#but her gene test says otherwise

[uollop]

Vash x Fem!Reader, they have a child together who’s absolutely adorable. the child ends up getting kidnapped by Zazie and taken to Nai who tries and do expirements on the child and tries to draw the 12 month old blood..

but the child is an absolute menance and starts touching stuff that’s dangerous and nai badically begrudgingly tells the child to not touch it but the child does it anyway

Nai ends up basically giving the child back to Zazie with a note attached to the baby’s chest saying that the child is a menace

And is annoying

also the baby is half human half plant

An Uncle's Love

Content: Pregnancy, the mention of giving birth, kidnapping, fem reader, pre-established relationship, Vash x reader, ne*dles, slight angst but also humor because Nai is trying to handle a baby

Word count: 925

Notes: This was an oddly specific request but I'm not complaining lmao! I hope you enjoy it! :) Requests are still open! Thank you for sending requests, it helps me figure out what to write about because I have too many ideas running around in my head.

Next Part

When you and Vash had realized you were pregnant, neither of you really knew what to expect. With him being a plant and you being a human, he hadn't even realized pregnancy was a possibility. As soon as he found out, his mind swarmed with possibilities of all the ways it could go wrong. The pregnancy itself was normal however, and so was the baby after it was born. A healthy baby girl with no complications during the birth so the two of you assumed that the plant gene wasn't one that could be inherited by humans and that your daughter was just like you. You had no reason to believe otherwise.

The two of you decided to attempt to keep your relationship with Vash a secret so that you could avoid any complications that would arise from being in a relationship with the Humanoid Typhoon. It wasn't easy, but it was for the safety of both you and your child. You were able to keep it concealed until your daughter's first birthday, when Zazie caught wind of the existence of the baby Saverem and decided to attempt to surprise Knives with his niece.

When Zazie brought the baby to Knives, his face contorted into a look of disgust and uncertainty, asking them if this was some kind of joke. Zazie explained that this was his brother's child, causing Knives to become intrigued. He refused to touch the girl, though, and had Zazie follow him so that they could bring the baby to Conrad for testing.

The moment you and Vash realized that the baby had been taken in the night, you were both freaking out. You called Meryl, Wolfwood, even Roberto to see if they had any idea where your daughter was, but no luck. You were panicking, running around the area near your small house, trying to find her somewhere, anywhere. But it seemed she was gone. There weren't even any footprints in the sand to give you an idea where she could be.

Knives wasn't fairing much better. Ever since he had taken some blood from the baby, she hadn't stopped screaming. The ear-splitting noise was getting on his nerves, but he tried to remain calm and possibly even soothe the baby as he stared at her with uncertainty and slight disdain, before slowly placing his hand on her head, covering a part of her face. Her cries went quiet for a moment and, for a split second, Knives had thought that the noise was over. Then, the giggling and babbling started. His niece reached up and took his hand in her tiny ones, playing with and pulling on his fingers, causing him to pull away with a look of frustration on his face.

Any vocal discipline he tried to apply towards the child was met with laughter and baby talk. After a while, he gave up and settled for simply watching the child, until she started to reach for some nearby needles which caused him to quickly grab her arm to stop her.

Of course, this attempt to ensure her safety was met with more crying as she continued trying to reach for the needles as if they were a piece of candy she desperately wanted. When he realized how badly the child wanted them, he begrudgingly picked her up and placed her on the ground, moving to put away the extra needles. While his back was turned, though, the infant started to crawl out of the room. By the time he had finished putting away the dangerous items, the young girl was gone from his sight. He panicked and searched the room for a moment before cursing and walking out of the area, seeing the child crawling towards a rail-less stairway.

Knives scrambled over and scooped up the child, causing the screaming to resume. It was like this baby had a death wish. It continued like that all day. Every time Knives so much as glanced away for a second, his brother's child managed to find something dangerous to play with. It was becoming a serious chore and he wasn't sure how his brother of all people managed to deal with this kind of bullshit.

Eventually, after he got the results he was waiting for, he handed the baby back to Zazie and told them to take "it" back to where they had found it, tucking a note into the baby's hands before Zazie took off with it.

You and Vash had been searching town all day looking for your child and, after turning up empty handed, the two of you somberly made your way back to your home. The walk home included a one-sided conversation in which Vash attempted to comfort you, insisting that it wouldn't be long before you found her and that you just had to hold out for a bit longer.

Turns out he was correct as, when you arrived back at your house, your baby was nestled sleeping in her crib as she chewed on a piece of paper.

After checking the baby for any injuries (you only found one, which was bandaged neatly), you took the piece of paper and unfolded it.

"Brother,

Your child is as much of a nuisance as you are. I believe it was attempting to make my life hell so that I would return it to you, so here it is.

You should better teach your child what is and isn't a toy.

Especially if it's going to be a part of the new Plant-Human hybrid species.

Knives Millions"

Masterlist | Ao3

Next Part

[rubadubdub3nunsinatub]

Hey there in reference to Wraith Lore and the Stargate Atlantis Legacy series I copied this from one of the author's LiveJournals ages ago pls don't ask for a link I have no idea about the Wraith and figure Id put it here instead of it laying about in notes. Enjoy!

