#this place is not a home

[cryingtulips]

Tommy-centric clingy duo angel-demon au anyone?

This is a short multi-chapter story I wrote for @mcytblraufest where I explore the concepts of the scapegoat and the lost child in dysfunctional environments, but made it religious.

Edit: Crosspost posted!

[catwouthats]

THEY MAKE ME INSANE

Proof below:

Also, I’m fucking crying, I think his arm is like that bc he fell asleep holding the photo.

EDIT: more proof:

[rocy5]

[malinaa]

if i think about the hunger games in peeta's perspective i WILL start sobbing

[wiisagi-maiingan]

I love tornado survival guides. "Shelter in a basement or interior room without any windows. But if you're in a mobile home, just fucking die I guess lol"

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I am completely fascinated by this abandoned home some urban explorers came across in Belgium. It’s covered in moss, which only adds to its charm, but look at the Plexiglas sunroom. 

Look at the big windows.

There’s a lot of mold inside, but this would be the kitchen. 

There appear to be stairs going to an upper level in the living room. There may be a bedroom in that dome on top of the structure. I wish he’d taken more photos.

Looks like there’s a bathroom in there. 

And, there appears to be a pantry here.

Apparently, it’s been abandoned for 30 yrs., but whoever lived here must’ve had a child, b/c there’s a Mr. Turtle sandbox. So fascinating.

https://www.instagram.com/realjefsteticsworld/

[alvertakuriger1982blog]

[petite-phthora]

Dp x Dc prompt #3

Steph stared at the beat-up, probably homeless, kid that was currently raiding her fridge from the doorway of her apartment.

That wasn't there before.

The kid looked up and they made eye contact. They entered a stare-down, neither speaking a word. After a while, the silence gets broken by the kid.

"This place sucks."

Which, rude.

The kid then closes the fridge, one of her juice boxes in hand, and takes a seat on her couch. Her couch, which is now getting covered in blood because the kid's still injured...

---

Steph has sent a picture to the group chat.

In it, she has her arm around the shoulders of a heavily injured black-haired blue-eyed kid who looks heavily disgruntled and like he might bite her, while Steph herself is full-on grinning at the camera.

The caption reads "im pulling a bruce ✌️😘"

Several people are typing...

[the-home]

Terretts Place

[sunderwight]

Shen Yuan who glitches in his transmigration, but the original Shen Qingqiu still dies of a qi deviation.

So the System still needs someone with narrative relevance to throw Luo Binghe into the Abyss. In a fit of desperation, it contrives circumstances after Shen Qingqiu's death to move Luo Binghe to An Ding Peak (not that difficult), and then the System makes Shang Qinghua be Luo Binghe's new scum master who casts him down.

Airplane's thrilled, really. Cultivators aren't supposed to get ulcers but damned if he doesn't come close to one anyway. Between Shen Qingqiu and then just a while later Liu Qingge both dying from qi deviations, and Shang Qinghua looking like a stiff breeze could take him out any day now, poor Mu Qingfang is also just about at his wits' end.

But it's not all bad news! On An Ding Peak, Luo Binghe actually finds himself surrounded by the kinds of people who are accustomed to being bullied by the rest of the sect. So they're pretty sympathetic to him, and it's easier for someone with basic laboring skills to advance on that peak too. His chores don't decrease too much, but he actually gets rewarded for doing them well, and no one tries to kick him out of the dorms or anything. Shang Qinghua doesn't either go out of his way to bully or praise Luo Binghe, correctly reasoning that his best shot at not getting a gruesome death is to just be a more forgettable bad guy than an abusive dirtbag or a heart-wrenching betrayal. He doesn't sabotage Luo Binghe's cultivation (no point, and it would just farm resentment later) but he also doesn't go out of his way to help him improve (not gonna arm his inevitable maybe-probably-murderer with better weapons!), so Luo Binghe's situation sees an overall improvement but not the zero-to-hero treatment he'd have got with Shen Yuan either.

When Shang Qinghua shoves Luo Binghe into the Abyss (he just full on picks him up and tosses him like a sack of beans, better to rip it off quick like a bandage), LBH is upset, but he's not especially surprised or dismayed about Shang Qinghua's part in it. Later on he'll be kind of confused, because he just assumed that of course the righteous sect cultivator would abhor the demon, but it turns out Shang Qinghua has been working for a demon since before Luo Binghe even came to the sect? But then it still kind of makes sense because a Heavenly Demon would definitely pose a risk to Mobei Jun and to Mobei Jun's rule. Shang Qinghua, he supposes, is just really loyal to his specific demon.

