#but it felt appropriate for the situation

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

I chose an alternate prompt for Day Nine of Bucktommy Fluffebruary: Drunken Love Confessions. Tommy's is really the prompt filling one, but everyone feels the love in this Chili's tonight. I realized I completely forgot this entire time that Melton is a Captain, so I've been writing him as just one of the other firefighters and made up some guy named Bryant that I mention in at least one other prompt fill. Melton bb I'm so sorry. You'll get that promotion soon. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary.

A joint bachelor party had been Tommy’s idea, because they’d fought over who got who as a guest for about five minutes before Tommy realized they had almost all the same friends. So why bother splitting the party up?

Maddie, Eddie, and Sal organize it as Evan’s co-Best Man and Woman and Tommy’s Best Man, and it turns into a bar crawl with a couple stops at places to get real food with a karaoke spot as their final destination. That had been Howie’s touch, because he felt guilty for missing the last karaoke bachelor party even though it was through no fault of his own. Plus, who doesn’t like karaoke?

The thing is, the last bar had been a tiki place, and tiki drinks are strong, so they’re all messes by the time they reach the karaoke place. Tommy claims a corner of the couch and pulls Evan into his lap when his fiancé passes by.

“You’re so-o pretty,” Tommy says, because Evan is so pretty. No one prettier has ever existed, and it’s a thought he’s had while he was sober, so it’s true.

“You’re pretty,” Evan counters, cupping his chin and squeezing so Tommy’s lips pucker. When Evan kisses him, it’s sloppy and probably not appropriate for their friends and family, but it’s a bachelor party. It’s two bachelor parties, actually they’re supposed to have double the debauchery.

“Are you gonna give me a lapdance later?” Tommy asks, squeezing his hip.

“Maybe,” Evan says, licking his lips, and Tommy watches his tongue raptly. He wants to chase it with his own, wants to feel it trace along his—

“Oh, my god, I’m going to dump water on you two in a minute,” Karen says, plopping down next to them. “Which one of you is singing with me?”

“Me,” Tommy says, grinning at her. He loves singing with Karen. She’s one of the best singers he’s ever met in his life, so he likes being around her when she sings. He’s not very good, but she doesn’t judge him.

“My Sonny,” she coos, pinching his cheek.

“My Cher,” he sighs.

Sonny Bono was known for two things: being Italian and not being as good a singer as Cher. Well, he was known for other things, too, but that isn’t relevant to Tommy’s situation. He doesn't plan on becoming a Republican, the mayor of Palm Springs, or a U.S. Representative. He does, however, plan on doing his best to croon along with Karen to “I Got You Babe” or “All I Ever Need Is You,” because she gets to belt more lines in that one and he wants to show her off.

There’s a bit of hubbub near the door to their suite, and then Bobby and Athena appear with a cake between them to a lot of cheers. They hadn’t joined them on the bar crawl, because Athena had said it would feel too much like Mom and Dad crashing their kids’ party. Tommy’s delighted to see them, because he hadn’t been expecting them at all. He and Evan cheer, and Evan wobbles out of his lap to hug them as soon as the cake is set on the table. Tommy gets hauled up by Hen so he can do the same thing, because the couch is deep and he is tall and drunk.

“You good?” Hen asks, and Tommy squeezes the back of her neck with a laugh.

“I'm great,” he says, leaving a wet kiss on her cheek.

Hen laughs and holds his head in place so she can do the same, and they end up simultaneously wiping slobber off their cheeks and giggling together on their way over to Bobby and Athena.

He’s gotten really close with Bobby and Athena ever since he and Evan got back together, but he’s not really a hugger with them. He is, however, drunk enough that it seems like a great time to turn into one. As he’s enveloped in Bobby’s arms and then stoops to have Athena do the same, he thinks it’s a good thing to keep going.

“Don’t be too happy to see us yet,” Athena warns, nodding toward the cake. “Hen ordered it.”

“I'm always happy to see a cake,” Tommy says, grinning. When he finally gets a good look at it, though, he bursts out laughing.

