#poor edwin and his hand

[tragedy-machine]

We all remember how Edwin barely reacted to touching the iron bar in order to get the little girl's shoes in one of the earlier episodes, right

So imagine that when some villain attacks them with e g. an iron crowbar and hurts Charles, Edwin snaps, and when they swing on Edwin, he just grabs the crowbar with his bare hand and completely ignores the pain

He's had worse, way worse

The shock of it makes the villain drop the weapon, and Edwin quickly uses his chance to overpower them with a spell

Meanwhile Charles needs a longer moment to come back online, because wow that was hot

[persephoneggsy]

A little write-up on Hildegarde Trevelyan and her family bc OC thoughts are dominant thoughts right now

Hildegarde Trevelyan: the youngest daughter of the Trevelyan family (and in fact, the only trueborn daughter of Lord Trevelyan), Hildegarde is a meek, unassuming young woman who would much rather be holed up with her studies than lead a holy organization. She’s incredibly anxious and prone to bouts of extreme insecurity. Despite having intelligence and power in spades and a great tactical mind, she’d much rather let someone else take the lead, because she’s terrified of messing up and ruining everything.

Of course, when she’s caught in the crossfire at the Conclave and winds up the Herald of Andraste, her desire to keep her head down and stay out of trouble is completely disregarded. Luckily, her anxiety is balanced out by a genuine desire to help make things better. She’s deeply empathetic and will always try to help out where she can, even if she stretches herself too thin.

She’s passionate about learning, with a special interest in architecture, as well as learning more about the Fade. She believes the best way to fight fear is through knowledge (as you can imagine, Solas took a shine to her lol).

With the friends she makes through the Inquisition (and the love and support from a certain former templar) Hildegarde grows into a capable and confident leader in her own right.

Hannelore Trevelyan (nee Barragan): Hildegarde’s mother. Hildegarde never actually knew her, due to Hannelore passing away shortly after she was born. Hannelore was a noble from a minor Nevarran family, who had an arranged marriage with an older lord, also Nevarran. Though she wasn’t in love with her first husband, they respected each other, and they had three children together.

She took a very active role in her children’s lives, not wanting them to be raised solely by nannies like she was. After her first husband passed away (from old age), she eventually met a Free Marcher noble, Abelarde, and was endeared towards his enthusiasm for admittedly niche subjects. The two grew close, and after a year of courting, Abelarde proposed and Hannelore accepted. The family moved to Ostwick (despite protests from some of her children), and Hannelore was delighted to find that she was already pregnant with their first child. She’s the one who picked Hildegarde’s name.

Abelarde Trevelyan: Hildegarde’s father. Known as an incredibly devout Andrastian, Abelarde spent his early years studying chantry history, and has published books on several subjects, though his true passion is architecture, which is something he passed down to his trueborn daughter. He met and fell deeply in love with Hannelore during a research trip to Nevarra. He bonded with and got on well with Hannelore’s children.

When Hildegarde was born, however, he was utterly devoted to her; most suspect his over abundance of affection came from grief at losing Hannelore after the birth, and while he didn’t neglect his step children, it was clear to all who his favorite was.

When Hildegarde’s magic manifested at age 13, he briefly considered hiding her from the Circle, not wanting to lose her. But ultimately, he conceded and sent her away to Ostwick’s Circle of Magi. He still kept in contact with her via weekly letters and gifts, though unbeknownst to him, his affections resulted in the other young mages at the Circle viewing Hildegarde as a spoiled brat, and she felt isolated as a result. Despite that, Hildegarde adores her father.

By the time the Conclave occurs, Abelarde is beside himself with worry; he knows Hilde was due to appear at the Conclave with her Circle, and after he hears about the explosion, his heart breaks. Thankfully, one of the first things Hildegarde does upon getting her bearings in Haven is write to her father. He nearly makes the pilgrimage to Haven, but is stopped by his eldest stepson, who is worried about the Breach. Part of him is proud that Hildegarde is the Herald of Andraste, but he’s mostly a nervous ball of anxiety and dread because now she’s in near constant danger. After Haven is destroyed and Hilde relocates to Skyhold, he can’t take it anymore and goes to the fortress to see her for himself.

After that, he becomes a semi-regular fixture at Skyhold, wanting to keep an eye on his daughter, reconnect with Edwin and Edeline, and study Skyhold’s fascinating architecture. Plus, he wants to keep an eye on that Cullen fellow, who seems to be getting rather cozy with Hildegarde…

Ewald Barragan-Trevelyan: Hildegarde’s oldest half-brother. With a 13 year age difference between them, Ewald didn’t spend much time with his youngest sister, though he was rather fond of her. Much of Ewald’s attention was taken up preparing for his role as a nobleman.

Some consider him rather lucky, since his birth father, Lord Barragan, wasn’t the heir to the estate, so he inherited very little from him. But because Abelarde’s trueborn heir turned out to be a mage, he named Ewald his successor instead, thus granting him power over the much more influential House Trevelyan (to some controversy, of course; Ewald is Nevarran, regardless of his stepfather’s nationality). Ewald, for his part, only cares about being a good lord for those under his jurisdiction.

Upon learning Hildegarde survived the Conclave, was named Herald of Andraste, and later Inquisitor, he felt proud of her, but was unsure if he could express it because of how distant their relationship was. At his stepfather’s urging, he visits Skyhold to tell her so in person. Hildegarde, to his shock and dismay, starts crying. (She’s happy crying, but it takes him several panicked minutes to realize this.) 

Of his biological siblings, he’s the closest to their stepfather, having bonded with him after Hildegarde was sent to the Circle.

Edeline Barragan: Hildegarde’s half-sister. Dignified, dutiful, and disciplined are three words one would use to describe Edeline. Spiteful, insecure, and cruel are another three. Edeline was only ten was Hildegarde was born, but because the birth also resulted in the death of her beloved mother, she blamed the babe and was determined to keep her new sister at arm’s length. Hildegarde barely remembers anything about her because of this, and what little she does remember isn’t great; Edeline treated her more like an inconvenient pet than a sister (to the chagrin of Abelarde, who tried to talk to Edeline about her attitude; unfortunately, Edeline didn’t like him much better than Hildegarde.)

For all her cruelty, Edeline does care deeply about her family — who she considers her real family, anyway. She looks up to Ewald and is fiercely protective of Edwin. She joined the templars (a longtime childhood dream of hers), and quickly rose through the ranks and earned the respect of her peers. She views mages as creatures deserving pity — though not, notably, as people. She actually feels sorry for Hildegarde in this respect.

When she heard that Hildegarde was named the Herald of Andraste, and that some of her fellow soldiers actually considered her holy, she was furious. Her mousy, spoiled half-sister, a divine prophet? Ha!

Though Edwin, who had followed her for most of his life, thought that this was a sign to make amends with their half sister, Edeline saw it as another obstacle. When she was offered a strange new form of lyrium that was promised to make her even stronger, she took it without hesitation. And not a moment too soon — she heard that Hildegarde and her new entourage were coming to Therinfal Redoubt.

(Edeline will eventually be redeemed, but it’s a long and frankly exhausting road for everyone involved.)

Edwin Barragan: Hildegarde’s youngest half-brother. Edwin’s always been more of a follower, specifically towards Edeline; he followed her to the templars, but even before that, he followed her in everything since they were children… including the neglect of their half-sister. Edwin had his moments, though, being the first to apologize for a prank gone too far, and he would occasionally send Hildegarde gifts for her birthday. Still, overall, not the best brother, and that’s a fact that’s haunted him ever since Hilde was sent to the Circle. He knows what some of his fellow templars were like regarding mages — he worried for Hildegarde, but because they were related he couldn’t get stationed at her Circle due to conflict of interest.

When news comes that Hilde is the Herald, Edwin is overjoyed — she survived the Mage-Templar war, she survived the Conclave, and now she was coming to save the templars! Unfortunately, Edeline disagreed with his optimism, which led to their first real fight. Edeline went off with the Red Templars while Edwin joined the Inquistion.

In the Inquisition, Edwin finally apologizes to Hildegarde for his behavior and the two begin to reconnect as siblings. He also gets to bond more with his stepfather, who is delighted that his family is finally coming together. Edwin’s main mission is tracking down Edeline and trying to bring her back to reason.

He serves under Cullen, a man he has great respect for… Until he hears rumors among the soldiers that the Commander and the Inquisitor were caught sucking face on the battlements. Then he storms the Commander’s room to give him the shovel talk of the century. (Hildegarde is mortified. Abelarde approves. Cullen takes the whole thing very graciously. He has siblings, too; he knows how it is.)

Also, Edwin has a not-so-secret crush on Ser Delrin Barris.

