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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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Porcelain Steve - Part 7

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

((TW for this part; period typical slurs and internalized homophobia. Read the tags before clicking readmore if you want the details))

Steve has been a porcelain doll for seven weeks when disaster strikes.

"What is that," Jeff says, because even though the words are in an order which would suggest that it's a question, the tone of voice Jeff uses decidedly is not questioning.

"What is whaaa-AH! Nothing! It's nothing!" Eddie, who was torso deep into his closet throwing things around to find his backup amp cord, turns to look at what Jeff was talking about, and is now launching himself across his room to stand between Jeff and Porcelain Steve. Porcelain Steve, who Eddie had lain on his bed, propped slightly on a pillow, headphones carefully perched on his little head, hooked to a cassette player currently playing the first hour of last week's Top 40 countdown that Eddie had taped for him (all three hours of it, leaving out the chatter of the radio show host. He'd had to use two tapes to get it all).

"Nothing sure looks a lot like a doll in headphones, Munson," Jeff has an amazing poker face but Eddie's certain he can see a bit of judgement underneath the carefully blank expression Jeff is wearing.

"I don't know what you're talking abo- hey! Hey, no, no, don't!" Eddie tries to bodily block Jeff when he moves forward and the two end up wrestling, a match that Eddie almost wins, if not for the hazard that is his messy room. He gets Jeff walked almost to the door before he steps wrong on something, ankle rolling and sending him down sideways. He clutches at Jeff but can't make purchase and Jeff, the bastard, does fuck-all to try and catch him. Instead, Jeff leaps out of arm's length, then lunges onto the bed as Eddie collapses to his floor.

Eddie frantically tries to stand and, in his haste, ends up with his feet tangled in a pile of dirty laundry and that sends him crashing down again, this time forward onto his hands and knees, so he gives up on standing and crawls the few short feet to the bed, finally looking up to see that the damage has been done.

Jeff has picked up Steve, holding him inches from his own face, eyes squinted in suspicion. Eddie is frozen, horrified and afraid, and can't bring himself to do anything as Jeff examines Steve closely, turning him around, poking his torso, flipping him upside down to examine his shoes more thoroughly. It's only when Jeff reached for the shirt, pinching the hem of it between two fingers that Eddie kicks back into action.

He lunges up, one knee on the bed, leaning over to grab Steve and yank him from Jeff's grip. His first instinct is to throw Steve over his shoulder, out of sight out of mind mentality, but as soon as he does, he realizes his mistake and twists, lunging to catch Steve in midair. He does manage to catch Steve, but it sends him bouncing off his dresser and almost back to the floor before he manager to regain his balance, where he proceeds to cradle Steve to his chest, which is heaving from the adrenaline, wrestling match, and subsequent dive after Steve.

Jeff is giving him a concerned look but something else piques his interest; Jeff reaches over and picks up the headphones, holding them up to one ear. His face goes through every emotion a human could possibly experience in less than fifteen seconds as he listens to whatever track was at the forty-ish minute mark on the Top 40 countdown.

Slowly, Jeff lowers the headphones, letting them drop to the bed before he gives Eddie a new, more judgmental, yet infinitely more concerned, look. "Eddie. What. The fuck."

Honestly, he's not sure there's anything he can say in response.

"Why- I don't... are you okay, man?" Jeff sounds both scared for Eddie, and scared of him, at the same time.

"I'm fine," Eddie manages to squeak out.

"Eddie," Jeff says seriously, "this is not fine. This is- this is insane behavior. You know that, right?"

"I've no idea what you mean," Eddie doesn't even know what he's defending himself from but his default response to anything is to defend himself. He grips Steve tightly around the torso with one hand and then moves both his hands to be behind his back so Jeff will stop staring at Steve.

"I mean this fuckin' insane shrine you have dedicated to Steve fucking Harrington. How did you even get a doll that looks like him. Did you- did you make that?"

Fuck. Holy fuck. What can he say to defend himself here? Is there a single way for him to come out of this not sounding deranged? If he agrees, let's Jeff's drawn conclusion be the truth, then that's all but confirmation to Steve about his big fat crush, so when Steve's back to being Steve he'll never look at Eddie again. Jeff might think he needs mental help, but he'll be here for Eddie. If he tries to deny the accusation, then he'll need an explanation. He'll have to tell Jeff something that make him seem less like a creepy stalker, but what? He can't tell the truth, not without letting everyone know he's going to tell Jeff. There's a whole other secret he'd have to let out to even have a chance of Jeff believing him.

Jeff must take his silence for acceptance or guilt, because he's speaking again. "I.... man, this is not healthy. Please tell me you aren't, like, hoarding a lock of his hair or his clothes or something."

Involuntarily, damningly, his eyes dart to the closet, where several of Steve's sweaters hang from when he'd borrowed them and never returned them. And it's not like Steve doesn't have several of Eddie's own articles of clothing, like his battle vest and a few shirts. But Jeff doesn't know they easily, willingly, swap clothes, so his eyes go wide and dart towards the closet, as if he can pick out which pieces belong to Steve on sight.

Actually, he probably can.

"This really isn't what it looks like," Eddie says because he has to say something. Being silent is too incriminating.

"I don't think you're aware of what this looks like," Jeff says, wiggling himself off of Eddie's bed to stand at the foot of it. "Of all the boys in Hawkins.... I knew you liked Steve but this is.... creepy. That doll looks so much like him that I recognized it. Does Steve know you're in love with him, or is this like a way to process your crush without having to-"

"Jeff!" Eddie yells, mortified. He can feel his whole face heat up, knows he must be bright red. Because Jeff just said, out loud and for Steve to hear, the thing that Eddie very much hasn't even said out loud to himself, even if he knows how he feels deep down.

