#and the eternal boys thing

[cocotome]

The FREE 10th Anniversary event has been released on Blu-ray!! 😭😭 Don't get it twisted, these tear are for both the release and my wallet!

[egophiliac]

IT'S BUNNY TIME EVERYBODY

(feat. Dilla)

(bugle accompaniment by Yuu)

[shanastoryteller]

The day his deal comes due, Sam goes missing.

Dean tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s gotten caught up in some research, some last ditch, hail mary nonsense and that he’s just turned his phone off and everything’s fine, that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t break his promise.

He tells himself that for the first two minutes after he cracks his eyes open and sees the empty bed across from him, and the first time his call goes straight to voicemail, and not much after that. Sam’s broken his promises over things significantly less important to him than his brother’s life.

Dean is dressed and in the Impala five minutes later, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He calls Bobby, Ellen, everyone he can think of, but none of them have heard from Sam, none of them have eyes on him. Sam was with him last night, even if he boosted a car, there’s only so far he can get.

He keeps calling, keep searching, desperate to stop whatever he’s trying to do, to find him, to see his brother one last time before he’s dragged to hell. To make sure Sam is going to be okay after he’s dragged to hell. But the hours tick down, the sun sets, and he can’t find a trace of him. He’s so exhausted and heart sick that when he goes to call Sam again it takes him a long time to read the number on his phone, eyes swimming, the time not making any sense.

1:03

That’s not possible.

That’s not –

His phone rings, blocking out the time with Bobby’s name across the screen, and he answers it but his throat is too thick to say anything.

“Dean?” Bobby says tentatively. “Are you – I got an email from Sam. It just said, I mean, did–“

“What did it say, Bobby?” he asks, even though he’s sure he knows.

Bobby sucks in a breath at his voice, because he knows just as well as Dean that he should be screaming in hell right now, not answering his phone. “To take care of you.”

Dean drops the phone, hears Bobby still talking as he grips the wheel and presses his forehead against the back of his hands. This is what he’d been afraid of. This is why he hadn’t wanted to mess with the deal in first place. This is the one thing he’d begged Sam not to do.

It's easy to find a crossroad.

The demon is laughing at him when it shows up, wicked grin in a pretty face. “That didn’t take you long, boy.”

It’s a different demon than the one he delt with, obviously, but Dean figures they all know the same shit, since demons are a bunch of gossips. “This wasn’t the deal. My brother lives and I die.”

“You traded your soul for your brother’s life,” she corrects, so amused by all this that all he wants to do is kill her, to exorcise her, to make her scream. “Just like your father traded his for yours. There’s no reason Sammy can’t make his own trade. Man, but is your family fucked up. Maybe if you’d just settled down like little Sammy wanted, you wouldn’t all be bargaining for each other’s lives like haggling at a flea market.”

“Untrade it,” he snaps. “My soul for him alive, come on, no year, no waiting, you bring him back and take me to hell right now.”

She laughs in his face. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, boy.”

“My soul,” he repeats, “That’s what this is about, isn’t?”

“Oh, it’s what it’s all about,” she says. “But Sammy’s a clever boy. You know that, don’t you? He didn’t trade his soul for your life, he didn’t have to. You didn’t die. No, he traded it for your soul. Sorry, honey, but your credits been declined.”

At first he doesn’t understand. Sam traded his soul for Dean’s, exactly, so there’s no reason he can’t trade it right back. Then he gets it.

She sees the exact moment it clicks, the moment despair and horror sweep across his face too quickly for him to stop them. “That’s right. Little brother owns your soul now. For some reason he didn’t think you’d take proper care of it. You have it because that’s where he wants it, but no one will be making any deals with you, Dean Winchester. You can’t sell a soul you don’t own.”

“You can’t,” he has to clear his throat, “you can’t just come in and change things at the eleventh hour-”

“Eleventh hour?” she interrupts. “Sammy made his deal eleven months ago.”

His mouth is so dry he can’t speak.

