#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

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Awwww thank you my love!! And sorry for the delay in getting to it, brain's been all over the place, yikes-ness all round!!

This is such a fun little window into the world and I LOVE the way you can just take characters from anything and pop them neatly into whatever world you like! And honestly your voices are GREAT considering you got them from a compilation — you're always so quick to pick them up, it's so impressive!

Thank you so much for this, I didn't have the spoons to properly respond to it til just now but it did put a smile on my face on a very dismal christmas, so thank you 💛💛💛

Merry Christmas Newt!

@dont-offend-the-bees You simply said that, if I was inclined to write something, it could involve ghosts or ghost detectives -- so I threw Edwin and Charles of Dead Boys Detective Agency into the Valicer In The Dark verse. ^^; Hope you enjoy your favorite ghostly duo getting very confused and worried by Duskwall!

--

“Mate, I think that last mirror hop went a lot more wrong than we first thought.”

“Really?” Edwin murmured, looking around the misty street where he and Charles currently found themselves. “What tipped you off? The lack of familiar landmarks to navigate by? The frankly Dickensian architecture around us? Or the fact that the moment we tumbled through the glass, we were met by a woman who promptly started screaming ‘SPECTERS! FETCH THE SPIRIT WARDENS!’”

“Definitely the latter,” Charles replied, one hand deep in his backpack as he squinted into the gloam. “What do you think a ��spirit warden’ is, anyway? Something like the Night Nurse?”

“Perhaps – I don’t recall ever hearing the term before, and unfortunately, as of right now, our library is off-limits to us.” Edwin glanced at Charles. “Perhaps, should we encounter one, I could encourage you not to immediately go in swinging with your cricket bat? The Night Nurse proved able to be reasoned with – perhaps they could too.”

“Yeah, well, I think taking a few to the face and getting swallowed by a sea monster for a bit is what softened her up enough to be reasoned with,” Charles argued, frowning back at him. “And I’m not letting anyone separate us. Not after what we’ve already been through.”

“On that point, we are thoroughly in agreement.” Edwin looked around again – or, at least, tried to. “Even if, right now, I think anyone could sneak up on us and have the advantage. How is anyone supposed to find their way around in this?”

“Guess the locals are used to it.” Charles rummaged around a little. “Know I’ve got your little alchemy set in here somewhere...you think you could brew up something to–”

“...this way, you said?”

“Yes, there’s definitely some ghosts around here.”

Edwin and Charles both froze as three hazy figures appeared at the end of the street, coming toward them fast. “Shit,” Charles hissed.

“Calm, calm,” Edwin said, as much to himself as to his friend. “Again, we might be able to talk to them. Maybe.”

Charles opened his mouth to snap something back – but before he could, the trio were upon them, features resolving themselves into something more definite than mere foggy shapes. They were a bit of a bizarre bunch – a young woman in a black-and-white dress and black cloak, holding a knife that glowed with a peculiar gray light; what looked to be a young man about the same age in a bright yellow vest and black pants, peering at them curiously with what appeared to be yellow eyes (another cat king?); and a second taller, paler man in a black suit and long dark blue coat, wearing a mask that appeared to be made out of twitching moth wings and carrying a pole with a loop at the end in one hand. They stared at Edwin and Charles for a long, quite worrying moment...

Then the fellow in the mask sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. “Oh – it’s all right,” he told his companions, collapsing the pole and stowing it away in a pocket. “They’re Reconciled.”

“Oh good – I really didn’t feel like getting into an electroplasmic scrap tonight,” the woman said, holstering her blade. She tilted her head as she looked Edwin and Charles up and down. “Though – that doesn’t explain why they’re in full color. I’ve never seen a ghost who wasn’t all blue or gray before.”

“Me either – maybe they’re a new type of ghost?” the other fellow said, before giving them a bright smile and a wave. “Hi! I’m Smiler, and this is Victor and Alice! Just a quick question – you’re definitely not interested in sucking our life essence, right?”

Edwin blinked a few times. “Ah – no,” he finally said. “I’m – certainly not currently inclined to do that.”

“We’re not local,” Charles added, not taking his hand out of his backpack – Edwin was deeply suspicious that it was clutching a certain cricket bat. “Don’t suppose you lot could tell us where we’ve ended up?”

“Duskwall, in Akoros!” Smiler provided, grin not budging. “Are you ghosts from another part of the Isles then? Oooh, maybe from Tycheros?”

“They don’t seem to have any of the usual tells, though,” the woman – Alice – said, squinting thoughtfully. “Victor?”

“I...” The masked man – Victor – stared hard at them, his eyes glowing with that strange gray light Edwin had seen on Alice’s knife. “They’re definitely not regular ghosts, but I’m not sure h-how precisely they’re different. Not hostile, just not – right?”

“Ah – lovely. A mystery for us to solve in the middle of the blind hour on our way back from a heist,” Alice grumbled, folding her arms. “But if they’re sane, then at least we can talk to them. Where do you two hail from, then?”

Edwin exchanged a baffled look with Charles. “We’re...we’re from England,” he said slowly, starting to get quite the bad feeling in his lack of stomach. “And I believe we’ve gone terribly astray.”

