#Tbc?

[on-a-lucky-tide]

woke up out of a cold sweat to run to your inbox. Free spirited Omega Nik + upstanding, clean cut Alpha John who's so used to Omegas hiding their scents behind suppressants. Then he watches Nik fly through a dog fight with ease in the middle of one of his heats and has NO idea what do to with him.

Not that he thinks he needs some form of intervention, but how do you even court an Omega like Nik? Does he want to be courted?? What could Price get him when Nik already gets himself what ever he wants?? And that's when he notices, WAIT- is nik trying to court him??????

Nik goes into heat. Price wants to help.

cw: omegaverse; omega Nik, alpha Price.

Price had been quietly harbouring a romantic attachment to Nikolai for many years. It was difficult to pursue such a thing in their line of work and, if Price was honest with himself, he was too much of a coward. He had talked himself out of it by assessing the “risk”; losing Nikolai by fuckin’ up a romantic entanglement would do irreperable harm to the 141, Coalition and Allegiance in general. The reality was that losing Nikolai would fuck up Price more than anything else; the 141 would continue to tick over, but Price wasn’t sure he would.

It was far safer to exist in the liminal space of friendship and desire. Nik wasn’t stupid and Price was surprised he was permitting it to continue, but either way, they had settled into a comfortable friendship that often bordered on something else, but never progressed it into anything official. It was like they went through all the motions without actually… consummating it.

They regularly went out for dinner, sharing bottles of scotch late into the night. Nik bought Price expensive cigars and always ensured he had his most favoured kit on operations. Price made sure any stray arrest warrants or unwanted chatter swerved Nik when he could; he gifted Nik with a TF141 patch for his jacket one winter and something unspoken had shifted between them.

Nik went into heat while operating alongside Gaz in Khorramshahr. They had split into two teams with Price as the eyes in a central base of operations. Soap and Ghost had covered from a sniper’s nest on a nearby building, while Nik and Gaz had extracted the target from the military compound—a stolen laptop containing CIA codes for hundreds of covert operations. Laswell wasn’t sure how it had fallen into enemy hands, but she was pissed enough with her own to send in the 141 instead.

Unfortunately, the base hadn’t been empty. With Ghost’s help, they had managed to progress their way to the hanger they had already earmarked for a quick escape should the situation turn to shit. There were three Sea Cobras parked up. Liberated from occupying American forces over the border, no doubt.

Nik crooned gleefully through the Comms as they ran into the hanger. “Ona prekrasna.”

”Gaz, any luck?” Price asked, watching their flickering green outlines on the screen in front of him. Nik’s flickered as he climbed into the helo.

”Nik’s working on it.”

”Soap, got eyes?”

”Aye, sir. Ghost layin’ doon cover. Hostiles headin’ in from th’ east.”

”Spotted. Hurry it along, Nik. You’ve got minutes.”

“Pomurchi diya menya, kotonok,” Nik growled. Even through the Comms, the silky rumble of it did something to every alpha listening in. Price’s legs spread in his seat, arse lifting a little as his Carhartts became suddenly a little tighter at the crotch. He recognised that voice—that tone—on an omega. He’d had a handful of partners in his lifetime with only one progressing to the point there had been discussions about mating and marriage, but that soft, sultry purr could only mean one thing.

”Gaz, is Nik—?”

”Yeah, sir.”

”Stay focused, son.”

”I’m under control.”

”It is fine, captain,” Nik said, and Price heard the whine of rotary blades spinning up in the background. “We are good to go. Gaz, load up."

Price lifted his eyes from the screens and watched as their heli appeared over the rooftops. Nik spun her around to face the hanger and made sure that neither of the other two would be taking off with a quick burst of fire from the Sea Cobra’s 40mm grenade launcher. The plume of smoke and from the explosion that followed mushrooming high into the dull grey of the sky. Unfortunately, their escape was further complicated by a new arrival.

Price growled as another blip appeared on his radar. “Nik, you’ve got company. Westbound,” Price looked through the window as it came within naked eyeline, “Soap, you got visual on the pilot?”

”Negative, sir. Movin’ too quick, heavy armour.”

”Nik, ya gonna ‘ave t’ outfly it.” Price glanced back down at the monitors.

”Copy, captain.”

And Nik fuckin’ well did. Price knew of only one conflict where helicopters had been involved in dogfights—Iran-Iraq war—and Nik was flying one of the main participants. It might not be his Black Hawk, but Nik controlled that Sea Cobra around the sky like she was another appendage, turning her on a pence piece, with targeted bursts of turret fire whenever he secured an opening. It was quick, brutal, the rat-ta-ta of gunfire against concrete echoing over the buildings, and all Price could do was monitor incoming traffic.

It felt like a lifetime, but the reality was that the exchange was over in under ten minutes. The enemy helo went down when Nik took out its secondary rotary engine, and it spun out into a nearby building, sending a fireball outwards into the townsquare.

”Sitrep,” Price barked through the Comms.

“A few holes, but stable. Disengaging. Meet at rendezvous. Out.” Nik said, his voice somehow deeper than it had been before. Ghost and Soap provided their updates. All was fine. Mission success… so far. They still needed to get to safety.

Price packed up in record time, leaving no trace of his presence. He caught up with Soap on the exfil—an old Jeep with the keys in on the outskirts of the city—and drove off into the damn sunset. Price followed the Shatt Al Arab south to the Persian Gulf, where they picked up a light craft waiting for them with a member of Laswell’s team on board.

Their final destination was an American-owned cruise ship currently sitting stationary off the coast of Saudi Arabia. Laswell had co-opted their ‘service’, citing it as an issue of ‘national security’. It was a little more covert than having an aircraft carrier lurking in the gulf following an incursion into Iranian territory. Risky though, involving civilians at any stage of the operation. Price hadn’t been particularly happy with the arrangement.

By the time they arrived, it was late, with several floors of loud, drunk parties currently in full swing, but Price was unable to settle.

He needed to see Nikolai.

Once Laswell had been debriefed via satellite phone, and he’d caught up with the rest of the 141 to check on injuries—none but for a few of the usual scrapes and bruises—Price returned to the small room on the ship he’d been assigned to scrub himself clean. Nik was a few floors up. He’d booked himself something a little plusher for the occasion, because of course he fucking had. As the cruise ship sailed onwards, heading towards Dubai where they were due to pick up a flight home, Price took the stairs two at a time.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. For some reason, he stopped off at the hotel bar and bought an exorbitantly expensive bottle of vodka and two only moderately less eye-wateringly expensive cigars. Was he expecting to court Nikolai on an accelerated time scale with cigars and bloody vodka?

How did someone even begin to court an omega like Nik? He could have anything and everything he wanted at the snap of his fingers and the flash of some plastic. Why was Price even considering it now? He had never seen Nik in heat. Not in their twenty-or-so years of friendship. Sure, he had smelled pre-heat on him, knew Nik’s scent well, and had often been comforted by it in the past.

Nik didn’t use suppressants. He never had. His secondary sex was a point of pride and Price had always liked how it seemed to calm the 141 when he was around; Ghost’s shoulders relaxed, Soap’s hyperactive energy calmed and Gaz found an outlet for his affectionate nature.