[tybaltsjuliet]

here's the thing about charles dickens. [discussion of his antisemitism, misogyny, and racism ahead.]

his last, unfinished novel, the mystery of edwin drood, features helena and neville landless, heroic and sympathetic south asian (sri lankan, specifically) characters, and the racism they endure in an english town is relevant to the plot to the point where neville ends up falsely accused of murder. in the wake of the indian rebellion of 1857, dickens applauded the english brutality against "that oriental race," and called for genocide.

fagin is called "the jew" 274 times in the first half of oliver twist. an article in the jewish chronicle asked why "jews alone should be excluded from the 'sympathizing heart' of this great author and powerful friend of the oppressed." at first, dickens dismissed this, and claimed he was just being accurate about london's criminal makeup. but he was moved enough by eliza davis's letters to him on the matter that he halted the printing of the latter half of oliver twist so he could change the text and remove the antisemitic language therein.

dickens was an abolitionist who despised chattel slavery in the united states, and called emancipation a "moral duty." dickens didn't think black americans were intelligent enough to vote, and he wrote an entire character in bleak house who is a joke to be disliked and mocked because she'd rather oversee charity missions to help children in africa than be a proper mother and tend to her own family at home in england.

speaking of one's own family at home in england, dickens smeared his wife, catherine hogarth, publicly so he could justify separating from her and taking up with a younger woman. catherine hogarth was likely mentally ill, likely living with postpartum depression. she was also an author in her own right and loved her family dearly. her reputation never recovered in her lifetime from the claims he made about her. in dickens's novels, time and time again, from nicholas nickleby to david copperfield to our mutual friend to the mystery of edwin drood, men who menace and take advantage of vulnerable women are portrayed as the worst kind of villains, deserving of whatever grisly ends come to them.

charles dickens was both privately and publicly a raging asshole in many ways and the world would be worse off without him, because he wrote for bourgeois, comfortable victorians, the very people who so often failed to "think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys." in the same breath that he calls agnes fleming, who opens oliver twist as an unwed mother dying in a workhouse, "weak and erring," he dares to add that "i do believe that the shade of that poor girl often hovers about that solemn nook-ay, though it is a church." he calculated jo's death to the page in bleak house for maximum effect. but when he wrote of the orphaned crossing-sweeper, "dead, your majesty. dead, my lords and gentlemen. dead, right reverends and wrong reverends of every order. dead, men and women, born with heavenly compassion in your hearts. and dying thus around us every day," people listened.

i dedicated years of my life to reading him and studying him and thinking about him and writing about him and his novels. now, i turn to condemn him; now, i turn to justify him. i wish i had a time machine so i could shake his hand. i wish i had a time machine so i could publicly debate him. i wish i had a time machine so i could break his nose.

charles dickens gives me courage and hope. charles dickens makes me want to tear my goddamn hair out. he is everything i despise and everything i love about the victorian age in one; the term "a man of his time" ought to have been invented for him. the leaps and bounds the victorians made for progress in the public good are only matched in greatness by the extremity of their atrocities against their "fellow-passengers" on this earth. the way we think about nearly every modern social ill can be traced back to the 19th century; the way we think about nearly every modern idea of social justice can be traced back to the 19th century. every last one is writ large and small in dickens's novels. he and his age are the greatest contradictions in human history and that's why i can't shut up about them, ever, even when i am exhausted by them, even when i am inspired by them, even when it was two centuries ago and it shouldn't matter anymore, but it does. it always will.

[wordsinhaled]

they should call it the down bad detective agency 'cause edwin payne's down so bad. i'm rewatching the first time edwin tries to confess his feelings to charles, and poor edwin is truly fighting for his life in this scene...

he's just trying to get the words out and yet is so clearly made nearly speechless by how pretty charles is... charles comes to put his hands on his shoulders, and edwin looks like he's thinking he probably ought to be talking, but instead he's literally just... looking at charles mesmerized... just giving charles the softest, most smitten little smile... because how can he not?

even if charles isn't understanding exactly what edwin is saying, yet, he's being so kind and patient and compassionate and accepting him completely... and those are all things charles has always been with him, all things edwin loves about him, all reasons he fell in love in the first place... and it reminds him all over again why he's trying to confess.

he's literally having his own little "can't argue with your pretty brown eyes" moment right there. you can just hear the "anything you say, darling, i do so love the sound of your voice" going through his head.

[darklinaforever]

"I will never understand why people ship them together when the Cat King is just SO nonconsensual and downright creepy towards Edwin. What are people even seeing??"

"Also his apparent idea of romance is trying to coerce Edwin and then trapping him to subject him to continual harassment like dude enough is enough"

I still remind you that without the Cat King, Edwin would probably have had no development in his feelings and his sexuality.

It is literally the fact that the Cat King blocked him in town and tried to seduce him that causes a positive development in Edwin, with his iconic confession to Charles. Without Cat King, there's none of this.

And again, in case these people forget... Edwin's punishment was literally an equivalent of what he did to a cat. The punishment was fair.

Also I call him back, but Edwin seemed very, very willing to the Cat King's advances. I even dare to say that our Cat King sabotaged himself by putting the bracelet on Edwin because otherwise, Edwin would clearly have let himself be kissed and maybe even more.

Edwin did not perceive the Cat King's advances as harassment. On the contrary, deep down, he liked them. It felt good to be desired like that. His whole body language shows he was enjoying this.

And the Cat King being visibly strongly linked to desires, and more particularly Edwin's desires in the logic of the scenario, something tells me that he must have felt it. The Cat King was content to flirt with someone he liked and who he felt liked in return.

Even when the Cat King forced Edwin to tell the truth, it may seem immoral, but it was a good thing for Edwin's character development and even just a good thing in the sense that it allowed him to unravel a weight by confessing something that visibly weighed him down. We can see him nodding very briefly and discreetly when the Cat King tells him that he shouldn't feel better after revealing this ?

I'm tired of seeing this type of person spouting their bullshit. It seems like they're purposely watching the show with their eyes closed. Either that or they don't have an education in media analysis.

I personally believe that what must annoy these people a lot is the fact that even their precious little Edwin, whose honor and physical integrity they are trying to defend at all costs, canonically has a big crush on the Cat King and was completely ready to be kissed by him during their literally first interaction which they like to describe as assault. 😂

Also, even though most of us Catwin shippers would like them to be endgame, we are well aware that it's a low probability and that Charles will surely eventually realize that he romantically loves Edwin in return. On the other hand, these people who spit on the character of the Cat King seem to simply refuse to recognize his importance in Edwin's sexual and romantic journey, trying to portray him as a disgusting abuser who would have traumatized the poor Edwin when just... no.

It's not very complicated to understand what we like about the Cat King and his relationship with Edwin. But for that, these people would already have to have the descent to understand the basis of the character. He is fully present to serve Edwin's positive emotional and sexual development. Without the Cat King, Edwin would probably never have been pushed against the wall in order to fully assume who he is. What the Cat King brings to Edwin is very beautiful and important. And for this to happen, Edwin obviously has to actually feel things for the Cat King. But these people really don't seem ready to hear that either. Basically, we like this relationship because it is well written with a goal and complex characters sharing a connection to tell it to us.

[edwinspaynes]

dbda fic snippet (pre-canon)

“What is this... Pac Man doing?” [Edwin asked.]

“Eating pellets,” Charles said, and Edwin shot him a look. “Hey. You can’t judge him, mate. That’s, like, his whole diet. Not his fault he has to snap them up, is it?”

He found himself stupidly jealous. Pac Man probably did not taste sand when he ate the blobs. Maybe they tasted like spaghetti.

Charles missed spaghetti.

But he was torn from his thoughts when Edwin continued. “As humorous as those poor iterations of ghosts are, I assume they have a practical purpose as well. What is it?” He took the joystick in his hand and began to move it in slow, experimental circles.

“Oh, yeah. They chase Pac Man and when they catch him and, like, eat him or whatever, it’s game over.”

Edwin stiffened. “So, you run and it catches you?”

“Yeah, and then it makes this weird little whumpwhump noise and it’s game over. But you can just put another token in and-”

“I wish to play a different game.” Edwin’s voice was as stiff as his posture.

[whatsupwalnut]

Painland Week Day 2: Myths/Legends

@ deathsankh: lmao does Edwin Payne rly think i cant see him 😂

@ deathsankh: poor kid’s been in hell for 73 years and he comes right back to school? NERD

@ deathsankh: omg he made a friend, i love this for him

@ deathsankh: his lil friend is cute but imma let them cook 🙏

@ deathsankh: bumped into the boys again today, they brought me an offering

@ deathsankh: little girl didnt know she was dead, poor thing

@ deathsankh: i can’t share deets (thanks hipaa) but she died in her apartment and she’s been stuck there for decades

@ deathsankh: they played a game with her and suddenly her soul is calling to me??? okay boys, go offff

@ deathsankh: they thought i couldnt see them BEHIND A DESK lmaooooo 

@ deathsankh: these new kids crack me up

@ deathsankh: the dead boys are still in that apartment, they can’t hide for shit

@ deathsankh: 🏅 congrats to the worst to ever do it 🏅

@ deathsankh: they sent me two more souls in the past month and they’re still scared of me

@deathsankh: we’re colleagues now darlings, have fun out there 💅

@ deathsankh: stop, the little dead boys

@ deathsankh: im obsessed

@ deathsankh: they started a “detective agency” and ive gotten like 16 tributes from them so far

@ deathsankh: and get this

@ deathsankh: they’re calling it

@ deathsankh: THE DEAD BOYS DETECTIVE AGENCY 😂😂

@ deathsankh: like that’s not gunna attract attention from the afterlife

@ deathsankh: i put my contacts on notice, hands off unless they go thru me

@ deathsankh: the night nurse could be a problem but who’s gunna say no to me 💅

@ deathsankh: these boys are lucky i like they, they literally freed a ghost IN THEIR OFFICE tonight

@ deathsankh: like im not gunna sense them hiding on the windowsill 🙄

@ deathsankh: i should have said BOO right before i took Wilfred 😂 but u know im too profesh

@ deathsankh: i guess the dead boy detectives got spooked bc now they’re in port townsend??? 