Jeff must know he's overstepped some invisible boundary he wasn't even aware of because his face immediately shows regret. He takes a step forward and Eddie takes a step back.

Immediately, Jeff stops his forward momentum. "Shit, I'm sorry, Eddie. I'm sorry."

When Eddie answers, his voice sounds like he's been eating gravel, "Just, can you go wait in the living room? I'll be right out, and we can talk, or whatever, but can you just..."

A nod, and then Jeff is gone, closing the door behind him.

With shaking hands, Eddie brings Steve back to the front of him. Looks down at him. He's not even aware he's crying until he watches his tears mark Steve's tiny polo. He can't keep holding Steve. Can't keep looking at him. Not when- not when his best friend just outed him in the worst way possible. And Eddie can't even be upset or hurt about it because Jeff didn't know. He's teased Eddie about his crushes before, and in the safety of his own room, there was no reason for Jeff to have to watch what he was saying.

Even knowing that Steve is okay with Robin, loves her anyway, without the ability to confirm that Steve doesn't hate him right now, Eddie's going to freak out. But he can't. Jeff is waiting in the living room, and the band is waiting back at Gareth's. This was just- they were supposed to just grab the amp cable and get back, a fifteen-minute job at most, and now.

Now Eddie is staring down at Steve, willing himself to not have a panic attack.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have heard it like that, it s-should have come from me. It should- you-I'm sorry," Eddie gently underhand throws Steve onto the center of the bed. He lands face up and Eddie sinks to the floor because he can't stand anymore, and he can't really breath.

Steve knows Eddie's a fucking faggot now, and that he wants Steve, and there's no way he'll get to keep the friendship they had before this. There's no universe in which Steve isn't creeped out by this information. There has never been an instance where a straight boy found out about his crush on them and didn't abandon him. Not always cruelly, he'll admit. He's had friends that learned and just... slid from his life with no words and no fuss. Eddie just never spoke to them again because they never came back around, but they also never outed him.

That's what will happen with him and Steve. He'll quit inviting Eddie around, or calling when he's bored, and eventually it will get to the point that Eddie only sees him at BBQ's that Joyce drags him to.

Fuck. FUCK!

He's not sure how long he's on the floor but eventually, he finds the will to get back up and resume digging through his closet to find the amp cord. It doesn't take long, he was ridiculously close to finding it earlier, it seems.

Before leaving his room, he picks back up the cassette player and headphones. Silence comes from them, so he pops the tape out before flipping it to the B side and popping it back in. He puts the headphones around Steve's head again and presses play, doing his best to not actually look at Steve. He'll just have another breakdown if he does.

He trudges out of his room, closing the door behind himself before taking the short walk to the living room, where Jeff waiting on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes faraway as he stares towards the wall in front of him.

"Hey," Eddie says, to get his attention.

"Hey," Jeff says, sitting up straight and turning towards Eddie. "I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the fucking psycho here," he sighs, leaning sideways against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, hand clutching at the amp cord just for something to ground him.

"Forget that, whatever I did, or said, or whatever, you were- when you yelled my name. You looked terrified. Of me," Jeff almost whispers the last sentence, and if not for the stark silence in the trailer, Eddie wouldn't have heard.

"Not of you, Jeff," Eddie whispers back, but his voice doesn't stay quiet because 'quiet' isn't a thing Eddie does easily or often. "Of... of myself, and these- of how I feel- I'm a goddamned faggot and now that Ste- when Steve finds out I'll lose him! Like I've lost every fucking person who ever even suspected I was a fuckin' queer!"

Silence stretches between them, enough to make Eddie fidget, dropping his crossed arms to twist the amp cord about anxiously with both his hands.

"Look, man, I don't know what's, like, the appropriate thing to say so I'm just going for the honest thing. You got me. You'll never lose me. And all those other assholes that you think you lost? You're wrong. They lost you. And if Steve Harrington is gonna be another one of those, then you aren't losing him. 'Cause he was never really in your corner to begin with."

If this were anyone else, with the exception of his uncle, he would be able to hold it together better. But it's Jeff. His best friend. Who never believed Eddie committed unspeakable horrors over Spring Break last year. Who didn't question the strange, new friends he suddenly had afterwards; who accepted as the only explanation a softly spoken 'they saved me' and that was enough. Who had said 'ok, cool' in response to Eddie telling him he was gay, years ago now, and continued trying to find out if Eddie had a secret relationship, switching girlfriend for boyfriend like it wasn't a big deal (Eddie did not have a secret relationship; his good mood that week was the result of snooping for his birthday present and finding the guitar hidden under his uncle bed).

It's Jeff. So, Eddie does the most metal, manly thing he can and bursts into tears, blindly reaching for Jeff and pulling him off the couch so he can bear hug him and sob into his shirt.

"There, there, you big baby," Jeff rubs his back soothingly, "let it out. Then pull your sorry ass together, because Gareth and Brian are going to think we died in a car crash on the way here if we take much longer."

"Ah, fuck," Eddie manager to say around the sniffling he's trying to get control of, "you're right."

"You good, though?"

"Uh, I will be."

Jeff nods and steps back. "How about this. We go to practice, and then you can come to my place tonight and we can like, hangout and talk. If that's what you want."

He's already nodding as he says, "yeah. That would be good. I- uh, I have something to do after practice, but yeah, after that I'll come over."

Eddie tosses the amp cable to Jeff after they climb into the van and head off.

Halfway there, Jeff says, "you know Gareth and Brian are in your corner, too. If you ever feel like telling them one day."

"One day," Eddie agrees, "but today has already been... a lot."

Practice goes well, with some ribbing for their tardiness allowed. If Gareth and Brian notice Eddie's been crying recently, they keep it to themselves. Which is good, because Eddie cannot handle one more thing today.