They hugged him, scented him, and often fell asleep around him when the operation was over. Price too always felt less stressed, less… like the world was about to explode at any minute. Nik had adopted them as his. That was no secret. Why else would he fly into danger to rescue them at a moment’s notice? An omega would tear the world apart to defend their pack.

His mind was buzzing with all this when he arrived outside Nikolai’s door, his knuckles white around the bottle of vodka in his hands. There was a way to do these things. His old man, for all his sins, had certainly beaten that into Price for the day dot. He definitely hadn’t had a man like Nikolai in mind for his runty, underfed alpha son though. The thought of his face now would have been amusing if Price’s heart wasn’t currently sitting in his throat, trying to suffocate him.

He managed to extract one clammy palm from the vodka bottle and knocked. There was the sound of shuffling from the inside, the slide of the lock, and the door swung open. The sweet, overpowering scent of heat hit Price full in the face and, if that wasn’t enough to make him weak at the knees, the sight of Nik certainly finished him off.

Nik leaned against the doorframe, his head tilted against his forearm as it slanted across it, cigarette dangling from his broad mouth. His hair was ruffled, more curls forming around his ears and neck than his usual regime of gel would allow. Price’s eyes raked down the length of him, his full tits with their dark pelt of fur, his dusky nipples peaked and hard, his solid core revealing the hint of definition every time he drew in a deep breath, the elastic of the sweats he’d pulled on clinging to his hips, the v-slant of muscle disappearing beneath the line of fleece along with the thick happy trail of hair down his belly, begging for Price’s mouth to follow their lead.

”My eyes are up here, captain,” Nik said softly, lips tilted in a wry smirk. He took his cigarette from his mouth and placed his other arm high up on the door frame. Posed like this, even so nonchalant, he struck an imposing sight, spread out, so bloody confident, but with his armpits, the sides of his tits, the curve of his waist, all exposed, begging for an alpha’s hands just to—

“Nik, I…” Price’s eyes snapped up as he spoke, his voice cloying in his throat. Every breath he drew in fogged his brain with scent. He needed to behave his-bloody-self. With a restrained cough, Price offered out the bottle. “I brought ya some vodka t’ see ya through.”

”I have vodka, John,” Nik said dryly. Tilting his head back and up to take a drag of his cigarette without having to drop his arm, and it only served to show off the slope of his neck and throat, completely unblemished, his glands just below the skin.

“Ah, yeah, ‘course you do,” Price croaked, his eyes lingering on the spot where he knew Nik’s gland would be. His mouth watered. “That was… some amazing flyin’, with the… the Sea Cobra.”

”Mmm,” Nik groaned, flexing his back, rolling his shoulders. A subtle wave of cramp. “The Hinds were better armed, but the AH1 is a more agile aircraft… it took down a Mig 21 during the Gulf War.” He watched Price with dark eyes as he spoke, scrutinising his face and, slowly, the rest of his body. Price knew he was being sized up and felt his shoulder square despite knowing he was being bloody stupid. “Why are you here, John?”

”I…” Price swallowed. “I want t’ help, Nik. An’… uh… I wanna do this right, I—“

If any of the 141 had heard the yelp that followed Nik’s gruff “finally” as he took the front of Price’s belt and dragged him into the room, Price would have silenced them under threat of a damn court martial, because it was the most undignified sound he’d ever made. The bottle of vodka thumped on the carpeted floor as Nik shoved him into the room and the door clicked shut. The cigars followed, because Price’s hands were soon occupied by Nik’s chest as Nik closed in.

[bellysoupset]

Max Meeting The Gang

"A whole weekend?" Max raised his eyebrows, watching the football practice as if he understood a single thing about the game. Next to him, Vince was his perfect opposite, actually enthralled by it all and occasionally cheering.

Vince was wrapped up in a cardigan on top of his sweater and he hadn't shaved in a couple days, so his perpetual five o'clock shadow had leveled up into a full beard. He still looked pale and gaunt from that horrible flu bout, despite more than a week having passed since. Frankly, Max had been surprised when Vince showed up to his classes on Tuesday, instead of taking the day off.

"Yeah, we leave Friday after class and come back Sunday night," Vince answered, waving to his sister as the cheerleaders entered the field, "it'll be fun, Max."

"I don't know, Vince," Max shrugged, rolling his eyes as he saw a bunch of girls look in his direction and start to giggle, "they're your friends, not mine."

"Yeah, that's how you make new friends," Vince reached in and squeezed his nape in affectionate manner, shoving Max slightly, "you know my girlfriend already, that's two."

Max crossed his arms, chewing on his bottom lip, "I guess... I'll think about it."

"Well, don't think too hard, I need to know by Thursday because I'm grocery shopping before heading there," Vin shivered violently, pulling his cardigan tighter around himself and Max eyed him worriedly, but didn't say anything, "if it's anything, I think you'll really like them."

That wasn't what concerned Max. Vince clearly was really really close with his friends, if anything they seemed more like family than just friendship, and Max had a weird fright deep in his guts, like he was just about to meet Vince's parents. Not that it made any sense, he had never been the type to meet the parents of the people he dated, he knew Mr. and Mrs. Monacelli already and, oh yeah, he was not dating Vince.

However the fear was the same, that he was going to meet Vince's friends, they'd decide they hated him, and he'd kiss his friendship with Vin goodbye.

"Get out of your head," Vince jabbed his elbow in Max's tummy, not too hard, "it's going to be fun... I'd like if you came."

And really, did Max ever stand a chance against such words?

-------------

Since Max had a car and Vince was going to go grocery shopping beforehand, they decided to go together. Max wasn't so sure about all of this, he wanted to bolt and his stomach was churning with nerves, but Vince was making a damn good job of making sure he couldn't, like by riding along with him.

"VIN!"

Max looked up in time to see a blur of dark hair and then Wendy was tackling her boyfriend into a hug, kissing his face all over, "oh my god, you look horrible," she whined mid kisses and Vince chuckled, planting her down on the ground.

"Thanks?"

"You look so pale, doesn't he look pale, Max?" Wendy cupped her boyfriend's face, "this is like the third stomach flu you had in six months, I'm putting you in quarantine."

Vince laughed at that, wrapping his arms around Wendy and giving her a hug from behind, pressing a kiss to her temple, "you sound like my mom, honey."

Wendy let out a little scoff at that, but it vanished quickly as her green eyes paused on Max and her pout melted into a smile, "hey, I'm so happy you decided to come," she perked up to give him a hug, leaving him stunned.

Max's whole face was a shade of red, when the front door of the cabin opened and a group of people stepped out. He recognized Vince's friend, Luke, immediately, the one with dark wavy hair and just as tall as Vin was. He was chatting with two other men, who were holding hands and clearly a couple.

"Guys!" Vince called out their attention, "Max, these are Luke, Leo and Jon. Guys, this is Daniels," he introduced them with a smile and Max wanted to shrink in his shoes. He felt clammy and nauseous all of sudden, but forced up a lopsided smile that communicated he wasn't so anxious he could vomit.