@ deathsankh: BITCH IM EVERYWHERE 😂😂

@ deathsankh: i gotta call my girl Lilith, she was out there last time we spoke and it’s been too long

@ deathsankh: their little friend kinda reminds me of her

@ deathsankh: these boys stay getting themselves into situations ong

@ deathsankh: i cant talk specifics but that dad was a piece of work

@ deathsankh: im only sorry i couldnt get to him myself.

@ deathsankh: Lilith is Not Doing Well, please reach out if you have her info 🙏

@ deathsankh: shit is POPPING OFF in port townsend

@ deathsankh: why cant these kids take a proper holiday

@ deathsankh: night nurse is ON MY ASS like i don’t already know about this

@ deathsankh: she takes this shit too seriously lmao

@ deathsankh: YO

@ deathsankh: HELL????

@ deathsankh: HITTING UP MY CONTACTS ASAP @DESPAIR KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR A SAD NERDY KID IN UNDERWEAR YOU’LL KNOW THE ONE

@ deathsankh: oh shit what up @simonpages 

@ deathsankh: Thank you to everyone who reached out to Lilith, including the dead boy’s little friend! She’s doing much better now and hell has a new resident :) 

@ deathsankh: NOT LILITH lmao my bad 😂

@ deathsankh: the boys are out of hell but everyone is still sad??? they said their neighbor died but i didnt hear anything? mods????????????????????????????????????

@ deathsankh: this one is out of my jurisdiction gl out there boys 🫡

@ deathsankh: whole squad is back in London

@ deathsankh: the medium’s parents are annoying i need to give them a buzz…

@ deathsankh: NOT LIKE THAT u know i can’t take ppl before their time, but like…

@ deathsankh: they need a lil reminder that im coming :) 

@ deathsankh: i gotta take the night nurse out for drinks bc she is STRUGGLING @ThePrincipal u crazy for this one queen 😂😂 girls night soon?

@ deathsankh: fr tho does nn think i look at all that paperwork bc LMAO

@ deathsankh: the tweedy one loves it tho have fun king

@ deathsankh: like im not gunna approve the asylum paperwork sksksksks

@ deathsankh: omg they got the news and the whole squad is crying in the club 

@ deathsankh: even the night nurse lmao im never letting her live this down

@ deathsankh: maybe i shouldnt have delivered the news personally, i think i almost killed the boys again 😬 my bad yall

@ deathsankh: was anyone surprised the curly one kissed the tweedy one when i told them 😂

@ deathsankh: took them long enough tbh 😻

[coloursflyaway]

A Little Of That Human Touch

Pairing: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.600

Read on AO3

I got this lovely little prompt from @musicismagic-writes: Charles and Edwin finish a really tough case that knocks one of their confidence (don't mind who because I'd read either), and the other spends some time lifting their spirits (pun absolutely intended!). Could be platonic but even cooler if it turns into a moment of realisation for Charles.

And we all know that there is nothing platonic about any of it.

The case had sucked, Charles doesn’t really know how else to put it, and to be honest, he doesn’t think he has the strength to even try anymore.

It’s nothing new that cases with children just grate on him in a way that might have to do more with his own past than with what actually happened, but this time, it’s even worse, because it doesn’t even feel like they helped. Because Charles knows the red tint hell gives everything around when it opens up to swallow a soul, and while they were able to help their client move on, it isn’t them Charles is still thinking about as he slumps down on the sofa, feeling so tired it’s like he still had his physical body.

Instead, it’s the teenager who had beat their client to death, who knew nothing but violence from his home and chose to spread it all around him, and God, does Charles hate it. They should have been able to save him, he knows that deep down in his bones, even if he can see in Edwin’s eyes that the best person in the world doesn’t agree with him.

“Charles”, that very best person in the world says now, and sits down next to him, close enough that their thighs touch. Edwin rarely initiates any kind of physical touch, so this means something, and Charles is glad for it, even if that something is most likely that he is being an idiot.

“You couldn’t have saved him”, Edwin tells him with a certainty that Charles sometimes wishes he could borrow. “Could’ve tried harder, couldn’t I?”

“Absolutely not.” Edwin turns around slightly to face him, and he looks like it isn’t something he believes in, but something he knows. Like that the sky is blue and the sea is deep and that Charles would bring him back from hell if he ever ended up there again, even if he had to burrow his way there with his teeth and fingernails.

He looks like someone Charles shouldn’t be allowed to call anything, least of all his best friend.

“Charles, I mean it”, Edwin insists when there is no answer, which is really sweet and Charles appreciates it, but also kind of hard to believe when Charles can close his eyes and see that poor kid’s snarl turn into fear when he heard Hell approach. “We did our best. You did.”

“Doesn’t feel like it, though.” Charles forces a smile to his lips; if there is anything he doesn’t want, it’s to worry Edwin. “And it still sucks, doesn’t it?” “That it does”, Edwin admits, but his eyes are soft and it’s enough to drive at least a bit of the exhaustion from Charles’ limbs. “Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

Charles wants to shake his head, but Edwin is faster, puts a hand on Charles’ knee and gives it a little squeeze. “Let me try”, he says, and Charles can’t do anything but nod.

“Is there anything you need?”, Edwin asks when he doesn’t get more of an answer, and Charles response is immediate.

You, he thinks, and the thought is a surprise and the most natural thing in the world at the same time. But there is no time to unpack it, even if Charles is reeling with it, even it feels like a revelation, like something he has always known.

So, he shakes his head, and Edwin tilts his head just so, as if he is trying to figure something out; for the first time in forever, Charles isn’t certain if he wants him to.

A moment passes, and then, under the breath he doesn’t need anymore, Edwin mutters, “Oh, sod it.” And he pulls Charles into a hug, which might not be a first but definitely is a rare occurrence, and Charles feels himself melt into the embrace even before his body has realised what is happening.

There is a sigh on his lips that he cannot swallow down fast enough; he breathes it out, which causes Edwin’s arms to tighten around him even further, and Charles’ head slots into the curve between Edwin’s shoulder and neck like it belongs there. The more Charles thinks about it, the more certain he is that it does.

“Thank you”, he mumbles, half into Edwin’s collar, half against his skin, making Edwin shiver in the process. “Think I needed that.” “I know you did”, Edwin answers, and his voice bears a smile, a tremble, an affection so deep it spans Earth and Heaven and Hell and anything in between. “As did I.”

And he holds Charles tighter still.

“It’s just difficult sometimes”, Charles says like he is answering a question Edwin has yet to ask, and Edwin nods next to him. “Like, I know why we do this, I am glad that we are doing it, but sometimes there’s these moments when I wish we could just… not. Do something else instead.”

“Something else?”, Edwin asks, his voice soft and almost amused and so, so close. “What would you like to do?” “I don’t know”, Charles replies, because he has never really thought about it, has he? It’s more of a vague, shadowy what-if than anything that has been given shape, more a feeling than a fantasy. “We could haunt a museum, you would like that. Or a concert venue. I would like that. Or we could just, you know. Hang out.”

A soft chuckle, and Edwin’s hand slides up along Charles’ spine, leaving a trail of pleasant, warm buzzing in its wake. It’s not quite touch, but it’s a good enough substitute. “And we would still be together?”

“Of course. I told you before, you’re stuck with me”, Charles answers, and it’s not really a decision he makes, it’s just something that happens: he presses a kiss to the side of Edwin’s jaw, short and sweet.

Edwin sucks in an unnecessary breath and then pulls away, an act that almost pains Charles, whose head is swimming, because this is not them, or at least hasn’t been them until now. “Charles…”, Edwin whispers, and he sounds fragile, like Charles could break him in half with a wrong glance, a word. It makes Charles want to hug him again, tuck him close under his chin and never let him go again.

“Of course we would do it together”, he repeats himself, almost sounding defiant to his own ears, because suddenly, he needs Edwin to know this so deeply that he never has to ask again. “I’m not letting you go, am I?”

For a moment, Edwin looks like he wants to say something, maybe just Charles’ name, maybe something else entirely, but then, seeming like he might not even be aware of it, he leans in. It’s the smallest movement, one that Charles might not even have caught if they weren’t so close, or he wasn’t this in tune with Edwin, but he does. Even if Edwin stops himself almost immediately. Almost, Charles thinks, too quickly.

A moment in which they are almost suspended in time, and then a thought appears in Charles head, cloaked in soft light and bright affection and the dimmest hint of surprise.

“Did you… do you want to kiss me?”, he asks before the thought has time to disappear again, before the courage can, and Edwin’s eyes go so wide, so helpless, so beautiful.

He stays silent for a little, while Charles just watches him: the paleness of his skin, the plush pink of his lips, the curve of his eyebrows, and the warmth of his gaze.

“Yes”, he finally whispers and it feels like he is confessing all over again, only that this time, Charles thinks he knows an answer. “Very much so.”

His heart should be beating hard and fast and overwhelming, Charles thinks, only that he has no heart left; the physical one long since rotted, the metaphorical one long since given away.

“Well, go on, then”, he tells Edwin, and watches something bloom behind those green eyes. It’s hopeful and surprised and scared, all at the same time, and Charles knows in an instant that he’ll carry that look with him for the rest of his existence.

“Are you certain?”, Edwin asks, his voice trembling, “Charles, you have to be certain. I couldn’t take it if you weren’t.”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t do this to you, not if I wasn’t sure”, Charles replies and he didn’t know it five minutes ago, but he is. He is as sure about it as he is that the sky is blue and the sea is deep and that he would bring Edwin back from hell if he ever ended up there again, even if he had to burrow his way there with his teeth and fingernails. “You said you wanted to make me feel better, right? So, go on.”