It’s unbelievably stupid, and Tommy whips out his phone to take several photos from many different angles, including one of Evan crouched next to it with his tongue near the one that’s shaped—presumably—like Tommy’s ass. It's one of those molded sexy cakes, and it’s two shapely naked asses seen under the hem of non-regulation turnout jackets���they’d never sit that high—with each of their names “sewn” on the hem. Each of their surnames has been added to the other to make it look like it’s handwritten into the correct spot to make them say “Buckley-Kinard.”

He loves it.

He loves everyone in this room so much.

“We should've had this be the wedding cake,” Evan says as he slips his arm around Tommy's waist. They pose next to the cake for pictures.

“Looks like I get to eat your ass twice tonight,” Tommy murmurs through his teeth as Howie takes their picture.

Howie bursts out laughing and shows them the picture. Evan’s face is caught between a grin and surprise, so his eyebrows are up near his hairline and his face is bright red.

“The hell did you say to him, BK?” Lucy asks, elbowing him.

“Not telling,” Tommy says, hugging his fiancé like a teddy bear. “She started calling me that last week. Know why?”

“It's your new last name initials in a week?” Evan guesses, because he's smart. He's so smart and pretty, and Tommy is the luckiest guy in the world.

“Yeah,” he confirms with a happy sigh, getting caught in his fiancé’s eyes for a moment.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here,” Sal says on the microphone, even though they’re in a small room and everyone could hear him if he just raised his voice enough, “I’d like to say a couple words, because there’s some stuff I can’t say in my Best Man speech. Such as: is anyone else dreading having to knock real loud going into every room these two are in for the next few months?”

“We already do that!” Ravi calls, and Tommy buries his face in his hands to hide his flushed, embarrassed giggles. Evan tightens his arms around him and kisses under his ear with a breathless giggle of his own.

“Seriously, I’ve started bringing earplugs if I’m going to crash in their guest room,” Sal adds, grinning. “I haven’t seen two people so into each other since I met Gina and got charged with public indecency twice—”

“Should’ve been three times,” Athena adds.

He points to her and grins. “And I thank you for that, Sarge. But it’s bad enough that I’ve had to start putting fuckin’ blinders on whenever Tommy opens his phone around me—well done, Buckley, by the way, you got a real eye for photography—but they’re also so in love with each other that it makes the rest of us look bad. I can only hope that they chill out in the next fifty years, but we all know we’re still going to be loudly announcing ourselves before we turn a corner even when they’re retired.

“So congratulations, boys, on finding true love, holding onto it, and never letting go of it,” he continues, his grin widening. “And never letting go of other things, apparently. To Tommy and Buck!”

Everyone cheers and echoes his toast, and Tommy is never going to be able to look any of them in the eye again.

“We’re not that bad, are we?” he asks, and Evan laughs loudly in his ear.

“Baby, we’re worse.” He nuzzles his cheek and murmurs, “They don’t even know what we get up to in our own house.”

Tommy bites his lip and is about to respond when he hears Sal call, “See what I mean?”

“Shut up,” Tommy says, throwing a balled up napkin at him. “Maddie, would you like to make an inappropriate speech?”

“I’m alright,” she says, grinning. “I changed Buck’s diapers, so it would be a little weird. Also, I make a lot of noise when I’m in your house for a reason. I don’t need to see all that.”

“I told you!” Evan says to Tommy, who had believed that Maddie was just comfortable at their house.

“Eddie?” Sal offers, and Eddie comes up to the platform acting as the stage, looping an arm around Sal’s shoulders.

“This guy is right,” he says, nodding toward Sal. “But he doesn’t have to work with Buck. So let me tell you all about how I walked in on these two Facetiming while Buck was in the showers. Thankfully, Buck’s got waterproof earbuds. Unfortunately, I could still hear him speak.”

“Oh no,” Evan groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Eddie, you said you were going to be washing the engine.”

“Yeah, and then Joey from B-shift kindly offered to do it instead, so I wandered my happy ass into the showers and heard my best friend complain, ‘But it won’t fit,’” he says, his voice taking on a high, breathy quality. “And then: ‘You’re going to have to force it.’ So I, being a family man—shut up, Chimney—loudly announced myself to the room, because what if Cap walked in? What if Hen walked in? What if literally anyone walked in?”