Long ago, in the first days of the world, there were the First Mothers. Osprey was one of them, nine in all. Nine queens and ninety-nine men, blades and clevermen alike, for that is how people were made. That is how we were born in the ice of the first world, beneath the light of the moon. To each queen were given certain gifts, no two alike, for no two lineages are the same. We all count our names from them, from the First Mothers, and each tells its own story. […] She is queen of mists and shadows, strong in mind, weaving illusions to hide and deceive. She is a white flower, a white bird, a fog rising among the trees. She is the shadow of clouds trailing across the moon.

Q: "How is it determined whether a Wraith child grows up to be a blade or a cleverman? Is it through education and socialisation or is there a genetic component and the children are educated according to their talents?"A: It's based on their inclination and talents. An infant boy may grow up to be either blade or cleverman. It's an educational caste, not genetic. Except of course in the way that intelligence and temperament are genetic! Of course queen's inclinations are different too. In Secrets we'll meet a queen who, as she says, has the mind and interests of a cleverman, who would have chosen to study the Subcorporia if it did not interfere with her duties, sort of a Wraith Sam Carter! (A comparison Teyla does make!)

Q: "If it had something to do with genetics that would raise another question. If the Queen never mates with clevermen that would eventually result in the extinction of this caste and only the fierce and brave blades would survive. In that case, does the Queen have a means of control over her unborn children? Can she influence what disposition her children get?"A: Queens do mate with clevermen if they wish, though it's less common. It's extremely rare for a cleverman to become Consort however, as one of the Consort's duties is to physically protect the queen.

Q: "I'm asking this because in 'Homecoming' on page 34 there's a sentence that caught my attention for its interesting choice of words: 'She had honored him with a son, and then, as his utility had grown, with a daughter, …' If I'm reading this correctly it implies that Snow had indeed control of the gender of her children. I'm just thinking out loud now: we know female Wraith are very rare and no one knows why.”A: Without being too spoilery -- nine out of ten female embryos are inviable. The chances of a Wraith queen naturally conceiving and bearing a healthy daughter are very small. To that end most daughters are conceived by in vitro fertilization. Eggs and sperm are combined in the laboratory and the zygotes are allowed to begin their first divisions. They can then be tested and examined, and if the queen is trying to conceive a daughter, then only a healthy and viable embryo is implanted, while the nine out of ten that weren't viable are discarded. Otherwise a queen might miscarry nine times to bear a single daughter, a tremendous toll both physically and emotionally. The male embryos are more stable, and some sons are conceived naturally, while other queens opt for all their pregnancies to be in vitro, as the male embryos are still inviable at a much greater rate than for humans. Also, it allows queens who have a settled Consort and who do not wish to take a lover to vary the genetic material of their children. A particularly brilliant cleverman or a blade of a certain lineage may be selected to pass on their genes. Certainly it's incredibly unusual for more than two of a queen's children to have the same genetic father. It's far too important to manage the fragile gene pool.

Q. Do blades and clevermen get to interact much when off-duty?A. It depends on the individuals and the hive. Some do, some don't. Whether there are clevermen among the favorites of the zenana depends on the queen. It's up to her to admit whomever she wants. In The Lost, we see Dust and Quicksilver, who are both clevermen, in the zenana among the blades. And Michael (Lastlight) was high in his queen's confidence. But some hives don't value clevermen as much. The problem with that, of course, is that males can move from one hive to another, and a queen who treats clevermen badly will find it hard to keep competent engineers, healers, etc!

Q. Why are the clevermen beyond taking binding oaths? Does their independent thought preclude them from it?A. They aren't supposed to take part in combat, and so cannot be oathsworn to defend. Now, in real life there are clevermen who fight, as we saw with Michael! In The Lost we'll also see that Dust is armed, though he is emphatically not supposed to be! (And of course there are blades who do know something about the sciences, like Guide. Again, Guide and Sheppard. John's not a scientist, but he's no dummy either!)

Q. Cleverman Ember was singled out to be tested by Queen Death. Do Queens have a sense of an independent thought alarm, wary of Wraith who will not be so quick to fall in line with their rule, like Todd mentioned in The Queen?

A. Death could tell that Ember wasn't sold, and so she chose to make an example of him. So why is Guide not sold either? Teyla asks him this later on. He's very old and very much in control of his passions, and as he puts it, "the memory of Snow is a shield." He has had the things that most blades only dream of, and that memory is not easily supplanted by momentary allure.

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

So I've been seeing that OC asks thing that's been floating around by @yvesdot and decided to take a crack at it with Miriam, so fair warning, this will be a long post.

1: Doesn't really sleep with stuffed animals but absolutely would if given one. Miriam is incredibly fond of soft fluffy objects so I imagine she'd love to have one.

2: She should be able to take care of one, she's half dryad after all. Which is ironic considering she's half vampire. Has been known to be very fond of cats and pigeons, still very miffed that pigeons are considered dirty. Also could take care of a child, though she'd be a strict mother.

3: Miriam doesn't have a currently have a love interest aside from a joke ship, however she was with Carmilla (different from gonzo my version is more based on the book that predates Dracula) and she'd probably say "She's beautiful with the way her eyes can appear to be the colour of soil to the brightest of rubies. She is a soul like no other, sweeter than the sweetest strawberry and yet can be more vicious than the sharpest thorn. I gladly fight in her stead, wetting my blade with blood in her name."