Edwin is still watching him like he thinks Charles might disappear into thin air, so Charles quirks an eyebrow, before he reaches up to put his hand on the side of Edwin’s face, thumb caressing the soft skin there. It looks like it belongs there, feels like it, too.

And slowly, ever so slowly, Edwin leans in once more, only that this time, Charles knows to meet him halfway.

Edwin’s lips are soft and sweet and slot into place against Charles’ so easily it feels like they have done this a thousand times before; they move with the inexperience Charles expected and it’s intoxicating, it’s everything he could ask for. Softly, gently, because it still feels like he might scare Edwin away, Charles uses the hand he has on Edwin’s cheek to change the angle of their kiss, licking into his mouth and wishing desperately he could taste Edwin on his tongue, drink down his essence, fuse them together until where one begins is where the other ends.

And then Edwin half gasps, half moans against his lips and Charles presses closer, thinks that maybe not even that would be enough.

And then presses closer still.

[breyito]

Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part One: Severance

For @painlandweek Day 1: Language of Love: Acts of service (because killing a b*tch and plunging into obscurity to rescue your other half counts); and Sickfic (because Charles is not having a good time, poor boy).

You can read it here on AO3:

Part 2 Part 3 Chapters: 1/4 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:

“Crystal, you've seen him without me. You have never seen me without him.”

When Charles is taken by a powerful and mysterious entity, already hurt from protecting Edwin; Edwin loses his mind. He will stop at nothing to get his partner, the love of his life, back.

It's not like it's the first time he's had to do it. (He honestly thought that at least the European supernatural community had learnt their lesson about taking Charles away from him. It seems like a reminder is due.)

Part One: Severance

As soon as Charles was dragged through the glass’ surface with a cutoff scream and every mirror in the room shattered, Edwin felt his non-existent heart stop. Not again, not again, he thought, as he shifted throughout the shards for any kind of response to his magic. Nothing. Completely inert.

Ignoring Crystal’s sputtering questions, he ran outside the church to check the surrounding grounds. The day had already been gloomy, and now the dim grey light gave a sinister feeling to the whole place. The graveyard in which the old church was located did not help matters. 

He checked every metre of the place, hoping, hoping, hoping that Charles had just been transported somewhere near. (His brain tried to tell him that, logically, Charles could only have gone to another mirror or reflective surface, and all the mirrors inside the building were broken and there was no body of water on the property. For once, Edwin ignored his brain with all his might). 

He even cleaned the decades of filth from windows on the outside, because maybe then they’d be reflective enough that Charles could come back. But everything was useless, he was gone. He was gone, he was gone, Charles was gONE.

Ghosts didn’t have hearts that beat nor did their lungs need air, but Edwin kept taking more and more air in and he still couldn’t breathe. He was choking. He tugged desperately at his bowtie, finally opening it along with his shirt. His hands came away wet from his neck, and that’s when he realised that he was crying.

That last loss of control pushed him over the edge and he crashed to his knees on the leaf covered dirt. He pressed his muddied palms to his eye sockets and pressed until he saw colours burst behind his eyelids. 

He needed to think. He had to use his brain. He had to come up with something. He was so useless, so stupid. Why couldn’t he fucking think?

Edwin began hitting his forehead with his hands, because his brain wasn’t working and he needed the panic to stop so he could think. Thud-thud-thud. Sob. Thudthudthudthudthudthud. Stupid, stupid, stupid-!

“Edwin! Edwin, stop!” That was Crystal. She was kneeling next to him, trying to tug his hands away from his face. 

“H-he’s gone.” Edwin cried. He began grabbing and tugging at his hair, then digging his nails on the skin, leaving streaks of dirt to mix with the tears and drops of blood. “Charles’ gone, Crystal. I ca-can’t find him. I’ve looked everywhere!” 

He curled into a little shivering ball, face between his knees and arms around his head, as he rocked back and forth. Still, Crystal could hear his heartbreaking sobs and had to sniff not to burst out crying too. 

“Hey.” she said. Edwin didn’t seem to notice. “Hey!” She yelled, grabbing his shoulders and making him look at her. “Stop. He’s not gone-gone, alright? We can still find him. He’s counting on us.” Those green eyes kept spilling tears, but at least she could hear him taking in more air than before. “Breathe with me, Ed, okay? C’mon.” 

A few minutes later, Edwin was still shaking, but seemed more in control. He was trying to wipe off the dirt on his hands, at least, and his hair was slowly returning to its regular state. Finally, he took one last big breath in. 

“Right.” he said, as he smoothed down his coat. “That’s enough of that.”

In a blink, the boy in front of her was back in his immaculate uniform. Crystal didn’t know why, but she felt a shiver go down her spine as she looked at him. The only difference from his usual spotless image is Charles’ bag-of-tricks, which he had retrieved from inside the decrepit church. He had a death grip on it, so she knew he wouldn't accept her carrying it. 

“We need to get back to the office, right? To figure out who took him?” she said more than asked, as they began walking towards the gates of the cemetery. 

“Yes, that is indeed the first step.”

“Do you wanna go ahead and I’ll meet you there?” Crystal didn’t particularly feel like riding the bus on her own back to the city, even more so when the skies were beginning to darken; but she figured she had to offer, at least.

“That won’t be necessary.” he answered, retrieving a pair of glasses from his coat pocket. 

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“Charles would never forgive me if something happened to you because I was careless of your safety. We can begin the investigation with my notes and some of the books inside Charles’ bag.” He cleaned the lenses of the spectacles, and put them on, “I’ll join you as a passenger, since it’s safer to travel in numbers at night.” ended the elegant lady in the dark blue pantsuit. Not a minute too soon, as the turn at the end of the road led directly to the bus stop, and there were people already boarding their vehicle. 

“I thought there was the possibility of losing an arm to the bag?” she questioned, suspicious, as she paid for their tickets.

“As you can imagine, there’s an infinite number of levels. It’s true that Charles is the only one that can (mostly) navigate all of them safely; but I’ve had to learn too, for instances such as these. He usually leaves my books on Levels Three or Four, since I can reach those without much strain in an emergency, if he’s…not around.”

They choose to sit on the back, as to spread the books in the seats between them.  

“Let’s get you started with Reflection Manipulation for the Souls” Crystal nodded as she accepted the book. “It might be useful to shed light on what creature could affect the mirrors and glasses in such a way.” 

“And you?” she asked.

“I’ll search for a location spell. They don’t ordinarily work on ghosts, as we don’t have an actual physical presence.” As his hands began leafing through the book, she caught a glint of gold on his wrist. It felt familiar. Charles’ necklace. “It’s only a remote possibility, but I’d like to focus on that until we are safely back in the office.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you found his necklace!?” at the looks her loud tone of voice got, she got close enough to whisper. “I could have read that!”

“I doubt you could get anything substantial out of it, Crystal.”

“Why not?” she said back, before touching the metal and tapping into her powers.

She went still as her eyes clouded over. Edwin cursed under his breath as he waited for her. He smiled nervously at the man gawking at them, probably at ‘her’ vocabulary. (He rather thought this was one instance in which he could curse as much as he wanted and not feel any shame, in fact.)

“Fuck.” Crystal gave a full body shiver as she came back. “All I could feel was…cold. Wet, cold, dark…there was no end to it.” she murmured, tearing up a bit. “Do you think…?” Edwin cleared his throat.

“Let’s hope your reading was about his death and not his current predicament. He hates being cold.”

Both of them swallowed, thinking about the cheerful boy they loved plunged into an icy darkness by unfeeling hands. Without saying another word, they returned to their respective books, noting down anything that seemed useful. (Edwin didn’t even lecture Crystal for marking down the pages of the book. But then again, that edition wasn’t as old and therefore as delicate. Or so the ghost told himself, when he noticed and ignored it.)

—-- —-- —-- 

Many hours later, with dawn already about to rise, Edwin finally found what he needed. Crystal had fallen asleep a few hours ago, after compiling a list of possible beings that could have done such strong magic. To their dismay, witches had been at the top of the list, of course. Bloody witches. While Crystal cursed herself (and the universe) to sleep, the boy ghost kept going. 

After revising every note he had taken for their latest case, and all the spells available to him; he’d reached the point where he had to admit he was not able to trace Charles. Even those incantations that should have worked didn’t. He felt he was at his wit's end.

So he took advantage of the relative solitude to look over their most obscure volumes. Those he and Charles had decided the living girl didn’t need to know about unless it was necessary, for the danger they represented. (Those texts resided inside a designated shelf, and were protected by powerful enchantments. Crystal knew not to touch them, but not much else.)

Danger was meaningless to Edwin now, though, without Charles by his side. 

As he surveyed the contents, he felt in his core this magic was going to work for him. He may not be able to locate Charles, not even with this new magic…

But he could trace their latest ‘client’, the one that had led them to the old church, fought them and then vanished. 

This man had a lot to answer for. And he would.

—-- —-- —-- 

Half a world (or just half a city, Charles certainly would not know) away, the other boy ghost broke the surface of freezing water, gasping. He dragged himself to the rocky shore, teeth clashing. The bloody witch’s magic had taken almost every single layer he had had on, leaving him only in his sodden jeans. 

Never, not even while being attacked and then dying, had he felt more vulnerable. Nor as cold. He had to give her props, tho. He had frozen to death, and she had managed to beat that.

As he tried to prepare himself for another few hours in her dungeon, where he would be able to clothe himself and warm up only to be plunged back into the cold darkness, he wondered…

Was this what Edwin had felt, once he accepted the never ending cycle of his torture? This helplessness?