“Should I be hearing this?” Maddie asks.

“And I hear Buck call, ‘Hey, Eddie, Tommy might need you to help him drop in this transmission after work if you’re free,’” Eddie says flatly, and the whole room erupts in laughter. “And, yes, I did help, because that Chevelle was beautiful. Do I believe that they were actually talking about a transmission? I do, because otherwise I’d need to pour bleach in my ears. Is it very telling that I genuinely thought they’d get up to that kind of thing at literally any time of day when one or both of them is working? Yeah, a little. You guys are unbelievable. I love you both, I can’t wait to be there for you guys when you get married. I thank you for including my son in your ceremony, because he loves both of you more than you’ll ever know, but keep it PG around the kid, okay?”

“We always do!” Evan protests.

“No, we do,” Tommy agrees quickly as Eddie comes to them for hugs. “I promise.”

“Oh, I know, or I’d be making you answer whatever questions he’d be asking,” Eddie says, patting his cheek.

“Let’s get a groom up here,” Sal says to a round of cheers.

“Alright,” Tommy says, kissing Evan before going to Sal and grabbing the mic. “Alright, I get it, we’ll—well, I’m sorry, I can’t make any promises other than ‘we’ll try.’ But—Sal, sit down, you mook—I swear we don’t mean to be that bad. Anyway, I am not standing here to defend our very healthy and normal attraction to each other—”

“Oh, my god,” Evan says, burying his face in his hands as Eddie cackles next to him.

“—I’m here to thank you all for putting up with us,” Tommy says, looking out at the grinning faces of everyone he loves, even though they’re all a little blurry. “And for being there for us through everything, good and bad, and being people we can go to when things are bad or I’m freaking out about proposing or whatever it is I’m freaking out about at the time. I love you guys so much. You’re all amazing and wonderful, and sometimes I have to remind myself this isn’t a dream, because you’re the family I always wanted but didn’t think I’d get. So, thank you. I love you, thank you for being here and for always being there for us. Someone please take this microphone from me.”

Howie rushes the platform to hug him around the middle, and then Maddie, Karen, Hen, Lucy, Ravi, Melton, Eddie, and Sal follow until Tommy is in the center of a group hug. He can see over almost everyone’s heads, and so he can see the way Evan’s beaming at him with tear-filled eyes and the way that Bobby and Athena go to either side of his fiancé to put an arm around him and smile at Tommy, too.

There’s a chorus of “We love you”s from everyone, and then Tommy wrestles his arm free so he can bring the mic to his lips.

“Alright, who’s first on the list?” he asks.

“Me!” Lucy calls, making grabby hands for the mic.

He hands it off and detangles himself from the group so he can go to the three people standing off to the side.

“Liquid courage?” Athena guesses, patting his cheek with a fond smile.

“Yeah, a little,” Tommy admits, grinning. “That obvious?”

She snorts and fixes him with a knowing look. “Only to anyone with eyes.”

He gets a tight hug from a damp-eyed Bobby, who gruffly tells him he's proud of him and that he loves him, too. Tommy kind of sags against him for a second before getting a full-bodied hug from Athena that shouldn’t make him feel so small, and then there’s Evan in front of him.

“I love you,” Tommy says, his insides gooey and molten like they always are when Evan’s smiling at him like that. “Most of all.”

Evan steps into his space and puts his arms around him, crossing his wrists behind Tommy’s neck. “I love you most of all, too. You’re so drunk, babe.”

“I am.” He hugs Evan around the middle and rubs his cheek on the soft sweater he’s wearing. It feels nice. “Do we really scar them that much?”

Evan’s body shakes against his with laughter. “Yeah, I think we do.”

“Should we stop?”

“Nah, we’ll enjoy it while it lasts. Kids’ll probably slow us down.”