Luo Binghe's subsequent revenge quest is also somewhat mitigated by the Abyss actually not being that bad.

The Abyss is not actually that bad thanks to the glitched out Shen Yuan having been camping there for several years now.

So when Shen Yuan's transmigration failed it failed because he "woke up" during the process, realized where the System intended to put him, was like no way in goddamn hell am I being that guy about it, and actually kind of won the ensuing tug-of-war. The System couldn't put him in Shen Qingqiu but Shen Yuan didn't want to go back to his dead body either, so he ended up stuck in the nearest available space for lost interdimensional beings. Which was the Endless Abyss.

Luckily Shen Yuan's quasi-transmigrated imparted an equivalent cultivation level as Shen Jiu's to him, and the glitch made him able to sense and manipulate certain extra-dimensional energies, so he manifested as this weird godlike being able to manipulate and control aspects of the Abyss. So he set about transforming Airplane's Torment Nexus into a viable ecosystem (the current version would not be anything approaching sustainable were it not for divine/narrative intervention, and is constantly on the verge of destabilizing into unlivable ruin that would only be fit for some particularly hardy microorganisms).

It's still like, a monster land full of demonic creatures and terrifying phenomenon, but with Shen Yuan's assistance it becomes something more like a demonic wildlife reserve than a dimensional horror plane. Though it is still a dimensional horror plane, and Shen Yuan is its chief dimensional horror. He treats it sort of like those dungeon building or wildlife park sims, figuring out how to keep everything in balance while still preserving all the interesting parts. A lot of the extreme survival issues of the Abyss are more of a result of it being environmentally unstable than a result of its actual denizens, and once he smooths out a lot of the messy dimensional edges and creates stable vents for the fluctuating energy run-off, the demonic inhabits start behaving less like horror movie monsters and more like animals. They're still wild and dangerous and prone to killing one another, but also more cautious, and able to access enough stable resources that they can even start to be picky about what they pursue.

Turns out that a lot of creatures in the Abyss actually don't like fighting and dying and being brutally injured on a regular basis, even if they can heal from it!

Shen Yuan has even discovered that some like chin scritches (he's not terribly worried about habituating them to people, given how rarely any people actually access the Abyss, but also because he's not really all that people-ish himself these days).

This means that one of Luo Binghe's first encounters with the horrible creatures of the Abyss, is in fact a pack of wolf-like monsters thoroughly avoiding an actual fight with him. In fact most of the denizens of the Abyss just avoid him. They can smell the Heavenly Demon energy rolling off of him, and given the current abundance of alternatives to dealing with that, virtually none of the monsters actually choose to challenge him. There are still a few that will go after anything that's bleeding, but that problem stops once Luo Binghe's physiology heals his wounds, which takes like... a couple hours, max.

Despite the stories he's heard, Luo Binghe is relieved to find that the Abyss is not quite so terrible as all that. Normal survival skills suffice for seeing him through much of it. He's able to hunt for food, scavenge for tools, and even finds potable water fairly easily. After a few weeks, he also comes across a ruin which seems to be inhabited.

The being inhabiting it is plainly a god, although he demurs and refutes such assertions whenever Binghe is too frank. He's a strange being, at turns looking like some queer approximation of a human, at other times blinking and winking in and out of existence, in patterns of strange lights and oddly geometrical fire. But he's surprisingly not hostile, letting Binghe rest in his residence, and even directing him towards points of interest. Accompanying him, too, though he seems to think that Binghe doesn't notice the odd almost spiderweb-like patterns that appear on things which he's influencing. The god calls himself The Peerless One, or at least that's what Luo Binghe infers from some writings on the ruin. The Peerless One offers instruction, seemingly without thinking about it, and gets flustered at being addressed by title, so Binghe also begins to refer to him as Shizun after a while.

[cryingtulips]

This Place is Not a Home

Tommy meets Puffy, and a deal is made between the two. In exchange for shelter and protection, Tommy will need to do a little farm work.

CW: Religious themes, religious trauma

crossposted to ao3 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4

~+~

Ch 3: A Promising Deal

When Tommy awoke, it was a slow process. He was warm for once, the midnight chill never once reaching where he laid. There was something messing with his hair, he noticed with a blink, tugging on matted curls. It was wet, but gentle, and strange deep breaths moved the strands. It was strange, the soft interaction. He wasn't used to it, but he wasn't going to complain.

He made himself comfortable in the warm atmosphere, so comfortable he was content to let himself fall asleep again, huffing as he turned to bury himself against the hot-running body next to him, small form curling underneath the cover of his wings. Tommy wasn’t sure how much time passed. It could have been twenty minutes or hours, Tommy didn't care. All that mattered was the warmth surrounding him and the noises of strange animals lulling him to sleep.