(Deep inside, he knew the answer was not. Because Edwin had escaped Hell on his own, with no one on his corner. He was the strongest person Charles knew. So he had to be strong now and not give up, because he knew Edwin and Crystal were out there, looking for him. He had no doubt.

(But it was so hard. So hard).)

[starsandaces24]

I was thinking about St. Hilarion's. It could either be an Anglican or a Catholic school, which might mean different things for the boys.

-Anglican - The state religion, meaning that Edwin's parents would be relatively normal members of Edwardian society. Comprises most of the current faith schools in Britain (I'm getting this off Wikipedia), but not all of them. (I'm not getting into Catholicism versus Protestantism because I'm in no way an expert, but Catholics were definitely a minority religion in 1916 England).

In Charles' (and Edwin's) case, this means his parents might not be super religious. I don't know if Ms. Rowland is Hindu, Christian, or not super religious, but if she is Christian, she would probably be Anglican because that's who took over India. Anyway, his parents might not be very religious because the Church of England was the default, meaning they probably sent him to St. Hilarion's because it was the best school or his father went there.

Evidence: Charles' family doesn't seem to be as rich (Look at Charles' room, there's a pretty good post about it. It's pretty small and a rich family would probably let their kid have a bigger room even if one of his parents was abusing him) and the CoE gives out more spots to people who can't afford it (in modern times, at least.) Also, it's the state religion.

-Catholic - There were less Catholic schools, meaning he would probably be further from home. Charles' family would definitely be pretty religious because they sent their kid there instead of a non-religious school or something.

Evidence: There's only one thing I can think of, but it's pretty convincing. Saint Hilarion is only considered a saint in the Catholic Church. (And a few other Orthodox churches, but I'm not considering either of them).

-Conclusion: St. Hilarion's is probably a Catholic school. I'm explaining myself out of the "Charles' family might be poor" by saying Charles' grandparents would probably pay for his school.

Extra: I would assume that Edwin's father went to the school no matter what, and Victorian parents (I'm referring to Edwin's grandparents) living in colonies would often sent their little boys off to boarding schools to learn to be "proper members of society, blah, blah, blah." Edwin's father might have grown up in India.

Edit: Preempting the "Charles' is left handed, Catholic schools wouldn't have let him do that", I know someone slightly older than Charles and he made it out of school perfectly left handed. I asked him, and he said that they stopped doing it when he went to school. Does that mean every school did that? No. Does that mean that St. Hilarion's could have? Yes.

[deadboy-edwin]

I have this idea for payneland:

Both of them get hit with some kind of spell of sorts that makes them "human" for 24 hours (basically like when they were alive: people can see them, hear them, touch them, they can taste and feel things again, the works)

What do you think they'd do in that time? Maybe taste their fav foods again?

So please bear with me as this will be more of brainrot than an actual fic because I just want to yap- but in my head, it would be kinda funny if the gang was able to get Tragic Mick to turn back into a walrus. The goddess Sedna would then "punish" the boys for daring to defy her- since she had said that Mick would never return to the sea if he chose to leave.

I feel like Sedna would lowkey have a soft spot for abused children, and would also see Mick's love for the sea, and on the inside not really be that mad tbh. Hence the "punishment". She'd "curse" Edwin and Charles to be alive once more.

They don't really know if it's permanent or whatever, but can you imagine the hilarity of Edwin being so used to phasing through walls and doors, then him just walking straight into a door and smacking into it because he's solid- Crystal would have a field day ribbing him for it.

I think, them being human would make them quite unable to take on cases, since admittedly them being regular humans (not everyone can be Crystal Palace Surname Von Hoverkraft okay) makes them vulnerable to beings like demons. So they'd have some downtime. That gives Charles time to think.

Being fully corporeal also allows Crystal to hang out with them like she would with living people. It also allows Crystal to notice things about them that would not have been possible when they were ghosts- like Charles blushing when Edwin adjusts his collar so it's up. Or how the two boys are so tactile. Sure, they'd always been tactile, but why does it seem Charles is extra touchy, now that both boys can feel physical touch?

I think Edwin, bitchy little nerd that he is (and we love him for it) would have a field day with Google. He'd struggle with whatever the fuck a laptop is, and how LED screens strain his poor eyes, and probs get those anti-blue light glasses, and Charles would have a bisexual awakening because Edwin in glasses???

Charles, on the other hand. I feel like boy would want to party. He strikes me as the kind of guy who would be fun at parties, and he'd probably drag the gang to a nightclub after spending the entire day eating different kinds of food (I think he'd enjoy cookie dough ice cream- but that's just me projecting my own cravings).

At the club, Charles might be a bit sulky because Edwin had spent a lot of the day on Crystal's laptop, despite them switching restaurants so that they could try everything- and he's thankful that the laptop is not present at the club.

Unfortunately, Edwin is Edwin, and his brand of anti-rizz also works on the living. You have living people coming up to him left and right, and Charles wonders why this hasn't happened much in death.

Crystal is fast to point out that it's because ghosts are invisible to regular humans. Edwin is not a ghost at the moment, so he's not invisible. She also makes it a point to tell Charles about exactly how many people had simped for Edwin in the afterlife (Monty, the Cat King, hello????)

I think Charles would then get drunk. One, because he's been a ghost for some thirty-odd years. Dude has no fucking clue what his alcohol tolerance levels are. Two, because he gets annoyed that Edwin is getting hit on so much.

There is a third reason that comes to mind once he's fully inebriated, and it's the fact that the following thoughts aren't exactly heterosexual

Getting pouty when your best mate isn't paying attention to you while you are having a meal together

Staring and practically drooling when your best mate is wearing glasses

Getting upset when guys and girls (despite Edwin's lack of interest in the latter) keep flirting with Edwin

Wanting to feel Edwin's touch while he has all his senses at full blast

The plot twist here is that since Edwin is also alive and fully corporeal, our repressed Edwardian boy has actually been icing Charles out because as a human, he does not have the luxury of willing erections away.

I think though, because it seems like immortal beings in the DBDA universe have a sense of humor (hi, Cat King and Esther- wicked as her sense of humor is), when Charles finally makes a move and pulls Edwin away from the admittedly gorgeous guy that had been chatting him up with a "He's in love with me, and vice versa, I'm afraid" and kissing Edwin in the middle of the dance floor, is when they turn back into ghosts.

Even though they're now invisible to most humans once more, Edwin is still quick to berate Charles on the PDA- though there's a softness to his berating.

They end up discovering that as ghosts, they can still feel physical sensations if there's enough emotion involved.

That is a fortunate discovery for all parties involved, especially for our girl Crystal Palace Surname Von Hoverkraft, who walks into the office a few days after the club debacle, and sees Edwin pressing Charles up against a bookcase, snogging him with a fervor, his thigh working its way in between Charles' legs---

"Hot," Crystal comments with a smirk, causing the two boys to jump apart with matching sheepish grins on their faces. "If I'd known Edwin kissed like that, I would've gotten it on with him instead."

[merses-haunted-cat-bed]

I really want to see the Cat King dressed as an Edwardian gentleman so I wrote a short one. sorry for my poor English!

"You are ridiculous," Edwin almost shouted. "You cannot walk around in those, outdated, outfit."

Everyone looked at Edwin. Charles and Crystal perched at the desk, as Edwin faced an unexpected visitor in the middle of their office.

"Outdated? Who's wearing outdated school uniform for decades? Not that I don't like it." The Cat King replied.

He stood tall before Edwin, too proudly, in an outfit that made Edwin freeze in disbelief.

"I have no problem with that. No one can see us except ghosts." Edwin said.

"So why are you making such a fuss? They only see me, and I'm perfectly fine being watched."

The Cat King made an elegant gesture to show himself. He was wearing a black frock coat and a top hat, a cane in his hand.

"He has a point," Charles chimed in. "No one can see you, Edwin."

"Charles? You're supposed to be on my side!" Edwin accused him in disbelief.

The Cat King pointed at Charles, looking pleased.

"Crystal! Help me out!" Edwin pleaded.

"Yeah. he's insane." She was busy with her fingernails. "Honestly, who cares? Just get on with it."

The Cat King laughed at her honesty, and turned towards the door. Edwin looked at his friends hoping for help, but Charles just shrugged.

"Come on, Edwin. A gentleman shouldn't keep his date waiting outside."

As the voice came from downstairs, Edwin took a deep breath and mumbled.

"You are not my date."

Edwin strode through the door, leaving his friends behind.

[babyseraphim]

*drops this and runs away* (a snippet from ch. 6 of my healing needed more than time, which is still in progress)

Edwin could see his friend in the poor boy. He could see it in his crestfallen posture, echoing the same stance that Charles often displayed when cases went sideways. He could see it in the way his breaths quickened when asked to make a decision that had no clear, correct answer. In the wide, glassy picture of his eyes, when presented with a sudden mention of his father.

Edwin could see that this boy lived on within his friend, unseen, unheard—unloved. He was lonely, and afraid. More likely than not, that meant Charles was, too—whether he realized or not. 

Edwin had never seen it. He had never even considered it.

“Um,” Charles said, interrupting Edwin’s thoughts. “Sorry, but are you okay?”

Edwin wiped a sudden film of tears from his cheeks, the untamable cauldron of burbling sorrow finally beginning to spill over.

“Yes, my apologies,” he said, doing his best to rebuild the burst dam of emotions flowing through him. “You simply—well, you remind me very much of a dear friend.”

“Oh,” said Charles. “D’you make friends with a lot of seven year olds, then?”