Tommy melts against Evan, letting him take his entire weight. Kids. They’ll have kids one day, and maybe grandkids, and he’s going to be scared out of his mind that he’s going to fuck them up and he has an entire group of people to turn to when that happens. It takes a village, and he has one. He knows he’s crying, but they’re happy tears. His face is also hidden in Evan’s neck, so no one can see.

But he doesn’t really care if they do. They’re family. Family cries around each other and doesn’t judge. Real families, at least, like theirs.

He sways with Evan to the sound of Ravi and Lucy wailing “Don’t You Want Me” by Human League into their microphones, and he feels something deep inside his heart finally heal.

–

[witherby]

First of all I LOVE your works i love how much effort you put into them!! You’re keeping this community aliveeee. Second, what would the batfam do if punchline cried? Like I’m talking out of no where just straight up cried. I know it must be hard to show emotions such as sadness because of her past and it would be hard to show such vulnerability to anyone. Thanking for listening to my Ted talk 😎

First of all thank you so much! I wish I could write full, one-shot-length replies to every single question I get asked, but sometimes I simply don't have the energy or skill to execute the idea that might manifest from that question!

Second of all, that's a great question! I think it would take an absurdly long time for anybody to catch her crying. I think it would take an absurdly long time for her to cry at all!

Punchline has Congenital Analgesia, so pain wouldn't make any tears well up. She also doesn't feel or notice any appropriate hunger cues, so exhaustion or starvation wouldn't do it either, especially because she's almost perpetually existing in that state anyway.

We also have to consider who her father is, and how she was raised. A lot of her childhood is left to speculation because she's not exactly opening up to people about the Joker's treatment of her. And why would she? In her eyes, he can do no wrong. Anything he has ever said or done to her was completely justified. What's the sense in crying over spilled blood? She just needs to do more. Try harder. Be greater. But not better. She can't be better than her Popsy. Nobody is better than Popsy!

It's difficult to find out what her triggers are when she isn't giving the bat family much to work with. That's not her job, it's theirs to find out and learn from, but the entire situation is layers upon layers of complicated.

When they first take in Punchline, she's roughly 8 years old and some change. I think they'll see her cry for the first time when she's 10.

Punchline doesn't know her birthday. The Joker didn't celebrate it. The bats don't know it, either, so they choose to celebrate her with the day they brought her to the Manor. They make a cake and set up a small surprise party, with things they know she likes such as more face paint, colorful clothes, books, and maybe some new accessories like bows and ribbons. She wouldn't know how to handle that. A party for her? What did she do? How did she earn this?

I think Punchline would cry over being celebrated just for being alive. She's never felt that way before.

[certifiedsexed]

Hi,

I think I’ve experienced CoSA but when I first opened up about it to my then psychologist, she said what happened to me is a normal part of childhood sexual development and the sooner I understand and internalize that, the better. That it was only my own shame that made it feel like it was traumatic. She made me feel like I’ve overreacted and I shouldn’t even have brought it up in therapy. I almost felt scolded by her. She didn’t even let me finish the story, she just cut me off and started ranting. I’ve been very ashamed of the whole situation ever since and sometimes it feels like I must have made up the whole thing and even when I told my partner I felt like I was “appropriating serious trauma” and “faking”. Is that even possible?

The things he did also don’t feel “enough” to count as sexual abuse. Even if I’d never tell that to anybody else.

I’m so lost on how to move on from this situation, since I haven’t been able to bring this up to other mental health professionals because I don’t think I can take the situation with her repeating and it’s so difficult to find good providers to begin with.

Hi!

I'm so, so sorry you had to experience that, Anon. Your psychologist's response sounds inappropriate on several different levels (interrupting you, dismissing your feelings, ranting to you about it), that's awful. 💕

I know its so hard to open up about things like that and for her to not even let you finish and use what sounds like victim-blaming rhetoric to shut you down is devastating.

I'll say upfront, I don't know what happened to you specifically. But I do know people who went through trauma, especially sexual trauma, often feel like they're faking and/or their trauma isn't real/serious. That doesn't mean it isn't real or "enough" to actually be traumatic.

I'll also say, it's not "faking" or "appropriation" to be upset or feel traumatized by something and its definitely not faking to tell your partner about something that happened to you. You did not make it up, which means you are not faking shit.

