rocksteadydeadboy

[rocksteadydeadboy]

@timidlydead liked for a starter 📻

Charles kept up a brisk pace through the misty streets of Port Townsend, his mind too preoccupied with the latest case to bother dodging pedestrians; at worst, they would shudder without knowing why, looking around in confusion at the sudden chill that had passed through them. As he turned the corner he didn't bother checking where he was going, expecting the usual ghostly pass-through, but instead felt his shoulder collide with a solid thud.

"Sorry mate," he said reflexively, looking up to see the girl's eyes widen. For a moment, they stood frozen in mutual recognition, and a chill ran down his spine as he realized the other passersby weren't looking at either of them. Not a medium, then-- his curiosity was officially piqued.

"New in town, yeah?" Charles offered, giving the other ghost an easy smile and an outstretched hand. "Chuffed to meet you either way. I could count the young folks who can see to me on one hand." he winced, grin turning rueful. "Er- not that I want that number to go up, mind you."

[rocksteadydeadboy]

[ OOC meds refilled lads i'm ready to shift into soup mode* 👍 ]

[rocksteadydeadboy]

Jun Takahashi on the first issue of ‘4-LOM’ (1996) Scanned by uraharascans

[rocksteadydeadboy]

Send me ‘PARTNERS’ and I’ll draw your muse and my muse together ❤️

[rocksteadydeadboy]

Willow Grove mall, Philadelphia, 1982.

Scan

[rocksteadydeadboy]

🪞🦇

[rocksteadydeadboy]

Matt Bollinger (American, b. 1980, Kansas City, MO, USA, based Brooklyn, NY, USA) - Before the Beat, 2020, Paintings: Flashe, Acrylic on Canvas

[rocksteadydeadboy]

love & friendship - collected writings from side wounds and other poems

[rocksteadydeadboy]

[ sometimes i feel like i write charles sounding like a cartoon character and then i go back to check an ep and he just talks like that. lord farquad pointing meme Londoner .jpg ]

[rocksteadydeadboy]

📬 @retriibutions asked:

“you look like you've got this under control.” -from Thomas, the Cat King

📨[ prompts for talking yourself out of something ]📨

The salty air of Port Townsend's derelict docks was already enough to sting his skin with the thick scent of brine and decay, but Charles hardly notices it now, overwhelmed by the sharp bite of iron searing his skin. The beam had come down without warning, pinning him to the weathered planks-- he curses whichever lazy bugger had let the iron-laden wood go to rot, gritting his teeth and trying in vain to ignore the fresh waves of pain burning through him with every shove.

At the Cat King's sudden arrival he lets out an undignified yelp. Fervently grateful that being dead means his face isn't burning with embarrassment, he looks up at the man with a sullen glare. "Brills. You wanna go grab a snack while I keep taking it in the teeth, yeah?"

[rocksteadydeadboy]

"I enjoy you so much," he informs Edwin matter of factly. Emboldened by both of their good moods, Charles gently unhooks the glasses from around the other boy's ears to try them on; his nose crinkles as he squints at the tiny bottle in Edwin's hand, noting with interest it does have a certain glow about it now. "Bloody hell these are hard to see in! If I didn't know better, I'd say you were making some tosh up reading with these things on."

Even in his playfulness he handles the finely made instrument with care, blinking owlishly to clear his eyes as he slips the glasses back into one of the many unseen pockets of his bag. "My time to peacock then, yeah? Think I can hit a six with that bottle?"

very rarely did the two need words to describe their plans. and even then it was usually a well rehearsed move that they knew off by heart. so edwin isn't remotely surprised when the moment he closes up his kit it is taken from him by charles to be put away. it is just how they work. " a mixture of generally good memory and my notebook. a good detective must be able to refer back to past information, after all. "

he gives the other boy an unimpressed look but there is no bite to it. " the lexicographical glasses? they are meant to be used by alchemists and artificers alike. both of which are academic professions. perhaps i should wear them more if you enjoy them so much. "

[rocksteadydeadboy]

The logic there is sound, but more than that, Charles feels it a bit silly to start arguing with himself in an even more literal sense than usual. He swallows the knee-jerk reply rising in his throat and instead reaches to ruffle up the other boy's hair just to annoy him. "Yeah, reckon," he declares, a playful gleam mirrored in the brown eyes they share.

"Not saying it's a contest, mate, but it's clear I got the proper Edwin in the deal. Rather be dead with him any day. He's teaching me Latin right now, yeah?" A bold claim, but not technically a lie—listening to Edwin recite spells and asking what they mean should count as learning, he reckons.

@rocksteadydeadboy asked: " there's nothing bad inside you. nothing. " [ for doom patrol charles unless that's too convulted !?]

it's kinda weird hearing a different version of himself. especially one who knows what went on behind closed doors at home. charles wonders if every version of himself would have such a fucked up life or if there is one that got to at least understand happiness prior to meeting edwin. not that he'd swap it for anything. being mates with edwin is brills. best time of his afterlife. that didn't mean when he cracked his themed weapon of the week over someone's head he doesn't wonder if the apple hasn't fallen that far from the tree. " same goes for you, mate. we both wouldn't have been able to get a bloke like edwin to stick around if we were rotten inside. though, mine's better, obviously. like, the best. "

[rocksteadydeadboy]

"Still cool, innit?" Charles beams at his partner, taking the kit out of Edwin's hands without prompting. After thirty years of adjustments they had oiled the gears of their operation well, and Charles was more than happy to play fetch with the odds and ends they carried, even if his bag was well within Edwin's reach. "Dunno how you keep track of all this. Must be like the National Archives in there."