[sthilarions]

Charles, all muddled up after Edwin’s confession, somehow gets the idea to kiss Edwin’s hands. Because that’s not really a romantic kiss (or a… a sexual one), right? You can kiss, like, kings, or noble ladies, or whatever, on the hand, and it’s just chivalry. So it’s a great compromise! He can give Edwin something without leading him on or anything like that. He’s pretty chuffed with the genius of the idea, really.

So he starts lifting Edwin’s knuckles to his lips when they’re standing next to each other, sometimes not even bothering to look over, just reaching out for Edwin’s hand and finding it unerringly like they’re magnets and raising it to brush his lips against it. And whenever they have to separate, he leans down as he leaves and presses a flutter of a kiss to the back of Edwin’s hand. And when Edwin holds out an imperious palm to be given something from the backpack Charles catches it with a kiss as he passes the thing over.

One time when Edwin’s got an iron burn on his hand in the place Charles normally goes for, he flips the hand over and kisses against the lifeline instead, feeling the crease against his lower lip, but Edwin makes a very strange sound so he doesn’t do that again, just sticks to the back.

Meanwhile, if poor Edwin has to see Charles’s arching back bending down over his hand one more time, feel those absurdly soft lips on his skin one more damn time, he’s going to fucking melt into a puddle like the Wicked Witch of the West.

[returnofeternity]

hi! could you maybe do a different version of the lottie fic where we actually get scared of her after she bashed that guy in the head with an axe bc i was lowkey scared after watching that scene 😭

she still looks at you first after she strikes edwin's head in with the axe, smiling so proudly after murdering this man. she thought you'd be happy that she was getting rid of him, these strangers were going to ruin everything.

"lottie, what the fuck?!" you call out shakily, heart pounding fast at the sight of this poor guy's brains spilling out. you're even more frightened that she seems cheerful about this.

"they don't belong. It doesn't want them here." she says to all the girls crying out in fear, but mainly to you.

everything happens so fast after that.

the hikers start running and the girls follow, nat telling them not to hurt them. your legs jerk like you wanna run after them, and you don't know if it's because they're your only hope at getting out of here or if it's because you wanna get away from lottie. either way, you can't move. next thing you know, melissa's getting shot with an arrow and when you look back at lottie, you almost feel like throwing up when she walks over to the dead guy and kneels next to him, gathering his blood and guts on her hands and spreading them on her face.

you kinda just end up dropping to your knees and crawling over to where gen, melissa, and mari are, not really helping with getting the arrow out and just trying to distract yourself from the fact that you're absolutely terrified of your girlfriend only a few feet away from you. you make sure to face away from her, but you can still hear her whisper to herself and the fear coursing through your veins makes you feel so dizzy.

i'd like to think she'd try crawling over or just call your name out to get you to come to her because she wants to share this moment with you. she can finally hear the wilderness again and she knows you'd be happy for her, but you're not? she doesn't understand why you keep plugging your ears when she calls for you. she doesn't understand why you scramble up to your feet and hide behind gen when she tries to crawl over.

also thinking of knowing about her meds and you know that this is just a psychotic breakdown/religious psychosis and you hate that you're genuinely terrified of her because it's not her fault :( all you really wanna do is pull her away and hug her for hours but the thought of even looking at her makes you feel faint.

it's morning when she gets up from the dead guys body and asks if she can help you guys with melissa. again, your heart pounds and you feel saliva pool in your mouth when she looks at you all confused.

after gen and mari yell at her, and after she tells them that the strangers were gonna ruin everything, she looks at you again, almost for reassurance. you'd always back her up on everything, but now, you don't know if you can.

"you killed him, lottie. he could've saved us from here. we could be on our way back home right now if you didn't...." you trail off.

she opens her mouth, ready to tell you that she doesn't wanna leave this place, but she feels something from behind. as she turns around, your eyes dart to where she looks, and the girls come out of the woods with one of the hikers.

just thinking of her coming up to you after the rest of the girls take hannah to interrogate her and being so upset when you flinch from her touch :( she still has blood on her face and all over her clothes, and she looks so innocent and that's kind of the scariest part. maybe you tell her that you need some space to process all this, that yes, you are scared of her and you feel bad about it but you just can't be around her right now.

[mirellapryce]

For your consideration, The Case of the Sweater Curse.

I already headcanon that part of Edwin learning how to knit had to do with Charles actually feeling cold. Of course he started with the basics like scarves, hats, and fingerless gloves. Charles loves them all and tends to wear them nonstop for at least two weeks after he gets them. As Edwin’s skills improve, he builds up the courage to attempt a sweater. There is a lot of cursing involved, and of course he couldn’t make an easy pattern for his first sweater.

Several months later he has a sweater! As always, Charles is impressed even if he doesn’t understand all the technical details Edwin’s explaining. He’s proper chuffed, and he wears it right away, saying that it feels like a warm hug. Edwin dismisses this out of hand. They’ve already established that Charles feeling cold at all, and then feeling warm when he wears the knit items Edwin makes him is more mind over matter.

Edwin goes to the yarn store a week later in his disguise, to buy more yarn for his next project. Charles seems to like his sweater so much, Edwin supposes he could be bothered to make another one, cursing, struggle and all. He even tells the teller that all this yarn is for his plans to make a sweater for his partner. The shop clerk laughs, and tells him to wish his relationship goodbye.

What? Why?

Well obviously the sweater curse. As soon as you make a sweater for a partner, that relationship is doomed to end shortly after.