“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, head cocked to the side. “All this time, the deal he’s been trying to get out of wasn’t yours, but his own. Maybe the two of you might have even managed it, except you just wouldn’t help, would you? Insisting that he not research, that he not look for a way out, and he spent so much time trying to convince you, coaxing you to talk about your feelings when he knew you were safe, all he because he thought it would make you feel better when he was gone, because he couldn’t tell you the truth and talk about how scared he was, so talking about your fear was as close as he could get.”

Dean’s going to be sick. “Don’t – please, please, I’ll give you anything-”

“You don’t have anything,” she says, gleeful. “You want to know why I agreed? The thing that made it just too delicious to refuse? Sammy’s down there, just starting in on an eternity of torture, and all he has to do get out of it is give up your soul. It’s his, after all, and he can put the original deal back in place any time he chooses. Just one moment of weakness on his end and his beloved big brother will be on the rack instead.” She sighs happily. “It’s almost as good as anything we’re doing to him down there, the knowledge that if he slips up for even a moment then it would all be for nothing. I couldn’t have found a way to twist the knife deeper if I tried.”

There’s vomit crawling its way up his throat and he has to swallow it down before he can speak. “I can’t – I’ll do whatever you want, please, there has to be something.”

She leans forward, cruelty and delight shining in her eyes. “The only thing you can do is what you’ve been telling your precious baby brother to do for the past year. Accept it. Move on. Live a good life so his sacrifice isn’t in vain.”

God. How can she – how can Sammy expect him to –

He’s doubling over, finally upchucking what little he’s ate today, and he’s dry heaving on the dirt when he hears the fading sound of her laughter.

This can’t be real. This has to be Hell, he has to be in it right now. He has to be.

[arctvros]

couldn’t stop thinking about san lang’s dramatic appearance at puqi shrine after the fetus spirit arc

[respectthepetty]

My Beautiful (Colorful) Man

Over the course of two seasons and a movie, we have witnessed My Beautiful Man/Utsukushii Kare's Hira and Kiyoi be the most dedicated color-coded boys in love.

Hira is a Blue Boy. He is stable and sincere.

But above all else, he is loyal to his idol, Kiyoi. Obsessively so.

Because even though all of the world sees Kiyoi as an arrogant, sophisticated, and secretive Black Brooder

Hira sees him as a Heavenly Human.

To him, Kiyoi is a god who should be worshiped, so Hira always lowers himself as he believes he could never be equal to such an ethereal being.

But what Hira misses is that Kiyoi is not a god in all white, but a man devoid of color and love.

Hira worships Kiyoi, but Kiyoi just wants Hira to love him, not as a god, but as a man.

So when Hira finally shows Kiyoi that he not only worships him, but loves him, he finally gives Kiyoi some of his color.

And Kiyoi quickly picks it up since all he has ever wanted is for Hira to love him.

Because as much as Hira openly admires Kiyoi, Kiyoi loves Hira immensely more.

Kiyoi's entire world is Hira, and without him, Kiyoi's world would be colorless.

Which is why Kiyoi demands that Hira sees them as equals.

He knows Hira would never cross a line with him, so Kiyoi always crosses the line first, but it's to lift Hira up and make him understand that they both love each other and are both worthy of this love.

Because when this all began, Hira wouldn't even look Kiyoi in the eyes.

But slowly, Kiyoi continued lifting Hira up.

Until finally, Hira rose on his own to meet Kiyoi where he was instead of admiring him at a distance from below.

So even though on the outside, Kiyoi comes across as dark and guarded

When it comes to Hira, the Blue Boy who gave his world color,

Kiyoi really is heaven sent.

Hira gives Kiyoi the support and love he needs. Hira gives Kiyoi color.

And as a result, Kiyoi gives Hira confidence and purpose. Kiyoi gives Hira's life meaning.

Although Hira would gladly give up his life for Kiyoi,

Kiyoi would never let that happen because he needs Hira by his side just as much as his Blue Boy needs him.

At the core of their relationship is a Blue Boy whose love for Kiyoi is deeply rooted and firmly planted in his heart.