4: Yes, yes she does. The only reason I don't put her in red more often is because otherwise she can look a bit too much like Alucard. Thankfully she's not as allergic to colour as he is lmao

5: If the situation demands it or she gets frustrated enough, the genes to be dramatic has been passed down. She will mostly give ones meant to kick men into gear due her history as a general, or she'll make a speech about the uselessness of fighting for nothing, a hollow thing in her eyes.

6: Person she always takes advice no matter what? Hmm, does it count if it was a dead man? Alive it would probably be Irons whom she trusts despite being older than him, dead the man who mentored her. As for person she never takes advice from no matter what would probably be Arthur or the pope, my gal hates the church with a passion.

7: In three words? Morally grey, wrathful, determined. For her, she'd describe herself as Godless, unnatural, and a bastard.

8: She likes puzzles, they're entertaining to her, loves the ones that you have to put together to make different shapes. A fan of mysteries as well.

9: empathizes with books, specifically the burned ones because it reminds her of herself and how humans try to get rid of her as well.

10: Probably when she was 212 because she'd have been with Carmilla at the time, who made her feel like a person and not an abomination of God.

11: Save, this woman only really uses money for bribes or when she needs to legally buy something like property.

12: Enjoys romance because she can dream for a little bit that she's normal and doesn't have to be careful with whom she interacts with

13: From her mother? How to make tea from Garlic flowers; from her father? To learn to be more okay with feeding and learn how to use her more vampiric abilities more effectively and efficiently.

14: Yes, this woman's guilty pleasure is garlic, she is also allergic to garlic. Fortunately it's the flowers she really has to worry about, and the garlic just gives her mild food poisoning.

15: Probably social functions that are just there to flaunt wealth and nothing more. Also thinks hunting for the sport of it is also a waste of time (and wasteful in general).

16: Honestly? She'd probably indulge a little in a fine dress, because she does like pretty dresses, but mostly would wear pants and more soft fabrics yet pretty fabrics with a lot of beading.

17: Yes, she is fond of them

18: tongue, all the way, might even playfully nip or get a fang "accidentally" caught on a lip.

19: Will study before tests, will wing it with interviews.

20: hurdy-gurdy, loves it to bits.

21: honestly? Betraying her, or otherwise being dishonest over a long period of time. Might just straight up eat her partner if they're abusive.

22: loves pet names, will default to ones from other Ukrainian or Romanian, usually the latter. Most used would be iubițel or iubi. Has been known to give nicknames to specific people, like Integra she might call Ursuleț or little bear.

23: Novelty, though she thinks she wishes for Stability, what she actually wants is to not have to worry about fighting or bloodshed for at least a century.

24: Honesty

25: Possibility, this woman might have grown tired of bloodshed, but she's not opposed to taking beneficial opportunities when she sees them.

26: A mix of both, admires talent, but admires effort more, for effort will turn into talent with enough time.

27: Vengeance all the way, this woman killed a man's entire family one by one before killing because he killed her lover, and before that was a killer of those who killed werewolves when she found them, sometimes going so far to kill members of the church. Definitely has a blood price sort of mentality.

28: She is the fixer upper, or she'd make them worse, no in between

29: Has a tendency to dream of the church or to dream of finding Carmilla's dead body or her mentor and his pack dead.

30: Probably raise Carmilla back from the dead just for a night, but knows better than to subject her beloved to that.

[jimmypesto]

35 for the Belcher sibs, if you’re still doing it? :D

things you said at the top of your lungs with the belcher kids!

Tina’s unable to stop a smile from appearing on her face, as she parks her car on Ocean Avenue. The smile might be undetectable to most people—her face is mostly straight—but it indicates a huge rush of feeling for her. 

She’s home. College is fun, and she’s been blossoming into herself more than ever, but it’ll never be home. It can’t offer her the same familiar warmth that her family does, even when they’re being loud or obnoxious. 

She hasn’t been home in three weeks. How did that happen? Between exam season and parties and boys and friends, she’d just gotten caught up in the chaos of college. Looking back, maybe that’s why she’s felt a little off for the last few days. 

This trip is a surprise. After bombing a test that morning, Tina had hardly been back in her dorm for five minutes before she was wadding up clothes and stuffing them in a backpack. She needs home right now. That unbeatable blanket of solace she finds only in the presence of her mom, dad, brother, and sister. Though the hour long drive from school probably shouldn’t have been made while her brain is a blur of anxiety, the heavy ache in Tina’s head is a small price to pay for the weekend ahead of her. 

She can’t wait to see her parents’ faces. Her mom will cry for sure, and her dad will probably struggle not to. This is one of the few scenarios, where even the meanest voices in Tina’s head don’t question how wanted she is. 

Swinging open the restaurant’s door, she tries to remember the hilarious joke she thought of on the way here. She was gonna say some witty thing when she came in, and her family would be wowed by her penchant for humor. Uh. She tries to remember the line. It was something like…can I have…a burger? Why was that supposed to be funny again? 

“Tina!” 

“Oh my God, Tina!” 