Treat yourself as if you are someone else.

If someone else, let's say your partner, told you they experienced exactly what you experienced and that they were worried they'd been sexually assaulted, what would you say? What would you think?

I don't know you, but I suspect you wouldn't react as aggressively as your psychologist did. I suspect you would have an entirely different perspective and you would, at the very least, be respectful and kind about it.

I understand the fear of talking to another therapist/psychologist about it. The struggle to find good mental health professionals is dire, tbh.

(I hope you are no longer with the psychologist who treated you like that because that's unacceptable.)

I don't know if you want advice on that front but I would suggest while you obviously don't have to talk about it again if you're not comfortable, if you find someone that you think you might be able to discuss it with, I'd ask some questions first!

Tell them you're scared to tell them something that happened to you because people have reacted badly before. Ask them what they'd do if you told them something that you felt traumatized/hurt you and they thought "wasn't really traumatizing".

Ask them if they have patients/experience with sexual abuse, childhood in particular.

Hell, if it helps, see if your partner can stick with you when/if you ever decide to discuss it with someone else again. Whatever helps.

Hope this helps, Anon. Let me know if you have any other questions. <33

[eluviannaa]

February Writing Challenge, Day 1

Hypnotic/Star

The Twisting Nether shimmered like liquid starlight, forming to Eluvianna's mind, her expectations. Traces of the ritual still crackling across her skin as pinpricks of planets waited in the distance.

She blinked. This…wasn’t Azj-Kahet.

Another blink came with disbelief, now stark, and a shake of her head. She had been in the middle of something important. This was incredibly inconvenient.

“Well, well. What an unexpected pleasure.”

The voice reached for her like tendrils, shadowed and lilting—amused. Familiar.

…No.

Eluvianna turned, weighted with the heaviness of this void. And there she was. A silhouette of angles both sharp and otherworldly. That knowing smirk beset at her lips. That damnable, insufferable, enthralling smirk.

Xal’atath.

Her form was still corporeal in presentation, though one could feel the unsettle of its truth, carefully obscured with allure. Something the mind would accept.

The Harbinger regarded her like a cat with a fresh kill, toying with its warmth before the first bite. A thing to prod, to unravel. And it was all terribly disarming, wrapped in a form so mesmerizing, so wrong. Eluvianna realized—too late—she had been staring.

She straightened. “Pardon the—” Words slipped in hesitation. What was the etiquette for stumbling into the Harbinger’s grasp? Even unintentionally, it felt…ill-mannered.

“Oh, reality flows differently here.” Xal’atath waved a lazy hand, gliding forward. “You have time to…observe.”

That last word flitted through the space between them. Her gaze dragged over the Ren’dorei, slow, knowing.

“I was merely assessing the situation.” Eluvianna squared her shoulders, ignoring the heat, rising, pricking at her face. “Professionally.”

Xal’atath laughed, chimes exploring, delicate. She tilted her head. “Your professional assessment feels rather…personal.”

“This isn’t really—”

“—Appropriate?” Xal’atath hummed, taking the word. “Oh, it definitely isn't. But who do you expect is exacting punishment…here, of all places.”

A pause, a smirk. “You know, you could call me Xally, if it would make things feel less…formal.”

Eluvianna blinked. Not at the absurdity—no, Xal’atath was absurd—but at the offer.

“If propriety concerns you,” Xal’atath continued, voice coiling around her, “I wouldn’t be opposed to letting you take the lead. A proper date, perhaps? Once you’re done saving reality—or whatever pressing little task brought you here.”

Eluvianna exhaled sharply. Of course she would make it sound ridiculous.

Still. The corner of her mouth twitched before she could stop it. It was as though the entity had plucked the breath from her lungs, stolen the very words waiting on her lips. How strange was it that Xal'atath’s strategy felt lifted straight from her own playbook?

For once, she was simply too stunned to best her. Not yet.

“Are you always this forward?”

“Only when it is worth the effort.” A wink. “For now, we should address getting you back to your ritual. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to continue your assessment a little longer…?”