And a Heavenly Human whose love changed him from a boy devoid of love into a man with a devoted partner.

Even if Kiyoi has to be the one to cross the line first

Hira will always follow him without question.

Because they would be adrift without the other. They are equal in life and in love. They are both beautiful men whose world is made brighter by the love they have for each other.

Their love is eternal and not even the heavens could contain it.

Gross.

[probablygayattorneys]

So, I only started keeping track about a third of the way through Diabolical Box so I'm missing any wisdom from the beginning of that game/Curious Village, but according to Professor Layton and Luke, a true gentleman...

Pays attention to his manners in every setting

Does not pry deeply into other's affairs

Always remembers to treat a lady with kindness and respect

Never takes off his hat

Never forces a lady to say more than she wants to

Always helps a lady in trouble (Get ready, they say this one in like fifty different ways)

Helps those in need

Helps a cat in need

Shouldn't glare at people as if he wants to hit them in the face

Should not go around threatening people with knives

Should not take what does not belong to him

Never, ever makes a lady cry

Admits his mistake rather than trying to cover it up with an unconvincing excuse

Always fights for the truth

Always remains kind when conversing with a lady

Can't walk around with his head bare

If your future self has become obsessed with completing a time machine and has been kidnapping scientists from the past, then stopping your future self is your duty as a true gentleman

Keeps his promises and solves the problem

Always express gratitude for the. hospitality of others

Never plays his ace in the hole until absolutely necessary

Again, if your future self has turned evil, you must meet that challenge and stop him

Keeps his secrets

Has his hobbies

(As an aside, the violin is a very gentlemanly pursuit)

Cannot allow another to follow you into a dangerous situation

Keeps calm and carries on, even under duress

Never rushes a lady

Breaks into a house if he believes a young girl could be in danger

Always keeps his promises

Has good penmanship

Always keeps his word

Rarely resorts to punchlines

Is patient

Shows gratitude to one's teachers

When crafting a solution, always prefers the elegant one

Never refuses a request to help an old friend

Never abandons someone in need

Never neglects those in need

Finds peaceful solutions to potentially violent situations

Isn't suited for rides like a carousel

Never wipes dirty hands on his clothes

Must not jump over fences

Always obeys the highway code

Would never give a false statement to a police officer

Admires a fine collection of gloves

Always remains positive

Does not act arrogantly in the face of tradition

Treats his guests with the utmost hospitality

Always invests in a time piece

Conversely, a lady...

Never keeps a gentleman waiting

Always demonstrates good humor

Solves puzzles

[coloursflyaway]

i'm writing a fic that is just about charles and edwin kissing and what that has taught me is that i could literally come up with 3984729 ways they could kiss

[bootsysblog15]

Yall the byler doubt it getting to me bcs what if they pull a dead boy detectives and will confesses and mike is like “lets sleep on it” and the series ends

[normalbrothers]

TOMMY: The war is done! Shut the door on it like I did.

[delubabydoll]

name someone more real than her..

[hitlikehammers]

nowhere without you

rating: t ♥️ cw: post-final battle, hurt/comfort ♥️ tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, BIG emotions, even BIGGER love, as in: soul-deep love, softness; happy endings always ♥️

for @steddielovemonth day eight: Love is the heartbeat I can feel when I hug him

(also probably the humble love-soaked endlessly-devoted beginnings of the rockstar!husbands in je ne regrette rien)

The weirdest part is how, in the aftermath, Eddie doesn’t speak. Like, at all.

Scratch that: it’s the weirdest and the most concerning part. Eddie makes noise, mostly pained kinda moans that make Steve’s chest clench, ache more the admittedly-decently-deep wounds slowly—but reliably, like, consistently—stitching themselves together, and Steve begs him to get looked at again, because something has to be wrong to cause those kinds of sounds but Eddie doesn’t even shake his head, doesn’t really move at all save that sometimes he trembles, and it’s…

It fucking breaks Steve’s heart.