Edwin chuckled wetly. “I do not. He is not a child like you, but you remind me of him all the same.” He looked at the floor, suddenly unable to face the familiar brown eyes staring up at him. “I must admit, I miss him dearly. He always knows exactly what to say in these moments.”

Charles sat silent for a moment, contemplating. Then, he took hold of Edwin’s hand and patted it clumsily—a clear imitation of the comfort that Edwin had offered him earlier.

“Wherever he is, I bet he misses you too, yeah?” Charles said, with a certainty that warmed Edwin’s soul. “If he doesn’t, then he’s a right tosser.” He paused. “And stupid, also.”

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (6)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 4K

WARNINGS: slight angst

A/N: okay brace yourselves ladies it's a long chapter. and slow paced too but i genuinely loved writing this chapter and showing intimate conversations between dream and her. its a slow burn after all the chemistry has to be right.

PART 6 ✧˖°.

"Morning lads," you greeted the pair sorting through the daily mail.

"Mornin- woah what happened?" Charles' eyes motioned to your hand.

What? How were your injuries from your dreams transferring into real life? Well, technically that happened outside your dream. Whatever, you had no energy to mull over the technicalities of the realm differences, that was better left to the Endless.

"Eh nothing. Just slightly cut my hand open on the bed railing."

"How did that even- you know what nevermind."

"How's Jesse doing?" You changed the subject.

The boys had been monitoring her full night.

"The demon did peek through but for like half a second. Too brief for us to use our incantations and extract him out," Charles answered. "Poor kid. Must be suffering."

You gulped down some water and nodded.

"So? I was in-"

"Hell for seventy years." Charles and you finished his sentence.

"Oi turn up the volume a bit," you said as the television screen displayed some news in the background.

"As you can see around us ladies and gentlemen, the sleepy sickness has indeed made a comeback. We have Shiara's parents with us right now who has been diagnosed with the same, just one victim out of the thousands being affected," the lady reported from a hospital.

Shit shit shit. This was bad.

"Will the number soon soar to millions like it did around a century back?" The reporter continued.

You had obviously read about it. And Morpheus himself had told you how his imprisonment had befallen this plague on the waking world.

"That's..intense," Edwin said.

You never heard Charles' reply because your brain was busy trying to comprehend what you had just heard. You needed to see Dream. In response to your plea, Matthew pecked against the window.

"I will be right back," you told the guys. "Need some fresh air." You grabbed your coat and hurried out.

Dream was waiting for you in the alley behind the building.

"The sleepy sickness is back," you said as you approached him.

"I know."

"But-I-," you stuttered, "I don't understand. I thought things were supposed to move in the healing direction after last night. Atleast not worsen."

"You are coming to the Dreaming with me."

"Right now?"

In answer, Morpheus fetched his sand pouch from his cloak. You knew he could easily transport you through his cloak disappearing trick. But he seemed determined to avoid any direct contact between you two. Except when he had bandaged your hand. Ugh not the time to be a hopeless romantic. Sand enveloped you in a tornado and took you to the Dreaming. Your heart shuddered when you took in the scene awaiting you. Ruins littered the ground everywhere which in turn bore fresh cracks. You revolved your head around, assessing the damage. You took a step back, bad idea. Your feet connected with nothing and you fell, would have if not for the sturdy arm wrapped around you. Something in your guts uncoiled, partially from the apparent death, and partially from the proximity of him. This close you could see the crystal blue of his sapphires for eyes. Loose rocks fell into the crevice, showing you your alternate fate. He uprighted you on secure ground before withdrawing his hand from your waist. That was the third time he had contacted you, willingly or not. Were you keeping track? For fuck's sake you almost fell to your death and that's the part you want to fixate upon?

Shoving your flustered state deep down, you asked, "How did this happen?"

"Honestly, I dont know," Dream spoke, "What I know is we need to take another approach, a more direct and dangerous one. It is our only shot at saving humanity." He looked down at you, his eyes imploring you to trust him and validate his decision.

Had he so little faith in you? "When do we start?"

"Tonight."

You were flopped on the couch alongside Jesse watching some lame ass family movie. The boys were on some haunted house case according to the note scribbled in Charles' ugly handwriting. On the screen, a daughter hugged her mom and you tasted a palette of emotions- jealousy for being denied what others had for granted, lonely for having no one to call your own, frustration for not remembering anything. Even though you had accepted the erasure of your past, you couldn't help but grieve who you were. Who were you? Someone who mattered so little that her family and friends didn't even bother looking for her? Didn't deem her worthy of putting themselves through the trouble.

The door busted open and Charles stormed through.

"Where's Edwin?"

"Fuck knows." Was all he said before shutting himself in his room.

Okay something was seriously wrong. The door creaked on its hinges as you opened it.

"Charles?"

He was sat on his bed, whimpering softly.

"Hey? What happened?" You asked in a whisper and sat down beside him.

He shook his head. You gave him time to gather his thoughts. "He just doesn't understand."

"Edwin?"

Charles sniffed, wiping his tears away. He took a deep breath and started, "There was this family. The husband murdered the wife and children."

You inhaled a bountiful. You were aware of his traumatizing past starring his abusive dad. That fucker. The first time he had told you about him, a rage you had never been familiar with before had tightened around your veins. If that sick brute hadn't already had departed the waking world, you would have hunted him down and done that.

"I am so sorry." You intertwined your fingers in his.

"I tried to intervene but apparently had some strong emotional response to it and got sucked into the situation itself. I am aces now-"

"Clearly."

He continued on, "but that didn't stop Edwin from yelling at me for getting involved in the first place." He sucked a breath. "I couldn't help it Hazel, I just couldn't. When I saw his ghost murder-" he choked on his words. New tears escaped his eyes and burned at the back of yours.

You cupped his face in your hands and swiped your thumbs across his cheekbones, dampening his tears. "Look at me Charles." 

He reluctantly met your gaze. "I am so sorry you had to go through that. I can't even begin to grasp what that might have felt like. That's simply fucked up. But you have to know, if there is one person who understands you, it is Edwin. He cares for you more than any other person or ghost on this Earth. The only reason he yelled at you was because he was scared Charles." You didn't release your hold on his face. "Of losing you."

Charles' eyes softened.

"He loves you. We both do."

"I know." A hint of a smile graced his lips.

You kept tossing and turning in your bed. Charles' tearstained face kept flashing in your mind. You had found Edwin at the bottom of the stairs, equally devastated at his outlash. He had explained to you what you already knew, that he was worried for Charles, of losing him. Oh these boys were going to be the death of you,  provided you survived long enough.

"You are late," Dream declared when you appeared in his realm.

"Sorry, trouble at home."

"Nothing serious," you added to erase the crease in his brows.

"I want to show you something."

"Lead the way your Highness!"

You followed him to Holy shit. You'd thought you'd toured through every phenomenon in the Dreaming, been fascinated by every miracle it had to offer. You were proved wrong as you titled your head backwards to witness the dazzling fabric of sky warping around you. When you propelled it downwards the same enchanting sight glimmered. The water was coated in the sheen of the starry night. An admiration blossomed deep in your core for the Endless standing at your side, the creator of the spectacles you had witnessed in the realm, the cause behind all your fascination. These docks just being one example, perhaps your favourite yet. After your very own dream of course.

"And this, mortal, is where the magic happens."

He extended his arms and the sea waters responded to their master's call. It roared to life from its dormant state and danced to the tunes of the Endless' hands. Spiral of waves loomed from the sea, stray droplets settling on your skin as you watched the Dream lord at work. Globes of water bounced on the ocean's surface. An assortment of objects and beings went about in their respective bubbles. In one such bubble, through its foggy exterior you recognised a dream you had gotten to trust mere days ago. And then it dawned on you, you were watching people's dreams. You were staring at the collective unconscious of the living world. There was no horizon visible as far as sight took you, the sea and the sky effortlessly blended into one entity. You were in infinity itself. Where you stood was sacred ground. And Morpheus had brought you here, to a special rendition of his soul. He trusted you. No, he had no other option but to, with the waking world now in turmoil too. Unknown to your captivated self, Dream was taking in each and every shift in your expression.

He came up just beside you. "Dip your hand in it."

You peered through the mist swathing the globules of dreams floating in front of you. Seeing your apprehension, he went first. His skin immersed the film and once he was halfway through, he rotated his head back. An invitation.

"You will be fine," he said.

"You promise?"

A thousand emotions collided in his eyes all in a fraction of a second. "I promise." And he disappeared into the globule. You followed suit and landed on your butts on solid ground. The Endless at your side who was standing on both his feet having failed to make a clown of himself unlike you, paid no heed to your graceful landing. You were on your feet in a quick motion. Butterflies fluttered their wings around you and you extended your arms for them to rest upon. A giggle left you as one plopped itself on your nose.

"What is this place?" You couldn't keep the wonder out of your voice.

"This is Fiddler's green. One of my proudest creations, I confess."

"I don't blame you." Your eyes raked past the waterfall and the pure greenery of the place.

A boy, just a child, hopped a few feet away from you.

"Why are we here?" You asked finally.

"To try our new approach."

"Dream you really have to start being elaborate."

"We need him to wake up. He has been here for a while."

"Wouldn't really hold it against him. Have you looked at this place?"

Dream looked at you. Of course he had. What kind of stupid rhetorical question was that to ask the person who had made the effing place.

"I mean it's beautiful."

He brushed past your compliment and said, "Hazel he has the sleepy sickness."

"Oh. But how am I supposed to get him to wake up?"