Now because Edwin lives in a world of actual magic and curses, he doesn’t even consider for a moment this might be superstition. He just runs home. He has to fix this! He didn’t intend to curse Charles! And he certainly wouldn’t want to lose his best friend, just because he didn’t know about this Sweater Curse!

Of course Charles can’t make things easy. When Edwin tries to get Charles to take the sweater off, Charles doesn’t want to. It’s his comfy sweater now. He’s gotten used to Edwin’s perfectionism at this point, and has found the best way to fight it is to insist that whatever Edwin made is perfect, and that he loves it. Otherwise Edwin will keep fiddling with whatever tiny perceived flaw to death. Charles still doesn’t know what Edwin did with his favourite hat when he told Charles he “just had to fix one thing”.

Edwin can only assume that Charles latching onto the sweater is part of the curse, so he dives into research. Everything he finds is unhelpfully vague, but consistent. If you make a sweater for someone, that relationship will end. Edwin can’t lose Charles. He just can’t.

Luckily it’s taken out of both their hands a month or so later when Charles gets swiped by a river monster. The poor thing gets shredded AND soaked. There’s no salvaging the poor thing and Charles is SO upset about ruining the sweater Edwin worked so hard on. Edwin tells him it’s not a bother while secretly breathing a sigh of relief, and promises to make him something else from the remains.

[gundamthey17]

"Come on, Crystal. Let's give Edwin a minute to adjust his really poor attitude."

"Oh - okay. Sure." Crystal followed Charles out the Agency door, slamming it much harder than necessary, in Edwin's opinion. Edwin stared after them, his posture rigid.

"I haven't got a poor attitude," he sniped to the empty room. "You brought a living person into our office. We haven't had a living person in here since..."

He cast his mind back, trying to remember. When it came to him, he answered himself in a rough approximation of Charles' accent. "That nun, back in ‘13."

"Yes, and that was nearly an unqualified disaster."

"Only nearly," Edwin-as-Charles replied. "Everything turned out fine, didn't it? Quit worryin' so much. Deep breaths, mate."

Edwin closed his eyes and listened to the version of Charles in his head. He drew a deep breath and let it out, feeling his shoulders drop. He shook his head slightly, allowing his posture to adjust. Last of all, he unclenched his fists, working his fingers a few times to loosen them. He opened his eyes and blinked at the empty office. Sighing, he reached for his pen and a note card, fully intending to write up the completed report for the Case of Crystal Palace.

"Mail call!"

Edwin made an entirely undignified sound before clapping his hand over his mouth. He glared at the postman, who was stepping through the wall to his left. Scraping together what remained of his composure, he lowered his hand and said, "You could knock. We have a front door."

The postman glanced toward the front of the office. "Huh. So you do," he said, as if noticing the door for the first time. He held out a small handful of letters. When Edwin did not move to take them, he dropped them on the desk, tipped his hat curtly, and disappeared the same way he came in.

Edwin glared at the wall for a moment longer. His hands shook as he picked up the mail and began to leaf through it. Great. Now he was getting worked up over the bloody postman. He raised one trembling hand and rubbed the spot between his eyebrows; he could feel a headache coming on.

It wasn't actually the postman that had him so out of sorts, of course. It wasn't even Crystal, though she certainly wasn't helping matters.

No, it was the fact that Death herself had been in their office less than a fortnight ago.

And now Charles had left him alone, to go wander the city with some living girl, whose case should already be closed. They ought to be sifting through their caseload, discussing pending jobs, not wasting time gallivanting about with the living.

What if Death did come back? What if she showed up while Charles was out and unceremoniously shunted Edwin off to hell? What if Charles returned and found the office empty, no trace of Edwin, except perhaps the faint smell of sulfur?

Deep breaths, mate.

Edwin didn't close his eyes this time, but he tried to slow his breathing. It was much harder to listen to Charles when he wasn't physically present, putting his hands on Edwin's shoulders to ground him, or even holding Edwin's hands until they stopped shaking.

Edwin made up his mind. The living girl would not be staying. He would put his foot down. 

As if Edwin had ever been able to deny Charles anything before. As if his kind eyes and cheeky smile and knowing expression wouldn't have Edwin capitulating immediately.

Y'never know. First time for everything, isn't there? the Charles in his head grinned.

Edwin hoped he was right.

[contract-crawdad]

Things are rapidly getting out of hand…

Like with most things involving the Visitor, it seems safe to assume growth is infinite until proven otherwise.

Drawn by me, and colored by the hilarious yet nefarious @enshrined-sun-devil !

Sketch, thoughts, and a bonus doodle under the cut.

Another poor monster who seems to be driven violently mad mostly by the sheer agony of existing in their current state. With their facial features duplicating, they face (teehee) a sensory overload similar to Sam’s first few moments in his new body… but also keep in mind that their brain is also expanding. What does that feel like? Getting more and more brain to fill the horizontal space between your ears?

What exactly did Edwin even DO to make them like this? One shudders to imagine.

While we don’t know much about them, I like to think that they and Confusion were the first two people that Edwin ambushed: his concerned neighbor and the person who went looking for them. Which is which? Who could say. We’ll never know.

I think Stretchface’s sprites really do imply that they’re doing their best to CONSTRAIN the halves of their head, which is vastly more horrifying than ripping them apart of its own volition. Contents under pressure.