He risks a quick flick to Edwin's forehead, gloved fingers only hard enough to be a nuisance. "Plus I like when you wear those little glasses, yeah? Makes you look right academic." he tongue clicks on the mic, peeking out between his teeth.

@rocksteadydeadboy asked: ❝ i'm always blown away by just how talented you are. ❞ [ from the in case u didn't know ask meme ! ]

it is not particularly impressive what edwin has done to elicit such a kind comment. merely created a concoction that should, when thrown, illuminate the steps taken by the griffin they are attempting to capture. it has wandered too close to human life and many fear it could look for a meal in the children wandering the streets. but to guide it to a better living arrangement first the detectives need to find it. his kit has done the heavy lifting but edwin has learned over many years exactly how to synthesise many a formula. " a talent is merely something practiced and honed. as you are talented with your bat, people skills and charm i am adept with scientific endeavours. " if ghosts could blush, he would be. luckily, he can merely preen a little to show how happy the comment made him.

[rocksteadydeadboy]

good boy but in the way you praise a hunting dog after you have it gore something

[rocksteadydeadboy]

[ i wanna start a cat king sideblog largely so i can queue up a daily report from the port towsend cats .. what kind of random trinkets they r bringing him as tribute et cetera. What's new at the fish market ]

[rocksteadydeadboy]

He didn't feel taken aback at the flinch, assuming Edwin was simply in a mood not to be touched, and opted for leaning his elbows on the makeshift desk instead with a tired smile. "Not everything's gotta be useful, mate. Not for nothing, but it was nice seeing you do something just to do it. You know, for fun, yeah?" he winked, grin turning a bit cheeky. "Even if it was with Monty. On my life that bloke can rabbit on for days."

This was at least half true (Charles tried to only half-fib to Edwin when possible) and he felt a bit proud of himself for it; if his best mate wanted to be shared, Charles resolved to grit his teeth and make himself so charming Monty would smile back at both of them next time.

Charles' eyes wandered down to a sightly crumpled sheet of paper left under the book, snatching it up quick-fingered before Edwin could stop him. His eyes traced the unfamiliar symbols curiously, and as he took in Monty's careful, earnest notes something a little gentler curled around the jealous burn in his chest. "Gloomy and traditional," he mused, voice softer but still teasing. "This stuff's pretty dead on then, innit?"

"You do plenty." It could have been a barb or a balm and Edwin wasn't entirely sure which one he meant it to be.

Then Charles' put his chin on his shoulder and he snapped the book shut. It was almost a flinch and completely unwarranted and it only added to the foolish feeling he had growing in his stomach. "Astrology. Astronomy would likely be more useful."

It did not matter when Charles' was born because Astrology didn't mean anything. It did no matter if their Death Dates and times would change it because it was immaterial. And it most certainly did not matter that Edwin had a birth date, a death date, and a date out of hell.

None of it mattered and he had been foolish for thinking so much about it. "I thought it might prove to be a resource but I was wrong."

[rocksteadydeadboy]

Wrapped up in his own mind as he was, Charles still didn't miss the way Edwin fidgeted with the book in his hands rather than open it and divest his attention away from the sorry sight in front of him. He watched the other boy's slender fingers stroke along the worn hardback edge, blearily wondered how they would feel in his hair.

(A small part of him had always been grateful for Edwin's stiff-upper-lip upbringing, unhealthy as it was. On the rare nights Charles couldn't stop his eyes from welling up, hot and ashamed, his partner's careful silence felt like the noblest thing in the world; if Edwin let him pick the records the rest of the week, well, that was just him trying to expand his musical horizons, wasn't it?)

Pity had always made him feel like a cornered animal, and he felt a strange sense of safety knowing Edwin was smart enough to see when his teeth were bared.

Charles shook his head to clear it, standing up stiffly and brushing his jacket off out of habit as he studied Edwin through lowered lashes. "Wouldn't mind getting reminded. I do like saying I told you so, don't I?" he didn't smile yet, but his eyes were a little less distant. "And yeah, reckon. Should've sussed that wanker out before we played good detectives with him. Let's add background checks next time, yeah?"

The answer was yes, of course, we're not getting paid--but it wasn't a fact Edwin particularly cared about. He would have much rather had a fool-proof guide on how to make Charles' feel better that wasn't largely set on existing.

It doesn't matter would probably be met with a scuff at best and seen as pity at worst. Charles Rowland was the last person he would ever pity. He watched Charles study his own hands and ran an index finger along the edge of his book instead of touching him. "I could remind you about the times I have been, as you say, 'well shown' on a case. I believe you have been pressing me to learn some... defensive measures to that end."

That felt acceptable--a burden shared. If Edwin ever reached perfect perhaps he wouldn't have to worry about hell anymore but if that did happen, well, Edwin figured he'd have found himself back in hell.

Edwin watched him a moment longer, hands on his book that was still closed. Ghosts said a lot in the ways they wore their clothes, in the ways their faces were. Everything about Charles said I'm fine but also I'm not. It likely wasn't the time but Edwin pressed on anyway, "I was thinking we need to revise our questionnaire for cases."