#don’t ask that pls thanks

[bug4bee]

itty bitty black pearl cookie that’s part of a lineup im doin 2 celebrate reachin elite this last season

[betterthanbatman1]

Can anyone tell me where this is from?? pls pls

[tojiscrack]

to my all little liars!! (edit: wtf happened to my english? 😭)

we’re at 24.6k words rn 😟 if you plan on reading it next week, i recommend you read it on the weekends when there’s no school or work for you waiting in the morning 😀

calling in the troops rn ‘cause there’s still one final scene i have to write and it’s gonna be LONG (this isn’t including the bonus scene btw) but it’s extremely important for the story to continue, and without it, the rest of the story literally cannot go on 😭

we’re locking in guys. it’s 100% gonna border 30k words for sureee. sm has happened in that ONE chapter and i literally cannot wait to release it for all of you, you have no ideaaa

gonna go to bed and then wake up, study, break, write for the fic, repeat. had to randomly drop an update here cuz i’ve been edging you guys for so long i’m sorryyy, but it really is nearly here <333

edit: fck it guys i’m writing it rn (the immediate comments got me motivated)

[ccherrybloom]

Ashtrays & Antihistamines Pt. 1

oc, m, hayfever, wc: 2.8k

Part 2

CW: foul language and allusions to gay sex lol

~~

a.n. + summary: i don't think i've ever posted a snzfic on this blog, but there's a first for everything, right? featuring my lovely little ocs and their stupid dumb little band. i don't normally write them in snzcerions, but...every now and again i can’t help myself and one slips through the cracks lol. This particular one centers around my absolute shithead of an Irishman, Peter, as he deals with a hayfever flare up for the first time in like…twenty years, lol. of course, ever the lucky one, this begins to happen during the band’s first mini-tour. Cue shenanigans. I hope you all enjoy!

~~

“hH’RRSHhiue!” Peter fell into himself with a harsh sneeze, the band’s rundown van jerking sporadically with its driver’s sudden movement. “Goddamnit!”

“Bless.” Geoff offered lazily from the passenger seat as he turned a page of his book, unbothered by the vehicle’s erratic veer. “That’s like the tenth one since we’ve left Dublin.” The bassist pointed out, shooting the guitarist a pointed look from the corner of his eye. “You alright?”

“Fuckin’ hayfever,” Peter answered as he scrubbed his palm aggressively against the underside of his nose, careful not to put too much pressure against his nose rings. He followed it up with a drawn-out sniffle. “I’m fine. Christ.”

“I don’t remember ya being like this before,” Maurice quipped from the back of the van, leaning forward to join in on the conversation. “I mean hell, ya lived in Dublin fer how many years…?”

“Longer than you, Frenchie.” Peter retorted as he thrust a tattooed hand backwards to try and shove the singer away. Maurice easily dodged with a laugh, swatting at Peter’s hand as Geoff instinctively reached out to steady the van as it began to swerve again. “You can piss right off.”

“Look, I’m just sayin’, yer born and bred Irish — who knew all it took was a few months in London for yer own country to turn on ya.”

“I said piss off.”

“Who gives a shit!” Chris suddenly interjected as he pulled his headphones from his ears, a curly lock of the drummer’s dark hair falling between his eyes. “Just keep your bloody eyes on the road! I dunno ‘bout you lot, but I’d like to get there in one piece.”

Maurice backed off with a snicker, hands up in surrender as Peter quickly flipped Chris off in the rear view mirror before returning his full attention to the road.

After Peter and Maurice had both left Dublin for London a few months shy of one another, the four men began to pour almost all of their free time into their passion project, The Undergrounds. Much to their genuine surprise, people seemed to really enjoy their band’s sound and performances, so much so in fact that they’d hit a point where pubs across the UK were beginning to reach out to them, asking the group to come play for their open mic nights, with some even offering payment. With the requests getting further and further away from their homebase in London, the band finally decided to bite the bullet and buy themselves some transportation, namely their shithole of a van lovingly referred to as Van Halen. Despite its old clunkiness, it really did do the trick, and allowed the men to head across the border on their first ever ‘Let’s-Not-Call-It-A-Tour’ Tour. Realistically, with two of the four members being from (or as close to ‘from’ as one could be, in Maurice’s case) Ireland, the band had picked up quite a bit of traction across the small country with the men getting many open mic night requests which they normally had to turn down, much to Peter’s dismay.

