No I'm Not Gay

This is a mood

Excuse me for a second

*cries aggressively in the corner*

I’m gonna talk about Dead Boy Detectives for a second, specifically Charles and Edwin’s deaths.

Edwin died in a basement and Charles in an attic, and Edwin went to Hell and Charles was presumably meant to go to Heaven. Edwin died by fire (demons from Hell) and Charles died by ice (hypothermia). Edwin was targeted for his queerness and Charles for the color of his skin, the country his mother came from. Edwin never seemed to get along with the boys who would kill him but Charles called his murderers friends until they turned on him. Edwin died by supernatural means while Charles died by run of the mill racist teenagers. They died more than 7 decades apart.

When you look at the details there are so many differences but the story is still the exact fucking same. Two boys who died at the hands of a group of their classmates who decided that they did not fit with the rest of them and therefore must pay the price. Two boys who died on the same grounds of the same school, whose deaths were brushed aside and covered up by people who held the same titles. More than 70 years apart and not a single thing has changed, Charles’ death didn’t get any more attention than Edwin’s, because more than 70 years later the same fucking story happened again.

Edwin’s death didn’t change a damn thing, and it could happen again now because Charles’ death didn’t change a damn thing either. And then the ghosts of two 16 year olds decided that if the adults, if the living weren’t going to change anything then they fucking would. If the living would not grant them justice and would not grant them change, then they fucking would.

Because there was a difference, in the end. Edwin was murdered, and so was Charles, but while Edwin died scared and alone Charles didn’t. Edwin died in a cold, dark basement, but Charles died in warm light of a lantern, even if that warmth wasn’t enough to save him. Edwin died to the sounds of his own screams, his own voice pleading for mercy that would not come, but Charles drifted off to sleep to the sound of a kind boy reading him a book.

The living won’t change. The story could and will keep on repeating because the living will not make sure it doesn’t. The living are messy. But the dead, for all the ways they will never change, will never get any older, they can change the story, at least a bit. Charles and Edwin can’t make sure that no other boy dies at that school, but if the story repeats itself yet again they can make sure the victim is at peace. They can solve the murders and find the lost items and release the spirits who are trapped. The living won’t help the dead, but they can help each other.

So they call themselves the Dead Boy Detectives, form an agency and get an office and help who they can, because they didn’t matter to the living, and many of their clients don’t either. But they matter to the dead.

Their clients matter. And Charles and Edwin matter too.

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Edwin looking at Charles

Charles version

Bro is LOSING the IDGAF war against a crow and a cat.

I think Charles grins fondly when Edwin's being a bitch because he genuinely thinks it's hilarious and adorable. But I also think he admires the shit out of Edwin's unwillingness to tone himself down or file off his sharp edges. Charles needs to be liked so much, and he spends so much time setting himself aside and tying himself in knots to be what other people need, and Edwin just doesn't. He is exactly and entirely his snippy bitchy self and everyone else can take it or leave it. I think there's something exhilarating in that for Charles - both a sense that by attaching himself to Edwin he can borrow some of that fearlessness about outside judgments, and a thrill of knowing that Edwin can ignore everyone else's opinion because Charles is always, entirely, inarguably enough for him.

And there are downsides to that dynamic. Charles works really hard to manage the vibe, and the fact that Edwin doesn't really do that back (isn't equipped to do it back, because he doesn't read people and intuit what they need from him the way Charles does) sometimes leaves him feeling like he's carrying that weight alone. (who else is gonna keep spirits up? you?)

But also there's a reason Charles is drawn to stubborn difficult people with sharp edges who don't apologise for who they are, and I don't think he'd give up Edwin's bitchiness for anything.

TIMEBOMB again

thing came up in my mind so i have to write it:

charles snapped back to reality when he saw crystal’s manicured fingers waving in front of his face. “charles? what are you…” she began, turning around to follow his line of sight which extended just past her ear.

“ah,” she said, quirking an eyebrow when her eyes fell on edwin, nose deep in notes for the case he was working on, his eyes flitting back and forth on the parchment in front of him with fervor as thin, wire-rimmed glasses sat atop his nose.

“hm,” charles mumbled noncommittally, now leaning on his palm while he stared intently at the fluidity of the fingers that traced the lettering on the page.

“alright, spit it out,” crystal said, an amused roll of her eyes following the words.

“it’s just- it’s so fun to watch him when he gets like this. all caught up in his work. he’s so smart and good at everything. so… mm.”

“charles?”

“hm?” he asked, still not tearing his eyes away.

“have you ever heard of a competency kink?” she asked, trying to suppress a laugh.

“wh- a kink??? why are we talking about that???” he asked frantically, his eyes finally ripped away from the other man as a vibrant flush colored his cheeks, but his temporary lapse in attention didn’t last long as he caught edwin rolling his sleeves up and brushing his hair out of his eyes through his peripheral vision. charles’ own eyes fluttered as he muttered under his breath. “christ.”

crystal snapped in front of his face.

“pay attention, charles. a competency kink. it’s when you’re really attracted to when someone’s good at something.”

“yeah, sounds interesting,” he muttered, moving around her hand to keep his eyes fixed to where the end of edwin’s ballpoint pen was pinned between his teeth as he analyzed something on the page. charles made a weak noise when he saw it, his hand coming up to gently brush his bottom lip like he was imagining that it took the pen’s place in between those sharp teeth.

“charles, for fuck’s sake, i think you have one,” she says, the laugh finally erupting at the absurdity of his steely focus.

“what? no. isn’t that like… normal? it’s nice when someone’s good at something,” charles defended, a bit flushed.

“yeah, well, no one looks at someone like that unless they want to bone them while they talk about like- quantum physics or like literature or some shit,” she said plainly, the amused grin still prevalent.

charles made a noise like he had just been punched in the chest at the idea.

“and now you’re thinking about it, aren’t you? god dude, just- go get your man. we’re never gonna finish this conversation until you can say what you need to,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“he’s not my-“ charles tried weakly.

“don’t care, go,” she said, pushing him forward.

he paused briefly, breathing in shakily before returning to his usual bravado seamlessly. “EDWIN!! what are you working on mate?” he called, grinning as he walked around the desk to look over his shoulder and discretely took his bottom lip into his mouth.

“i’m rather stuck on this piece of evidence, you see…” edwin delved into his explanation, charles’s pupils dilating with every word as his chest heaved.

“god, i’m so good at this. also, ew. i should leave.”