Xal’atath took one final step forward, the distance between them now deliberate.

Eluvianna did not step back, smiling, slow and edged. “Well, it would be devastating if someone were to figure you out, wouldn't it.”

A pause.

Xal’atath cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? You will have to tell me more. When we next meet.”

A breath of silence stretched between them. Then—just a flick of her fingers, a careless dismissal. Darkness swallowed Eluvianna whole.

She landed—not in Azj-Kahet. Not even close.

The moment oriented itself—wherever this was. Capped stalks towering over her, feet now planted in shallow water. She groaned with annoyance, lifting the hem of her robe in a measure of futility.

And then, there. Just before her. A small box, tied with ribbon, deep void black, the cosmic sheen of the bow catching what little light there was. A folded, heart-shaped parchment nestled in the fabric.

She knew what it was before she touched it. Before she even opened it. Still, she knelt in the water, fingers slipping beneath the ribbon, tugging it loose. The lid lifted. 

And then—a flicker. A glow that wasn’t quite light at all. Something inside caught the air, refracted, shifted.

Eluvianna stared. Fingers hovering just above the edge, as if the wrong move might unravel something more. A long pause. A slow blink. Then, a flustered sigh. She snapped the box shut.

“…Unbelievable.”

@dailywritingchallenge

[wild-pineapple-butt]

He continued his apologetic rant, anxiously waiting for Mukuro to say something. Yes, the reaction was purely physical, but he probably wouldn't have had the same reaction if it had been with someone he didn't feel attracted to already.

But the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable, or responsible for this situation, because quite frankly, she wasn't. Renji was fully ready to be on the receiving end of her backlash, but to his surprise... she felt the same way too?

"A-ah?" Renji jerked his head up to finally make eye contact with her. "Um, oh." He fidgeted with his hands, not sure how to appropriately respond to that... But there was no better time to settle this now... so feeling a little bold, he asked...

"Does that mean, ya got turned on too?" he whispered, just in case there might be people on the other side who could hear. Although if that were the case, they should have been able to hear them by now. "Um. Fer me. That is... uh it's because I'm attracted to ya though," he finally admitted. "Not just... because of ... how close we're standin' together."

The only way Mukuro could really tell how long they'd been in here was how achy she was beginning to get for having to stand for so long。  Sitting down sounded wonderful but with how dark it was, even with her eyes adjusted at this point, it was hard to tell how much room they had and the only way they could sit comfortably at the same time might have been likely for Mukuro to sit on his lap。

However, all thoughts about how they could fix their situation were disrupted when Renji moved his footing in a way that caused her to move and bump against him and it was then that she realized why he was a bit edgy on her getting to close to him。

She had a small amount of time to think about it before Renji also realized what had happened and began to panic。

「Renji,」 Mukuro said calmly, 「I'm not upset about this。」 Honestly it added a bit of the excitement that had been welling inside her, she was just lucky that the only way one could tell was to touch between her thighs or if the lighting was better in here than how damp the thin material of the underlayer Mukuro wore was and how there was already some sheen building up on her inner thighs。

But should she say she was also going through something similar? Renji had said that he didn't mean anything by it。 So maybe his body was just excited easily? And if that was the case he'd probably be weirded out if she confessed that she was also rather turned on from being in an inclosed space with her crush。 But then again, he did tighten his hold on her a bit when she said she was comfortable leaning against him, that wasn't a reaction someone would have if they weren't attracted to them in some way, right? 

Screw it, she's going to shoot her shot。

「I'm。。。 feeling the same way too, if I'm honest。」

[becauseanders]

if i had a nickel for every time i romanced the possessed bird man with confinement trauma in a dragon age game, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird it’s happened twice.