At least until now, that is.

Peter had noticed something was off after their show in Dublin the night prior. At first he just assumed he strained his voice singing backup vocals — a product of over-excitement from getting to play in his old stomping grounds. But by morning the scratchiness in his throat lingered and was now accompanied by faint itchiness in his nose that forewarned him of worse yet to come. 

By the time the men packed up their gear and filed into the van late that afternoon, the unwelcoming prickle that had been festering in his nose demanded more attention, and his eyes began to itch in a maddening way that he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid back in Belfast. Initially he tried to ignore it, chalking it up as a residual reaction to dust from the old pub, or that it had been awhile since Van Halen had gotten a good clean. But as time slowly passed on their nearly three hour drive to Cork, and the itchiness in his sinuses progressed into full-blown sneezing, the reality of the situation began to dawn on him. He was immediately thrust back to Belfast, memories of summers spent constantly sneezing thanks to the fields near his old home, his eyes watering, his nose running, each summer spent absolutely miserable. He hadn’t had a hayfever flare-up in years, thinking it was something he had thankfully outgrown once his mum had moved them to Dublin, but yet here it was, back to rear its ugly head once more all these years later. The familiar lush scents of the countryside that used to conjure such vivid memories of home were now turning every intake of breath the guitarist took into a gamble. 

The itchiness in Peter’s nose only seemed to increase in urgency as Van Halen bumped its way through the Irish countryside. The landscape blurred past the windows, a mix of greens and greys under a sky that threatened rain.

“Nearly there.” Geoff hummed, taking a peek at the map app on his phone. “About another twenty or so.”

“Thank fuck.” Peter grumbled with a sniffle, his eyes squinting past the relentless itchiness. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and pulled his glasses up slightly before slamming his wrist into one eye and scrubbing hard.

“I think we could all do with a pint,” Maurice chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “Especially you, Peter.” He added, gently poking the man’s shoulder.

Peter managed a weak chuckle in response, his wrist still pressed hard into the corner of his eye. 

“Just keep it steady Pete, yeah?” Chris leaned himself forward and rested his elbows onto his knees, eyes scanning the road ahead. “Not much longer and you can go ahead and drown yourself in whatever local brew you fancy.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but the van hit a particularly bumpy patch of road, jolting everyone inside. Instead he just swore under his breath, turning his full focus back towards the road as Cork began to appear on the horizon.

“There she is.” Geoff whistled, pointing ahead. “Welcome to Cork, lads.”

Peter managed to manoeuvre Van Halen expertly through the narrow streets of Cork despite battling his allergic reaction, the van’s tires crunching over cobblestone as he pulled them into the parking lot of their dingy motel.

“Home sweet home.” Maurice hummed as he clapped a hand onto Peter’s shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the other two members filed out. “At least fer the next few days.”

Peter leaned back into the driver’s seat and let his eyes drift closed as he exhaled deeply, shutting off the engine. He only cracked an eye back open when he felt Maurice give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You alright?” The singer asked, his voice low and expression soft.

“I’m grand, Mur.” Peter grumbled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. The real truth of the matter was that he was miserable, itchy, and absolutely dying for a cigarette — not that he cared to say any of that out loud. 

The guitarist pulled off his glasses to give his watery eyes another scrub before continuing. “Just got a fierce bad dose of this nonsense…This shite best be all said and done before our show or I’ll–hh! hH’ITSHHhiue!”

“See, but that’s what we don’t wantcha doin’, actually.” The blonde teased as he patted the guitarist’s shoulder before the other quickly slapped it away as if he were swatting a mosquito.

“You fuck right off, Murry.” Peter sniffled hard, dragging the backside of his hand beneath his nose. “Just get yer shit and get goin’.”

