#THE WAY HOME WAS VERY LONG

[skznccmlee]

My ler just discovered yesterday I'm ticklish on my feet and ears and TOTALLY explored that new information

[lil-lemon-snails]

[dykedvonte]

Curly's little blurb on his steam trading card just keeps reminding me he is a much more miserable person than people realize.

We don't get a lot of his thoughts, inner confliction that aren't bogged down by what Jimmy says or does. Even in the The Last One and Then Another, his dialogue is reflective, not the Curly before the crash but the result of everything. Parts of the him he was are there of course, but also disfigured and warped beyond recognition just like he is physically.

Curly really doesn't think much of himself and desires. He clearly chases fleeting moments of happiness. He doesn't really have prospects for himself, assumes in a similar way to Swansea, that if it should make it happy then he is happy. Though, he hasn't reached the point Swansea did to admit it doesn't. He neither sees the glass half full or empty, it's just water, something he needs and he'll take it from any perspective.

He wasn't running from anything but he's never really been going towards something either. He's listless. I've been using the term complacent to describe how he feels about his life and the closest people (really just Jimmy) in it, but now that word feels too neutral, too nice. Happier than Curly really was. There isn't just one word for it, he's unfulfilled, uncertain, uninspired. There are no active problems he faces and that's the issue, why should he be upset?

I believe he really is a person who doesn't know who he is or wants to be. He follows a structure. I don't think he's suicidal, but he clearly doesn't think about what makes him happy. He's numb. I suppose that is a better word than complacent, used to the feeling even if he hates it. It doesn't hurt so why stop it?

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

been wanting to scribble them as this meme for a while

[clownsuu]

Mini psa:

Please stop comparing my au to a preexisting au in the undertale fandom-- it's getting really tiresome and frustrating to constantly be compared to it

[needlefail]

Some leafs 🍃🍂🍁

[zehl0w]

Zenitsu agatsuma has got to be the biggest egg I have ever seen in my entire life

[anonymouspuzzler]

"this is just fanart" disclaimer cause I feel the need to make that super obvious now LMAO, but! little WH doodles from recent!

[Image IDs/transcripts under cut!]

[Image 1 ID: A black-and-white Welcome Home fan-comic. It stars Julie Joyful (a "rainbow monster" puppet that looks like a Muppet girl with noodly limbs, little nub horns, and long hair styled in a high ponytail, wearing a dress with a hoop skirt and puffy sleeves and a scarf tied in a bow), Frank Frankly (a puppet with a long, cylindrical body, long nose, thick eyebrows, black hair with a middle part, and a comically exaggerated frown, wearing a plaid vest and butterfly-shaped bow-tie), and Eddie Dear (a mailman puppet with a heavyset-yet-soft build, square jaw, thick eyebrows and long eyelashes, wearing a mailman's uniform with a parcel bag and rainbow tie).

The first panel shows Julie and Frank talking, with Frank's back to the viewer. Julie, smiling smugly and gesturing with one pointer finger and the other hand on her hip, says "If I run and jump at Eddie, he will surely catch me in his arms!" Frank replies simply, "Don't do that."

The second panel shows Eddie walking in, carrying a stack of packages in his left arm and holding up several letters in his right hand. He shouts "Mail call here f-Oh No", interrupting himself with a shocked smile as Julie runs towards him flapping her arms, screaming "EDDIE EDDIE EDDIE CATCH ME EDDIE C'MON QUICK EDDIE CATCH EDDIE EDDIE EDDIE EDDIE". Frank, back still to the viewer, watches with shock with his hands raised in the air.

The third panel shows Eddie having indeed caught Julie, holding her up with both arms and an anxious expression. The packages he was holding have all fallen to the ground around him, and several of the envelopes are still fluttering to the ground. Julie is completely oblivious to Eddie's distressed, kicking her legs in the air excitedly, cradling Eddie's face with one hand and waving to Frank with the other. Frank watches in silent, stunned disbelief. End ID.]

[Image 2 ID: A colored image of Eddie Dear and Wally Darling (a smaller, yellow puppet with a large dark blue pompadour hairstyle and calm smile, wearing blue cardigan sweater over a button-up shirt, rainbow striped pants, and saddle shoes with hearts on the soles). Eddie is holding up Wally with both hands; Wally has his arms out to the sides and legs slightly bent at the knees. Both are smiling open-mouthed at each other, Wally relaxed yet warm, Eddie delighted yet slightly stunned. There are envelopes fluttering to the ground and scattered all around Eddie, with an arrow pointing to him reading "dropped all the mail". End ID.]