Nightmares weren't the only ones running wild. Dreams even as pleasant as the one you were currently in, were drifting from their original purpose to serve humankind. They used their beauty and kindness as an added advantage to lure humans into staying in a fragment of their mind forever. You'd known humans' resolve was fickle, being one of them. And provided with an opportunity to escape, no one would ever turn it down. Even the strongest wills would shatter with the passage of time. And that was why you listened intently to what Morpheus had to say.

"Invoke trust in the Fiddler's green as you did with others. Without hope, their sense of their purpose is growing corrupt. They are feeding on humanity's innate desire to run away from reality. Your trust has to fill in the void left by the absence of hope."

"What if I can't?"

"You don't have a choice."

"Dream but I- what if I am not the person for this? This was Hope's job. It was never meant to be mine."

"Will you tell his parents that they can stop visiting his bed every second of the day, quell their prayers, and say goodbye to their son because you were afraid to try?"

Brutal. But the impact was necessary. "No."

"Then the fate of the world is in your hands mortal."

No pressure then.

"Oi where are you going?" You asked Dream's retreating figure.

"This is your fight Hazel. I will see you when he wakes up."

"If you think you can just leave me here- " He definitely thought so because you were standing alone on the grassy landscape, except the jovial boy chasing butterflies.

You looked at him, airy giggles erupted from his throat. You sat down, feeling the grass beneath your palms. And closed your eyes until the beating of your heart was all you were aware of.

The dream collapsed as back in the waking world, the boy began to stir, accompanied by exuberant cries of his parents. You found yourself back on the docks, completely drenched. Beads of water dripped down from the hair sticking to your face.

"You look pathetic."

You swirled around to face the Endless who had spoken those words.

"A thankyou, you did remarkably well. Yoo hoo you are saving the world and I am indebted to you. And I apologise from the bottom of my heart which I am not even sure if I possess one, for abandoning you back there, would be nice but you know whatever," you rambled. "Wouldn't want to disrupt this whole emo vibe you have going on," you vaguely gestured to his hair and robes.

Your sour mood immediately dissolved as a smile graced his lips, his perfect cherry lips, you didn't deny it this time. An actual smile, fleeting but it was there. As real as the wind blowing through his hair, bestowing an air of ethereality upon him. A god, an Endless, who had just smiled at you.

"It's time for you to wake up mortal. The sun has already risen in your land. We have a lengthy path to walk, Fiddler's green was just one on it."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're one massive buzzkill?"

You didn't think so with the authority he owned and his general 'you dare say anything to me?' demeanour but the reminiscent twinkle in his eye made you doubt otherwise.

"Goodnight Hazel."

You were lying in your bed since you had woken up, which was seconds or minutes ago, brooding over stuff, enjoying the quiet laziness before one of the guys would barge into your room and drag you out of bed. They were late today. The faint ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room when a sudden scream interrupted the monotonous ticking followed by a loud thud. You dashed through your room to the living room where an unconscious Jesse was slumped on the carpet. Charles and Edwin were both lying on the floor next to a book on incantation and Charles' pandora's box, as you liked to call his bag of tricks.

"Oh you are alive," Charles addresses you.

"What the fuck happened?"

"The demon happened," Edwin exhaled in a breath.

"Don't worry we had it contained, like forever." Charles jiggled an opaque jar in his hands. "No thanks to you," he quipped.

"I-" You were dumbfounded. "You could have woken me up."

"Oh we tried mate, but you were sleeping 'like a log' won't do it justice. We thought you were dead for a moment."

"Or worse, that you had the sleepy sickness. But before we could assess that for certain, Charles had to pee and then Jesse got possessed so we kind of had our hands full."

It was because I was in someone else's dream you gits. But it isn't like you could explain that to them. And you did have a history of sleeping like someone who had just been introduced to the concept, so you let it pass.

"But we are obviously super relieved to see you fit and aces."

"I can see that. Charles you chose pee over me!" You cried.

"Mate it was nothing personal. It was really urgent."

Okay that was the last straw. Your hands were around his neck in a second, your knees pinning him down as he tried to wiggle free from your grasp.

"Careful with the jar, you two." Edwin said flatly, unconcerned if you would strangle the ghost.

What would happen if you did? Could ghosts die again? A part of you wanted to find out badly, but a sympathetic loser  part of you took pity on his reddening face and let go. You fell down on the space next to him, both of you heaving air into your lungs.

"I hate you," Charles huffed, his earring still dangling from the aftermath of your force.

You patted his shoulder. "Don't fret it son. I hate you more."

You were headed back to the agency with arms full from your grocery trip. A yapping Charles trailed on in front of you. Jesse had moved out, to your ghost friend's dismal and ranting about it was his way of dealing with it, unfortunately.

"And she said Edwin-that Edwin had a better fashion sense than me! Can you believe it?"

"I can."

He stopped and you took the lead. "What?" He blinked.

"Come on Charles you can't be serious. His taste is impeccable. I would have stolen his wardrobe a long time ago if he wasn't a ghost."

Passers by gave you judgmental glances, but you were used to it.

He caught up to you. "Hazel, this." He gestured to his baggy jacket. "And this." He flicked his earring.

"Yes even after this and this."

"I can't believe girls sometimes, scratch that, all the times." He fastened his pace, muttering to himself.

You brought your wrist to your hand to see the time when you got knocked off balance as someone bumped against you. Your groceries spilled out of the paper bag onto the road.

"Oh I am so sorry," a stranger's voice apologised.

You both were on your knees, gathering your escaped items.

"No it's okay my fault. I wasn't lookin-" You looked up and golden eyes met you. Wow. That was one rare iris.

"Oh shush now darling. Mistakes happen," they cooed.

You both scrambled to your feet as they handed you your bag. "Thankyou."

"You're welcome Hazel."

"How do you know my name?"

"Oh I overheard you and the boy talking," they said with an unnerving smile.

They could see him? Well quite a many people could, guaranteed that they'd had a similar bump in with death, not the Endless. You watched Charles distant profile walk on far ahead still seemingly mumbling to himself. You turned your head back to ask them if they had been in a near death incident, but they were already gone. Weird.

"Haz are you coming?" Charles shouted, realising you weren't with him.

You forsake the encounter with the golden eyed person and made your way towards your impatient friend.

Cool water lapped around your ankles where you had dipped your feet in them. The past week you'd fallen into a routine, a tedious and rewarding one, as you helped more and more people get rid of their eternal sleep. You had learned to manoeuvre the waters on your own, invading people's dreams while Dream devoted his time in mending his realm. Some days he'd join you after your daily targets and you'd both sit together, relishing each other's company. Today was one such day.

"When do we begin with the nightmares?" You had only focused on the sweet dreams till yet. Dream was insistent on it, forbidding you from trespassing through any others.

"Not yet," he said.

"Don't you ever get tired?" You asked after some time.

"Of what Hazel?"

"Of being immortal."

He raised his eyebrows at you, "Would you?"

"Fuck no!" You bit your lip. "Sorry. I mean knowing your time is always running out, does generate a new appreciation for life. But that life seems to be gone in a blink of an eye. Too brief, to leave a mark, to have your existence mean something. Time becomes the most precious and most despised instrument at play," you spoke. "But being immortal, it's-it's something else. Imagine the wonders you could witness, could be a part of. An eternity of just living, carrying the past of the world with you into the future. I like having a particular destination to swim to, but I would rather be lost in the infinite ocean, you know?"

Dream listened to your words intently. "I have a friend back in the waking world. Hob Gadling."

"I didn't strike you as that."

"As what?"

"As someone having friends. But go on."

"We met in the fourteenth century. Death and I visited this pub together and there he was, proclaiming humans could cheat death."

"What did you do?"

"Death granted him his wish."

"What?" What?  "So does that mean he is still alive?"

"Yes. In fact we meet up every century."

"Hold up hold up. The devil meeting with an immortal man in the pub, that has nothing to do with this right?"

Dream's lips twitched imperceptibly.

"Will you ever cease surprising me?"

Quiet ensued you both.

"So this Hob Gadling, does he enjoy his immortality?"

"To my initial surprise, yes. I had thought after a hundred years, he would surely be begging me to take the curse back but he seemed to consider it a boon. Even after centuries had gone by, his zest to live never died, hasn't died. He reminds me of you. Or, you remind me of him."

"Oh careful Dream lord, are you implying I am your friend?" You nudged his shoulder lightly.

"Now let's not get too ahead of ourselves."

You let out a half suppressed laugh.

"Perhaps," he said.

You titled your head towards him, "Eh. I don't think I'm ready to promote you from acquaintance just yet."

"Is that how it is?"

"Absolutely."

A shooting star dived through the sky, cutting a blaze of fire through it.

"What do you wish for Dream?"

He glanced at you.

"Come on. It appears every day without fail, in the abode of your creations. You made it. What do you wish for everyday?"

He was silent.

"And here I thought we were friends."

"I created it in memory of Hope."

That was the first time he had willingly mentioned her. 

"Do you miss her?"

He took his time to answer. "Sometimes."

You drew your feet out of the water and hugged your knees. "Well. Tragedy does birth-"

"The most beautiful things."

You looked at him to find his eyes already on you, a quiet yearning displayed in them.

"Ok mind reader," you scoffed.

"I do not posses those powers, unfortunately."

"Oh a creep then?"