A promise to meet up with Jeff later and Eddie's back home.

Back to where he left Steve, who will be laying in silence on his bed because it's been well over two hours since he and Jeff left, and the tape only held an hours' worth of music on each side. Back to the nightmare of not knowing if Steve hates him now, or if Eddie's, and this is the most likely scenario, being a bit overdramatic.

His uncle is home, so he greets him, asks after his day, gets told dinner is Fend For Yourself Night (which just means leftovers or a TV dinner), and gets asked about Steve. Because of course he does.

"You sure he went on a vacation willingly with those parents of his, and he ain't actually kidnapped and trapped somewhere?"

That's a little bit too true. If only Wayne knew. "Well, no. I'm not sure. All I know is what he said when he left."

Wayne gives him a look. One Eddie is used to seeing, that says 'I know more than you think but I'm waiting for you to tell me' and Eddie's a little afraid of what Wayne thinks he knows. So, instead of prying that box open, Eddie just says he's tired and goes to his room.

Steve is exactly where Eddie left him.

Suddenly, without reason or logic, Eddie is angry. He's so pissed at Steve for being gone for this long. For having transformed in the first place. For not being able to assure him they'll still be friends, regardless of Eddie's stupid crush.

He snatches Steve off the bed, hand clamping around one of Steve's arms and his torso so he can hold him up with one hand. Steve's face, permanently stuck into a blank expression, looks back. Even knowing that Steve sees and hears through this thing, Eddie's so angry at the doll. If Steve hadn't been turned into this stupid thing, if Eddie wasn't so helplessly in love with him, this wouldn't have happened. Eddie could have taken his own time telling Steve, instead of hearing his deepest secret spilled easily from Jeff's lips. Instead of this not knowing what Steve is thinking, or how he feels. Is he recoiling in disgust at the fact Eddie's making him look at his face? Or is Eddie being awarded the same kindness as Robin, a quiet acceptance that won't change their friendship?

Eddie doesn't know that answer and he hates it.

He's so angry with himself because he should know better. He's forcing his own insecurities onto Steve, about acceptance and caring, when nothing Steve's done since they've become friends is prove that he'll always be Eddie's friend and not even the apocalypse could change that.

"I'm going to hang out with Jeff, so you're gonna be alone a bit longer. Or maybe I should drop you off at Robin's when I go," Eddie goes to toss Steve back on the bed when something pinches his palm. It's a startling sharp pain, quick to fade, but it's surprising enough for Eddie to let go.

Eddie watches, horrified, as he falls to the floor. He twists in the air, landing with a dull thump and cracking sound on his left arm before falling onto his back.

"Shit. Shit! Fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," Eddie is crouched, already in the process of reaching for Steve when he freezes.

There is a crack on Steve's left arm, a line that starts above his elbow on the inside of his arm and runs down and across his arm to his hand, where Steve's pinky finger is gone. Looking slightly to the side, Eddie can see the small porcelain piece that Steve is missing laying on the ground next to him. Eddie's own hand is hovering in the air above Steve, shaking.

This can't be- how did- Eddie wracks his brain. Was the crack there already? Did Eddie cause the crack when he bounced off his dresser earlier? When did it happen? Does that fucking matter when it's Eddie who broke a piece off him? If Steve didn't hate him before, he's got to now. Eddie doesn't have time to panic about this, he's got to- El. El can talk to Steve. Find out if he's okay. What if breaking him-

Eddie launches himself up and to his dresser, grabbing at the Walkie up there. He pulls the antenna up, clicks it on and tries not to actually shout as he says, "Code Red! Code fucking Red!" He lets off the talk button, counts to seven in his head, enough time, he reasons, for someone to respond before he repeats the process. "Code Red!! Code Red!"

He repeats this process for three minutes with no response. Where the fuck is everyone!? How is he supposed to- Oh! The phone!

He tears down the hall and to the phone. He must look a right state, because Wayne looks very concerned and is halfway to standing up when Eddie gets to the phone beside him. He yanks the phone up and dials the number for the Byers-Hopper household, holding up a shaking finger to Wayne, a silent plea to give him a moment.

It rings and rings and rings before the answering machine kicks in. Eddie presses down on the disconnect button before dialing the Wheelers' number next.

"Hello?"

"Mike! Code Red! Where the fuck is everyone and why aren't they answering!?"

"What?"

"Code Red! Where's Nancy. Put Nancy on."

"Dude, slow down, what's-"

"I broke St-it. I broke it and someone needs to get El here now. Code Red does not mean ask questions, Mike! It means Code. Fucking. Red."

"Shit, shit, right! I'll get Nancy and we'll get everyone- just- we'll be there soon."

Eddie slams the phone down and has to meet his uncle's eye now.

"Eddie. What is goin' on?"

Eddie inhales a breath and can feel his lower lip quivering. "It's- can we talk about it later? I promise I'm not the one hurt, or in trouble, or- it's not me, ok. I just-"

"Yer shakin' like a leaf boy. What's got you so spooked?"

Eddie just shakes his head and flees back to his room, slamming the door shut between him and his uncle. He can't bring himself to cross the room to Steve. He slides himself down the door to sit on the floor, pulling his knees up to hug.

"I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm sorry."