The next time Tommy wakes, it’s to the animals excited snorts and calls as the wooden door opens, sunlight close to blinding him from where he was hidden. “Good morning you absolute menaces,” a voice greeted the animals. Based on the sound of something being poured and the ruckus as animals either rushed to eat or went to graze somewhere else—probably the meadow based on the sounds of gates being open, Tommy was able to clue in it was feeding time. 

Despite this, the animal that was keeping Tommy hidden refused to get up, choosing to shuffle around as Tommy stayed tensed. Tommy prayed that the animal was big enough that he wouldn’t be noticed, or that maybe the owner wouldn’t question why its creature was still laying down. 

Tommy couldn’t afford to be found. It would resort to disaster; he could be captured and treated as a pet but live in a cruel and inhumane cage, he could be sent to the government to be experimented on, he could be sold through the black market, he could be killed—or worse, his wings…his precious wings, despite their damage, could be taken away from him. After all, fallen or not, banished or adored– an angel's wings would cost a fortune. If not for the proof of the existence of divine and mystical beings, then for their magical properties they might still possess.

All these possibilities were Hell to be waiting, but the last one terrified Tommy for there was no predicting what it would mean for him. Best case scenario, he would be put in a cage while the human took his feathers and sold them for millions. Maybe it would blend in with the exotic pet road, maybe he would be treated like a circus animal, put on display and forced to perform tricks. Worst case scenario, he’s killed and has his wings stolen from him. 

He couldn't afford to be found, and so he stayed curled against the animal, shuffling bedding over him, hoping the noise was muffled over the animal's noises. He stayed silent, and still. He watched as a woman moved about, grabbing buckets and a shovel, greeting animals and caring for them.

When she approached the stall he was in, he heard her let out a fond breath, “you still sleeping Duffle?” Tommy didn't dare to breathe, hoping that if he stayed low, she would pass him off as just a simple strange lump made by the animal.

But then there was a gasp, sharper this time, and he froze as she banished the shovel as a weapon. “What do you think you’re doing,” she demanded. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. All he could do was watch as the animal–a cow– got up, and nuzzled his head, a soft moo making the women hesitate her approach.

“Oh,” she mumbled. “Oh, I see.” She slowly approached him now, gently rushing the bedding off until she could make eye contact with him. He didn't move as her eyes swapped over his face, studying him for something . Her eyes raked over to his wings, and he tensed even more, not knowing what to expect. He couldn't run, he was already done and she was looming over him, and the entrance was too far. He could fight, but in his weakened state…

Before he could panic more, she stepped back, and sat down in front of him. The shovel was tossed aside, and she had her hands facing Tommy, palms upright and flat. She was trying to seem less of a threat, and Tommy’s head titled in confusion.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she promised. “I know that’s hard to believe, but I'm not. How about we go inside, yeah?” Tommy knew he couldn't say no, he wasn't in a position to protest. He nodded reluctantly, and followed her to the house he saw earlier, wings poofed and fluttering the whole time.

(He noticed her questioning stares. Despite knowing the risks of having them out in the open, he couldn't…he didn't really care. He was so tired, and he didn't feel like fighting anymore. If she took his wings, then that just a sign that Tommy never was redeemable, not anymore.)

=+=

The lady led him to her living room, a small beige room whose space was taken up by the couches and boxes and bags scattered about, pictures here and there with books. There was a yellow carpet with orange designs, it reminded him of the sun. 

With a mutter, she said she was going to be back with something called hot chocolate. Tommy watched her leave before roaming his eyes around the room, at one point eyeing the picture frames. From where he was sitting, the window casted a glare that made it hard to distinguish what was in the photos, but whoever was in it must be loved. There were a lot of photos, and Tommy vaguely remembers from his past life how much he loved photos for the reason that they would capture joyous moments with those he called family. 

(Tommy wondered if the woman had a scrapbook, full of little moments with her animals and those she loves. She looked like the type to keep one.)

His train of thought was interrupted as the women came back into the living room, handing him a red mug with a soft “Be careful it’s hot” before sighing as she sat on a couch in the corner of the room. A window was behind her, and the rising morning sun painted her in such a soft light that, briefly, Tommy had the urge to ask if she was an angel herself. But that was impossible. Heaven would not have sent him anywhere remotely close to another Fallen—if she was one—and one living without their wings was unheard of.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, the women still as she stared down at her hands, deep in thought. Tommy, when he finally took a sip from the drink, was surprised by how sweet it was. It was soothing in a way he wasn’t familiar with, and he liked the white masses that were in it. Marshmallows, he thinks they were called.