[welcometogrouchland]

Disgustingly messy and crusty sketch dump but I couldn't get my own terrible theory out of my head and ended up making a bunch of sketches about it. Also at the end a bonus dickbats and Damian doodle bc I was reading an issue of their Batman and Robin run (IDs in Alt)

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

The greatest pilot in Hearthian history

(I forgot the other tubes n stuff I'm tired leave me ALONE)

[deedjre]

an idea i had for pliable heart damsel was that she could specifically shapeshift into objects based on what she thought smitten wanted. for thematic reasons! she also changes shoes on will here but hero's covering up that she went from heels to flats

[itspileofgoodthings]

one of my favorite things about getting older is that I’m just more sure and more confident in taking control in social situations and making other people feel at ease. I really love it!

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

The rescent riots in the UK are despicable (but sadly not surprising).

Yes, what happened to those little girls is a tradgey, but the person who was responsible wasn't an asylum seeker, and even if he was, that would NOT excuse the racism displayed these past few weeks.

The people taking part clearly don't care about the safety of children as they're, scaring other people's & indoctrinationating their own into perpetuating racist acts.

Seven years is a lot, though! Then don't fucking join a hate group.

But the non white people are being violent too! Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you attack people. I'm not going to hate on people for standing up for themselves.

They're taking our jobs! Why do you believe that those jobs are YOURS? Are you actually qualified & able to make a good impression on bosses, or do you think just being white should be enough.

They don't work! Well Asylum seekers litrually aren't allowed to until their case gose through but plenty of other POC have jobs (I know you've seen them though it must be hard to make them out through that fog of hatred) & I've met plenty of white people who don't want to (no hate to those who can't because of disability or mental health issues) or loose jobs because they're just overall terrible employees (some of the shit I've seen middle aged white people do at their jobs is crazy).

They're all criminals! Well, that's just not true now is it plus it's been proven multiple times that the biggest factor in crime is poverty, NOT race & again I've encountered plenty of white people who've broken the law yet most didn't seem to get more than a slap on the wrist (if that). Strange, that isn't it?

Well, "those kinds" of men hate women! Ahh, yes, because there's never been white rapists, woman killers, stalkers or harrasers. Its been proven that hating women is a problem in all races & and sadly, the biggest threat to us is usually our own partners or family, not some random aylsum seeker (who if they do hurt women tend to go after the ones from their own community).

They're not from here! Ok, so I don't know if anyone told you, but you can actually be born here without being white and you can't ban people from a country just because of the colour of their skin. Also, neither was half my family, yet we never get told to go back to our own country. Hmm, I wonder if our white skin could possibly have anything to do with that.

They can't speak English! A lot of them are multilingual, actually (& you make fun of their accents) & for the ones who can't well you seem to hate them getting anything (such as English lessons) for free. Also, how many Brits go abroad despite refusing to learn absolutely anything about other countries (there's a reason we're known as disrespectful, violent, sex obsessed, drunks by most of the world).

Also sooner or later we are going to have to accept that a lot of the issues that make immigrants flee their home countries are caused (or at least made worse) by ours & other Western governments.

This country definitely has problems, but we should be taking them up with politicians & their rich mates. Who are the ones actually hording wealth made from the exploitation of the poor, not random people of colour who are just trying to live their lives.

[eldritchqueerture]

idk if its just me but the ending with freeing orpheus and becoming a mindflayer is so fucking depressing

[parme-san]

medical emergency happened at work i didnt participate other than getting ice but i feel bad for some reason about how i could not really bring myself to care at all

[thevalicemultiverse]

"Hows your plans for the holiday shaping up."

"Eh..."

"Ok, what happened?"

"Well, you remember that plan to make an 'improved' version of the Blind Deathhorde Penguin I imported from Mortasheen? So, good news, the project succeeded! I even got the thermal neutralization field working."

"And the bad news?"

*Growing sounds of a large, violent penguin crashing through the streets.*

"...It escaped. And I think its trying to freeze everything."

"...For god's sake Jonathan."

[And then, outside, there is a tremendous BOOOOOOM, followed by the sound of what might be a large, violent penguin being violently knocked over and possibly rethinking its life choices, followed by some voices]

"Alice! Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm okay, just a little winded -- the kickback on that thing is terrible! I thought Richard was going to fix that..."

"We can talk about that later -- looks like you knocked over the beast, at least."

"Yes -- now to ensure it stays down..."