#steddie #my fic #porcelain steve #TW: Eddie calls himself a faggot and he means it in a bad way #did I make a playlist on spotify w/ Top 40 songs for June 21-27 1987 so id know how many tapes eddie had to use to record it?#yes. its 2 tapes fyi‚ using side A and B of one. a total of 2h54m. in my defense it was a writers block activity.#couldnt figure out what to have jeff say to comfort eddie that was in character and era-appropriate so... playlist it was!#if i were titling these parts this would be Eddie's No Good‚ Very Bad‚ Terrible‚ Horrible Day #I mean... he's had worse days (Spring Break '86) but this is up there for him #also back to back updates!? who am i??? but don't expect another one too soon #i started this one as part 6 originally but decided i wanted a more lighthearted piece first #so i wrote like 2/3 of this before writing what i posted for part 6 so finishing this was quick

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shift-shaping · 3 months

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Is Solas getting paid by the Inquisition for his work

#dragon age #cause he's like actually on the staff list right #like okay dorian and viv and sera are all there representing themselves or a faction right #so they are presumably getting paid by their faction work (sera) or some nebulous independent wealth #Bull is definitely unambiguously getting paid #i don't think spirits have good labor unions so cole is not getting paid #i have no idea what Blackwall is doing but he lives in the barn #so i don't think he cares #Varric's job title is unwelcome tag along #but he has a job so i don't think he's getting paid by the Inquisition either #your advisors plus cass definitely get paid #but solas is like. the only one who i think gets an @inquisition.gov.nz email who may not be getting paid #he must be right #or do you think he refuses it? would josie let him?#oh my god is that pile of gold in trespasser all the money we paid solas that he never fucking spent #actually idk maybe viv and dorian are also being paid because now that i think about it they don't actually have money #they just have the vibes of money #the irony of solas potentially having a higher net worth than viv is very funny #dorian is weird because he's like sort of cut off from his family but not really #did you know if you add enough tags to a post they stop working properly

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wonder-worker · 3 months

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"Administratively, too, [...] queens were considered the legal lords of their landholdings. [...] Grants noted that the queen's officials had administrative autonomy without being subject to the king or anyone else, and evidence of the same assumption can be gleaned from court rolls that were recorded with headings indicating the lord of the manor whose court proceedings were being enrolled. As an example, some court rolls for the manor of Haveringatte-Bower specified that it was the court of [Margaret of Anjou] that was in session, while later rolls recorded Elizabeth Woodville as the lord of the manor court."

-Michele Seah, 'My Lady Queen, the Lord of the Manor': The Economic Roles of Late Medieval Queens", Parergon, Volume 37, Number 2, 2020.

#queenship tag #margaret of anjou #elizabeth woodville #I really appreciated how Seah acknowledged the uneven surviving evidence for her subjects and how that affects her analysis.#It was very brief but it was more than what most historians do so it was very refreshing :)#my post #english history #this is for @ anon who asked if its true that Margaret mostly hosted her own courts while EW mostly stayed with her husband #I'm not sure which (if any) historian has said something like this* but I highly doubt it's true !#We don't really have solid itineraries in place for either queen to make any kind of firm conclusions of the sort #(ie: about their residences or anything else) though I'm sure it would have varied depending on the situation #But either way it's explicitly clear that both Margaret and Elizabeth held their own courts in their own lands on multiple occasions #And we also have evidence of both of them residing with their husbands in regular circumstances #*tbh this is too long to get into right now but this assumption does fit into the few 'revisionist' interpretations of both Margaret and EW #(which imo is just as degrading as her traditional interpretation for the latter) so I wouldn't be surprised if some #historians may have framed their situations in such a way and relied entirely on their own assumptions to do so #Either way as far as I know there is no evidence of any such contrast existing - at least not on a consistent basis.#and the evidence we do have contradicts the assumption #Hope this helps! I figured a proper excerpt from this article would clarify the point better than any direct answer from me <3 #also in case anyone was wondering I *think* the title ('My Lady Queen the Lord of the Manor') was referring to administrative accounts #of EW based on what Seah wrote here - though ofc I'm not sure #queue

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thezoraprince · 1 year

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Beauty is Pain - Sidon x reader

“If this goes against your guidelines don’t worry about doing this, but could I request Sidon and Link hylian s/o being very busty? … I’d prefer this as a headcanon, but if you want you could do a scenario instead. Whichever you’d prefer. As for how the reader sees herself, she’s not super insecure about it, but she’s does see it as a nuisance, since she likes to travel and fight, and it’s a bit heavy on her chest. She mostly try’s to ignore the fact that she’s heavy on the chest, but sometimes people notice, because it’s a little obvious that her chest is big. But she has a curvy and slim body, and Sidon and Link will of course think she’s beautiful. Thank you!💚” - anon 1

“Hey bro depending on how busty that anon wants them how about all the shit you can hide in there? Need a bandaid? Got plenty. Rupee short? No issue. Need a few sips of liquid courage? I got you my friend” - anon 2

y’all i’m living for these, honestly. this one took me a while to come up with, but i FINALLY got an idea in my head and went with it. i hope you enjoy <3

(Link can be found here)

Y/n - your name

Sidon loves every inch of you

but he understands that you’re frustrated with your breast size

“I’m not insecure about it. It’s more of an inconvenience.”

he can see how uncomfortable you feel when hiking and during sparring sessions

to help you not feel that way, he would have special armor made for maximum breast support

“I thought this could help when we’re doing a bit of swordplay.”

and of course it’s comfortable enough to hike in, which is very much appreciated

“Thank you so much, Sidon!”

on the other hand, you do get quite a bit of attention from others

and though it can be flattering

it’s annoying as well

Sidon’s kind of oblivious to it at first

but once he figures out why people are noticing you

he does get a little protective

“Y/n, I’m not sure how I feel about all these people staring at you…”

but you’re used to it

“It’s whatever.”

he does understand how you feel, as he’s very large… and a prince

but he does feel uneasy when others ogle over your body

he gives those looking at you a quick, not-so-friendly glance

and then you’re both on your merry way

he hates that he feels this way

but it is comforting to know that he’s looking out for you

Sidon would do anything for you

and your wellbeing is his top priority

“I always want you to feel comfortable, both mentally and physically. And if there’s anyway I can help, please let me know, my pearl.”