The man Vince had pointed out as Jon, raised a hand, all smooth and formal, "nice to meet you, Daniels."

"Just Max," he cleared his throat, shaking Jonah's hand and then Leo perked up to do the same, although he looked much more friendly than his boyfriend.

Luke didn't shake his hand at all, only offered him a tight smile, "hi Max."

"Where's Bell?" Vince asked, frowning and squeezing Max's shoulder, "oh there she is."

Max followed Vince's gaze and then raised his eyebrows as he saw a stunning ginger getting out of the house. She was wearing a black bikini top and jeans shorts, curly hair falling like a mane around her face and Max's jaw all but dropped.

He stepped aside in order not to be stepped on by her, as Bella apparently didn't even register him before tackling Vince with a hug. She squeezed him tightly, murmuring in a strained voice, "I've missed you."

Then her eyes landed on Max and she raised her eyebrows, scrutinizing him, "that's Daniels?"

"In the flesh," he answered before he could think better of it and she seemed momentarily surprised she had asked that out loud and that he had answered. Bella measured him up and down, then smiled.

"I thought you'd be taller."

"Well, this isn't awkward at all," Vince teased, while Wendy wrapped an arm around his waist and laughed, "let's go inside the house."

Max was more than a little dizzy with the amount of information he had to absorb in such a short time. Vince and Wendy shared a room upstairs, as well as Jonah and Leo. Downstairs, Luke and Bella had the third room and Max was delegated to the sofa bed, in the living room — which he didn't mind in the least but still made a big show of complaining about, just because he enjoyed watching Vince fumble over himself in search of a solution.

"You're mean," Leo whispered, leaning in his direction, as Vince continued to try and argue with Jonah and Luke that they should all draw straws.

"I prefer fun," Max retorted, smiling back at the other man, "so how long have you known Vince?"

"Since his first week of college," Leo shrugged, resting his back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms to his chest, "he came to college already in the team, but I was doing try outs. Adopted me on the spot."

"And here I was feeling special," Max rolled his eyes, "he does that a lot?"

"Adopt strays? Not as much as Luke does," Leo let out an amused huff as his boyfriend told Vince he was not switching room and that was final, "not you though, he hates you."

"Couldn't have guessed," Max snorted, as if he could ignore the way Lucas was all stiff around him or the over the top PDA he was displaying with his wife simply because Max had looked at Bella.

"He's just jealous that Vince likes you," Leo shrugged, patting Max's arm, "it'll wear off by the end of the weekend, Luke can't hold a grudge."

Across the kitchen, Luke said something in a low, snappy voice that caused Jonah's eyebrows to jump and Vince to frown, shutting his mouth in a tight line.

"Maybe we should intervene?"

"Nah, let them hash it out," Bella's said, pushing herself between them and resting her back comfortably against Leo's arm. She was holding a beer and looking Max up and down like he was a zoo animal, "so how long you were in?"

"Jesus, Bell, you can't just ask people that," Leo exclaimed, while Max let out an amused snort. He hadn't ever told Vince that he had done time, so he wondered how she knew this.

"Just two days, protest arrest," Max answered, but never quite started that conversation, since Wendy wrapped a hand around his wrist and tugged at it, all the while saying loudly:

"Enough with the gossiping, we were all gonna go in the lake."

He did not, in fact, want to go in the lake. Ever since the day before his stomach had been a mess, which Max was chalking up to nerves, and he felt weirdly self conscious of stripping before this group, when his belly was sticking out, bloated and crampy.

Still, it was a warm, sunny day out and he had no excuse not to go in. He paced around the shore, as Bella raced Wendy down the pier and they both jumped, followed by Luke and Leo, the blonde spluttering up water and pushing his hair back as he yelled, "c'mon guys! Jon!"

Jonah was all smooth, unlike his friends who still behaved like kids, he took his time to strip and neatly fold his clothes, before walking into the lake instead of jumping from the pier.

"Aren't you gonna get in?" Vince patted Max's shoulder and the man shrugged, feeling horribly out of place.

"I don't know about this whole weekend, man," he started to complain, but Vin cut him off with a dramatic gesture. He always talked with his hands, really not helping the stereotype.

"You haven't been here for an hour," he said with a heavy sigh, kicking off his shoes, "if you still wanna leave by night, I'll drive you back, alright?"

Sounded good enough, even if Max felt a pang of guilt at the idea of Vin wasting another 3 hours of his weekend by driving Max back to Doveport, then back again to the cabin.

"Alright-" he stripped off his shirt, wincing slightly when his stomach let out a nauseated growl and rolled, breakfast sitting like a fucking brick.

Next to him, Vince stripped his shirt and threw it on top of Jonah's carefully folded pile, messing it up and causing the man to shout all the way back from the lake, "VINCE!"

"C'mooon, get in, Vin! Max!" Wendy squealed, drowning Jonah's shout and climbing on his back so she could have some leverage. She was the shortest of the group and while Luke was standing on solid ground, Wendy was panting as she struggled to keep her head afloat.

Max let his eyes wander, roaming over the expanse of Vince's naked back and biting down a dreamy sigh. By now he had seen Vin shirtless - and fully naked, thanks to the recent flu from hell - more than he ever thought he would. Still, the guy was a vision.

He removed his own shirt and grimaced at his stomach, wondering if it was visible to anyone else how upset the organ was, then dumped his wallet and cell on top of his shirt and kicked off his shoes, joining the group.

The water felt extremely cold against his skin and he shivered violently, letting out a string of curses when Vince promptly dunked his head in the water as soon as Max was close enough.

He came up spluttering and cursing, only for Wendy to be smiling at him and shut him up easy like that, "Welcome to the group, Max," she whispered in his ear and Max opened his mouth to reply, only for Bella to dive and tug at his feet, causing him to go underwater once again.

[square-pancake]

Have a Nice Trip (2 of …)

Meanwhile, in the Batcave

(1 of …)

It was 6 PM. Cold and gloom reigned over the city. Patrols weren’t scheduled to start for another 4 hours, but yesterday’s breakout meant Batman, Nightwing, and Robin were all lingering in the cave.

Mr. Freeze had already celebrated his escape, resulting in the snow storm still hitting the city. Fortunately, he was unlikely to do anything more serious without more planning. The focus was on the far more unpredictable threat.

The screens projected a map of Gotham with various points of interest highlighted. Most of the icons were a distinctive purple. All of Amusement Mile was lit up, with darker spots showing past lairs. Previous locations where Batman fought the Joker were pinpointed in green.

The map looked like a poor forgery of a Jackson Pollock painting. Rather than underlying fractals, tracing the Joker’s past actions just revealed chaos.

Bruce had been ruminating for hours. He knew it wasn’t productive, but any time he considered resting, he found himself in front of the glass memorial case. As always, he sublimated his grief and anger.

Silence was pierced only by keystrokes and shuffled paper. Tim avoided meeting Bruce’s gaze. Again, Bruce knew he should offer some reassurances to his young partner. The stink of blood and taste of ashes filled his throat anytime he tried.