Maurice did as he was told and hopped out of the van with Peter not far behind as the pair hurriedly began to help the others unload. With the sky steadily darkening the four moved quickly, eager to avoid the potential rain. Luckily the unloading and reloading of Van Halen had become more and more familiar with each passing gig, and it didn’t take them long to have all the necessities laid out beside the van, ready to go.

The motel itself was a shabby vintage looking two-story building, its neon sign flickering with an almost uncertain intermittence as if it were clinging onto its last shred of life.

Maurice and Geoff took the lead, carrying the group’s heavier equipment while Chris and Peter followed suit with their four bags. They bustled their way to the reception desk where they were met with a disinterested looking clerk who simply handed them a single worn key with a faded plastic tag attached.

“Yer in room 107.” He mumbled, barely looking up from his magazine.

“Cheers, mate.” Geoff scoffed as he shot the others an exasperated look and snatched the key. He led the group down the dimly lit hallway, their feet dragging against a carpet that had clearly seen better days. When they reached their room Geoff wasted no time unlocking the door and shoving it open, revealing a tightly packed space with two queen beds, a small television, and a bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been updated in at least two decades.

“Alright, how we doin’ this?” Chris asked as he tossed the bags he had onto the closest bed.

“By drawing straws, of course.” Geoff instructed as he pulled a set of straws he had prepared earlier out of his pocket. “Shortest straw shares with the other shortest straw.”

The others agreed on this being fair enough and drew their straws, quickly comparing them.

“Well, it’s you and me, innit?” Chris said as he held up his short straw next to Peter’s. He gave the other a playful nudge and smirked. “Just don’t go tryin’ nuffin, yeah?”

Peter sniffled thickly and shoved Chris away before pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, careful to avoid the rings, and itched it aggressively. “I got enough of ya the first time.” He moved from rubbing his nose to scrubbing his eyes, trying to ignore the way Maurice bristled at the mention of their one-off fling. “Won’t be doin’ that again.” Chris flipped him off and called him a wanker, but he went ahead and ignored that too.

“Hey, Pete,” Geoff called out as he tossed his bag onto the other bed. “Why don’t you take a shower? Might help clear up a bit of that hayfever.”

Peter, who’s eyes had started to glaze over, did his best to nod in the ginger’s general direction. “That’s the best ideee-hha I’ve heard all d—hh! hhUH’DITSHhhiuew! ‘IGKSHhhiueww!” He doubled over hard into cupped hands, his entire body tensing violently with each sneeze before he groaned thickly against his palms. “—all damn day.” He finished on an exhale, voice cracking. “-snf- Jaysus…”

“Bless you.” Geoff offered, a twinge of sympathy in his voice. “You know you really ought to—”

“G’way outta that.” Peter interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand as he trudged his way to the bathroom, eyes half-lidded. “Last thing I need is yer bloody mother hennin’, Geoffrey.” He added before pulling the door closed behind him. 

Flicking the light switch, Peter had to wait a full second before the dull fluorescents sputtered to life, illuminating the unsightly bathroom as he dragged his feet towards the shower. The tiles were cracked and the floor was splotchy, but he didn’t care, he just wanted some relief. 

The pipes whined in protest as he turned on the taps before water began to sputter out from the shower head. The water pressure seemed abysmal at best, and Peter cursed to himself as he leaned his weight against the sink, waiting for the water to warm. As steam steadily started filling the small space, he could feel the tightness in his sinuses ease up slightly, making his nose run. The liquid caught on his septum ring and trailed rapidly down towards his upper lip. Blowing out an annoyed breath, the guitarist took a second to wipe his nose haphazardly against his sleeve before stripping and stepping into the tub, letting the warm water cascade over him with an appreciative sigh.

Outside of the bathroom Geoff and Maurice were seated on each side of their shared bed as they sorted through their bags.

“Think he’ll live?” Maurice asked as he pulled out his plastic toiletry bag, setting it to the side.

Geoff gave a small shrug in return, glancing towards the bathroom door. “I reckon it could go either way with that dumb git.”

Maurice snorted at this, but his knit brow betrayed his feigned air of nonchalance. “Just hope the shower helps, I s’ppose. Don’t think we can really afford to have him down fer the count.”