“Thank you for the drink”, Tommy told the women when he was done. “You didn’t– you didn’t need to do that for me.”

The woman looked up at last, clearly mulling over something despite her friendly smile. “It’s no problem.” She paused, hesitating with her next sentence. “You look…you look like you need help,” she made an abrupt gesture to Tommy’s wings before quickly dropping her hands again when Tommy tensed, wings curling further behind him in an attempt to keep the extra appendages hidden. “It would be cruel of me not to help,” she softly continued. She didn’t mention the wings, and Tommy wasn’t sure if he wanted her to or not. 

“I have an offer for you. You can stay here, free of charge, free of–” a glance to his wings before focusing back to him ”–well, you know. I live alone, far away from the city. You wouldn’t have to worry about people coming for you, or have to live in a life constantly worried about what danger is lurking around the corner. All I ask is that you help out with the animals and contribute to the workload,” she explained. “For now you won’t do any heavy lifting, but it's just something to keep you occupied.”

Tommy looked down at his hands as he fidgeted in his seat, wings rumpled from where he was sitting, white and gold feathers gliding down to the floor. It was a tempting offer, but he was still cautious. He didn’t think she would harm him, already having enough opportunities to do so, but haven’t. If she was right about being far from civilization, he wouldn’t have to worry about hiding his wings or staying hidden. Maybe, and this was a big if, maybe she would even let him fly from time to time. Well. If his wings ever recovered enough to take flight again.

Tommy was tired, but he couldn’t deny how perfect her offer was. But that was part of the problem: it was too perfect. Not even Heaven was this perfect, nobody was this kind, especially down at Earth.

There had to be a catch, but what? “What do you want from me?” Tommy asked her, making direct eye contact in hopes that will allow him to detect any lies.

The women looked taken aback, sitting up straighter at Tommy’s words. “What? What do–” a tense laugh– “what do you mean by that?” If it weren’t for the alarm in her voice, Tommy would have thought he caught her in an attempt at an obvious lie. But the fear in her eyes, it wasn’t for herself, but for Tommy.

“Well I just,” he waved his hands around, eyes flickering around as his anxiety started to take further root, “I just thought there was a catch. There has to be a catch right, I mean, no one is—there’s no way you’re that kind. Nobody is like that.”

And I mean, look at me,” his feathers raised up, “I know these don’t look that appealing, but they,” his voice stuttered, not sure if he wanted to point out the potential his wings hold, “well I mean—surely you know what these are right?”  

The woman stayed silent, an unrecognizable look in her face. Tommy couldn’t help but to tense at this, already sure of the worst possible outcomes. He had hoped that maybe she was kind, that maybe she was different, but he was wrong. He was wrong, and oh , did he just ruin his chances of survival.

Tommy’s thoughts were interrupted when the woman sighed, wood creaking as she shifts on the couch as her face turned more serious, more stern. “Listen kid, I know what those wings are, I know what you are, but I don’t... Even if I had ill intent towards you–which I don’t–those wings don’t hold much value.” Tommy stared down at his hands at her words, thoughts freezing. They don’t hold value? That’s, that’s impossible. Sure they’re mangled and don’t look amazing, but they were angle wings. Fallen, sure, but at the end of the day they were proof the divine existed. That Lady Clara existed.

“I don’t understand,” Tommy muttered, wings circling around him. “How could—why would they value so little?”

“Times have changed,” the woman explained. Tommy wasn’t sure how much time has changed since he last set foot on Earth, but it couldn’t have been that much time. At most, maybe a century, but even then, surely a lot hasn’t changed…right? The woman continued, “it’s so easy to fake contraptions that look like wings. Sure, maybe some people would take your wings as proof of supernatural beings, others would just call me a fake.”

So, I have a proposal for you. I live alone out here, which isn’t a bad thing. I need the space for all the animals, and the outskirts of L’Manburg is a perfect distance for us out here,” Tommy assumed ‘us’ was the animals. He wondered how many she had, if he already met all of them last night when he took shelter, or if she had more.

“I could always appreciate a helping hand,” the woman proposed again. “I wouldn’t expect much from you, just help me around the house, maybe take care of a few animals here and there. In exchange, you can live here for as long as you want.”

Tommy was tempted to take the offer. The lady seemed empathetic, and if she wanted to harm him, she would've already. He needed a place to recover, and the idea of having shelter and a constant source of food was undoubtedly better than where he was hiding previously. “You promise you won’t hurt me? Swear it on Lady Clara and your soul no harm will come to me?”