Dick wasn’t any better. His clenched jaw perhaps the only thing keeping an argument from breaking out.

Other than bringing down food and drinks, Alfred declined to intervene. Everyone knew he was just as emotionally compromised as Bruce and Dick. Any attempt to reassure them would certainly be heard as falsehoods.

The dark miasma of emotions was finally broken by Oracle.

“Oracle to Batcave, I have an update,” the voice sounded confused even with the digital vocoder preventing most inflection.

“Copy Oracle. Batman, Nightwing, Robin, and Agent A in the cave,” Batman responded. “Should we gear up?”

“Batman, the police scanner is buzzing with this and I just got the preliminary report. Joker’s body was found by Detective Bullock earlier this afternoon. This was kept completely offline until now. I’m still getting info.”

Alfred groped for a chair before collapsing into it. Tim paused, then slowly began to reorganize the papers in front of him.

Bruce froze entirely while Dick immediately began bouncing on his toes, bleeding off a surge of nervous energy.

Nightwing managed to respond first, “Joker is dead?”

“His body was discovered in the Bowery near the library. Neck broken, no sign of foul play, no sign of struggle. Sending you a copy now.”

“If there was no foul play, how was his neck broken?” demanded Tim.

Bruce sat himself in the main control seat and was quickly skimming the report. He summarized: “it appears that the snow hid some debris left over from Two-Face’s last attack. The Joker slipped or tripped on something and landed awkwardly.”

“Are we supposed to believe that?” Tim asked sarcastically. “That sounds like the stupidest cover-up imaginable.”

“Falls are the second leading cause of accidental death globally,” Bruce responded blankly.

“Sure, but not like, fall on the sidewalk and snap your neck, right?”

Dick interrupted the back and forth, “Who cares? Seriously, who cares if it’s a one-in-a-million type accident? This is amazing.” He dashed over to the floor mats to expend more energy.

“No camera footage has been found yet, so all we have is Bullock’s report and after-action photos. Sending over the pictures now,” Oracle continued, ignoring Dick’s spontaneous celebrations.

Photos of the scene and Joker’s body were quickly filling the screens. The alley looked no different than hundreds of others, with perhaps more rubble than typical.

The pictures of the body in situ showed a scene disturbed by multiple people. The head had clearly been moved, probably while checking for life-signs and footprints covered the area. With the continued snowfall it was impossible to tell if the Joker had been alone when he fell.

Blood spatter was inconclusive. The low area of spread indicated that the source was from his face hitting the ground. More angles were needed to be certain though.

Bruce glanced at the medical readings. Temperature from the forensic techs indicated time of death was most likely right before discovery of the body.

“Any suggestion that Bullock could have done this? He found the body so soon after the death, are we sure he didn’t have anything to do with it?”

Nightwing’s voice was breathless from exertion when he answered, “He’s a cop and that was the Joker. He’d be up for a commendation from everyone. If he shot the Joker on sight he wouldn’t even be interrogated as long as there were no hostages at risk. I can’t see any reason why he would deny his role.”

Bruce grunted in pained acknowledgment.

Tim peered over the screen with Bullock’s report. “What about the person who waved Bullock down?”

Oracle’s voice was thoughtful, “you think someone killed the Joker, then immediately flagged down a cop?”

“It would be a good cover,” Tim defended.

“Better than just leaving the body where it might not be discovered for days? Where the snow could cover it?” countered Dick.

“The cold might preserve evidence,” mused Bruce. “This could have been a way to make certain the scene was immediately contaminated.”

Oracle read aloud from the report, “pedestrian standing outside the alley waved me down. Description: male, mid-teen, approximately 6 ft, medium skin tone, light eyes, hair covered by red hoodie. Teen stated he spotted purple in the snow and didn’t want to get closer. Expressed worry that it was a trick. Witness stayed behind the corner of the alley while I approached the body. Cursory inspection using gloves found no pulse or breathing. Initial identification of the Joker. Individual footprints difficult to spot, but no indication of drag marks or scuffling. After speaking with an EMT, witness left without further communication.”

Before Bruce could interrupt, Oracle continued, “addendum: I saw no person in the alley or exiting the alley. Witness was outside the alley. No other pedestrians on the street. No camera coverage of far end of the alley, possible exit point for any other witnesses or victims.”

Bruce hummed quietly, “let’s see if we can track down the witness, but keep it very quiet. I don’t want any of Joker’s surviving people to get to him.

Oracle, Robin, see if we can’t spot him on cameras outside the immediate area. Tall and in a red hoodie isn’t a lot to go on, but it’s something.”

“You think the kid did something?” Asked Tim softly.

“No, a young teen vs. the Joker?” Bruce suppressed the memories of his own son’s fate under those circumstances. “I think it more likely that a potential killer exited the far side of the alley. But he may have witnessed something and not even realized the significance.”

Again Dick interjected, “or, and hear me out, this really was an accident. One that went in Gotham’s favor for once. The kid literally saw a pile of purple clothing, freaked out like most Gothamites would, but was still contentious enough to tell someone.”

It seemed so…unlikely. The idea that the Joker was brought down not for his crimes, but in a simple mishap itched at him. Truthfully, he almost resented the idea that the Joker’s suffering was over.

But so was Gotham’s suffering if this really was the Joker. His son’s memory could live in peace without the shadow of his murderer hanging over them all.

“Save the footage but make it low priority,” Bruce finally relented.

“Good,” Oracle responded, “sounds like the kid was already freaking out. No reason to hang a target on his back.”

The three vigilantes in the cave fell into contemplative silence as they reviewed the rest of the photos and reports. It was amazing how much work could be done in the few hours since the body was found.

Initial fingerprint analysis matched as did anthropometric assessments.

The body had clearly been taken to a lab with biological and chemical containment equipment. All personnel were in complete PPE with no skin exposed.

The post-mortem external exam showed only facial abrasions and the clearly broken neck. Examination of the skin revealed the characteristic bleaching, with no sign of makeup or recent changes.

Tim pulled up medical intake photos from Arkham as well as mugshots so they could compare them to the exam photos. “It has been less than 24 hours since the breakout. Batman, unless there was a lot of work done in advance, I don’t think Joker could have put together a body-double this quickly. Certainly not one who matches fingerprints as well.”

Pictures of the stripped clothing revealed a mixture of weapons and chemical agents. Nothing out of keeping with the clown’s usual load-out. Bruce was quietly grateful that there was no crowbar found with the body.

Oracle’s voice broke the silence. “A judge just issued an emergency order. The body is to be treated under the same rules as those for Viral Hemorrhagic Fever outbreaks.”

“What does that mean?” Tim asked.

“Immediate cremation without autopsy,” answered Bruce.

“There is concern about what Joker might have been exposed to or have brewing in his corpse.” Oracle added, “with an obvious cause of death, Judge Wigzell ruled that it is in the public’s interest to limit the threat of contamination. He also ordered that the entire process be recorded and released to minimize public confusion.”

“Can we stop it?” Bruce demanded. “Surely there needs to be a thorough investigation.”

“We have no standing to intervene,” Oracle answered. “We can’t even admit knowing about this without revealing we illegally breached the records.”