Gene and Louise’s voices ring out in the otherwise empty restaurant, high pitched assaults on her pounding head. It doesn’t matter. Her smile splits into a grin, as she feels her brother slam against her. 

“Tina, finally! Someone who hasn’t heard my rock opera yet!” 

He hugs her with enough force to break her spine, his arms pinning Tina’s own to her sides so she isn’t even able to hug back. Even though he smells like nacho cheese and sweat, she’s over the moon as her brother lifts her slightly off her feet. 

“Gene, don’t torture her! She just got here.”

Louise saunters casually behind him, as though she hadn’t also screamed out in joy when she saw her sister. Tina looks past the facade of indifference, untangling an arm so she can stick it in Louise’s direction. 

Rolling her eyes, the youngest leans in to join their embrace. Louise’s hand snakes around Tina’s waist, her face pierced by the sharp edges of her sister’s shoulder. 

“Where are mom and dad?” Tina asks. 

She expects her siblings to release her at this point, but they don’t. Louise’s nails even dig into her side, almost daring her to resolve the hug. 

“Downstairs grinding the meat.” Gene explains. “You know how that woman loves to grind!”

“How did they not hear us yelling?” Louise asks. “Are they that old now, or do they just not care about their kids getting slashed to death up here?” 

Tina shrugs. 

“We should probably go get them, right?” 

Gene and Louise make little sounds of assent, but no one lets go. Tina just hugs them a little tighter, the pain in her head already starting to clear. 

[riverstardis]

fatal error part two:

tried to take a bite of my toast right as lofty threw up🥴

it’s difficult because we as the audience know exactly what happened and can go back and check if we want but it’s totally understandable that lofty and dylan don’t remember exactly what happened in the moment

ethan looking up huntington’s :( cal also did that and like even though they both clearly already knew what it is and what the symptoms are i guess it’s completely different looking at it as a doctor vs possibly being the patient

cal’s not shown up for work because he’s with emilie. you gotta feel bad for ethan because every time cal skives off, the consultants act like he’s personally responsible for him😭

iain and lily are covering a pride event and he’s on the phone to dixie

i was gonna say i swear this is set in february which seems like a random time for a pride event but then i remembered february’s lgbt history month so nvm makes sense

diane’s mum going “standard procedure? you mean when somebody goes to work and ends up dying?” at this hospital? you’d be surprised😬

“let me spell it out for you: used to be a chick, now she wants a d—“ HELP😭😭

emilie’s here and ethan’s treating her

i’m confused as to how much everyone else knows because when she and cal come in louise calls ethan over but then zoe’s like no ethan i should take this before she gets pulled away elsewhere so zoe obviously knows who emilie is but louise doesn’t? but in the following few eps all the staff seem to know she’s their mum?

emilie has aspiration pneumonia :( that’s the most common cause of death for people with huntington’s

she keeps trying to talk to ethan but he just ignores her and explains the medical stuff only

“when you’d made up your mind about something, you used to hold your breath until you got your way. once, he did it for so long he passed out. scared the life out of me” aww i can imagine that as well sjdkd

he shouts at her to stop it😥 and then of course charlie gets mad at him🙄 charlie worstie don’t act so surprised you could’ve very easily predicted he would have this reaction to her you shouldn’t even be letting him treat her

this poor guy’s childhood best friend getting mad every time dylan and the others treating him call him robert instead of his deadname and they just ignore her and carry on sjsjdjfkf shut the fuck up girlie

louise went to get cal’s post and the gene test results letters there😬 also in the pile is a magazine called “hotties on holiday” which cal denies is his SKDKFKKF

ethan comes in and asks louise to leave so he can speak to cal alone and she’s like “okay but look after him because he cried like a baby when zoe relocated his arm. kind of turned me on. is that wrong?” and ethan’s like “… yes” HELP

ethan going “you have no idea what it’s been like for me these past few weeks” to cal is kinda funny because obviously cal does know because he went through exactly the same thing when he found out BUT cal isn’t acting like he knows is he? yeah he went through exactly what ethan’s now going through but now that he’s through it he’s acting like ethan doing exactly the same thing is unreasonable. god they both need so much therapy.

“ethan, you should’ve called me, we could’ve helped each other” you could’ve told him earlier and then you could’ve helped each other

cal’s managed to engineer his way into a situation where he’s the sensible one for once😭

why is this girl just reeling off transphobic one liners like this😭

“this is all because of mum isn’t it? you were never there and now you’re trying to make up for that” yeahh cal tries to deny it but his reaction says otherwise

charlie fairhead shut the fuck up for once challenge

“ethan, emilie’s your mum. the longer you go on denying that the harder you’re going to find this” he isn’t denying she’s his biological mum though is he?? he just still considers his adoptive mum his mum

like his mum is dead and charlie’s basically telling him to just replace her???