But don’t worry guys, it’s fine, they found some duct tape!

[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.

[ahyperactivehero]

If you're still feeling DBD drabbles I'd love some post-canon Edwin and Crystal bonding (making fun of celebrities together? studying magic? comparing rich neglectful parents?)

I love a good Edwin and Crystal bonding moment! I hope that if we ever get season 2 we get to see more of them bickering and bonding. Because these two remind me of me and my sibling so strongly it almost hurts <3

(reminder that i am taking election night drabbles, although i can't promise they'll be posted tonight. i'm working on as many as i can, but it is getting late! i'll likely finish most of them tomorrow unfortunately)

Drabble 2 

Crystal and Edwin were at war. Or at least, that’s what Crystal would have labeled themselves as. According to Charles this was simply, ‘Edwin when he likes you,’ which Crystal wanted to be judgemental about, but she had her memories back and she could remember what a menace she’d been to people she liked.

“It is not hard, Crystal,” Edwin stressed, leaning heavily on to the desk in front of him. At some point in time he had abandoned his coat and jacket and rolled his sleeves up in what had to be the most laid back outfit Crystal had ever seen him in.

Yet there was nothing relaxed about Edwin. She’d never known him to be a particularly relaxed person, but there was a strange undercurrent of stress that was running through him that she was pretty sure wasn’t always there.

She sighed again for what must have been the millionth time and dropped her phone onto the couch next to her. It’s not like anyone she actually liked contacted her that way. In fact, she’d been arguing with her mom the last time someone had actually reached out to her, which had only resulted in Crystal storming out of the house and crashing in the agency’s office for a few days.

Which brought them to where they were now. Edwin tapped the book in front of him, looking for all the world like a young teaching assistant annoyed with his students. “If you would simply try, I know you cou-”

Violently, she shoved herself up off of the couch. Her feet banged against the floor, almost loud enough to rattle the windows, and for once she was glad Charles wasn’t here. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

“I have tried, Edwin! I’ve tried, okay! Have you ever tried shutting up?!” she asked before throwing herself back down onto the couch, her back turned towards the world as if that might somehow block out the ghost.

One of Crystal’s favorite and least favorite things about Edwin was that he never seemed to be dissuaded by her poor attitude. Sometimes, it even seemed to encourage him. “If you had actually tried, you would have cast the spell,” Edwin said. There was no heat to his voice, not even an ounce of actual anger to him– even though Crystal was sure he was pissed.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she did that she’d be able to block out Edwin’s voice and the tears at the same time. “I did try,” she said, all of the fire in her voice having faded until it sounded broken and sad.

The sound of soft footsteps filled the room. Edwin’s familiar sounding boots shuffled against the floor until he reached the couch and seemed to hover there for a moment. 

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

And Crystal wasn’t sure what he meant until she rolled over and saw him looking at her phone. 

“You are fighting with your parents,” he said.

“So what?” she asked and snatched her phone out of his hands.

“So, magic, especially one as instinctual and ingrained as yours, is highly influenced by your emotions.” Crystal glared up at him from the corner of her eye, which forced him to hold his hands up in defense. “Not because you are a woman, or whatever else it is you might be thinking I meant. Just because magic works that way.”

They needed a new couch. She poked at a hole that had long since been worn into the cushion and pulled out a bit of stuffing before sticking it back inside. “So I’m just going to keep fucking it up?” she asked.

Edwin sat down on the floor with his back to the couch. It was almost easier to talk this way, the two of them back to back. At least then she didn’t have to see his judgmental face, and he wouldn’t have to see her cry.

Not that she was crying, of course.

“No,” Edwin said quietly. “You will not keep ‘fucking it up.’ Although it will likely take time for you to get used to doing magic with such intentions, not just relying on your instincts to guide you.”

She pulled another thing of stuffing out before shoving it back in. “What’s so wrong with instincts?” Her ancestors had done fantastically for her so far.

Edwin shuffled, but she couldn’t figure out what he had done. “Nothing. Instincts are, as Charles would say, brills. They help keep you alive and safe and have been developed for exactly that reason.”  He shifted again, and this time Crystal could feel him fully leaning back against the couch, and the goosebumps that a ghost in too close proximity caused raised along her skin. 

“But what happens if you can’t trust your instincts? What if something has changed or been manipulated and you can’t trust them?” he asked.

And Crystal knew they were talking about something heavy, something that Edwin would definitely rather not talk about with her. But here he was, talking about it with her just the same.

“You mean Hell?” she asked. She rolled over just enough to get a peek at the top of Edwin’s head. Even though she could see very little of him, she could tell that he was nervous and that made her nervous.

“Not strictly speaking of Hell. There are plenty of supernatural beings with the ability to manipulate you or your senses for their own gains.” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes barely catching hers. “But yes, I was referring to demons like David.”

Her nails had already been bitten down to the quick, but she chewed on them anyways. Buzzes shook the couch as more texts from her mom chimed in, likely just another rant about what an awful child she was and how she was making everything so difficult for them.

“They’re just saying those things because they feel like they are failing as parents,” Edwin said. He’d turned back away, his eyes staring into the closet as if it offered something particularly interesting inside. “And while that might be true, that does not mean that you are a failure.”

She snorted. “Oh yeah,” she said. “What do you know about it?”