He’s almost gotten used to stroking Eddie’s hair in silence—so wrong; worthy Eddie that’s just so wrong—and working any tangles out so, much as it’s getting a limp and greasy with days of neglect, at least it’s smooth; but he’s almost resigned to this for the long haul because he’ll weather anything he has to for Eddie and they’ll work through this, whatever this is, they’ll worth through it together and—

“How did you stand you it?”

The sound is more a scratch than anything, glass on sandpaper, and it’s down to Eddie lying where he hasn’t left for the last four, going on five days—as in, not once while Steve’s been awake has he existed without Eddie’s weight situated just so against his chest, sinuous and deliberate in where he presses against, careful as a rule of Steve’s worst injuries and delicate about how he rests against Steve’s body, but not…hesitant.

More, kinda…kinda desperate.

So it’s down to him being pressed so close and sure and unwavering that Steve feels him speak more than anything, matches the motion of his lips against Steve’s gown to words rather than the wind, or something outside his door to the halls of the hospital beyond; it’s down to the tension in the whole of him, the all-too-present shaking that Steve matches the scrape of the question to a hurt that’s…that maybe Steve doesn’t wholly understand just yet, but that really and truly does cut him deeper and closer and more critical at the core of him than the Upside Down ever could have clawed in: Eddie lives in him, nothing else can really…ever hope to be deeper.

“How are you,” Eddie rolls gravel across more words, and Steve’s missed his voice so fucking much, he didn’t realize how much until it’s here again for him to hear and hold but, Jesus fuck, it’s like…it’s like it’s drowning; like Eddie is drowning and then his breath is hitching, and oh, god, that voice is cracking around the edge of a sob, watery and wavering as he damn-near close to begs:

“How did you survive it?”

Steve feels it clench in his ribs, because he thinks he…he thinks he’s putting it together. The strain, the agony in that voice, that voice he loves so fucking much, from this man he loves with everything, but then—the way Eddie presses into him. The force, and the position, and the pattern. The way he’s been quiet, unfailing, but never…never seems distant, seems the opposite: seems focused; intent. The way Dustin had come in and caught him upon the things he’d missed in one of the almost-nonexistent windows where Eddie sleeps, hand lines alongside his sternum and head curled in the most uncomfortable pretzel Steve can imagine, forehead all scrunched and eyes squeezed shut so goddamn hard, looking like any sleep he manages is nothing close to rest by any measure: but Dustin had came in and told him Eddie was the first to him; Eddie ran faster than he’d seen a person run; Eddie’d looked devastated, broken when they’d caught up, and they’d been so afraid, feared the worst, and—

Steve’s starting to fit the pieces together. Maybe.

“No,” Eddie whines, pitchy and fervent and almost ear-splitting, like a wail of sheer gut-wrenching pain that Steve can’t find the reason for in the here and now because it’s just them in a hospital room, they’re okay, and his hand presses heavy, gentle around his wounds still, always gentle and so, so careful and Steve doesn’t know what’s caused the reaction, but then—

Then he can feel his fucking heartbeat for how hard Eddie’s pressing. It’s weird, how it makes him feel…strangely alive, the sensation of it kept and held like that, specifically in Eddie’s hand. And he’s not paying attention to the monitors really, tuned them out as quick as he could but when he listens, okay. Okay, maybe faster than normal, but Steve’s fucking worried, okay, he’s—

“Fuck, no,” Eddie moans and twists his head, no, not just his head, his ear and leans harder into Steve’s chest, his breathing shallow and Steve hates it but he doesn’t know what to do, how to help, what to fix because he’ll fix it if he knows, he’ll climb out of this bed and crawl on the goddamn floors of he has to, but he doesn’t know where to go, what to find, what demon’s left to slay—

“I’m just, I’m grateful you did,” survive, Steve survived…

He survived, like, now?

“But grateful’s such a weak word, it doesn’t,” and Steve takes a breath, and reaches, rests his hand on Eddie’s wrist just to see: his heartbeat’s somuch faster, it’s like a flutter of a flutter felt strong enough to break through skin, it catches in Steve’s heart just to touch—

“You’re so much stronger than I could ever, like,” Eddie’s going on, still breathless and fuck, Steve can see why; “fucking hope to be.”