[hermesmoly]

“But why now?—because Menelaus has beaten your handsome Paris, and hateful as I am, he longs to take me home?” Helen of Sparta still knowing her soulmate’s heart after a decade of war everybody

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

Only two more episodes to go after this one and the gay is thriving as usual, so let's take a look:

1

Home and Peach keep staring intensly at the other's unconcious face while putting their head directly above the other's, resulting in unintentional headbuts. Boys, I know you're worried and want to be the first thing the other sees after waking up, but I'm sure there's less headache-inducing ways to go about it.

2

As per usual, Home is carrying Peach without complaint. (And I'm reminded once again that he's certainly not shy around his body o.O)

3

The looks/nonverbal communication between them are constant. Even surrounded by the rest of their family, their eyes always find each other first. Whether it's to comment on what just happened or to reassure each other on what's about to happen, one look says it all.

4

Pangpang is streaming and her viewers are shipping. They must be happy to see that Home and Peach have moved past their divorce era. ("Where's Peach?" they say, which, if you've ever been present for a live of some BL actors, well, you know.)

5

This shot is right out of a 2000s gay coming-of-age short film.

And the way Peach laughs so fondly and asks Home what he wants for dinner in a soft voice? The love is strong in this scene.

And then their kids join in to bug them.

(a commenter on YT pointed out Peach pulling down his shirt but I'm not even going to go there)

6

Home is so tuned in to Peach, when he get's a message and looks at it a little weirdly for a second, Home is immediately there to ask what's wrong.

7

Home is so genuinely happy that for Peach when he hears that he's finally getting closer to achieving his dream

only to force himself to keep up that happiness when he realises that it might get in the way of his own dream.

Meanwhile Peach can't even really be happy about this himself because being a cook is his dream but he doesn't want to lose his family, lose Home, to get there.

In fact, his first impulse after finding out is asking Home what he thinks about it, because just like Home, he's clearly at this point considering Home a part of his future. Decisions like that have to involve him. (And Home, you idiot. You could have just said you'd come with him. It's not like there's anything keeping you in Bangkok.)

But unfortunately those two have still not achieved this sense of security in their relationship (and definitely Home, probably also Peach, being orphans, I guess it's not surprising they're having some issues around attachment and feeling secure in the long-lastingness of their relationships). And so Home falls back on protecting his vulnerability by pretending it's not there. Rather than imposing difficulty onto Peach (,rather than facing the smallest possibility that Peach might choose this over him,) Home plays it off like there was never any future for them anyway, even after he had just confessed to his uncle ca. one minute earlier that all he wants is for them to stay together.

He isn't even very subtle in his overplaying (is that a word in English?) of his troubled emotions, at the same time using this opportunity to get physically close to Peach for potentially one of the last times.

8

Of course, as he told his uncle, all Home really wants is to stay together with Peach and his family.

But he has come quite a long way from tricking Peach into unfair contracts. So he'd rather stap back than cause Peach any problems, doesn't think it his right to put his selfish desires onto him. (Unfortunately, judging by the preview, Peach is also insecure so by doing that he's just hurting Peach more)

"Just us" huh, Home? You know, at this point you might as well just propose to him.

At least this time he has another member of his family there to cry into the shoulder of.

Lesbian Corner

The girls have taken a page out of the HomePeach handbook, clinging to each other at the revelation of a ghostly presence.

Now that Peach and Home are somewhat settled (well...) it's their turn to flirt their way through the end credits

Edit:

Oops, it seems I missed something. Kan and Pangpang even have their own shippers now

[kacievvbbbb]

Just one of the many great tragedies of Mishanks' relationship is that sometimes Shanks wants to feel wanted just as he is, that even beyond the strength he is worth the effort he is worth being loved and unfortunately that just isn't something Mihawk can over him it's just not something he can do, not as he is now at least. That's a level of emotional maturity that he just does not possess to be able to disentangle the strength from the man that makes no sense to him. Strength is all there is. Shanks is a person, has a life outside of his strength, his power is just another aspect of who he is but for Mihawk strength is his whole person, if he is not strong then he is nothing. If shanks is not strong well then....he's nothing to him.

And God that's a lonely way to live.

[blue-eli]

Lost princess of a shadow broken kingdom.

[vynnyal]

Turns out Sunlit Trail isn't quite done just yet, so after all that they just send you to a dead end 😂

[buqbite]

it's kinda fascinating to me how welt has been "at the end of his life" for like. several decades by now. he goes on and on about how old and weary he is and how "his job is done" and his story is over but- oh wait i just realized i can phrase this in a very funny way- he's kind of sorta immortal now because he got the herrscher core back, so he's really just stuck in the epilogue for all eternity

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

spontaneously starts scribbling him Differently Every Time

[pigeonstab]

So, I actually managed 1005 words! which is like 250 more than i had before, yippee!!

I think some CWs are needed for this one, basically this is a bit of insight into Cross's childhood, he's probably around 13 here?