“y’know, our biological mother is dying and it’s cal i’m more worried about. can you believe that?”

i think charlie’s pep talks work a lot better with cal than they do ethan tbh. with cal he hits the nail on the head and usually manages to help him but he doesn’t seem to do a very good job figuring out what ethan’s really thinking and where he’s coming from

ethan tells cal he thought about what he said about emilie not wanting to die in hospital and he’ll ring round some hospices and he’ll tell connie that they’ll both need some time off and cal thanks him and ethan’s like “that what brothers are for” see it only took him 2 weeks to undisown him sskdkd

“pride. it’s like gay christmas” so true

lofty ends up in a lift with diane’s mum and she starts talking about her not knowing that he was with her :(

dylan and lofty🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

aww lily’s wearing a pride pin on her scrubs

this is the point where lily starts to associate with iain

aw charlie and connie are watching cal and ethan with emilie from outside resus and charlie’s like “those lads have come out of this really well, i hope your proud of them” and connie says “i am. but if you tell anyone, i’ll deny all knowledge of it” sjdkkkf

see what confuses me about that though is that connie clearly knows what’s going on so you’d think the thought that they could have inherited huntington’s would have at least crossed her mind but when ethan tells her in s32 it doesn’t seem that way? then again iirc it does cut from him initially telling her to them talking about how cal got him tested without him knowing so i suppose maybe she was shocked initially but then what wasn’t shown was her being like oh yes i remember that your birth mum had it

[redhoodedangel]

The Three Jokers (Jason Todd/Red Hood X Scarlet Witch!Reader) Part 1-Two Shades of Red

So, I accidentally uploaded the original unfinished draft of this story, so I just copied it onto a new post and made the original a preview. I also changed the title of this first part cause the one in the preview wasn't a permanent one.

So, once again, as a reminder, this story is based off the 'Three Jokers' three-part comic. Meaning most of the dialog will be from that story with a few altercations to include the Reader.

Now, for some backstory... Reader, at a young age, was experimented on by Scarecrow, who used her as a test subject. However, when she developed an immunity to his fear toxin, Crane used a different toxin/drug he created that, unbeknownst to him, unlocked a super gene she didn't know she had, giving her psionic powers and, later, leading to her unleashing her Chaos Magic. With her new powers, she escaped and was found by Batman, who then took her in. This is how she meets Jason and they become friends, later becoming lovers, even after his torture and death at the Joker's hand, his resurrection and him becoming the Red Hood.

Just as an added note, there are themes of violence, death, torture and themes of mental health and illness. Read at your own risk.

P.S.: Your costume is the same as Wanda's Scarlet Witch attire as the end of WandaVision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Criminal...

The Comedian...

The Clown...

The three words or names used to refer to Batman's greatest and deadly foe. The Joker was as difficult to read as he was unpredictable, ruthless and psychotic. And you were one to talk... You were practically the manipulator of Chaos. It was your sword and your shield. But chaos comes in many forms.

The Joker was the violent and sadistic form of it, the destruction and death it brought, which manifested as his and others' crimes... the violence of everyday life...

You were the more quiet form of chaos, the many probabilities of one event, the messy side of justice, the good luck gifted to well-meaning individuals, the side that supported and protected life...

However, you used your Chaos Magic and other abilities to bring order. Especially after your experience with a certain fear-drunk doctor. It was because of Crane that your powers were unlocked. But, they weren't as strong then as they were now. Otherwise, you probably would've been able to save your best friend, now resurrected boyfriend, Jason Todd, The Red Hood, from being tormented and killed by the Clown Prince of Crime himself. Back when you were both staying with Bruce... back when Jason was Robin...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were doing a fly around Gotham while listening to the news, via a radio installed in your Wiccan coronet. The black domino mask over your eyes concealed your identity as your normally (e/c) were now glowing a luminous crimson. You flew with intent as you listened to the reports, which flooded into your ears like the rain water invading the suburban streets currently.

The murder of the Moxons, a crime family who many believed were behind the murders of Bruce Wayne’s parents, despite Joe Chill saying during his trial that he was flying solo when he committed the crime…

The grizzly livestreamed murder of comedian, Kelani Apaka, at the hands of the Joker…

Another Joker sighting at ACE Chemical with bodies being left at the scene…

So much mayhem in a short period of time only raised more questions than answers. How did the lunatic manage to pull off three different stunts at three different locations, all in one night? Was he working with some impersonators or having his goons do his more unsavory work in order to keep the law off his scent? Or was there something more sinister and complex going on that no one, except the Joker, knew about?

Your thoughts of the current events were put on hold when you heard the sounds of gunfire and a struggle. Stopping mid-flight and hovering in the air, you caught sight of a cemetery, a familiar red metallic helmet and a group of Joker's thugs. Geez, Red must be itching to get at the Joker, especially considering the recent news reports. You then saw that the criminals were tackling and piling on top of the anti-hero, causing Red Hood's... well, hood... to fly off...

Okay, time to drop in...

You then halted your flight spell and used your magic to soften your landing, causing a slight tremble to shake the ground. A couple of thugs felt the tremor as they looked back at you and realized what was going on. They knew who you were to Red Hood... and you made sure that they never forgot why.

"Shit, it's the Witch!" One of them screamed, knowing damn well how royally screwed they all were.

You then used your powers to manipulate the water from the rain, gathering just enough and using it to grapple two of the men. You then threw the thugs in your grasp away from the fight, allowing Red Hood to gain the upper hand. The vigilante punched the other thugs on top of him and neutralized them. You then walked up next to him and offered him your hand. He took it and you help him up to his feet.

"You were pulling your punches..."