Edwin’s sharp green eyes turned towards her before quickly cutting away. “You are hardly the only one to grow up with rich, neglectful parents,” Edwin said. “Why do you think I was sent away to school in the first place?”

Any and all fight she had had in her died. Fighting with Edwin was supposed to be fun and sharp and quick– it didn’t seem fair to fight him when he was being so honest.

A forced smile spread across her face as she reached out and bumped him with her hand. “Shoulda known you had rich parents,” she said. “Look at how you talk.”

Edwin furrowed his brow. “Everyone at school spoke the way I do.”

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a while before Crystal sighed and held out her hand. “Gimme the book,” she said. Which Edwin gracefully did.

The original language was too hard for Crystal to read, but Edwin had written it down in English and then wrote it out phonetically below that. It wasn’t very long, nor was it anything special, just a minor illusion spell. It wouldn’t be enough to trick anyone, or save her from a demon, but it was definitely a start. 

“Charles will be happy you’re trying again,” Edwin said as she ran her hands over the pages. 

“Oh yeah?” she asked. Was that a B or a D? Edwin’s handwriting was so nice it was almost hard to read.

“He takes his job very seriously as the brawn,” Edwin said, as if she needed to be told that. “But it makes him happy to know that you or I could defend ourselves with spells if we had to.”

Once again she snorted. “But you never do,” she said. “And I don’t see how this little spell is supposed to help.”

Edwin nodded. “Never need to. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to in return. Besides, this was one of the first spells I ever learned, and it's a great base to build on.”

And maybe that was a better way of looking at it. Not just defending herself or learning magic that some old, dead person other than Edwin had created when she could just use her own ancestral abilities. No, this was just another way to protect not only herself but the people she had come to love. 

Plus, wouldn’t it be nice to have a base spell that she could work on? If she could master this, maybe she could use some elements from it in her family's own magic.

Slowly, she read the words out as she tried to picture what she wanted to show Edwin. It wouldn’t be perfect, she was sure of that, but God if she wasn’t going to make this time work.

Purple petals and leaves filled the air as the image of the tree inside herself appeared in her palm. It was shaky, the picture almost glitchy and waving before reappearing slightly less detailed than before. It was as if someone had roughly sketched what was inside her without any special art talent.

But dammit, that was her tree, and she had cast it.

“It’s beautiful,” Edwin said. His eyes were wide, and he leaned in. Petals settled over him for a moment before passing through him on the way to the ground. She wondered if that was a ghost thing or a magic thing. 

“This is me,” she said. 

Edwin glanced at her before turning back to the tree. “Your ancestors’ tree,” he said, finally understanding. “I can only imagine how amazing it is in person.”

Pride she hadn’t expected to feel flooded her, filling her tree with even more light until it nearly blinded the two of them. Edwin folded her hands closed, shutting off the spell as they blinked spots from their vision.

She smiled sheepishly and he grinned back at her, one of the first true smiles she thought she had ever seen on his face. 

“We’ll work on that,” he said.

And they would.

[asidian]

Small Changes

by: Asidian

Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives

Event: 12 Days of Ghostmas: Day 8: AU

Pairing: Charles/Edwin

Warnings: past child abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, idiots in love

Excerpt:

He's bloody useless, that's what he is.

Those poor girls and their mum have been trapped in a nightmare murder loop for thirty sodding years, and what's Charles do? Sticks his bloody nose in and gets caught in the loop right along with them.

Those handful of moments live in his head, now. It's the same thing every time: he steps up, livid, cricket bat in hands; he hauls it back; that wanker throws him against the wall like he's a worthless bloody rag doll, and there he stays, sat there, not able to do anything but watch as that absolute arsehole hacks them apart with an axe.

Again. And again. And again.

[snippet-z]

In honour of @dbdahauntevents DBDA Pirate Week, here's a little unfinished something.

It'll probably remain in its nowhere-near-started state for forever the foreseeable future, but alas, it was written for the occasion and it would be a shame to let it go to waste. Tough luck.

Brief description of the AU:

Charles, a pirate capital of great infamy, embarks on a quest set out by a royal decree: to find the Navigating Star - Etteh Wynth - which fell from the sky. Along the way, he and his crew rescue a man abandoned in the middle of the ocean. The man doesn't remember anything about himself outside of his name - Edwin. They strike a deal - Edwin, who turns out to be an excellent navigator, will help Charles's quest, and in return Charles will help get him home once he remembers where exactly that is.

This was supposed to be a mixed medium fic of poetry and prose, with bits of the poem kept in the ballad meter scattered throughout the story - but capitalism kills creativity so here we are instead.

The Ballad for Lost Souls

Come sit, my child, don’t shed a tear

As sun withdraws its gold;

There is a myth for you to hear,

A fable to be told.

-

It begins in the days of old,

With sky and sea still bound;

The earth was playground for the bold

When bold still could be found.

-

Though many tried, one could be crowned

The bravest of them all;

Infamous he, relentless hound,

His faith – the ocean’s call.

-

‘Beware of him!’ maidens would bawl,

‘Eschew his wretched fame!’

He who is known for hellish brawl,

And Rowland was his name.

-

His soul no human hand could tame,

Fathered by high water

For no man’s seed could be to blame,

Bore him no-one’s daughter

-

Where he went, Hell doth burned hotter,

Death was as his own bride,

With cutlass high, set for slaughter,

No soul could flee to hide.