//CW vomiting & child abuse??// (lmk if there are any more needed)

Raindrops hit the car window, blurring the sight of the city lights behind the panes with a soft pattering sound. Cross was cold. The air was humid and he wanted to go home. Wherever that was.

The car ride had been spent in silence, as had all the other ones these past months. Cross kept himself entertained, watching flashes of light pass through the darkness of the car, observing as they shifted and bent with the shape of the seats or as they passed over his legs. He didn’t know if he could do this again, if he’d find the courage to. He wanted to say something though he knew he shouldn’t, protesting never got him anything but remarks and lectures.

He’d never been good at keeping his mouth shut.

“I don’t wanna go.” His throat felt tight and there was a growing pressure behind his eyes. he had to tell someone.

A heavy sigh came from the driver’s seat and Cross winced “And I don’t wanna hear it Cross. This is your third placement in three months. You know how these things go.” her tone stayed stern and cold. He didn’t know why he ever tried. A beat passed “You know if you would just behave–”

“I know” he snapped at her, holding his brow, a low growl building in his throat.

“See? This is exactly what I mean!”

“Oh, fuck off!” He knew he’d made a mistake as soon as the words left him.

The car came to an abrupt stop at the red light and Cross flinched when she twisted around to face him, her face contorted with rage, pointing an accusing finger in his face.

“I’m doing this for you, you know that right?” She started “I’m driving you there but if you wanna be like that, you can get out of the car and walk your stuff to the new house. And then you could do the introductions and explain all that’s wrong with you. Since you like talking so much. Is that what you want? Huh?”

Cross stayed quiet, curling up on himself. He knew this was a shit idea anyway. She never listened. Tears ran down his cheeks as he kept his eyes glued to the floor. “’m sorry..”

She merely scoffed, turning back to the road as the light turned green. “And stop crying.”

–––––––––––––––––––

Now, Cross stood quietly, his backpack in hand, and in it all his meager belongings. He cringed as his social worker rung the doorbell of the new house.

The door opened, blinding Cross with the warm light coming from inside. He felt like he could cry again. Wanting nothing more than to go back to the car.

His social worker greeted the man at the door, a smile plastered on her face that she only used when talking to the foster parents. Cross was disgusted at her hypocrisy. This house would be just like the other ones, they’d act nice for a bit while he was quiet and docile and then at the first sign of resistance they’d realize he’s nothing but a wild animal, ‘a problem child’. Once he snaps at them, once he’s not just a way to give them good conscience. He hated them already, he hated this.

He wanted out. He liked it better with Epic. He should’ve stayed with him.

“Cross, are you coming?” He was pulled from of his thoughts as she called him inside. She’d already told his new foster parents about the protocol for his shifts, he knew because the man he’d seen earlier was holding a vial of wolfsbane in his hand. He shuddered, it was rare when foster parents let him spend full moons without sedation. He didn’t like the way they looked at him.

Like they were nice, like they weren’t going to hurt him. Cross hoped they’d let him keep his books. Maybe they wouldn’t be as bad as the last ones.

–––––––––––––––––––

Cross knew this placement had been a bad idea. He panted and whined as he struggled against the silver shackles attaching him to the basement radiator, his arms were pulled back uncomfortably and the silver was burning him, he could hear his own flesh start to sizzle.

He’d been annoying, he knew he’d been bad, but he didn’t think they’d even keep him around long enough to deal with a full moon. They’d laced his water with wolfsbane at dinner. Of course that wouldn’t be a problem if only they hadn’t put this much. It wasn’t his usual dose and he could feel his body rejecting it, his stomach clenched and he tried his best to fight it as he gagged, his diaphragm working to expel the poison from his metabolism, his chest heaved and Cross retched, only slightly purple tinted bile left him as he sobbed.

Everything was aching, his limbs weren’t responding and he felt sluggish, his senses held in a panicked torpor. He didn’t know how long he’d been crying, his wrists feel raw and chaffed. He felt his body forcing itself into a different shape as the full moon rose and illuminated the basement through a small window, his mind stuck in an exhausting loop of unfinished thoughts and panic, and he howled in pain as the first cracks rang out and echoed in the basement.

The smell of blood permeated the air. he couldn’t think. The poison left him immobile, save for the slight shivering that wracked his small furry form. Cross wanted out.

Closing his eyes and letting his tired mind drift off, he thought of green grass and cool air, the sound of the leaves rustling with the wind, feeling his paws hit the earth with each bound, wind rushing past him, ruffling his fur, it was enough to satiate the instincts clawing at the back of his head. And in the morning he’d wake up wishing he hadn’t. But for now, hurting and laying on cold damp concrete floor, hidden back into the retreat of his mind, he felt calmer.