At best we may get access to the samples being taken, blood, hair, saliva, and tissue. They are being kept locked down in biocontainment level 4.”

A long pause, then Oracle’s emphatic assertion followed. “I will not aid in any attempt that would breach the biocontainment. Any request will need to go through proper channels.”

Dick placed a hand lightly on Bruce’s shoulder. Startled since he hadn’t seen his son’s approach, Bruce’s lightly covered Dick’s hand with his own. He could feel his son’s fingers shaking slightly. Dick said, “other than confirming identification, I don’t think we should be part of this. Let Gotham see this all in the light.”

“There will be a public outcry,” Bruce snapped. “Moving this quickly looks like a cover-up.”

Tim frowned, “Will there be an outcry? Really? No one is going to openly complain about his body being destroyed other than maybe Harley.” He shook his head, “Nightwing is right. They are recording each step. We can check to confirm the identity of the body, but I don’t think we should do anything to interfere.”

Bruce began to speak when he was interrupted. Still sitting down, face lined with grief, Alfred’s voice was quiet but firm. “No. This is literally the justice system at work. There was a court order and they are trying to be transparent. We cannot claim to trust the system when imprisoning the Joker and then demand our own rules at this stage.”

“The Joker is dead. I for one applaud that his final act had no audience and that he died alone in a cold alley. If you’ll excuse me, I will be upstairs.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the investigation and let you know if anything unusual crops up, Oracle out.”

“What’s the game plan Batman?” Dick asked.

“You just told me not to invest-“

“Not that. Once this is public, the whole city will be celebrating. How do we want to cover this?”

Bruce appeared at a loss, “you really think it will be public? A man did die.”

“No,” Dick’s voice was sharp, “the Joker died. He intentionally left his humanity behind years ago. There will absolutely be open parties.”

Bruce shook off his own assumptions and nodded, “you’re right. Let’s put together an action plan. They won’t be able to keep this quiet for more than 24 hours. No patrol tonight. We need to be fully rested for tomorrow.

Dick, we will need to make a statement. Dickie Wayne is absolutely not allowed to lead a parade.”

Dick’s laugh was half a sob, “fine, but I’m going to announce that we’re paying the tab for all chili hot dog stands and ice cream parlors in the city for three days after the announcement.”

Tim shyly asked, “for Jason?”

“Yes.” When Bruce opened his mouth to argue, Dick snapped, “I’m doing this and you don’t get to stop me Bruce.”

After his other boys had left, Bruce approached the memorial case again. Maybe he could bring himself to remove the plaque. The battle against the Joker at least had no need for more soldiers.

[aduckwithears]

I'm literally 8 pages into reading The Crow Road and so far a major theme seems to be the having of sex in an old classic car. Just saying.

[a-strange-inkling]

I love the idea of Maggie being a rebel like her father as a teen and I love how Eddie knows all her tricks. How does Chrissy deal with her daughter’s schenanigans?

She worries about her all the time, she tries to be patient and give her the benefit of the doubt, but Maggie’s pretty wild and rebellious so it can be difficult sometimes. She always gives Eddie a tired sigh eye after a melodramatic tantrum.

“Why am I getting that look?”

“You had to be difficult for Wayne.”

“Hey! You knew the risks!!”

Snippet:

“Mom, I’m begging you please, please,” Maggie cries half prostrate over the counter, hands folded tight as she pleads. “Everyone else is going to be there and it’s one weekend!”

Chrissy sighs softly as she continues to scrub the dishes in more earnest, her legendary patience all but drained out. “Maggie, I’ve provided my reasons multiple times, the answer is no.”

“But whhhhyyyyy!?” she asks. “You would have let Liv go!”

“To a cabin five hours away when she was only fifteen-years-old? With several boys over eighteen and no adult chaperones for four whole days?” she asks in astonishment. “I most certainly would not have.”

Livvy would never have even had any interest in something like that in the first place.

“I’m almost sixteen, Mom! It’s not fair! The whole band is going and I’m going to get left behind!” Maggie exclaims, blinking back angry tears.

“Baby, I know this is important to you and I’m sorry I have to say no, but you’re just not old enough to go that far away by yourself for that long.”

“You never let me do anything!” she whines, slumping face down on the table, sobbing loudly and dramatically.

Chrissy takes a slow inhale through the nose.

Yoga breathing. Yoga breathing. Yoga breathing.

She empathizes. She really does.

If anyone understands what it’s like to be a teenage girl who’s not allowed to do anything, it’s her. But, they don’t know Derek or his family well enough to let their impulsive daughter spend three nights somewhere up in Alexandria Bay.

“That’s a tad of an exaggeration,” she replies wearily. “Don’t you think?”

She doesn’t respond, just pouts heavily with an angry little sniff, propping her chin on her flattened hands.

God, that face she’s making.

She’s so Eddie that it’s ridiculous sometimes.

Speak of the devil, he comes in from the garage after changing the oil to her Explorer, cleaning his hands off with a damp rag, whistling to himself before noticing the tension in the air.

“…Hey,” he greets cautiously, glancing between them, walking over to kiss Chrissy on the side of her head.

“Hi,” she exhales.

“Hi, Daddy.” Maggie mutters.

He eyes their youngest daughter’s petulant moping, looking back up at Chrissy questioningly. They’ve picked up something akin to a psychic connection over the years and he’s quick to catch on that they’re still on the ‘Maggie wanting to go away for the weekend upstate’ topic when she levels his gaze.

He nods in understanding, rubbing her shoulders from behind and Chrissy shrugs silently in response, not knowing what else to do at this point.

Help me out here, I’m going to snap!

“Okay, what’s wrong, Mags?” he asks all cool and casual, ruffling her loose curls as he walks past her toward the fridge to grab something to drink.

“Nothing, I’m just going to be stuck here while all my friends get to go away for the weekend because Mom doesn’t trust me.” She informs him miserably, rubbing vigorously at her face when a few fat tears that slip free.

“…Margaret, that’s not true.” Chrissy sighs, trying not to roll her eyes.

Mom doesn’t trust her?

Mom!?

Well what about her father who nearly blew a fuse when he heard that Derek kid offered for her to go in the first place? Mom had to spend nearly forty minutes talking Daddy down from breaking a seventeen-year-old boy’s nose.

Why is she the bad guy?

“I just don’t understand why Stacey and Megan’s parents are letting them go, but you won’t let me! They’re my age!”

“Why don’t you ask your father what he thinks?” Chrissy suggests, stifling her irritation. “I think I’ve gone over it enough.”

“What’s the point?” Maggie mumbles under her breath. “He’ll just think whatever you tell him to think.”

The silence that follows is earth shattering. The cup she’s holding slips from her hand, plopping back into the sudsy water clanking loudly against the bottom of the sink.

[silverview]

psa

[fluentisonus]

He added, after a pause: “Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.”

Les Misérables, Volume I / Book V / Chapter III, trans. Hapgood

[the-blank-crossing-tbc]

I have no idea what's going on lol

"Don't worry, birthday boy's gonna show you the way just listen to me alright?"