-

His name was known through far and wide,

Vile Beast in Good God’s plan;

‘Escape’, they’d say, ‘The rising tide,’

‘And run while you still can.’

-

The monster, still, was but a man

And work had to be done,

His crew, Caravan of the Damned,

Aboard Prodigal Son

-

The vessel's speed second to none,

It flew when wild winds hailed,

Its insides held many a ton

Of treasures took or bailed.

-

Through waters calm and wild they sailed

To plunder and to steal;

With black flag high, all others paled,

And grown men would doth keel. 

-

But you must know there was a deal 

The wretched crew kept tight:

To give the gold for but a meal,

To help the poor ones’ plight.

-

For Rowland knew the wrong from right;

As cruel as he could be,

For some he was a shining knight,

A symbol for the free.

-

It was the rich who would agree

On his nefarious ways;

For they would pay unwilling fee

Which set their hearts ablaze.

---

And there you have it I guess, the thing which kept me mildly insane while I tried to figure out the ridiculous rhyming pattern I set out for myself until the creative juices ran dry.

Peace ✌️

[ravenlly]

Who Made The Daycare Attendant? (Part 2: Addendum)

Although it is advised that you read this first post first, I will be providing bullet points to catch you up to speed!!

SPOILERS FOR SECRET OF THE MIMIC!!!

So, to understand this post, here's a brief summary of what I speculated/noted in Part 1:

The canon ending is the one where Arnold unknowingly gave F10-N4 the Data Driver, containing access to the Mimic's blueprints and access to Moon.exe.

The Mimic probably returned to the factory after killing Edwin, likely to get its hands on the Data Diver.

F10-N4 protected the Data Diver, keeping it out of the Mimic's hands. She also realized Edwin would never return.

During this time, with her access to Moon.exe, as well as her ability to design blueprints and programs, F10-N4 designed the current form of the Daycare Attendant we know and love today. For unknown reasons.

F10-N4 could not do anything with said blueprints as far as actually creating the hardware goes.

Someone else would've had to come build the Daycare Attendant based on those designs. Possibly, this person helped F10-N4 properly set up M.X.E.S.

In Security Breach, we see that the Mimic has the same teeth that the Daycare Attendant's endoskeleton has. It does not have these teeth in Secret Of The Mimic. In fact, its entire base frame is different.

The prior point could be explained by the theory F10-N4 possibly also designed another animatronic or another body. The Mimic could've installed itself into that one.

The person who helped build the Daycare Attendant's body probably worked for Fazbear Entertainment, hence how it first became a theatre animatronic long before Security Breach. It is possible the Daycare Attendant had an alternate purpose given by F10-N4.

Okay, now that I've caught you up to speed with that recap, I wanted to point out something that I missed. Something that I completely forgot about until I finished that first post:

Fazbear Entertainment doesn't know how to fix or reboot the Daycare Attendant.

This is a pretty important point that just flew over my head until the tail end of that post. It could imply that whoever built Sun/Moon/Eclipse wasn't a Fazbear employee. Alternatively, it could also just mean that the employee who did build them no longer worked for Fazbear Entertainment when Moon started acting up during his time as a theatre performer.

I think the second theory is more likely. We don't know how long the Pizzaplex has been around in Security Breach, but we can assume from the books that it was around for quite a few years. This is one of those times where the books provide information that could be important or canon to the lore of the games. We are aware that a ton of changes happened within the Pizzaplex from the time it opened to the time the incident that ruined it occurred. We also know that Staff Bots started to replace human employees over time. Granted, in the books, there are still human employees around for quite a while after the daycare was constructed.

Even then, it is noted specifically that the Daycare Attendant was an old theatre bot. It is extremely likely that the employee responsible for constructing them was long retired when Moon started acting out during the performances. This would mean that he wasn't around to fix the poor animatronic by rebooting it with the Faz Wrench (aka future Data Diver). The only one who knew how to was the Daycare Attendant in question...and poor Sun couldn't do that without the Faz Wrench. There was no hope for him without it around, or at least without it being actively used. Sun's familiarity with it shows that he recognized it immediately.

Who knows? Maybe the person responsible for building him was killed, be it by the Mimic or something else. For now, all I can speculate is that F10-N4 had a hand in designing the functionality of this poor animatronic. Maybe he was supposed to serve more of a purpose than being a theatre bot or a daycare attendant. But it's clear Moon got corrupted at some point, and nobody was around to reboot him.

I hope we will see their creation in a different game. I also hope that Ruin isn't truly the end for them. Their connection to the Mimic seems too important to end now. Maybe they will have mercy on their fans and let them be important later...

[falling-star-cygnus]

AND IT'S HERE❗

writing for the DBD fandom has gotta be one of my favorite things rn, y'all write... so many comments and worded reblogs... i love it so much -> and rest assured, i've finished the show before writing this TTwTT

post: here ao3 fic: here @mountainsoftreatos >W•

Summary: Given the dead boy's chronically horrifying existences, it makes sense that they would space out from time to time. Mentally check out to recoup.

Luckily, they never let the other stray too far alternatively: i wanted to write them holding hands

"Honestly, Charles, I did not spend the first decade of our friendship breaking this harmful habit of yours just so you could start it up again the second things go south."

