sounding pretty nice lately.
Still, I'm nothing if not a creature of inertia. Every step, every breath, every heartbeat, only exists because I've lost the energy to do anything other than stay the same. What is in motion stays in motion, even as the friction of my brain tears at me to just stop.
I'm not sure why I don't.
The sun is bleeding up from the horizon, lighting the clouds near it a pinkish golden color, bringing color to a gray sky. The mountains are saturated with dark, vivid blue shadows and patches of gleaming white snow that hurts to look at.
The light burns my eyes, and I refocus my gaze on the ground in front of me where brown and orange leaves are encased in frost, crunching under my footsteps. With the frost, I'll be leaving pretty clear footsteps until the sun fully rises, but I can't bring myself to care. A brutal, ritualistic death, no matter how gory and painful, seems no worse than the other option.
I try to avoid thinking about the future. Whenever I do, the pull to just stop gets almost overwhelming, and the panic that causes makes everything around it worse. The stability of my mind is nothing but a coin flip, and when it's landed on heads, I try to do all I can to avoid flipping it again.
Still, the future isn't the most avoidable thing.
As I watch my worn-out shoes leave a trail in the frost and leaves, my thoughts can't help but drift towards one of my many taboo subjects.
What happens next is perhaps the scariest question I can pose to myself, mostly because I don't actually know the answer.
I can feel my pulse lift and the fog of my mind start to thicken and creep towards the lucidity I've held for almost a week now, if you ignore the flashes of blood and corpses that don't exist hanging from trees in the edges of my vision. My hands clench and unclench, fingers racing along my palms, ruined nails scratching at my rough skin.
It's not proper for a girl to have such un-ladylike hands.
It's not proper for a girl to cut her hair and hide in the woods on her own, either, is it?
Perhaps the question of what's proper for a girl isn't the most important thing right now.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my burning mind. This part of the forest doesn't have as much undergrowth as usual- notably, it's missing the rampant salal and huckleberries that I've been seeing around here, along with the old growth trees and logs that scaffold the way for smaller plants. I'd guess that it was clear-cut before the disaster, and is maybe five years out from it.
I wonder if the forest knows that it's safe now, that the power tools are dead and the constant consumerist demand has died with most of the world's population. I wonder if its trauma will live on in its occupants, teaching its deer to flee at any movement and its flowers to hide in the deepest, thickest tangles of plants. I wonder if it knows that the world has changed. Maybe it can feel that the human feet that used to trample it have lessened, and maybe it feeds on the corpses and can taste their disease and fear. Perhaps it remains unaware, always living in fear of the next hunting season or the return of the lumber companies and hikers who tear up the native plants and bring with them grasses and Himalayan blackberries. Perhaps it can see me walking through its trees and it wonders what a child so clearly unfit for this life is doing. Perhaps it waits for me to give up and die, so it can welcome me to its soil and bring me home. Perhaps it sees me as only another of the ones that have torn it from its roots and killed its children and brothers, and it only feels distrust and hatred. Perhaps it still wishes I would give up and die, but only so my threatening existence ends.
Perhaps it's just wood and leaves, and I've truly lost what's left of my mind.
I wonder what it thinks of me, if it looks beyond my humanness and sees that the blood running through my veins is the same as what pulses in its children, a cousin of the golden sap that bleeds from its bark. I wonder who it sees.
A girl with rough hands and a shattered mind, maybe. Or a boy who's met death and come back, rather unwillingly. Maybe it only sees a scared child running blindly, or an animal that sacrificed its humanity to keep its straining, breaking heart beating in its chest. Maybe something else entirely, something that's fading away from the inside out and barely even still going.
I wonder who I would see, if I was brave enough to look.
Orion
I go over the bear trap one last time, making sure that it's not being blocked by anything. It's on its last legs, rusty and creaky. It's not a pretty beast, but it does the job, even if the job might give me tetanus one day. I don't really have another option right now, so I choose to remain positive. I have it set on a rough game trail, with the jaws and trigger covered in vines and leaves. I've got a camp set up in a small cave by a cliff less than a mile from the trap, so I can check it every evening, along with the rope ones that I have on other trails. With luck, I'll get something in a couple days, hopefully big enough to last me through the winter. I dream of the day when I get a moose in my traps.
Once I get a catch, I can dry the meat for the winter, and then next spring I'll keep going east and get over the mountains. The east of the mountains is more habitable than the west, so I'll keep looking for a town of survivors there.
I know that there are people out there, and I know that those people have probably grouped up and started rebuilding societies. It'll take a bit to convince them that I'm not sick, and that I'm not there to steal their resources, but I know I can do it. People like me. I like to think that I've held on to most of my charm through what I can only really describe as the apocalypse. Maybe I'll start a family, if I meet someone there who's sweet and pretty, someone who thinks I am too. Maybe we can find a stray dog and live a small, nice life. I just need to take it step by step, and the next step is finding food.
I've always wished that I knew a bit more about plants, especially since the sickness hit and I've been doing this all on my own. I know the basics- thimbleberries, chanterelles, cedar- but not much more than that. I think it'd be helpful to be one of those people who can dig food from the ground during winter. I'm dealing, though. Perhaps a diet consisting mainly of meat isn't the healthiest thing, but I'd say that I'm actually doing pretty well, given the whole apocalypse situation.