[bellysoupset]

Is it okay if I use 🍁 as my anon emoji? If not then 🦊?

But my request is could you do a story about Vince and Max taking a class on an overnight field trip somewhere and both begrudgingly have to share a room. But of course one of them (I don’t mind who) gets a really upset tummy and the other has to be the reluctant carer while also having to deal with kids who are constantly knocking on their door, complaining or asking for things as young kids do. And then, the next day it’s a painstakingly long, bumpy bus ride home.

-🍁/🦊

-🦊 anon and ☂️ anon requested Max with a tummy ache opening up to others.

I'm sorry it took me so long!!

—----------------

Vince zipped up his jacket and turned around as he looked over the teenagers, all brimming with anxiety over the trip. 

It was a tradition of Doverport’s High to grant senior students a more expensive field trip than usual. Usually all excursions had to fall under the guise of education, with a teacher drafting up a whole proposal signaling why it was important for the students to experience it and how it would benefit their curriculum. 

The seniors trip, though, was exclusively for socialization. The fancy word they used for fun. 

Sophia had been talking about the trip nonstop for weeks now, she had even gone on a shopping trip to get a new swimsuit — one Ma had promptly forbidden her from wearing — and had nearly exploded with happiness when Wendy had gifted her with a fancy toiletry bag with three hundred little pockets that Vince thought was a monstrosity. 

He’d never understand women.

Vin could easily spot his sister in the crowd of excited faces, as they showed Daniels their parent permits. She was in the far back, talking with a much shorter black girl and they were giggling and whispering. Sophia was as tall as the boys in her grade and she attracted quite a bit of attention, so Vince was under sworn duty to watch out for her. 

He hadn’t even wanted to be a part of the trip, unlike Max who had been hand picked by the seniors. Vince had only volunteered as a replacement to Ms. Lobdell after much begging from his mother, only for the literature teacher to injure herself a month ago and end up with a cast leg.

“Hi, Mr. Daniels,” Vince cringed as he heard his sister’s sugary voice, a tell tale of her flirting. This was more awkward than Sophia hitting on Luke. 

“Hi, Sophia,” Max answered without missing a beat, not indulging her in the least, “Hi, Charlie. Permits?”

“I don’t really need papers, mom sent him to follow me around,” Sophia complained glaring in Vin’s direction, but handed Daniels a folded paper. 

Max snorted, “I’ll make sure Mr. Monacelli has enough on his plate he’s not following you around,” he patted the metal of the bus, “go on to your seats, shoo.”

Vince scoffed as he noticed Sophia was red up to her ears as she walked past Max and entered the bus, right in front of him, “comportati, Soph,” he told her to behave herself and she responded by folding her arm in a bras d’honneur, which went over her American friend’s head but meant a loud fuck you to Vin.

“Ready for the trip, Mr. Mo?” Max asked cheekily, as he finished up retrieving the permits and slammed the pile of papers against Vin’s chest, “I’m sure it’ll be great.” 

—------

Senior trips were a dying tradition around the US, but the few schools that still did it normally took their students to Disney World or New York City… Not Doveport. They were mainly a harbor town, made of blue collared workers and glamor wasn’t in their alphabet. 

This year, the trip was to Canada, to a resort that had offered them some incredible rates since it was off season. The only downpoint was that the trip there was nearly five hours long. 

Vince didn’t mind long bus trips, had gotten used to them when in the football team, but he did mind not having anyone to talk to. The teens were noisy, but mostly enthralled with themselves and so excited that no one was causing much trouble. Daniels, on the other hand, had curled up on his seat up the front and gone quiet. 

Vin glanced at his watch. One hour down.

“Are you gonna keep pacing?” Sophia whined, when Vince walked the bus hallway for the fourth time and caused the boys who were chatting her up to sink back to their seats. 

Vince rolled his eyes, “just doing my job.”

“You’re a history teacher, not a hallway monitor,” Sophia spat back without hesitating, “you’re making everyone nervous by walking around like a prison guard.”

He didn’t buy that, but once he glanced over his shoulder, there were more than a couple pairs of eyes glued to his back, probably wondering if he was giving Sophia a hard time and if they were next. Vince sighed. 

“Fine, fine, fine, I’m going back to my seat,” he relented, walking back up to the front. Daniels stirred slightly when Vince sat next to him, grimacing and scratching his prickly cheek.

“Did little miss Monacelli chew you out?” he asked, his voice rough as if he had been sleeping. Vince didn’t know how he could even fall asleep with so much noise. 

“Doesn’t she always?” Vin teased lightly, stretching his legs as much as the cramped seats allowed him. From the corner of his eye he could see Max was still frowning, so Vince squirmed on his seat, retrieving his phone from his back pocket and throwing the other man a quick glance, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded, “just tired, that’s all. You got them handled?” 

Vince shrugged, glancing over his shoulder, “they’re all behaving, it’s not as if they’re children. You can take a nap if you want.” 

“Thanks,” the blonde curled up against the window once more, shivering violently and rubbing his hands as if to warm them up.

Not thirty minutes later, Vince snapped out of his New Girl rewatch, because Daniels had just…Kicked him? 

Vin frowned, looking over his shoulder — All of the teens were busy, chatting amongst themselves, napping or listening to music — then back at the blonde. If Vince didn’t know better he’d think it had been on purpose, but no… Max was pressed up against the window and he had an arm curled around his stomach, when yet another twitch hit him and he involuntarily kicked. 

Vin snorted, sliding down his seat and getting comfortable. He was bored, but texting Wendy or his friends was out of question, they were all at their jobs right now. 

An hour later he muffled a yawn of his own, getting up to stretch and looking ahead. Now most of the kids were knocked out and the bus was much quieter. Outside, the sun was setting and the wind had picked up, howling. 

He did another round in the hallway, just to keep his leg from falling asleep and snorted as he passed by his sister’s seat. The teenager was curled up on her friend, snoring softly, long legs folded like an origami project. 

Vince’s stomach rumbled with hunger. There were two more hours to go in their trip, but once they arrived and finished check-in, they had a free pass to the hotel’s restaurant and he couldn’t wait. 

He sat back down and rubbed his stomach to stop the growling, only to realize Max was shivering.

Vin frowned, turning off the mini A/C unit that stayed over their heads. Daniels looked much more friendly when he was passed out, face smooth, no snark. 

“Daniels?” Vince whispered, shaking his arm slightly, “you’re ok?” 

“Uhhhm,” Max groaned, forcing his eyes open, looking out of it. It wasn’t a nap, the man had fallen into slumber. 

“Are you alright?” Vince repeated himself, a little louder.

For a moment it looked like Max was going to bite his head off for waking him up to ask such a question, but then the other man groaned again and shook his head, “I’m fff-fucking fee-freezing,” he said, his teeth chattering. 

Vince raised his eyebrows. The temperature had dropped considerably since the sun set and they were about to cross the Canadian border, but the bus was packed with people and fairly warm. 

“Here,” he said without thinking, digging through his backpack and handing a hoodie to the other guy. Even with the beard covering most of his cheeks, Vince could see the man turning red. 