"This is a bit farther than south, though, innit?"

Edwin sighs.

This silly boy..

"I still would prefer it if you didn't bash your head into every available surface.."

It had taken the older ghost the damn near entirety of the nineties to get him to stop. And several sore knuckles. But that was what it took to get his best friend to cease this nasty habit of his, so he supposed he couldn't complain.

Too much, anyway.

Ah- maybe further explanations were in order..

See, Charles- at least back then- would often throw his head back or forward whenever his frustration mounted too high. Into whatever solid object was closest.

Even Edwin himself, though very lightly, on occasion.

It was horribly worrying, even if a ghost couldn't retain long term blunt force traumas. They could still feel pain. [and could they ever, ugh.]

So, like every problem, he found a solution.

If he couldn't stop Charles from beating himself brainless, then he would just soften the blow.

Nearly ten years Edwin spent slipping his hand between whatever surface Charles tried bludgeoning himself on. He missed a few times, admittedly, but eventually it became second nature.

Until...

Edwin wrung his hand out with a wince and aggrieved sigh. That was harder than usual.. he must be particularly upset today.

The older ghost wasn't wearing his gloves, for once, so the impact had been a tad rougher than it'd normally be. Head against hand against brick... wasn't pleasant in any case.

It certainly wouldn't be pleasant if his friend were to hit it with the force he'd intended.

As it was, just as the older ghost had started wondering at the softness of Charles' curls, his poor hand had been grabbed. Or rather- ..gently seized?

"Edwin-! Edwin, I am so sorry, mate. I didn't- I didn't mean.."

And.. well... he looked distraught.

Charles didn't make another attempt after that.

Until right now.

Now the two find themselves in frustratingly familiar circumstances, though thankfully against a much softer material than brick.

They're at Crystal's temporary abode, just outside her door, while she waits downstairs for them. To count cats. As grateful as he is for their help finding them, it's terribly frustrating to need it in the first place.

"Now I'm glad I opted to stay behind when you said you needed a tick."

"You just didn't want to wait with Crystal."

...well..

He's not wrong.

But it's still vaguely irritating that this boy can read him so well and yet hide so much from him at the same time.

Maybe they were byproducts of each other, maybe Charles only learned so much about Edwin's tells so that he could hide these jagged parts of himself.

Like he didn't know they would be handled just as gently as the rest of him.

Honestly.

"Are you going to keep your head in my hand all day?" he asks instead, refusing to remove the barrier between his friend and soft plaster, "I don't mind, if that's what you need, but Crystal doesn't strike me as the type to have an abundance of patience."

Or any.

Charles hides away for a moment longer, before butting his head [oh so very carefully] against Edwin's palm again. When he pulls away, he's wearing a large sunny grin.

How had Edwin not realized how painfully fake it was sooner?

"Right, sorry about that," his best friend says, scooping up his 'bag-of-tricks' from the floor and heading for the stairs, "Let's get going then, yeah?"

"...you can stay behind if you need to, Charles-"

"And let you wander around with Crystal by yourself? You two'd level the town!"

The older ghost can feel the beginnings of frustration bubble up within his chest.

This silly boy.

[+-+-+]

Crystal would kick herself if she could.

All the harping she did on Edwin, and she didn't even notice anything was amiss herself. Not until..

Charles had been leading their little trio, because of course he was, as they scoured this stupid dead end town for cats. Everything had seemed fine.

She didn't even notice he had lagged behind them.

"Hey, Charles," Crystal started, straightening up from where she was looking under a park bench, "What was that thing you s-"

Her words die flat.

"Charles..?"

He's just... standing there. A little more than three feet behind the two, with his doleful brown eyes glazy and lost. Like they had been in that fucking house.

Distantly, she can hear the nerd scrabbling over to them but she ignores it to wave her hand in front of Charles' face.

"Are you g- hey!?"

Edwin forces her wrist down with an almost mournful look at his supposed best friend.

"That.. won't help," he says, resigned and tired in a way only a ghost could sound.

And also what the fuck did that mean?

"Is he okay?" Crystal all but demands, "Edwin, what the hell is going on?"

"This just happens sometimes, alright! To the both of us."

He inhales deeply- which.. well, that's somewhat concerning. Considering he's the one always going on about things ghosts don't need to do.

"I have found that its best," wow, she's glad he doesn't have bones in his jaw anymore- they'd be dust, "to let it run its course."

That doesn't seem right.

They should be helping him! Not just- standing around 'letting it run its course.' How is that going to do anything but give Charles more time to shove his feelings down?

To hide?

It hits Crystal that Edwin implied it happened to him to. And he's surprisingly open about his feelings. Well. To Charles anyway.

It... made sense, now that she mirrored his breath and thought about it.

Alright then.

She reaches out for her favorite of the dead boy detectives [still a stupid name], keeping her movements slow.

"So-" oh my god, when did this nerd get so tactile, "Okay, you have got to stop grabbing me."

"Then stop reaching for him," Edwin snaps at her, and he's noticeably harsher when he lowers her hand again, "Charles will be fine."

Crystal doesn't point out how it sounds like he's trying to convince himself, instead of her. She can't, really, because the scene that unfurls in front of her feels private.

Sacred, almost.

Edwin so, so, so gently takes Charles hand in his.