The cliff that I've made my temporary home in is only maybe ten or fifteen feet tall, on the base of a relatively steep hill. The cave's entrance is much shorter than me, but if I crouch, I can get in and into the more sizable inner part, where I still can't really stand up. I have coils of rope shoved into a corner, and I toss my beat-up backpack on top of them before sitting on my equally used sleeping bag. It's developed rips and holes that make it not much more useful than a warm blanket, but a warm blanket is still something.
I've adopted a crepuscular lifestyle more recently, altering my waking time to match that of the wildlife. I set my traps early in the morning and check them long after the sun sets. It took me a bit, but I get around five hours of sleep every time I try, amounting to maybe ten every day. I spend the rest of my time either maintaining my body or fantasizing about the town I'll find in eastern Washington. It's not the most exciting life, but it's nice to have some routine in a world like this.
I don't feel very tired yet, so I pull over my backpack and dump its contents on the base of the cave, searching through them. My two extra knives are tied together with a worn out length of twine, along with my flint in its' case, and my bunched-up, too-large raincoat unfolds on the ground, along with a medley of other things, but it only takes me a few moments to find what I was looking for.
When I was a kid, I got three journals for one of my birthdays. I wrote through one of them before the virus hit, and the second one was finished frantically in the first few months. Those two will be burnt to ashes when I have the time, kindling soaked with things that aren't worth remembering. The one I've been using for the past year or so is about halfway through, with my ideas and feelings journaled about once a week. Most of it is plans, maps, paths over the mountains, dotted with records of where I set traps. I'm no artist, but I've sketched out ideas of what a surviving society might look like. Abstract maps are my strength.
I flip to a new page and pull my pencil out of the inner pocket on my backpack, and begin writing.
When I wake in the evening, my head rests uncomfortably on my open journal, with a messy, half finished list of the steps I'll need to take to get over the rockies. My spine aches from being curled up like a dead shrimp for hours, and when I stretch it cracks more than I think should be healthy. It's colder than it was in the morning, but I push myself to get up and shove my stuff back into my bag.
The sky is gray outside, and the air is that sort of sharp cold that hurts a bit to breathe. Every inhale reminds me that winter is soon, and that I'll be over the rockies by this time next year. Maybe I'll even have found my survivors by then, and I'll have my little life set up. I'm sure any little budding village would be happy to have a young member with trapping knowledge, someone who can contribute and still has his whole life ahead of him.
The trail I've set my traps on takes about two hours to fully complete, and a bit more with my care to avoid my own traps. I've made that mistake once, and I never plan to make it again.
The bear trap is surprisingly well hidden for a metal jaw in the leaves- its rust blends in with the leaves scattered over it, and if I wasn't aware of its existence and studying every step I take, there's a good chance I'd lose a leg to it. I feel a twinge of apology for whatever poor thing gets caught in my trap, but we all need to eat. Anyways, it's probably no more violent than any of the other ways a thing could die out here.
I return to my little cave as the first couple of raindrops start hitting the leaves, and I curl up in my sleeping bag to stay warm as I watch the rain fall.
It's hypnotizing, in a way. The quiet roar is the loudest thing in the woods, and it drowns out any other sound. Within half an hour, the rain has turned from a gentle patter to a downpour, turning the world gray outside of the cave. The cave has a helpful slant that keeps the water from running down to where I'm sitting, but the cold still ends up saturating my skin, soaking through me just as quickly as the rain would.
I lie down and turn away from the cave entrance. There's no better time to sleep than during a rainstorm.
☆☆☆
That's chapter one of star! Thanks for reading (:
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f-o-and-selfship-club · 6 months ago
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Understand 🌟Star Toy🧸 🌟Stars Shining through the Darkness💜 and 🌟Shatters Evil💛
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hufflepuffhabs · 1 year ago
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🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄
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miscealignment · 5 months ago
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were new to the misce community but we heard that specifically you had stuff about misusing the word misceverse but were having a little difficulty finding that so could you please maybe give us a link or summarize it for us? /nf /genq (sorry if phrasing is awkward it wasnt very clear what was wrong with the way people use misceverse? which is part of why were asking)
Hello 👋
Yes I don't just dislike the word "Misceverse", I despise it.
The way people use my term and its natural branchings annoys me to no end.
I created the term/terms for miscefolk (and to a certain degree alterhumans I suppose) to have something to identify under, not so people could treat it as just another fictional equivalent to omegaverse. People use the terms nearly interchangeably nowadays. Or worse they use it as a weird "misce + random fictional character/mythological creature" combination.
The misuse and bastardisations of my flag is also something that annoys me, but something I won't get into detail right now, but I think it's worth mentioning.
Im *my opinion* Misceverse is not an appropriate word to be used by any actual miscefolk person. I get into more detail as to why in this post right here.
Also just to be clear: Yes I'm aware that the nature of creation is that we have no control over what people do with our creation once it's set free into the world, especially on the internet. I certainly don't have the power neither the authority to make people stop using it if they so wish, nor do I want to have such things. I'm merely expressing my point of view and opinion on the matter since I was asked about it.
If you use "Misceverse" and like it, go off I guess. I just don't think it's something that should be used.
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jrwiyaoi · 1 year ago
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love how roman said this..
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