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kizki-art · 3 months

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Lil redraw of the drawing on the above (I think i drew it in... 2021? 2020?? I'm not good with keeping track with time LOL) of my beloved ocs!!

I love them all very dearly. My precious babies mwa mwa

#artists on tumblr #artwork #Art #digital art #oc artist #my ocs #oc art #Kizy's Project #This is what i'm gonna tag this project where the ocs are from now on LOL #I DON'T HAVE A TITLE FOR THEM YET!!!#Even after.... 6 years ish.#damn... They grew up so much SNIFFS #i would talk more about them but maybe another time <\33 BUT #I DO PLAN ON MAKING UNVALE PROFILES FOR THEM AND FOR. ANYONE WHO WANTS TO KNOW ABOUT THEIR CHARACTER #i'll happily talk about anything else about them and post more art of them all

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oneluckydragon · 2 months

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got hit with the echo+sora brainrot so i am once more rambling in your askbox about it. because reasons.

anywho i think there is something truly saddening about echo's struggles to make peace within herself and how she truly finds it hard to find that peace when she is so certain that if the truth about her origins were to be revealed to the world, much less to *sora*, everything she achieved, everything she worked for, all of which matters to her most, will crumble away in a moment's notice.

but the fear of losing all your life's work is none compared to the fear of losing sora. the feeling of poison that settled itself within themselves and between each other out of fear and tragedy of what had happened to them is familiar. echo's resemblance to dusknoir was already enough to set the two off because of how much it had all hurt to see someone you love and yourself turn into a mockery and a splitting image of someone who had pretended to care yet showed he never did at all, but this poison is louder. it hurts to bare, to carry, and to have none but yourself to be its sole holder.

but this poison, this feeling of heartache is different. because whereas the previous pain was something both of them felt, sora was lucky enough to not have known the truth about the person who she cares for so dearly.

echo knows that she used to be darkrai. and it haunts her to have known that her previous incarnation was so *cruel*, all for the sake of it just feeling right. wishing to engulf an entire world in darkness, solely for whatever desire she used to have.

and for how much she knows, how much she will hammer it into her own head that she is *not* like that anymore, that she looks at her past with sneer and disgust and that she will not be the barer of evil anymore, it will not matter in the slightest when she will have to look at sora if she were to ever find out.

how afraid, angry and dejected she would look when finding out, and how she will go on the defense/offense because of how much this will overwhelm her.

because when echo looks at her own shadow, she sees herself for what she is. she knows what she is, be it out of shame or guilt.

but when sora will look at it, she will see a tall, contorting and menacing shadow, towering over with a bright cyan eye doing nothing but looking at her, as if tempting her to make the next move.

and she defends herself. from someone she knows will not harm her. she raises her arms up in self defense from a hand that would never hurt her more than the world has already did.

she knows echo will not hurt her. and thats why she is afraid.

Oh my oh my OH MY, Sinnoh!!! YES YES YES!

HOW!!! IN THE WORLD!!! Are you so good at crawling into my head and creating these vivid analysis/snippets on my OCs??? I've barely shared ANY information about Echo and Sora because I've been wanting to hoard most of my stuff for when my fic is finally finished... but... I think you've broken my resolve a bit, if I'm entirely honest.

You know what? I'm so inspired by your accuracy and eagerness to talk about my girls that I'm gonna forgo my crippling anxiety regarding my writing skills and instead post a snippet of my WIP fic here as a treat for you. A teaser, if you will. Since I have no idea when the fic in question will actually be done and ready (or when I will be satisfied with it, cause the thing is currently 36,000 words and still slowly climbing). And now you've got me eager to share SOMETHING of my fic with you and anyone that might want to take a peek at it.

Please enjoy this conversation between Dusknoir and Echo. The topic deals a lot with what you'd described up above!! c:

[Note: this is an unedited part of my fic because I am still in the process of writing and it may change in the future, so please be gentle w/ me but I'd love to read any thoughts/comments that pop up while reading!! pls send asks or replies or anything really cause I love you guys]

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“I’m going to tell you something now, and you are going to listen.” Echo commands with a sharp bite in her voice that Dusknoir cannot fathom ignoring. He pauses and then offers a slow nod, waiting, wondering what she could possibly desire to tell him at a time like this, of all things.

Minutes pass as Echo remains rooted in place, still as her own shadow, and her eyes dart around as she stares at the patches of dry grass and sand beneath her paws. Her claws clench and unclench, digging into the earth like daggers as the wind of the forest (it’s trees so close, just behind them, a looming sort of presence that could engulf them whole) whistles through the surrounding branches, carrying stray leaves of many bright greens through the chilling breeze. Dusknoir watches them dance around Echo, twirling, floating down, down, down… but it’s quiet, too quiet, and Dusknoir feels a shiver pass through him when Echo’s voice finally rings out through the silence.

"When I evolved, Sora was petrified," She says, nearly a whisper, an admission that melts away her confidence and appears to bring her a flood of both shame and regret. Her face twists up then, strangely, like she’d felt a twinge of pain from somewhere deep inside the very fabric of her own soul and was unable to quell it. "She couldn’t even bring herself to look at me most days. At first, my appearance… well, it reminded her too much of you. And eventually of someone I used to be.”

Someone I used to be. At that, Dusknoir’s immediate reaction is to recall Echo’s previous life as a human, as the miserable shell of a creature surviving alongside Grovyle that he’d relentlessly hunted in the dark future. A human made of contempt and anger and apathy, who never smiled or laughed or cried or screamed like the old legends said humans would-- an entity that simply existed rather than lived. An echo of a life long dead and buried. But, judging by her tone, by her voice, by some uneasy intuition itching in the back of his mind like a swarm of pestilent Ninjask… he knows that she means something else entirely. Something that she isn’t willing to share. And frankly, that concept utterly terrifies him.