Chris, already sprawled out on the other bed, headphones back on, piped up. “Eh, he’ll be alright. Just needs to wash off whatever’s settin’ ‘im off. It’s no big, yeah? You French people are wound too tight.”

Maurice rolled his eyes at this but chose to ignore the drummer’s comment. “I just don’t want anythin’ to screw this up for us.” He murmured as his eyes fell onto the bathroom door. “That’s all.”

“hh-Hh! hH’dDZTShiueww!” Peter sneezed loudly and openly, his head snapping downwards as the shower’s stream continued to steadily pelt against his tattooed back. He blinked hard, eyes bleary as the need to sneeze lingered in his nose like an unwelcome houseguest. Instinctively he brought up a hand to hover over the lower half of his face as his breathing began to come out in shuddering, shallow gasps. “hah…Ha’TdSHhhiuew!” This one bent him double and he swore immediately afterwards, more than a little frustrated as he blew his nose harshly into his hand. Had his hayfever always been this maddening? He couldn’t remember. It had been a long time since he’d had a flare-up, probably pushing two decades at least. The thought that it had come back now during the band’s first tour just pissed him off further.

Sighing, Peter turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, reaching out for one of the worn threadbare towels from the hotel rack. He dried himself off quickly before wrapping the towel dangerously loose around his waist – the only member who had yet to see his dick was Geoffrey, and the guitarist couldn’t give less of a shit if today was the day that changed.

Wiping a hand across the fogged bathroom mirror, Peter allowed himself a moment to peer at his reflection as he dragged a hand through his damp, dark hair and threw on his glasses. His green eyes were still red-rimmed and watery, his nose and cheeks were decorated with a soft dusting of pink…he looked pathetic, but at least the shower was helping him breathe a little easier.

Residual steam billowed out into the cooler room as Peter made his way out of the bathroom, catching the eye of Maurice.

“Peter,” The singer looked up from his bag and offered the dark-haired man a small smile, taking in the other’s lean frame. “How ye fairin’?” 

“Bit better, I’d say.” Peter hummed, though a small sniffle still escaped him as he wandered over to his bag, making Maurice frown.

“Reckon you’re up for a drink?” Geoff asked, not looking up from his phone. “We were thinking of checking out this pub nearby. Interested?”

Peter mulled it over for a moment, turning his back on the others before dropping his towel and pulling on a pair of boxer-briefs. “Yeah, g’wan then.” He finally affirmed, clearing his throat against a fist as he fished an old t-shirt from his bag. “Pint’ll do me some good.”

“Are ya sure?” The singer asked, chewing on his lip nervously as Peter wiggled into a pair of jeans. “If yer not feelin’ up for it–”

“Sod off, Maurice, will you?” Chris suddenly retaliated as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Actin’ like you’re his bloody mum or somefin’ just cos you’re shaggin’. Prat.”

Peter couldn’t help but snort as Maurice glared daggers at Chris, his face turning a delightful shade of crimson. The fact that he and Maurice slept together on occasion wasn’t exactly a secret – their initial one-night stand was how the two had met in the first place, after all – but it wasn’t something that was often discussed amongst the group. Peter personally didn’t care, but Maurice clearly did.

“You don’t see me actin’ like a bloody bellend even though I’ve also sucked his–”

“Ça commence à bien faire!” Maurice shot up suddenly from the bed, cutting Chris off as his native tongue spilled rapidly from his mouth. “Fer the love of God, no more, thank you!” 

The singer hurriedly made a beeline for the hotel room door, grabbing his coat as he rushed past the others, his face absolutely aghast as the others snickered. “Just…hurry up, then! Christ, I need a feckin’ drink…”

“I think we all do.” Geoff huffed as Maurice stepped into the hall. “C’mon, lads. Let’s go.”

[strawberrystepmom]

happy thursday to the loveliest human beings 💗hope today treats everyone well!!!!