When you looked at him again, his lips imitated the crescent moon in the sky on his perfect face. It wasn't like any of the fleeting twitches, no matter how treasured, he had given you before. The smile reached his cheeks. His teeth glittered under the moonlight, his skin washed in it. A weak crinkle formed at the end of his eyes. Your heart lurched in its rib cage, wanting to join another. No. You won't fall for him. You won't fall for an Endless. You won't fall for the pompous goth guy. You won't fall for him. You weren't falling for him. You weren't falling for him. You weren't falling for him. You were not falling for him. Shit. You were falling for him. 

SERIES MASTERLIST

[popodoki]

Me @ myself: bestie you have this idea in your head, that's great. Did you remember by chance that you can actually write it yourself?

Cat King wearing a dress and lipstick and looking pretty, Edwin agrees, they smooch about it x

pretty tame but still NSFW Catwin

It's nsfw because I mention their boners ok :)

“Thomas, what time are you leaving again, for your- ah.”  

Edwin freezes, halfway through the mirror, sending ripples across the surface.   

“Hm?” Comes the distracted hum, in lieu of an answer, as Edwin’s eyes flick between blood red painted lips and fingers deftly capping the stick of lipstick. Sitting in front of his own mirror, the Cat King’s lips tout, purse and press together, while Edwin follows the mirrored view of fingers until they move out of view, as the Cat King tucks the little stick into what looks like one of several pockets, hidden within the folds of silk and lace that adorn his lover’s frame. An altogether delicate looking ensemble, made all the more striking by the eye-catching dissonance between the Cat King’s toned, lean physique, and the soft, luxurious and most noticeably copious amounts of fabric that despite their overwhelming presence manage to only covering half of said lean, toned frame.

Deliberate on multiple fronts, Edwin knows. All par of the course. Edwin swallows, hard. He doesn’t recall fully stepping into the room, but notices he must now be several steps closer all the same, to be able to enjoy the softness of the dress’s fabric underneath his fingertips. As his palm gently traces the curve of the voluminous red skirt spreading out in an arch off of the bodice, Edwin let’s his brain restart with all the patience of someone used to being struck at a loss of words around his lover. 

“What kind of gathering was this, again?” is all he can eventually manage, but it’s enough, or at least allows his lover to indulge him in response, the colour slowly rising in the Cat King’s cheeks, framing his lips, the lipstick, the knowing look in those golden eyes, the lips, the lipstick. 

"I thought you said you had research tonight? In London. Your office.” The Cat King mouths the words ‘Do not disturb’ at the end of his sentence, taking great care and equal pleasure in moving his lips slowly. 

“Yes, but it’s of no matter,” Edwin mutters, waving his free hand dismissively, “I had a book here I wished to collect for it actually. But it can wait. I’ll get right back to it, later.” He steps forward.  

“Get back to Charles, you mean.” The Cat King smirks. “Poor thing, I normally would’ve been ready and gone by now. Leaving him alone for extended periods of time, are you sure that’s responsible, Ghostie?” 

This isn’t the first time the Cat King’s gone out, like this, while Edwin’s out, he realizes with a jolt. The lipstick, the way the dress sits on him. His lover does this, and Edwin rarely gets to see it. A pang goes through his gut. It’s still taking some getting used to, the soft ever-present heat, radiant comfort of what this is between them, the most important thing is that like the Cat King knows how wholly Edwin loves him, Edwin needs him to know he loves this too.  

“Research can wait. You look so good.” And more so does the cheeky grin Edwin gets in response. 

“I do, don’t I?” The Cat King purses his lips again, a warm palm covers Edwin’s hand, pulling it slowly up, from where he’d kept it buried in the soft folds of fabric this whole time. His lover’s lips are even softer, Edwin wills his touch to be as gentle as he can make it, as he traces the red painted lower lip with the pads of his fingers.  

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers. 

“You’d better.” The Cat King breathes against his fingers, and Edwin leans in.   

It’s a kiss that starts out more cautious than usual, a more tentative build into the comfortable heat they’ve settled into. Edwin threads his fingers through his lover's soft hair, lets his other hand travel gently down the back of the dress’s bodice, to rest on the Cat King’s waist. The stool in front of the dressing table wobbles precariously as the Cat King surges into the kiss, Edwin’s hands moving to hold him steady.   

“I’ve got you.” Edwin murmurs against his lover’s cheek, hand rubbing circles into a bare shoulder.   

The Cat King gives a little laugh, into Edwin’s mouth, pulling back only to gaze at him from up through his long, blackened lashes. “You’ve got lipstick on you, is what you’ve got.” he states with a pleased purr, smudging it further around Edwin’s lips with his thumb. Edwin inhales sharply, pressing his body closer.   

“Can I have some more?” He whispers back. 

The Cat King lets out a small chuckle, gleefully letting it grow into a louder bout of laughter, then kisses Edwin, harder, harder and harder each time, letting Edwin taste the very colour of his lips, the joy, desire. He pulls away for only just a moment, to take in Edwin’s half-lidded eyes, his panting mouth, all smeared with lipstick. Golden eyes flit from Edwin’s own eyes, to lips, to neck, to the collar of his shirt with the top few buttons left open. 

“Hm, Ghostie.” The Cat King leans in, runs his nose along the line of Edwin’s jaw, trailing kisses down his throat. “What time d’you reckon you have, before-?”  

“I can be late.” Edwin says, hands flying down, hitching the Cat King’s dress up, so he can wrap one hand around each thigh, each leg, dragging his lover to him as he steps even closer. And of course, the Cat King’s not wearing anything beneath the dress, his half-hard cock pressing against Edwin’s full erection, bulging and straining against his trousers, the moment their hips meet.   

“You’re sure? I don’t want to keep you from your research.”  

“Thomas.” Edwin cups the other’s chin, his chest heaving. “Keep me.” 

When the Cat King smirks, and moves to pull the stick of lipstick out from between the folds of his dress, Edwin makes a mental note to at least make sure to return to London with the book he needs for their research, seeing as how nothing else was going to be getting done tonight, save for himself. 

[rjalker]

I haven't watched Gravity Falls but I really do wish Bill Cipher wasn't an Equilateral Triangle. That has clearly held back some people's understanding of Flatland and what it has to say about systems of inequality.

Editing on August 26 2024 to add the larger reblog here:

#Would love to hear an explanation.

Here you go:

Bill Cipher from Gravity Falls –

(aka this dude)

[ID: A screenshot of Bill Cipher from the show Gravity Falls, floating in the air in front of grey trees. Bill is an Equilateral triangle with a single large eye in the middle of his body, a brick-like pattern on his lower side, a tophat, bowtie, and simple black legs and arms. He has his legs out in front of him as though sitting, with one hand on his hip and the other pointing at something offscreen. End ID.]

–was at some point revealed to have come from a world like Flatland, in an in-character Questions and Answer session, when asked about his home dimension, he said something along the lines of “Edwin Abbott has the right idea”.

This led to a bunch of people looking up Flatland, and looking at it through a gaze influenced by their love of Bill Cipher and whatever else Gravity Falls has to say about him / his backstory / his home dimension. (IDK, I haven’t watched it)

This becomes a problem when people who like Bill and sympathize with him for his (apparently?) tragic backstory then fail to understand what Flatland has to say about society.

In Flatland, different shapes represent different social classes.

Equilateral Triangles are the explicit Middle Class. Which means Bill Cipher, before he left his home dimension, was part of the Middle Class.

The book is very explicit about the fact that the only reason the Middle Class exists is to keep the lower classes in line, by being an unobtainable promise of “reward” if they just work hard enough and don’t cause problems.

The lower classes, who *quite literally do not have a single human right*, are told that if they just keep working hard and be the best workers they can be, then maybe some day they’ll get lucky and their *kids* could be born Equilateral and get to have a better life and get basic human rights. Which I cannot stress enough the lower classes do not have.

The middle class, aka Equilaterals, explicitly only exist to prevent the lower classes from violently revolting against the rich, by giving them a hope to cling to that if they just keep working their kids might have a better future.

But people who are only reading Flatland *because* they like Bill Cipher and already sympathize with him, don’t want to see him as part of a privileged class at all, so they ignore what the book actually has to say about the middle class, and insist that Bill Cipher is actually extremely oppressed and isn’t privileged in any way, because he’s not a billionaire, so that’s the same thing as not having any rights at all.

Which is just completely untrue, for both reality, and the society we see in Flatland.

There is a huge, huge, huge difference in the quality of life between someone in the middle class, and someone in the lower classes. Especially in Flatland, where things are taken to the extreme to illustrate why they’re bad in real life.

But because people don’t want to think badly of their favorite character, they don’t want to understand the ways he was privileged and oppressed others while living in Flatland, so they throw out all understanding of classism and instead just go with the idea that “anyone who’s not a billionaire is all equally poor”, when that’s just not true, and actively erases the struggles of people who are not privileged enough to be in the middle class, and never will be.

in summary:

Bill Cipher being an Equilateral Triangle unintentionally impedes a lot of people’s understanding of class struggles between poor people and the middle class, because they already sympathize with him and don’t want to see him as having a privileged position in society that actively oppresses those under him.

So they instead pretend there’s absolutely no difference between someone who owns multiple homes and goes on multiple paid vacations a year and has full health insurance versus someone who can’t even afford to rent a 1 bedroom appartment.

Because if you compare them both to billionaires, they’re both poor in comparison, so these people want to pretend that means that they’re both equally poor, and the middle class aren’t actually privileged at all and shouldn’t be held accountable, so that they don’t have to think critically about their favorite character and his privileged and oppressive position in a classist society.

Editing August 26 2024 to add a link to a post with many ways to read / listen to Flatland in many formats and styles all for free.