"I had it under control..." the voice of your boyfriend and fellow partner retorted back. You simply scoffed it off, replying with, "Sure, you did. I could tell by the way they jumped on you like ravenous dogs."

Jason ignored your comment and grabbed his helmet from the ground. By the look on his face, he was deep in thought. Your suspicion was confirmed when you saw flashes of the Joker beating him with a crowbar from years ago. Before he had died, you made a mental link between you and him, a failsafe if something were to happen to his comm. That connection was severed when he was killed, but was reconnected upon his resurrection. Though, Jason had mentally blocked his end unknowingly, leaving you in the dark as to what had happened to him.

You then decided to get more serious and more in the present, not wanting to bring back any painful memories, "I'm guessing you heard the news?"

"Yeah. You were on your way to one of the crime scenes, weren't you?" He asked, his tone softer than before.

"Yes, I was. Feel free to follow me... that is if you want to~..." You pressed a kiss to his cheek before walking away from him and resuming your flight. Over the comm in your coronet, you could hear...

"You're gonna be the death of me, (Y/N)..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had just arrived at ACE chemical, catching sight of the Gotham City Police, Batman and Batgirl. You landed right next to the two vigilantes, making your presence known.

"Sorry, I'm late. The rain is a bitch to fly in..."

"At least, you're here now. There's three bodies with no way of determining their former identities. Any DNA testing we could use will be corrupted." Batman, or Bruce Wayne, said in that deep tone of intimidation with a gravelly edge.

"I'm assuming all of them are dead? I can't pull a name out of a dead brain and body with no activity going on in it. Though, even if they were alive, the chemicals they were dipped in would put up a wall between my magic and their memories or scramble their minds into a nonsensical mess. Just like the head honcho who did this to them..."

Your powers could do many amazing and impossible things, but you were still learning more about them. Bypassing a mental block, created by a vicous toxin that could alter a person's very appearance and mental well-being was not yet one of them. Hell, you couldn't heal a broken or fractured bone yet.

"I'm afraid so, Scarlet..." Batgirl, or Barbara Gordon, replied simply.

"And I'm guessing the psycho behind this made off with a truckload of the chemicals before anyone arrived on scene?"

"Yes. I flew over to the empty tank when I got here." The redheaded bat responded once again. As you put together the puzzle pieces yourself, something still felt amiss. What did the Joker want the chemicals for? Was it just to make more Jokers to wreak havoc and cause destruction? Or was it something much deeper than that?

"Ummm...Scarlet Witch, ma'am, today might be your lucky day... one of them is still alive!" An officer, standing over the bodies, exclaimed as the Jokerized John Doe cried out to him for help before jumping up and bursting in manic laughter.

Using your magic to separate the officer and the victim, you then yelled back, "Someone get a gurney!"

Two paramedics came out of the ambulance, gurney rolling between them. They picked the man up and strapped him to it before wheeling him towards the truck. However, as the paramedics ran past you, your magic picked up on a familiar aura coming from one of them. One that you knew all too well…

‘That bastard…’

You, Batman and Batgirl then started to escort the ambulance back to the hospital, you flying overhead with your magic and the two bat vigilantes riding their respective vehicles. You kept a close eye to the truck to make sure nothing abnormal or askew happened. Something felt all too easy about this... and you weren't talking about the victim, whose mind was being poisoned by the toxin and could lash out at any moment...

Your suspicion was confirmed correct as the truck started swerving in and out of the left and right lanes...

"Batman..." you said into your comm, voicing concern.

"I'm already on it..." the vigilante replied, climbing on top of the ambulance and hooking his grapple gun.

You then flew up to the driver's window, slamming your fist on the glass and yelling, "Hit the brakes!"

The driver complied, immediately stepping on the brakes and bringing the truck to a screeching halt. Once the vehicle stopped, you flew to the back to see Batman and the Red Hood in a fighting hold with each other. You then used your magic to hold the two men in place, causing them to stop their fight and look towards you.

"Bats, let me talk to him..."

"Alright..." Batman then moved to help the driver with the victim while Red Hood got out of the ambulance. Jason then removed his helmet, revealing his face with a domino mask over his eyes to further protect his identity. As much as you loved him, you really wanted to slap him in the face for the stunt he just pulled.

"Hood, what in the name of Spontaneous Creation were you thinking?!" You fumed, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I was thinking I should find the Joker before he kills anyone else, (Y/N)." Jason said, while watching Batman give the John Doe an antidote to dull the toxin's effects.

"By interrogating one of his victims?" Batgirl joined in on the scolding.

"Victims? Intel from Joker's thugs told me that the men the Joker picked up and juiced at ACE Chemical were from a halfway house. That 'victim' in there? He has a rap sheet that includes domestic assault against his own kid. He's lucky I didn't throw him out of the ambulance." He replied, having a semblance of a clue as to who the John Doe really was.

One thing you knew and admired about Jason is his soft spot for kids, especially since they are often targets to criminals and violence. He grew up on the streets, where drug-trafficking and crime flew under the radar and ran rampant. He didn't want any kids to be involved in or influenced by those kinds of things. But, right now, that wasn't an excuse for tonight's high jinx.

"Well, I'm sure he regrets that now since Karma bitch-slapped him in the face by having a sadistic criminal clown force him to take a dip in some toxic chemicals." You retort back.