[alienssstufff]

In all seriussness - very appreciative about the overwhelming support as much as idrc about the follower count or clout 😭 especially here, its ok yall I don’t need it

I post because I like talking about the things I make, and I do art because I love it. you are watching me experiment and improve and if the things I create is something you like then that is a bonus

[peapod20001]

how do you draw ash,,, I'm struggling to draw him. pls break him down to his essence for me so I can better understand him

He’s got a very simple design compared to all my other ocs, so in theory he should be easy to draw…. But because his design is simple it is very easy to completely fuck up one thing and end up with him not looking right (speaking from experience lol)

So! Here’s my attempt at like. Breaking him down for you. I’m not actually sure if this will help any LMAO but I hope it does :,,) I’ll absolutely do more if you need it tho like anything specific like I had fun doing this

He’s a very round boy, as in like soft edges… really the only points on him would be like. His hair or whatever. He’s got a big mouth for yappin the ear off his family members, and big eyes for lookin at his family, and long arms to hug his family, etc etc.

You would NEVER see him mad like you would my other ocs, he’s the type to start crying when put into a situation that makes him really upset (you probably wouldn’t even see him very upset either as he has a tendency to run away from situations that make him feel bad)

He’s very aware of his body and the space he takes up, so unlike my other gangly ocs he isn’t clumsy at all. He DOES find himself in awkward situations sometimes (like accidentally eavesdropping on people cus they don’t notice he’s there and he’s too awkward to move away cus what if they think he’s listening in on purpose)

He’s not very outgoing with most people and it takes him a bit to really warm up to someone, but once you’re in his good books you are never getting him to chill out. He’s got a serious case of “lack of volume control” and he talks to people like they are across a big room pretty much all the time. If he isn’t yelling he’s probably whisper talking to try and seem less obvious, he gets self conscious about taking up too much space.

He’s a big talker he’s always trying to say something to someone if they’ll let him and often times it has no relation to the current topic or situation (only he seems to notice how the topics flow together) He can and will go on for hours if no one stops him. He’s got like, an internet sized brain in his noggin so he could quite literally go on forever about literally anything (he goes down research rabbit holes for fun)

I should probably stop rambling about him now LMAO sorry I just love him a bunch he’s a nerd

[leafclan-files]

hello!!! i’m going around asking different clangens who they’re interacting with/reading for reccs! I’d love to read all sorts of blogs!! Do you have any reccs?

HELLO YES! Scrolled through some of the blogs I follow, here’s a few I’ve been reading lately!

@hope-for-greener-pastures - BESTIEEEE, the panels are so lively and cute and gosh,,,their style always goes wild, i’m kicking my feet reading

@fallenclan - the drama going on there rn?? UN. FRICKIN. MATCHED. i always gasp when something happens you don’t GET it

@thebayclans - horizonshine ur so bbygirl <3 and everyone and every scene is so SHAPED i want to eat them

@stemclann - so cute!!! and so DETAILED like i could never, the effort?? Somehow so calming too

[mappingthesky]

pj calling nymphia 'nymph' I AM CRYING😭😭😭

THIS IS SO SPECIAL TO ME….. this hc being 100% confirmed in such a soft and stupid cute way is so fucking special to me…

[zeb-z]

minecraft-sinfonia family in the Star Wars au, because brain worms never sleep

Chayanne is hardly a toddler in the crèche when the Jedi temple falls and the Empire is born. Phil saves him, cares for him, raises him as his own on a homestead after meeting Missa, far from the core worlds. He grows up learning to farm, to cook, to find his own resources and how to make do with what you have. He has no idea where he’s from - his records were sealed in a holocron along with the other younglings his age, and who knows where that is now. Not that it matters all that much to him - his family are his parents who have raised him, and later his sister.

Tallulah is also force sensitive, but was never picked up by the Jedi. She knows where she’s from - an outer rim dustball of a planet where she had no one but the other street kids, where they all had to eat dirt. According to Wilbur, who picked her up and took her in, she had been crying in the rubble in an ally, where a building had managed to collapse sideways into, somehow entirely unscathed, the only survivor. Now that she’s older, and has an understanding of her powers, she can guess she had used the force in some sort of subconscious survival instinct. She spent a good year or two with her father, before she had been dropped off during a visit to her “abuelo Phil”, and never picked back up. It’s another year before she starts calling Phil her Pa instead.