Someone I used to be. Dusknoir wants to speak, to break his own silence, wants to ask the myriad of questions bubbling up in his throat because this isn't the first time she's hinted at another life beyond being human, but those questions die at the source like a flame doused in water. And always the coward, coward, coward, instead he takes the easy way out by doing nothing at all. Whether Echo notices his surge of inner conflict or not-- the nervous wring of his hands and the tremble in his spine that he cannot control under her gaze-- she does not react.

“I’d take a step and Sora would flinch away.” Echo confesses, her markings flickering with light before going dark and dead, as if her body wished to snuff them out entirely, a deep seated rejection, a self-loathing so strong that Dusknoir cannot help but recognize it and empathize, and his heart aches, “It took ages for her to stop shaking when I’d speak. To stop looking at me like-- like I was going to…”

Echo grimaces like she’s enduring waves of grueling torture and doesn’t finish that string of thought, but it’s not hard to make an educated guess on what went unsaid. Like I was going to betray her. Hurt her. Break her heart. She’s been through so much already and I couldn’t bear to be another influence in the history of her suffering. I hate myself because of how I made her feel. When her eyes went wide in fear and through them I could see myself staring back like some sort of burden, some sort of curse.

“I am not my past.” Proud and true, Echo straightens up and holds her head high, a spark igniting in her eyes, a glint of determination, a will to keep going and going despite such circumstances and strife, despite this horrid, unspeakable past that haunts her so, “And I am definitely not you. It’s taken a while, but I know that much now. I’ve accepted it.”

I am not my past. And I am definitely not you.

A sigh, a breath, and Echo glances at him with a certain sorrow that cannot be described, a sorrow that lingers even through the veil of her tenacity, "But no matter how I feel, no matter my conviction, my shadows still find ways through the cracks. Every time I think I'm getting a grip and that I might finally understand myself… I change all over again." She admits, sounding more angry and tired than defeated now-- like a mirror of her old self, her human self that had clawed and damned and cursed him, despised him more than anything. "I hate it. I hate that I never truly know who I am. That I have to learn about my past through stories others tell me, or through fragments of twisted, broken memories that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Through conflict and pain and… and..."

"Echo," Dusknoir murmurs her name softly, an offering, a potential escape if only she would wish to drop the subject and forget this conversation had ever happened-- if she'd overstepped and needed an excuse to back out, a diversion, an understanding. And briefly, Dusknoir wonders why she is opening up about this particular information, why she would delve into something so vulnerable, so personal. Why she would bring up this hurtful history when it obviously brings her great discomfort.

And then, he gets an answer.

“You’re lucky, Dusknoir." There it is, that wildfire burning in her eyes again. A spark that’s new and bold and startling. But lucky? No, never. He'd have to disagree, accounting the mountain of evidence that was his life and regrettable deeds.

"You already know exactly who you are and what you’ve done, and most importantly why. You have more than a tattered picture of yourself that reflects broken answers. And you can change with that knowledge. I see you trying.” She tells him, searching, looking for something so deeply and Dusknoir wishes he knew what it could be so that he could give it to her, because he would, he would gladly give it to her without a second thought if it meant they could be close again. But he isn’t a fool, and he’s wise enough to know they’ll never be like they were before. “And if somehow I could change, even as half-assed as I have. Well, then what’s your excuse?”

You can do it, say her unspoken words, I believe in you.

#Sinnoh I have so many Echo and Sora feels right now and IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT HOW DO I COPE #like... i am so amazed with what you wrote in this ask i honestly don't even know HOW to reply because I'm stunned it's so perfect #my fic is from Dusknoir's POV and explores his relationship with Grovyle and Celebi and also his reconciliation with Echo and Sora #just stating that for anyone who hasn't seen my previous post about my WIP fic cause that was like... more than 6 months ago #I am... really REALLY nervous posting this because Dusknoir is very beloved by the community and I wanna do him justice #and there are SO many amazing writers amongst my mutuals and I wanna be a COOL KID like you guys #I realize this snippet is mostly just about Echo and that Dusknoir has no actual dialogue... (even tho he talks A LOT in the fic)#but the portions of Dusknoir's thoughts and descriptions I want to GET RIGHT the vibes need to be ACCURATE #(pls tell me the vibes are accurate)#note: he is majorly nervous rn tho cause he and Echo have not fully reconciled and he's TRYING to listen and be there for her now #(insert his attempt at dadnoir; he's giving it a shot guys)#Meanwhile Echo is dealing with BIG TIME problems and regrets and guilt cause Dusknoir returning to the past resurfaced all of that grief #Me; the writer; knowing that the truth about Echo's past would mess up Dusknoir for YEARS: oh my idiot ghost dad... you have NO idea bro #echo/umbreon #sora/lucario #pmd ocs #dusknoir #pmd eos #pmd2 #wip fic #Yes I have a fic title but I'm not sharing it cause it's spoilers ok

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chiropteracupola · 7 months

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Bodies in my wake / Noose 'round my neck / I'm comin' back again / Better make it quick!