"Jason?" Batman came up to you three and started talking to Red Hood.

"If you're here to lecture me too..."

"You were on Joker's trail before he came to ACE Chemical." Batman stated, looking at his former apprentice.

"Been trying to get on it since he broke out of Arkham this week." Red Hood reluctantly responded. You were surprised that he didn't tell him about your little run-in with him at the graveyard. Then again, Jason barely tells Bruce anything, except when it's necessary.

"So have Barbara, (Y/N) and I. And the various sightings tonight have verified what we both already speculated since his escape. He's not working alone... so neither can we." Bruce explained, obviously asking for Jason's help.

"Well, if that's the case... Jason, did Joker's thugs tell you anything else?" You asked, turning back to your boyfriend.

"Yeah. They told me that the Joker was planning to store the chemicals somewhere at the Gotham Aquarium."

"Well, we should head there now..." Batman added before walking out to the Batmoblie.

You then looked at Jason before using your magic to switch him out of the paramedic outfit and back into his suit and jacket. He nodded to you in thanks before hopping in the passenger's seat. Before he closed the door, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his lap. You were about to protest, but Jason stopped you, "You've been flying out in the rain for a while now. I'm not about to let you get sick. Plus, you need to save up your strength."

You lightly blush and just relax into his lap, but remaining tense due to the mission at hand. The Red Hood wrapped his arms around you in order to protect you in case of an accident or danger. In that moment, you both know the same thing...