For a year after the fall of the Jedi, Phil travels with Wilbur, and tries to take care of a very young Chayanne as best as he can. He tries to make it easy on Wil as he can, but he know it can’t be simple, traveling with an ex-Jedi on the run and a force sensitive toddler who makes all the noise a toddler does. Whatever guilt he has is buried under the knowledge that this is safest. Staying in the wind, between the stars, without making a name or life for himself, is necessary until the panic around the Jedi dies down.

Phil meets Missa shortly after he parts ways with Wilbur, on some forgettable, relatively mild planet on the edges of the mid rim, in a town full of farmers and workers. He’s clearly lost, and exhausted, and struggling to find something he can afford to feed the hungry child in his arms, and Missa may not have much but for this he has a few credits to spare, and well - he just can’t ignore that feeling, tugging in his gut and wrapping around his chest, that’s pulling him towards the two strangers. Kindness has him buying them a meal and offering his home to them for the night, and when Phil asks if they can stay for just a while, to figure out where to go next, he says yes before he even processes the question. A little foolish, maybe, given the state of the galaxy, but Phil would be lost without that kindness.

Phil makes himself useful helping around the farm, feeding the growzers and nerfs, pulling weeds, planting new crops, at least when Chayanne doesn’t demand attention. Missa works as he always does, keeps them all fed, and looks up all the articles he can find about childcare - and then double checks with a few parents when they drop into town for market, because surely Chayanne isnt old enough to be eating full carrots yet, his teeth are just so small - that’s when he realizes he’s far more open to Phil and Chayanne staying around than he thought he was. It isn’t much longer until Phil comes to a similar conclusion, during a dinner like any other night before, where Missa had taken care to cut Chayanne’s carrots and had made a pot of tea that was Phil’s favorite (one he got based on a hunch back in town a few days prior), and he realizes that he doesn’t want to lose this. That he wants to stay.

After he finds that Missa himself is also force sensitive, and he comes clean about who he actually is, their life continues on without the idea that this just a temporary set up. They get officially married just before Tallulah comes into the picture, which gives Phil an official new identity to the Empire, from a legal standpoint.

Chayanne and Tallulah both grow up learning Jedi techniques to balance their connection with the force. They learn early on the extent of their powers and how to meditate. The better trained you are, and the more you know of your own powers, the better you can master self control - that’s what their dads say, at least. While Phil had been anxious when Tallulah first arrived - wondering if them knowing their powers would make them all more obvious to those hunting for them - it’s cemented when Chayanne uses the force in the market, floating a fruit from a street vendor towards him when he couldn’t reach it himself. They were extremely lucky he wasn’t noticed. Chayanne, with enough core memories in the temple, where using the force and connecting wasn’t only second nature, but was encouraged all around him, would only struggle if they pretended anything different. Besides - as much as they have to keep themselves hidden and safe from the Empire, the force was something to celebrate. They were never taught that their gifts were anything but special - it wasn’t them that was wrong, but the Empire for hunting them.

After their home is raided, and the kids go with Phil to the rebellion, separated from Missa, is when they learn to fight. Chayanne is extremely disappointed he can’t actually train to learn how to wield his dads lightsaber. Tallulah leans less into physical training, and gets a better handle at using the force to interact with the world. She learns a technique to help plants grow just a little faster, and a little stronger, and likes to help around the gardens and greenhouses. It makes Phil a little sad, but only sometimes - she would have loved the Room of a Thousand Fountains, had this universe been kinder.

When Missa manages to find them again, worn and weary and somehow with Phil’s lightsaber still intact and all his limbs attached, he joins the rebels cause and fights with his family. Phil insists Missa keeps his lightsaber on him, pretending like it isn’t as big of a deal as it is, saying he’s grown used to fighting without it - but Missa knows better. A lightsaber is a Jedi’s life, their being connected to their crystal that gives it power, the weapon an extension of themselves. He understands the significance, of Phil’s life humming in his hands, protecting him above all else. There’s an immense amount of love, of trust, in the decision. It makes Phil a terrible Jedi - giving up his saber by choice, for a familial attachment he should never have made in the first place. But who gives a fuck - the temple has long been gone, the Jedi and all their believers dead with it, and Missa is here in front of him, alive, unlike the fucking Jedi council, the merry band of hypocrites. He’d like to keep it that way.