“I don’t-”

“Don’t be stupid, you’re cold, I’m not using it,” Vince shrugged, “but it’s not that cold…” he reached in without thinking, but before he could feel Max’s forehead, the man slapped his hand away sharply, glaring at him.

“Don’t do that.”

Vince scoffed, turning on his seat in an offended manner. The other man was still a puzzle for him: adored by all teenagers, hated by other teachers. An asshole and ex-bully, but at the same time willingly driving Vince back home when he found the man plastered at 3 AM.

And then there was that haunted look on Max’s face, that Vince had seen the other night with Lucas. That horrible, terrible yearning, which Vince could easily place alongside Max’s cavernous one bedroom house, the fact he never saw the guy hanging out with anyone, never texting a soul… 

When they did park outside the resort, two hours later, the teenagers were quickly shaking off the sleep, their voices getting higher and higher. 

“I want- I want-” Vince pinched his nose bridge as loud piercing laughter interrupted him two times in a row. Daniels was watching the crowd with a pacific smile, happy to let Vince deal with it. 

“I WANT TWO QUEUES,” Vince said loudly, startling the teens and cringing, “GIRLS WITH MR. DANIELS, BOYS WITH ME.”

There was a minute of silence, then hurried steps as they organized themselves. Vince grimaced as he felt a thump to his back and Max whispered, “good job, Mr. Moron, you scared the ducklings,” stepping ahead to shepherd his group of teenage girls. 

It was a minor chaos to sort through all the room keys and get everyone checked-in, but around one hour and a half later Vince finally made it to the bedroom he would be sharing with Daniels. His stomach was hurting with hunger and he was starting to get considerably cranky. 

Max’s bags were on his bed already, claiming it, but he wasn’t in the room. Irrationally, Vince felt a wave of annoyance at the fact the man was probably down in the restaurant having dinner, not that this was Max’s fault at all. 

However, when he made it to the cafeteria… The other teacher was nowhere to be found. Their students were already spreading around, playing as adults and getting together in little cliques. Sophia lit up as Vince walked in the room, something she rarely did and Vince raised his eyebrows as the girl waved for him to join her table. 

He grabbed a bottle of juice as well as his full plate and walked over, sitting on the booth and squeezed between a pack of girls who were all blushing. 

“Yeah?” 

“This place is great, Vin,” Sophia told him, “I never wanna leave.”

Vince snorted, starting to eat. Before him, one of the girls started to rave about the hotel having an indoor heated pool. Vince’s stomach clenched with worry as a million little accidents flashed in front of his eyes. 

“You girls are going to behave, won’t you?” he asked seriously, “act like adults.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Soph dismissed him easily, grinning mischievously with her friends, “do you know if Mr. Daniels is single? We never see him with anyone.We should invite him to swim-”

“I don’t know and even if I did it wouldn’t matter,” Vince glared at them, “you’re all underage, this is simply embarrassing.”

“I’m eighteen!” Sophia cried out, as Vince stood up, taking his food, “c’mon, don’t be such a prude!” 

Vince scoffed, “wait until babbo hears about this, Sophia Maria,” he told her viciously, causing his younger sister to glare at him, her light eyes squinting.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” he glared back, “focus on the boys your age, or better yet, don’t focus on any boy. Focus on college.”

“Thank you Mr. Hypocrisy,” Sophia pouted, “you were dating in high school!”

Vince sighed, “and it led nowhere,” he pointed out gently, “I just want you girls to be careful and-” he snapped his mouth shut as Soph yawned at his words, exaggerating it and causing her friends to giggle. Vince rolled his eyes, “leave Mr. Daniels alone, this isn’t cute, he’s working.” 

“Are you dating, Mr. Monacelli?” one of the girls called sweetly as Vince started to walk away, only for Vin to hear as Sophia said sharply “EWw Rita, that’s my brother!”

Deciding he’d have better luck eating by himself, Vince found a secluded corner of the restaurant and all but inhaled his food. He hung around as the kids finished up their meals, then ushered them to bed, despite knowing they were allowed to enjoy the hotel facilities. For the next three days, they were allowed nearly everything. 

His sister had long disappeared, much to his worry, and Vince was still scoffing to himself as he made his way back to the room. Vince’s anger vanished with a puff as he noticed the bedroom was untouched. Max’s bag was still on the bed, but no sign of the man. 

“...Daniels?” Vince kicked the door shut, walking further in and noticing the bathroom door closed, “Daniels, you in there…?”

A beat of silence, and then a groan and Vince raised his eyebrows, walking closer to the door, “man, are you alright?” 

“G’away…” Max slurred, his words sticking together, “m’fine.”

“Uhum, you don’t sound so good… ” Vince picked at his nails, glaring at the knob, “did you have dinner at all? Restaurant is closing, but I can get you a plate if you di-” a retch answered him, a muffled little oh-god before the sound of liquid hitting liquid.

Vince cringed, clearly realizing the other guy was sick. He tried the knob and realized the door wasn’t locked, even if the request for privacy couldn’t be more clear as Max let out a loud groan from the floor and tried to kick him. 

“Gooooaway-”

“Shit, Daniels,” Vince crouched down, taking the other guy in. Max had pulled his hair into a manbun, but some strands had already escaped and they were sticking to his clammy face. He was the color of spoiled milk, white with a green undertone, and there was a dark wet spot in the front of Vince’s borrowed hoodie, a clear tell he hadn’t made it to the bathroom in time, “why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve handled the students-”

“Itssssfine,” his honey colored eyes were dazed with fever, “they’re not hard to…To handle…” He turned his face towards the toilet once more, groaning as another wave of nausea hit him, cheeks puffing as he blew out a belch towards the water. 

“Were you already sick when we left?” Vince didn’t know what to do with himself. If this was any of his friends, he’d be all over them. Rubbing their back, holding back the strands of hair, getting them water, checking their fever… But this was Daniels, who clearly didn’t want him there.

“No,” Max pressed his overheated forehead to the cool porcelain, “just a stomach- Stomachache…” he gulped down nervously, “but I- I get those all the time, so…” 

Vince sighed in sympathy. It must be terrible to be sick so often that Max couldn’t recognize when he was coming down with something or not. 

“Okay,” Vin decided, stripping himself of any grudge he might hold towards the guy. He just couldn’t be mean when Max was looking so pathetic, “are you done? Let’s get you into bed.”

The blonde shook his head, leaning forward and panting over the toilet, “not done…” 

They sat there for another minute, the sick man’s breath picking up and then calming down just as Vince thought he was about to puke. He hung his head in shame, “you don’t have to stay, I’m gonna get you sick… Again.”

“I have nothing to do,” Vince shrugged, sitting against the small hotel cabinet and playing Candy Crush on his phone, “my girlfriend is probably at class right now, so I can’t even call her…” 

Max turned his head to face him, pained lines around his eyes and his lips a grayish shade, wrapping an arm around his stomach, “your girlfriend with the cute bob?” he gestured to his hair and Vince snorted, nodding. 

“Yep.” 

He raised a judgmental eyebrow, “Oh no, please don’t say she’s a high schooler…?”