Shit, but that’s…he wasn’t stronger, fuck, Steve wasn’t stronger than Eddie, Eddie nearly got eaten alive, Steve nearly couldn’t staunch enough of the bleeding, he almost lost—

Eddie keens, horrible and hurting and Steve stills: the monitor. The thundering of his own pulse at the memory.

How did you survive it?

Losing. Almost losing. That’s…that’s what it is.

That’s why Eddie’s pressed against his chest, his his head and his hand have been a fucking frame, goddamn, like, parentheses surrounding Steve’s beating heart, proof of life, Jesus—

“But I need to be,” Eddie’s voice is quiet, but steadier, and his chin dips like a nod to himself; “I need to learn how,” he’s firm with it; “for you.”

Oh, god. Oh…oh Eddie.

“I can’t ever lose you, Steve,” Eddie presses trembling lips to Steve’s chest and then presses close again, so close and oh: he wasn’t just intent where he’s been silent so long.

He was listening.

“Never ever,” he breathes against Steve, hot and damp; almost kinda breathless again, or still: “never ever.”

“Eds,” Steve begins, not even entirely sure where he plans to go, just knows he needs to do something, say something, but Eddie’s turning Steve’s hand in his, where he’d circled Eddie’s wrist; he’s turning it and mirroring the hold, gripping Steve’s wrist in kind.

“I couldn’t find it,” he gasps, and the sound makes the sob clear before Steve feels the wetness soak through to his skin; “I couldn’t feel it at all, you were, it,” he presses his fingers in hard, squeezes so goddamn tight, and Steve can’t…he doesn’t want to imagine what Eddie had to do, what Eddie found and felt, he doesn’t but he can, because he remembers the mirror image so stark, it took him so long because he couldn’t find a pulse either, he’d had to press on Eddie’s heart at the source and even then—

“I couldn’t feel you.”

Oh. Fuck. He—

“Oh, baby,” Steve’s elevated enough at an angle that he can at least kiss Eddie’s hair, barely brush his scalp but it’s enough, for the breath that punches from Eddie against his chest it’s at least something; “that’s…”

“I won’t survive that again, Steve,” Eddie sucks in, unsteady and drenched with tears, with sorrow, but also…also more than anything else, they’re filled up with so much love.

A love big enough to hurt that hard.

“And I can’t…” Eddie gasps, breath catching; “I can’t handle not feeling it,” and his fingers tighten; his hand on Steve’s chest and his cheek across from it press down that extra little bit so Steve knows his own heartbeat in those moments full and deep.

“Have to feel it always,” Eddie whispers like he’s telling himself, and Steve, and Steve’s heart through flesh and bone, some cosmic secret no one else can know: too sacred. Too precious.

“You can feel it any time,” Steve lets his hand fall from Eddie’s to cover the hand Eddie’s got splayed ln his chest, counting time; holds him there almost protectively: “all the time,” and he slips his fingers between Eddie’s and shifts his palm close to the beating, so he can still feel what he needs as he murmurs with his heart literally in Eddie’s hands, with his entire goddamn soul:

“All of me. It’s yours.”

Unshakable fucking fact. He doesn’t even have to will it, or hope for it; his heartbeat knocks that heavier against their hands for those words like it knows.

It knows.

“Don’t leave me,” Eddie bursts out, begging; almost something primal, and Steve can feel the tremoring of his lips where they drag against him; “please. I’ll do anything, I swear it, just don’t—“

“Be you,” Steve braves the whimper that comes from untangling his hand from Eddie so that he can reach for Eddies cheek and cradle him in closer, and oh, fuck, thank god: something in him sighs out and loosens, ever so slightly—finally.