Lowers his voice to a near whisper, as if trying to coax out a beat dog from hiding.

That... metaphor feels too apt a comparison, actually. Even for her.

"Charles... how far are you?"

His hand squeezes almost too carefully to be seen, and his other comes up to hover somewhere near his poor partner's cheek. Not touching, though. Not yet.

"Can you hear me? Charles?"

Saying his name didn't seem to help her any, but now- when it's Edwin- the haze relents just a bit.

"Mate...?"

Crystal never wants to hear that tone again.

It's painful, in a physical sense deep in her chest, to hear that chipper voice so weak. Scared. In a way Charles should never have to feel.

Edwin swallows and brushes his thumb over the apple of the other ghost's cheek. [she ignores the hot swell of jealousy under her collar]

"Okay.. alright then, come on. Let's go for a walk."

He looks over to the psychic then, with a pinch in his brows. Questioning.

Crystal can't find it in her to be selfish.

So she shoos them off, mouthing the word 'go.'

And pretends it doesn't taste like ash when they walk away, hand in hand, like lovers long old.

She's the one he told about his dad first.

[mirellapryce]

I've been trying to share thoughts on my PJO AU but even my shortest thoughts keep exceeding the Tumblr word limit so here I'll try to break to down to its smallest components.

Charles is the son of Ares, but unlike most Half Bloods, Ares had a FIRM HAND in raising Charles. Then the summer after Charles turned 10 his dad dropped him off at Camp Half Blood in America. As the only one raised by their father Charles actively disrespects Ares which sets him apart from his siblings. Charles assumed he'd be going home at the end of the summer like everyone else, but no one came to pick him up.

Edwin is brought to camp a year later and between his mind and his fear of spiders everyone assumes he's a son of Athena. Charles is excited to have a new British friend at first until the other Athena kids convince Edwin to snub him as an Ares kid. Everyone is shocked when Edwin gets claimed by Aphrodite instead. All the Athena kids that liked him before suddenly turn their backs on him and act like he's a vapid, dumb fashionista. Others claim to have known all along. Edwin is angry and has his own poor preconceived notions of his own cabin.

Of course Charles still wants to be his best friend, so in no time they become Edwin and Charles against the world ❤️💙

[edwin-paynes-bowtie]

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.

[agerblade]

Monty sits down to his first meal as a human.

Esther sets the plate down in front of him and the scent of meat and root vegetables makes saliva pool in his mouth.

Words pop into his mind as his eyes scan the plate... steak, roasted potatoes, parsnip and carrots... He doesn't know how he knows the the names, he just does.

He sits quietly with his hands in his lap hands fidgeting and mouth watering, eyes darting around, glancing at Esther as she starts on her own plate, watching her until she snaps at him to start eating or starve.

He looks at her through the corner of his eye and copies what she's doing, carefully picking up the fork and knife, mirroring her hands- albeit clumsily as he tries to cut into the steak.

He manages to get a piece of meat onto his fork and moans softly as he pushes it into his mouth. The flavors burst on his tongue, his eyes flutter as he experiences a variable kaleidescope of flavor, more than was ever biologically possible as a bird.

His teeth sink into tender meat, the fat creamy and perfectly rendered. He can taste the butter it was seared and basted in, the fragrent rosemary and subtle sweetness of the garlic.

But the flavor of the meat is what sticks with him the most, deep, rich and savory. His cutlery scrapes and clatters noisily on the plate as he rushes to cut himself a second bite, oh how much more food tastes as a human.

A few days later Monty finds himself outside Tongue and Tail chatting with Edwin. He's getting distracted mid conversation by the most wonderful scent wafting through the air as he shyly tries to ask Edwin out on a date.

Behind Edwin, Charles and the girls are clambering around inside a dumpster doing god knows what, it's only when he catches a glimpse of glistening raw meat being stuffed into a plastic bag that he identifies the scents source.

He scurries off once Edwin accepts to go for a walk at a later date, a smile playing on his lips as he dawdles behind a nearby building until they've left. Once they're gone he cautiously walks back, following his nose to the dumpster, the scent making his mouth water as he gingerly climbs in.

Thankfully they hadn't taken all of the leftover scraps, the dumpster is still filled with a plethora of old cuts of meat. Most of them are strips of waste and fat trimmings, but there are a few large chunks of meat littered about.

Monty grabs a fat slice that's a slick glossy red, bringing it to his lips. It has a mildly sour aroma as he sinks his teeth into it but it's not off-putting. He moans unabashedly as the flavor of the meat coats his tongue as he slowly chews and swallows the chunk he'd bitten off.

He decides then that he likes meat raw better than he does cooked, the flavor is more intense, the richness concentrated. He licks his fingers and wrists clean from the red juices that had run down them.

He'd eaten raw meat as a bird, but he'd never had teeth or a tongue with this many taste buds, it's utterly divine.

He only exits the dumpster after he's practically eaten half his body weight in raw meat, scaring a poor man half to death as he climbs out of it, face and clothes covered in blood and meat juices.

He climbs into the window of his room in Esthers house and falls asleep on his bed immediately completely sated, awoken only by Esther screaming bloody murder as she finds him in the mess he made of the sheets once white sheets.

He smiles apologetically at her, his teeth and mouth still red with blood, then gets up to wash, he has to clean up for his date with Edwin later today.