“I promise, as long as you stay within the fences of the farm, not a single feather of yours will be harmed.”

Tommy nodded, wings relaxing at the words. Call him naive, but he believed in promises, believed that people would stay true to their word. The other angels said this was the reason he died in his past life, he had allowed others to take advantage of him until they couldn’t anymore. Tommy refused to view this as a weakness however. He refused to believe that compassion was something to second guess, refused to see kindness as a flaw.

(Maybe this was just another thing that separated him from the other angels)

“Ok”, Tommy mumbled. “I would..I would like that. Staying, I mean.”

The woman just smiled at him gently, relief in her eyes. “That’s good,” she hummed.

[anotherpapercut]

just had an absolutely sickening conversation with a 20 year old I work with wherein I had to impress upon her that her and her friends need to be extremely cautious going to the gay clubs right now with increasing attacks happening. make sure any very young, very newly adult queer people in your life know that we're a family and community and part of that is being willing to fight for your siblings lives if they're under attack. even if it's a person you despise, you stick up for your family and they will stick up for you. we are all we have. the cops refuse to help, and so do most people outside the community. we cannot survive without each other

[bluerosefox]

Of Tiny Tots, Mistaken Identities, and Reunions

Seventeen year old Damian Wayne is dragged to a business deal outside of Gotham (along with his father and Drake), mostly to keep up appearances that the family does work outside of Gotham, networking, and because Damian does need to learn the ropes of the company, he decides to head outside the meeting with the Manson family to get a breather (mainly cause the Manson's were annoying him fully, it was like they were trying to suck up towards Damian and trying to push their daughter on him but at the same time he caught them almost insulting and hostile towards him before they would stop and correct themselves) when out of the blue a three year old toddler with black hair comes running over with a cheerful "Daddy!" and latches onto his leg.

Damian is stunned in place but feels frozen when he hears a voice, older and almost identical to his own but he can detect a familiarity in it, a voice he only hears in his dreams nowadays say.

"Ellie, no! That's not me Starlight! I'm so sorry dude-"

When Damian turned his head towards the voice he's meet with an near identical face, granted there were some minor differences, but very, very familiar pair of striking blue eyes staring at him. Eyes that were somehow full of life, which shouldn't be possible because the last time he saw those eyes they had been dim and milked over years ago. The speaker had become startled at the his sudden turn and the words that he had been saying had quickly died out when he too took in Damian's features.

"D...Damian?..." the name came out so soft and small that Damian almost didn't hear it but he did.

And before Damian could stop himself, he spoke a name he hadn't dared utter in years.

"Danyal."

His twin looked like he had just seen a ghost, and Damian was sure he looked the same. And given the last time they had last saw each other it was no wonder they both looked like death warmed over them for a moment.

After all... Damian had failed to protect his brother, Danyal al Ghul all those years ago on a botched mission.

His bother who... wasn't dead.

His brother who was looking like he wanted to run but was keeping himself rooted in his spot.

His brother whose eyes were glancing downwards and seemed so nervous.

His brother who knew the little girl, Ellie, still hugging his legs.

His brother who had... responded and corrected her mix up when she had called Damian 'Daddy.'

And oh, she's looking up at him and making grabby hands wanting to be picked up and she has Danyal's eyes and his nose and-

Oh... Damian.... Damian's an uncle it seems.

[rocy5]

[finleycannotdraw]

No Place Like Home

Sometime after everything, Mobius ends up in Don’s place on the timeline and settles in. Loki is slowly but surely figuring out a way to leave the tree for longer periods of time. He wasn’t sure if Mobius would remember him, but loves him too much to stay away entirely even if he didn’t.

But Mobius does remember him, and his script flies out the window.

—

I’m so utterly obsessed with these guys,,,, they just need to be silly dads in suburban cleveland,,,

for some reason I could not find any reference pictures for the kids? that’s why they’re a bit less fleshed out than loki and mobius. plus I don’t usually draw children, so 🤷‍♂️

I might have to make this a continuing au because my need for domestic fluff is already outweighing my need for sleep

[modawg]

“percy keeps that picture of annabeth he had in his binder in his wallet and it’s his fav pic of annabeth”

instead i raise you

“sally found that picture while percy was missing and it now lives framed on the mantle of their apartment for the whole world to see how much that family loves her”

it makes annabeth choke up everytime she sees it bc all her pictures at her dads (if any) are pushed to the back and hidden behind pictures of his new family while the jackson’s have always and will continue to embrace her as part of their own