Chayanne still gets Phil to train him with the lightsaber, and it’s the coolest thing ever of all time.

[j0kers-light]

“fix authors self rec! when you get this, reply with your favourite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. let’s spread the self-love 💗”

I must answer my beloved! Five fics?! They're all my fav. I guess if I have to randomly answer then here ya go love 🖤✨

Baby Sat

Sweet Girl

Don't Let Go

A Frosty Outlook

Date Night

[ren-054]

Hey! Sorry, but I'm curious and I would like to ask u something. I've already asked the same question to another blog but I decided to gather different opinions/feedbacks, out of curiosity.

Do you think Sun, Moon and Eclipse, canon-wise, are a good representation of a system?

I know that many people see them differently, everyone has their own hcs and I do too, but if they were a system would it be accurate in terms of shifting/fronting etc?

I apologize if this question sounds weird or if I come off as offensive, it was not my intention. I don't know a lot about DID, I'm still studying, so feel free to correct me or to simply ignore this ask.

Oooh this question! Hrmmm

Also it’s all good, I love answering questions that have to do with pulling from my experiences :] I don’t mind at all!

TL;DR because I’m very wordy— I think the DCA’s a decent rep of the idea of a system but it still ends up with a lot of the pitfalls of current system rep (like alters framed as evil vs good since it’s a horror game and Moon is an enemy + Sun and Moon’s inner conflict being resolved either through a fusion into Eclipse or simply letting a more stable alter front with little further elaboration on the matter)

So the DCA definitely feel like a system that could exist, but it still reads like that awkward middle stage of media rep where there’s still a dependence on shock factor and spectacle over them just being a system that exists, but they’re overall fine.

I think viewing them as a system is very neat and I love how validating/relatable a lot of the fan works can be when tackling the DCA’s dynamic with each other :] I see little issue with viewing them as a system, if that’s part of the question

Long answer below pfpf

Where do I start…

I think I’m a bit torn? Their canon switch from SB, if we are viewing them as a hypothetical system, definitely felt dramatized because it’s a horror game (but maybe some people experience switches like this! I wouldn’t know)

Also the fact the horror effect is likely coming from having an overall benign doormat of a guy suddenly becoming unsafe post-switch feels a bit iffy to me since it feeds into that othering/demonizing narrative of mentally ill + neurodivergent folk, but Sun’s panic about Moon fronting is still a mood, to be fair. I have my own paranoia about certain alters getting triggered out ajhdks

As for fronting, the DCA don’t really get to express how that works for them, so I can’t say. The only thing I could glean is that,

1, Sun was aware a switch occurred that allowed Moon out but, for whatever reason, was upset enough to still kick Gregory out the daycare knowing he could still be in danger so there’s not much info there, and

2, Ruin Eclipse seemed to have less memories than Sun or Moon given he acted like he just met Cassie when he fronted, sort of reminiscent of either an alter coming back after a long period of dormancy or a much more generally dissociated alter. Sun still talked after Eclipse came back so he’s still in there, and presumably Moon too.

For me, I think I have a lot of internal communication and rarely have hard switches (a switch where there’s only one alter fronting with little interference from any other part) so I can’t say too much about hard switches like what seems to happen with the DCA. Sun and Moon were in a terrible rapid switching and/or fighting-for-front situation in Ruin though, and I feel for them. I’ve been through it and it’s not fun.

I was actually surprised at how much more.. system-coded the DCA were in Ruin but I always had a bit of an issues with it for one reason

There wasn’t a lot of closure for Sun and Moon specifically (only implied through Ruin Eclipse’s calm and more child-friendly nature) so I’d feel a bit weird to say that the DCA as we know them at this point is a great.. summary for systems as a whole? Like you gotta do what you gotta do to heal yknow so this isnt judging how they need to help themselves, but I’m looking at the bigger picture of system rep and the preconceptions of a layman audience.