#em draws stuff #frankenstein chronicles is a show you can watch #frankenstein chronicles #john marlott #tagging with the real title as well If anyone is looking in the tag for this show #(I really don't think anyone is but if you are then Hi! sure was a television show there huh!)#best viewed with high screen brightness (I spent three hours coloring and I would like you to be looking)#it has been a while since I returned to this old-favorite topic (stitched-up undead fellows) and I had enough visual inspiration #from the show itself (the blake engravings! the teal lighting in ep6!) to really have fun with the rendering on this one #continuity caveat to the 1.5 people who care - I Know that marlott no longer has the chancre on his hand by the time he's all stitchy #but this show does enough with his unreliable perception of the world around him that I felt that I couldn't leave it out #oh and also that's the elemental symbol for mercury! as it seemed only apt to include it in some way #caption lyrics from american murder song since it seemed only appropriate #(also I listened to all of murder ballads of 1816 while coloring this For The Vibes)#ANYWAY now that I have Drawn Picture I might watch s2 now and find out what happens to this v sad wet man next!

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spoiledleaff · 4 months

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there's a monster circling the borders of the cult. the lamb knows what it is—who it is. they're not terribly bothered.

the fox.

as a creature who values both brutality and strategy, the fox admires shamura deeply, to the point of love obsession. they've met before, though shamura could not remember that now. as a bishop, the fox loved watching them work. they would meet on occasion, standing at the crossroads between war and darkness. the fox has always had a bit of a stalking problem, not that shamura would feel threatened by him. they never stopped him before. the company was nice, soothing. they both smelled of blood—it was like finding another half of yourself, drenched in the afterbirth of your crimes and murders.

they'd chat. sometimes. ironically enough, shamura liked taking time to talk about nothing. so much of their life and work is spent strategizing and wondering and learning and doing things with a purpose, it was nice to take a moment to revel in the nonsense. the fox didn't mind, he would be too infatuated with the way they'd fidget with the bones of their followers. they would remember so much.

he was so curious, so obsessed that when shamura offhandedly let slip of that damned prophecy, of their siblings, of their brother, of the lambs—he didn't hesitate.

"i will handle it." he said. "i will devour every lamb to ever walk this earth if that is what you wish of me."

they paused, calculating. always so careful.

"leave one for me." they said, their smile filled to the grim with too many teeth and murderous intentions, and the fox thought he felt something stir in his long dead chest.

(there was a sadness there too, he realizes. maybe they knew of the consequences all along. even back then.

maybe especially then.)

it's hard to think that the shamura from before and the one he'd grown so used to watching from the shadows were the same creature. they still smell of blood, still ramble nonsense that only makes sense to them.

the fox wants to kill them, this mockery of the great bishop he once knew. this thing does not demand respect, does not stir that feeling in the fox's chest; it cannot be them.

they never seem to sleep, always roaming the cult's grounds while the rest of the herd scatter off for their bedtimes. they drift near the cemeteries, reading aloud names of followers they've never known. they do this every night—pay their respects.

"i know you are out there, little shadow." they say one night, "may i help you?"

"no." the fox is quick to answer, his maw is open and dripping with his resolutions. this thing will die tonight.

the false one turns towards the shadows, though the fox knows they will never find him if he doesn't wish it.

"do i know you?" they ask. "you feel familiar to me, though i'm afraid i cannot place it."

"...no." the fox lies — it is the truth — his teeth lay ready, though he does not bite.

"ah. my apologies then." the false one turns back to the graves, turns away from the fox. "your voice soothes me in a way i cannot describe. though i am unsure as to why, as to me you sound like blood, like cattle willingly led to slaughter, like betrayal."

the fox is ready to strike, he drools.

"you remind me of someone who i think i once felt safe with." he stops. "i apologize. i know we've never met before, but i cannot shake the feeling that i know your teeth."

the fox hesitates, closes his maw, backs away.

"your teeth are beautiful, by the way." the thing turns around, and the fox feels as though they see him—they see him. "i feel as though i've known your ivory all my life."

he leaves.

it doesn't matter, the night will always come—there will always be tomorrow.

it doesn't matter that this false one replicates shamura's desire to babble about nothing.

it doesn't matter that there is a beating in his chest that will not go away.

(he misses the chatter.)

there is always tomorrow night.

#hiiii i've been playing cotl again :')#one of my fixations i don't talk about much but this hc wormed its way in haha!#this was just a little something something that i've been thinking of #ive seen all the lovely ships and pairings with the other bishops!! mainly leshy and kallamar :))#but of course i wanted to give my fav shamura a little something something too <33 #i hc them as on the aroace spectrum but i think the fox is a supporter LOL #i think it'd be one of those things where when shamura was a bishop the fox would love what they represented as opposed to THEM #but as a follower the fox is meeting this new version of shamura without the title of bishop #and i can't imagine a spider would be afraid of the dark haha!#anyways i don;t know if this is anything LOL maybe i'll expand on this one day :)) i love this game sm #spoiled writing #ficlet #cotl #cotl the fox #cotl shamura #colt bishops #the fox + shamura #i just like the dynamic :3 #cult of the lamb

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accirax · 7 months

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Alright, let me throw my hat in the ring for predicting who the upcoming DRDT MV is gonna be about. Spoilers for the series up to the second victim reveal.

So, I know that earlier today I said that I thought the MV might be about Levi-- I even voted for him on googledetective's poll. However, after actually looking at Yoidoreshirazu's lyrics, I have another prediction who (at the time of writing) has 0% on said poll. I actually think this MV could be about Rose?

I woke up as an unaware drunkard

While Rose obviously isn't known for excessive alcohol consumption, I think you could use her sleepy demeanor as a substitution for drunkenness in this song. Alcohol is a depressant, which "can affect concentration and coordination and slow down a person’s ability to respond to unexpected situations" as the Alcohol and Drug Foundation puts it. Similarly, a person as lethargic as Rose might have trouble remembering what's just transpired, or quickly answering questions. Sleeping may be another way that Rose chooses to get away from her problems, an "addiction" similar to someone who drinks to forget.