Vince frowned, “Do you always assume the worst in people? Do I look like the type to date a high schooler, when I’m about to turn twenty five?”

“Yes,” Max groaned, gagging and spitting. He let out a whimper as a cramp hit him, squeezing his eyes and waiting for it to pass, “fuck my entire life…” 

“See, that’s karma,” Vince teased him, leaning back, “I’m not an asshole, you know? Or a criminal. Wendy’s older than me,” he rolled his eyes, “she’s a doctor.”

“But you said she’s in class,” Max pointed out and when Vince only stared at him, he pouted, “humor me? My gut’s killing me, I don’t wanna think about it.”

Vince let out a huff at that, but indulged the guy, “she takes Interior Design classes on thursday nights, she likes to keep busy,” he explained, “I don’t understand why you think I’m such an asshole, you’re the one who were a fucking bully, not me.”

“You look like an asshole,” Max pressed on his stomach, closing the toilet lid and letting out a groan, “and you acted like a homophobic moron the other day, when I said your boyfriend was there.”

This elicited a startled chuckle from Vince, making him throw his head back with such force it hit the cabinet and made him wince, “shit, ow-” he was still giggling and rubbing his head as he said, “I’m not homophobic, I’m bi! You’re ridiculous!” 

“Ah,” was Max's despondent answer, as he leaned back and rubbed his chest in an uneasy manner, “but you were an asshole for no reason…”

“I thought you were being t-” Vince interrupted himself, cringing. It was not his place to out Wendy, “homophobic. You know, the new teacher is gay haha so funny,” he rolled his eyes, feeling very proud of himself for the save. 

“Now I feel queasy, disgusting and stupid, thanks,” Max said sourly, wrapping both arms around his stomach and making Vince snort all over again. 

“You’re welcome,” he got up from his spot, filling up a glass of water for the guy and then offering him a hand to get up from the floor, “you should be in bed, you’re burning a fever there…” 

“Anyone ever tell-” Max swayed on his spot as Vince pulled him up, bracing against the sink, “ever tell you that you’re such a mother?” 

“Not really,” Vince patted the guy’s back with a little too much force, “I’m the chill one of my friend group.”

Max scoffed, leaning over the sink with a wet belch and spitting some frothy saliva “uhmmm… Don’t- Don’t believe you…” 

[todoga]

[dykekarkat]

the ideal aaron neil dynamic is one where they're constantly bitching at each other like feral cats who hiss and spit whenever they're in the same room. i do not want them to be friends i want them to be mortal enemies that have to play nice at thanksgiving dinner for the rest of their lives. neil sends aaron a picture of an apple once a day for the rest of his life type dynamic do you guys get me

[warriorsproject]

Puddleshine

[meli-writes]

never forgetting a friend sharing a death threat she got via twitter and the same username subbing on OF an hour later, as just a perfect synecdoche for how bigotry drives demand for trans porn.

and now there's cis women with fake dicks on OF, sometimes managed by agents, and multiple mainstream porn companies with futanari brands to the point of having made full-on prosthetic make-up dicks (and not just hiding strap in some trousers). so much effort all to make trans porn without actual trans women in it.

i wouldn't blame most workers involved, i don't see it as a serious threat, and i'm not even super mad it's just more like... come on, really? like, if there's one bit of 'leverage' (cos it is not an advantage) we have it'd be sex work, and you wanna deny us even that.

[phantasmicfish]

So I saw Dune Part 2 yesterday and I was initially super crushed because of the deviation from book canon but the more I think about it the more I sorta like it…

So without further ado here’s a list of stuff I liked about Dune Part 2:

- all the scenes initially of Paul growing closer to the Fremen. You can clearly see that they become friends, accept him as a Feydakin, that they’re laughing, joking, hanging out. (And contrast that to the end of the movie, where Paul has no more Fremen friends, only followers. In the book, this is echoed, where Paul recognizes that he has lost his friends to the Muad’Dib religion. Take book Stilgar, who truly embodies this… by the end of the book, Paul says: “I have seen a friend [Stilgar] become a worshipper.”

- giving Chani explicit rejection of Paul’s messiah status was an interesting choice. Chani’s main thought over part 2 is that they don’t need religion to save them, that through Fremen power and desert power, the Fremen can save themselves. She recognizes that this fanatical worship can be a vehicle to control and enslave her people, and I sorta wish we saw Paul lean into that more… that they found a way to stay together and ‘fight’ the prophecy together based on Chani’s ideals…

- also, I love how engrained this rejection of religion and prophecy is in her character. Book Chani takes no issue with her Fremen name, Sihaya (desert spring), but movie Chani hates it “because it’s part of some prophecy.” Later, we see that despite her rejection of prophecy and religion, that the prophecy does indeed come to pass— the tears of desert spring save Him aka, Chani saving Paul after he drinks The Water of Life. (Interesting how Jessica has to force Chani to save Paul using the Voice… another example of Jessica explicitly forcing Paul to become the messiah).

- adding more depth to Fremen culture— the South being the more religious fundamentalist tribes vs the North being more secular. Early on, the movie paints this immediate divide between the tribes of Fremen who accept Paul and Jessica versus those who treat them as offworlders (who murdered Jamis). In the books everyone accepts Paul and Jessica after Paul bests Jamis and Jessica quotes some scripture, but I think it makes more logical sense that there’d be friction over these two random offworlders coming in

- I love love loved Paul speaking at the meeting of the Fremen tribe leaders in the South. He fully accepts his messiah status, exercises his power of the Voice + his prescience as a way to command all the Fremen under his name

- I’m a big fan of omitting the two-year time skip, so with that I’m glad Leto II was skipped over entirely. I always felt that Leto II was an unnecessary character addition to the book, especially when he just dies and everyone sort of goes “oh well” and moves on, so I’m glad it’s omitted.

- another interesting choice was to paint Jessica as a straight up villain in comparison to the way her book counterpart was not. The movie Jessica we see here is seemingly corrupted by the Water of Life: she walks around talking to herself (Alia) and scheming Paul’s ascent to Lisan-Al Gaib. She knows about the Holy War, which is the very thing Paul is trying to prevent, yet she expresses no concern about bringing it to fruition. (Probably because Jessica knows it’s impossible to prevent, but still.) The very last line of the movie, where Alia asks Jessica what’s going on and Jessica says “The Holy War has begun” is just total villain in my mind— explicit acceptance of the Holy War, like it’s just another stepping stone in her plan. Plus, the fact that Paul has visions of Jessica leading him into this period of great starvation totally cements her as a villian.

- going off of that, I like that we see Jessica undergoing actual agony when she takes The Water of Life. When book Jessica and Paul take The Water of Life they accept it calmly and without obvious pain (book Jessica was sitting with her eyes closed, as if sleeping), so this physical reaction that Jessica has to the poison adds to the idea that The Water of Life did change her in a negative way.

- I feel like so far we’ve been introduced to Alia as just a weird talking fetus who’s been consorting with Jessica, so Paul’s vision where Alia says “I love you” really strikes home, that she really does care for Paul which we might not have understood otherwise

[silverview]

https://x.com/tommchenry/status/1428891618770407428/