I know not every system likes the idea of their parts being ignored/shunted in favor of a more “complete” fused hypothetical version of themselves, including myself. But for the DCA, as Sun strongly implies, this is the best solution for them in the moment in order to stabilize so really I can’t judge them.

Sun said thank you, though, so I hope that means them and Moon are getting some well deserved rest away from front. I do hope to see things from them feeling better in the future, but I don’t have much faith that we’d be given that.

[paracosmicessence]

I DID NOT KNOW YOU WERE ON TUMBLR? HOLY SHIT I SAW YOU ON TWITTER AND LIKE I WAS JUST SCROLLING THRU THE SONADOW TAG AND THEN U POPPED UP. I've probably been like spamming you with notice since I've like reblogged and liked so many of your posts and reblogs.

Anywayss!! Your art is freaking wonderful and I'm more addicted to it then coffee. Literally unable to wait till part 2 of ur little comic!!!

YES I AM ON THE SILLY GAY WEBSITE I LOVE IT HERE :33

i hate twitter so much but unfortunately a majority of the sonadow community lives over there and i must do my duty

anyway thank you!!! still working on the comic but i’m experiencing both art and writer’s block rn, most likely bc i’m not used to writing in general and im kinda going crazy and rewriting the smallest things and reformatting the comic and text and it’s just fjkskfnaksnkfjda

as you can see it’s taking me a lot longer than i thought but i will force myself to finish it at some point lol

[maidstew]

i js saw ur reblog of the oc post and TRUST i would be kyriaki's biggest fan if there was a fandom. i love her sm it's unfathomable and i also love her dynamic w lysistrata, if u want could u pls elaborate on that relationship bc it interests me sm!!!

ah omg bel thank you so much for this ask <3

i love kyriaki’s relationship with lyssie!! it sort of snuck up on me but they just fit together so well.

i think kyriaki’s morals come from her religion whereas lyssie’s are more personal to her and her family. lyssie helps kyriaki learn to stray from her black and white worldview through the lens of religion and leads her to start making choices simply because other people matter.

and kyriaki loves that lyssie cares about others just for the sake of caring about others. she’s not pressured by other people to be seen doing the right thing, she’s not doing it to please any god, she’s doing doing it because she cares.

and lyssie really enjoys hearing kyriaki’s worldview and tries her best to develop a solid understanding of the religion that is so important to the dearborn family. she doesn’t always agree with it and isn’t afraid to say so.

lyssie and kyriaki have a good ability to call each other out without it causing problems. unfortunately, they also both tend to feed into each others not-so-great traits. kyriaki is a little self-righteous and lyssie feeds into that by encouraging their hunt for lucy gray. lyssie tends to be obsessive when trying to fix problems and kyriaki encouraged all of her obsessive research of district 12 and lucy gray.

they build each other up well but unfortunately their combination of personalities led to their downfall.

[fellshish]

you are THE good omens account btw like you have the best vibe i hope you’re doing well bc you seem so nice <33

Thank you that’s very kind i’m just one of many blogs with the gomens brainrot though but i’m glad you like my vibe

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

You are such a good writer, it actually somehow breaks my heart when a story ends. How did you get so good? Any tips or tricks for people who want to start writing also?

anonnnnnn T_T you’re so so sweet. that means the world to me !!!! i love you !!!!!!!!

honestly i . still have a Lot to learn when it comes to writing so i don’t know if i’m very qualified to give tips </3 but!!! as basic as this answer is, i really do think the only ways to improve are through reading and writing. writing is obviously vital since you won’t get anywhere without actual practice, but so is reading!!! it’s so important to observe and notice different writing styles, and to find out what kind of writing you enjoy. by reading different works, no matter what they are, (my biggest writing inspo source is a video game lol) your brain will naturally store up words and expressions and techniques :3 it’ll make writing so much easier, i promise.

also, remember that it’s more than okay to imitate, especially when you’re starting out!! no one finds their writing style immediately. it’s totally fine to latch onto your favorite authors and try writing like they do — that’s what i did too!! (thank you richard siken + hit award-winning indie rpg disco elysium 🙏) so just try to have fun with it and experiment !! i believe in you!!! <33