[victorluvsalice]

Happy Birthday SlyCooperAndCarlosFox!

@slycooperandcarlosfox Here’s a ficlet based on the old Lovecraft Jazz gang meeting this universe’s version of Phillianne Tropy, as per your list of potential fic ideas:

---

“So...who is it we’re meeting again?”

“Phillianne Tropy,” Victor said, studying the card they’d received.

Alice raised an eyebrow. “That’s not a name, that’s a bad pun.”

“Well, it’s what’s written on here, anyway,” Victor told her with a shrug.

“And considering she’s already made it clear she’s willing to pay us well for investigating whatever it is that’s stalking the mayor of this fine city and seeing if it’s eldritch in nature, I don’t think we should argue the point with her,” Lizzie added, running her fingers through her bangs. “Especially since, half the time, we don’t get paid at all for risking our lives...how did we get into this line of work again?”

“We all survived a few days in Innsmouth without getting ripped to pieces by the Deep Ones or sacrificed by the ordinary asshole townsfolk,” Sam reminded her.

“And then we ended up helping that librarian in Arkham with his little ‘tome’ problem,” Alice added.

“And then there was that whole ‘time travel’ thing over in New York,” Emily piped up.

“Does that one really count? We didn’t do anything about the time travel – we just found out that a young lady from the 1890s had been thrown forward in time and was having a bit of trouble adapting,” Alice pointed out.

“Yeah, but Maud didn’t want anything done about the time travel in the end,” Emily countered. “She just wanted to fit in a little better so she could stay with Gladys. And now we know that’s a thing to watch out for, so...”

“Fair enough.”

“We have had our share of adventures,” Victoria said, adjusting her hat. “Though – you’d think Ms. Tropy would want someone with more experience? Surely we can’t be the only ones who do this kind of thing.”

“We haven’t met anyone else,” Victor said with a frown. “The librarian seemed to know what he was doing, but he also didn’t seem interested in making a living out of it...and it’s rather hard to advertise these sorts of services, isn’t it? Given we deal so often with things that ordinary people just can’t understand...”

“I mean, we don’t advertise either,” Alice said. “In all honesty, what happens with us is that we roam around and bizarre shit happens to us.”

“I’m trying not to worry about it,” Sam declared, leaning back in his chair. “Like Liz said, the lady promised us a decent payday, so I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Good, because in my experience horses don’t like you doing that.”

Everyone turned around as a striking blonde in a surprisingly pink skirt-suit entered the room, hitting them all with a winning smile. “It’s nice to meet you all at last,” she said, offering a hand to whoever wished to take it. “Phillianne Tropy.”

“Elizabeth Liddell,” Lizzie said, taking the lead and the hand. “That’s my sister Alice, and our friends Victor Van Dort, Emily Cartwell, Victoria Everglot, and Sam Thatcher.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sam said, tipping his hat.

“Indeed,” Victor agreed. “Though I do wish it was under different circumstances.”

“Me too,” Ms. Tropy said with a sigh. “I’m so hoping you can help Zan. Whatever’s been following her at night – well, it’s got her really on edge.”

“I don’t blame her – even if it’s just some ordinary human creep, that’s still something I wouldn’t want happening to me,” Lizzie said, shuddering as she recalled a certain doctor following her into the Waterloo station toilet.

“And if it’s something worse, we’ll stop it,” Alice promised. “Whatever it takes.”

“Thank you – my resources are yours,” Tropy said. “In fact. . .” She reached into her bag, and pulled out the largest stack of cash any of them had ever seen, depositing it on the table in front of them. “I know this sort of work is dangerous, so – here. Your down payment. That should at least cover initial expenses.”

The group stared at the money. “Uh – yes,” Emily finally squeaked. “That should be – more than sufficient.”

“Really,” Victoria whispered. “That’s – more than generous of you.”

“I’m not going to make you walk into this without proper compensation,” Tropy said with another smile. “It’s only right.”

“Well, thank you,” Alice said, picking up the pile and giving it to Sam to count. “So – now that you’ve officially bought our services, how about you tell us more about what’s been troubling the mayor?”

---