All of this bickering goes on til the dawn comes Worn out, we all look horrible Until all thousand voices become hoarse

Chapter 2 was full of lots of fighting and yelling, of which Rose was neither a participant nor an enjoyer.

I’m giving into you, but you don’t even have anything to say And my body is dyed

In order to pay off her debts, Rose has to give in to what the Spurlings ask of her. Her art and her soul are now forever dyed by the intentions and ambitions of the Spurlings, as opposed to her own expression.

And then The sacred mountain is covered in mud, it’s smeared and chipping away, ah yes, it’s not half bad I’m a milligram away from succumbing Getting drunk again and again, unexpectedly- Ah, it’s not half bad I’m a drunkard unaware of my rival in love, so

Rose's "sacred mountain" is art itself. Even if she isn't a sculptor working with clay, it's still the journey to which she wanted to dedicate her life. Her dream is chipping away, but she says it's not that bad because she knows the alternative would have been worse. Still, she's on the verge of giving up because of the depressing state her life has fallen to. The sentiment is then basically repeated with her choice to numb herself to the world around her, being an "unaware drunkard"-- it seems chill on the surface, but she still regrets giving up so easily and not being able to contribute more.

I'm not entirely sure who the "rival in love" is. My best guess is that it would sort of be herself? Or, like, the love itself is the rival. Her desire to make art for herself and love her life is the rival of being responsible and loving/supporting her family by making art for the Spurlings.

The singing voices are uncountable And once one gets lost in them, they end up at your xx

If this is Rose's MV, this section is clearly about her nightmares. The "singing voices" would be the other participants of the killing game, specifically those who screamed out in pain from massive injuries or death. Rose gets lost in her memories via her dreams, and those visions stick with her as part of her photographic memory. You could interpret the "xx" as "door," which just means that they always wind up right in the forefront of her mind. But, you could also substitute in "canvas" or "tip of your paintbrush" to incorporate how Rose often paints the things that worry her.

Hey, look at how pretty it is, the daydream rondo一 I hide a thousand and can only spit out ten

The paintings of Rose's dreams are beautiful, but Rose always has to hide them behind black paint, lest the Spurling Foundation fully steal her soul. Still, she's frustrated that she can't paint what she wants more often.

Please don’t let this fleeting happiness go away, Until I can lend an ear by your side I’m giving into you, but you don’t even have anything to say And my heart is dyed

Rose has at least tried to make friends in the killing game. The two most notable, in my opinion, are Teruko and Nico. I'd like to believe that her brief interactions with the two of them, at some points in time, have made her happy, at least in comparison to the rest of the killing game. In Rose and Nico's FTE, Nico mentions how they like that Rose is a chill person who will just hang out and listen, and when Teruko asks Rose about her secret, Rose explains to Teruko that talking to others helps her work through her complicated thoughts and emotions. These two pieces together make me believe that Rose likes showing that she cares by listening to others, so "lending them an ear" is her way of reciprocating that happiness. Both of them are pretty quiet, but they've still changed who she is right now, for better or worse.

I’m a drunkard unaware of the story

Rose's sleepiness and general withdrawl from social interactions prevent her from getting involved in major portions of the story, such as helping Levi reconnect with Ace. Her fears also directly prohibited her from being aware of certain pieces of evidence when she refused to enter the Playground to investigate Arei's body.

Finally, I also think that the style of the music just kinda fits Rose. Veronika would probably say that I'm just primed to believe that after Venus and I assigned Rose the song Always Tired, which has a similar low-key, depressing red flavor. But, while much siller, Cartoons by Louie Zong (which pretty much everyone agrees was Rose's from the official playlist), also has that slow synthetic/tech beat. (Does that make sense??? I don't know what instruments are.)

Obviously, I didn't go through every lyric, but I felt that most other lyrics were either pretty self-explanatory, ignorable, or more of the same. The lyrics of the song definitely lead me to think that we could be looking at a Rose MV, but there are a couple of other factors arguing against that interpretation.

The first is the choice to give Rose an MV now of all times. Our first MV was Sleepy, a song for Min which came out shortly after she died. Our second was Literature Girl Insane for David, which came out shortly after his show-stopping reveal which made waves in the killing game and the fandom. Rose... well, she did have some important scenes this chapter, between the reveal of her secret and her breakdown outside the Playground, but neither of them were particularly recent or relevant to where the story is currently paused.

Well, DRDTdev did say that not every character is planned to have an MV, and that the creation order of them isn't totally within his control. So, if the idea for Rose struck now, then we could get a Rose MV now!

For what it's worth, I realized that it probably doesn't make sense to give this MV to anyone who's involved in the Chapter 2 murder. Even if we're still a few months out from that reveal, I feel like it would make more sense if we just waited until the chapter was over to give the killer a nice MV sendoff, much like Min. I, along with... pretty much everyone else I asked back in August didn't think that Rose was going to die this chapter, so she's most likely free from that mark.

The second is the quote in the description under the video, "I lack self control." I... really don't know what this would mean for Rose. Generally, I think she's pretty good at controlling her emotions, and I agree that that part might point in the MV more in the direction of Ace, Levi, Veronika, or someone else.

Still, I think that the lyrics of Yoidoreshirazu fit Rose pretty well, and wanted to explain my thoughts somewhere. Most importantly, new content! Thank you DRDTdev; stay healthy out there!!!

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #drdt spoilers #rose lacroix #nico hakobyan #teruko tawaki #my theories #yoidoreshirazu mv #i wonder what made drdtdev tell us the song's title ahead of time this time. i guess just bc the thumbnail he wanted to use has the title?#yoidoreshirazu is a bop i'm excited that anyone who hasn't heard it will get to know it better #what if it's bandori cover.... haha jk unless?#don't actually do that it would make the video get copyrighted instantly

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