“Everything you are,” Steve presses on, runs his thumb back and forth through Eddie’s drooping curls; “let me love you, past living and dying,” and Eddie’s breath catches, for that, but Steve holds him tighter for it, drowns him as best he’s able in the proof he needs so bad; “don’t leave me,” and Eddie huffs a little for that, like it’s beyond believing, impossible, and Steve smiles to himself for it, tries to lean enough to press the grin to Eddie’s head, hopes he manages as he murmurs there close:

“That’s it, Eddie,” and he lets his fingers spread wider, cradle Eddie all the more: “that’s all I need.”

“That and more baby,” Eddie answers him between the double-beat of his pulse, immediate; “you’re the music and the rhythm,” he nuzzles a little against him, and Steve smiles a little wider for it; “you’re the reason my heart beats,” and Steve finds that heartbeat for himself at Eddie’s jaw, now; a little calmer. Not much. But: something.

It’s a start.

”I don’t have a reason without you,” Eddie exhales, vehement; “I don’t want a reason, without you.”

And Steve should maybe push on it, or be scared by it: but neither seem right, not for this.

Not for them.

Steve just holds Eddie’s pulse under the pressure of his touch, and holds Eddie’s cheek closer still into his chest as he breathes:

“You’re my whole heart, Eds,” and he lets a second pass, and then another, for that heart of Eddie’s to pump evidence unshakable against him, to play the song and rhythm straight into his waiting ear:

“Was never going anywhere without you.”

♥️ ao3 link here

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch

♥️

divider credit here

[egophiliac]

HOW WE FEELING ABOUT THE UPCOMING NEWSS 👹👹👹

man, it's a good thing they stopped doing the episode 7 SSRs, because I'm really low on keys and gems right now and --

OH NO

[wiredust]

thinking about the fact that charles chose edwin .. someone who was there for him because he was scared, who enjoyed his company even when he was at his lowest .. choosing him over a potential afterlife where he couldve been happy ,, eternally

[respectthepetty]

Peaceful Property's trailer just dropped (THANK GOD!), and I am here once again asking

If not a BL, why the color exchange?!

Home is red. Peach is blue(green, so turquoise really)

And Peach's sister is pink.

(Kan is neutral)

So why is Home wearing blue if he isn't in love with Peach?!

And why is Kan wearing red?!

I will be perfectly fine if there is no romance in this show, but all I'm screaming is the colors mean things!

And if the BL streets were correct that Force and Book were going to be a cameo based solely on arms appearing in a photo in March,

Then I'm just going to sit here in my truth knowing that red + blue

equals purple.

[itsbeenliketenyearsitsprettywild]

Thing to remember about Cat’s magician theme: while yes, it does imply there’s some stuff that we just won’t get to see due to it being hidden, it’s also hinting at something meant to help us:

Don’t get caught up in any misdirection.

One of the big things about this music video in particular is that there’s a lot of stuff thrown at us really fast and quick, multiple times. A bunch of busy, flashy, dramatic sequences that are sure to draw most people’s eye and theorycrafting!

But, just as a magician uses their skills to get the audience to look away from the actual trick that they’re pulling, Kazui is subconsciously pulling the same stuff on us. Like, just in considering what one of the slower sections of Cat showed us:

People have already pointed out that the guy in the wedding audience is the same man who was bartending in Half. But I think there’s even a bit more past that that Kazui’s given to us as context. Which is to say: Consider the ring on his finger and the woman behind him.

Know what other woman in Kazui’s videos we’ve seen who has brown hair and been right next to this man?

Which actually puts the bar scene from Half into a completely different context.

The picture above wasn’t Kazui cheating on his wife: it was him getting to know the woman his childhood friend was going to marry. 

By having their meeting in a casual setting, with both Kazui and her sitting right up next to the bar where the guy was working, all three of them would get to talk and hang out when things weren’t too busy. And when things did get busy, Kazui and this man’s future bride would be easy to check up on via a quick look down the bar counter, with alcohol as an added social relaxant so things would hopefully never get too tense and awkward. With all this in mind, I think it’s really important we consider the art of misdirection when looking through the rest of Kazui’s Cat video: If our attention is being drawn to something in particular, look at everything else first.  That’s gonna be how we crack through Kazui’s shell and get to the truth.