This night was going to be a wild one...

~~~~☆~~~~

[miracleonice87]

50. putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up with Mr. Hayes? I’m on my bullshit for him and wouldn’t say no to a scene with him and Kate for this if you’re feeling it! Or reader insert, whichever of course!🖤

per K’s perfect and genius request, this is a continuation of Kevin and Kate’s Cape Cod Confessions universe. congrats to Jimmy and Kristen on their newest addition, and big shoutout to them for once again giving me baby fever, especially of the writing sort. I couldn’t resist this one, y’all. I’m just embracing my brand at this point.

50. putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

“Oh my god, the Hayes genes are so real,” Kate nearly whined as she cradled her and Kevin’s brand new nephew in her arms for the first time. She trailed her fingertip along Mac’s chin and lips, in awe of the features that so closely resembled his dad’s and uncle’s, only in miniature.

“Tell me about it,” Kristen scoffed with a roll of her eyes, tucking herself into Jimmy’s side on their couch. “We’re lucky we married hot brothers, otherwise the fact that our kids are gonna look just like their dads would be obnoxious.”

Kate glanced up from Mac just long enough to smile at Kristen, Kevin smirking at his wife as he approached her. As he held Kate’s waist from behind, both of them staring down at the newborn, Kate braced herself for whatever baby-related comment Kevin was surely about to make.

“I say we fuck around and find out,” Kevin piped up, as if on cue, his chin resting on her shoulder. “Whaddya say, Katie girl? Who do you think our kids’ll look more like?”

Kate shook her head, trying to play it off.

“I dunno, Kev,” she muttered before changing the subject, though she was sure that that would be far from the last such remark Kevin would make during the visit.

If Kevin had things his way, Kate would have been pregnant by the time they returned from their honeymoon last summer — even before that if she would have allowed it. But she had been insistent upon waiting a few years, settling into life together as a married couple before bringing a baby into the mix.

But with each new niece or nephew that was added into their clan, Kevin’s desire to start his own little family burned brighter, while Kate’s resolve to hold off crumbled a bit more. Staring down at this new baby’s face was testing Kevin’s patience in the worst way, and Kate could physically feel it.

_____

The prodding continued all afternoon. Like...

“This is the sweetest baby on earth,” Kate would murmur, kissing Mac’s chubby cheeks.

“Until we have ours,” Kevin would add.

And…

“You’re great with him, Kate,” Jimmy smiled, admiring how at ease his sister-in-law was as she changed Mac’s diaper.

“‘Course she is,” Kevin piped up. “She was made to be a mom.”

And, with Mac asleep on Kate’s chest, and Beau’s head resting in her lap…

“You look so good with two babies on you,” Kevin mused. “Lemme give you one. Just one! Please?”

Eventually, the kids had both gone down for the night, and Kate and Kevin quietly said their goodbyes and left Jimmy and Kristen to (hopefully) get some rest.

Back at their own house, just a few streets over, the commentary kept coming. Kevin went on and on about how “aren’t those Hayes babies the best” and “we’re not getting any younger, Katie” and “I want my kids to be able to watch me play hockey” and “as soon as you’re ready, you just say the wor-”

It was at that final remark that Kate turned toward Kevin, stood on her bare tiptoes in the middle of their en suite, and covered his mouth with her hand.

“Shut up,” she warned, the smile stretching across her lips softening her tone. Kevin’s brows creased as he looked down at her in confusion. Kate stepped away then, biting her bottom lip as she turned to the side and pulled open the top drawer of her vanity. After a moment of shuffling its contents, Kate retrieved a thin, white piece of plastic.

Kevin’s jaw went slack, and he barely found the edge of the tub and took a seat before his knees gave out. Kate came closer, standing between his legs as she handed the object to him with teary eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Kev,” she stated, clarifying the meaning of the little pink plus sign on the stick in his hand. “I found out this morning when you went to pick up the food for Jimmy’s.”

Kevin chuckled, incredulous, and gathered Kate into his arms, burying his face in her neck. She felt his warm tears against her skin as she held onto him tightly.

“Why didn’t you say anything when we were there?! I kept going on and on about having a baby,” Kevin said, pulling back to wipe the wetness from his eyes.

Kate shook her head. “I didn’t wanna steal their thunder,” she insisted. “We’ll tell them soon. Just not right now.”

Kevin nodded, then cupped Kate’s cheek with his big hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked, searching her eyes intently. “You sure you want this?”

Kate nodded too, quickly and confidently.

“This is exactly what I want.”

[valdomarx]

Number Theory

On another version of Atlantis, John is a mathematician who is better with numbers than with people. But he's going to have to learn to get on with his team and their bossy leader, Rod, if he wants to survive here.

Stargate Atlantis, McShep, mensa!verse, 9k, rated E.

Also on AO3.

Dr. John Sheppard straightens his glasses, pulls his lab coat around himself, and makes one final, futile attempt to tame his hair.

He takes a last look around the SGC, bustling with scientists and marines and boxes of supplies, and wonders how everybody seems to know their place and what to do already.

Then he steps through a wormhole and into another galaxy.

-

Atlantis is stunning. Terrifying, and dangerous, and liable to kill them all, but stunning all the same.

-

He protests that there’s no need for a mathematician on an offworld team, but the head of science insists. John sourly suspects this Rod guy enjoys watching him wheeze and stumble every time they have to run for their damn lives.

But it turns out it’s useful for a field team to have someone around who can crack codes and work computers. And John hates field work less than he expected to, despite the unpredictability and the peril and all that awful running.

Sometimes, like when he breaks the encryption on a Wraith code in the nick of time and diverts an enemy ship away from its path toward Atlantis, he even feels a tiny bit like a hero.

-

Other than his team duties, though, Atlantis isn’t that much different from Caltech or MIT or the Air Force base at Wright-Patterson, or any of the other places he’s worked.

Everyone knows each other, except for him. Everyone bands together to look out for each other, and he stares in from the outside. Eating in the mess hall is like being catapulted back to high school.

So he makes himself at home in his lab. It’s quiet there, and there’s a plentiful supply of coffee, and there are only a couple of other mathematicians who occasionally pass through and largely leave him alone.

They’re next door to the noisy, boisterous science labs, where all the cool civilians hang out. But that’s fine. He gets used to ignoring them the same way he ignores the marines.

It’s just him and his numbers.

And sometimes, inexplicably, Rod or Teyla or Ronon, who will come by and sit at his desk and drink his coffee. He never understands what they’re hoping to achieve, but he doesn’t mind as long as they don’t touch anything.

-

Teyla appears in the doorway, staring at his whiteboard. It’s covered top to bottom with equations, and he’s had to stick up bits of paper around the walls to fit more on.

“Rod requested that I see how your work is going,” she says, voice giving nothing away.

He grits his teeth against the annoyance of the interruption. “It would be going faster if I could work unimpeded.”

She ignores the petulant note in his voice, squinting closer at the whiteboard. “What is this?”

“This is number theory. It’s the underlying basis for mathematics.”

Teyla raises an eyebrow. “And this is different from what Rod does?”

He sneers. “Very different. That’s just theoretical physics.”

“You do not respect Rod’s chosen field?” She seems genuinely curious.

“It’s fine, for, you know,” his lip curls, “an applied science.”

“I see. So this work can help us locate Wraith hive ships?”

He shifts his weight. “Well. I might need to, uhh, collaborate with Rod on that. I provide the conceptual models and he does the,” he waves dismissively, “practical calculations.”

“It seems that you two accomplish more when you work together.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t go that far. But he’s useful as an assistant, I suppose.”

-

When they learn there are three Wraith hive ships on their way to destroy the city, there isn’t much time for personal conflicts. They have a long-shot strategy: They’ve sent an emergency distress message in the vague hopes of rescue from Earth. But the Wraith ships are almost here and they need a plan now.

“Use the jumpers,” John suggests, because it’s obvious.

Rod snaps his fingers. “Yes! Put a nuclear warhead on board, fly the jumper right down the hives’ throats, and detonate.”

Elizabeth blanches. “That’s a suicide run.”

“No, no.” John thinks out loud. “Not if we can remote pilot the jumper.”

“Using the control chair!” Rod chimes in. “Sheppard, you’re a genius.”

John is so focused on the threat he forgets to preen over that.

It doesn’t take long for them to hook up the jumper to the chair and start running tests. Just as well, because death from above is coming imminently.

He knows something is wrong the moment Rod’s face falls while he’s poking at the cables running to the chair.

“McKay...” he says, voice low but insistent.

“I know! I know. Just give me a minute.” Rod disappears back into a bundle of cables. “I can fix this.”

Everything is suddenly, startlingly clear. The remote control won’t work, at least not in time. Someone will have to fly the jumper personally.

He and Rod both have the ATA gene, and both the same dubious piloting skills. But there’s not much skill required in flying directly into a hive, is there?

One of them has to do this.

“So long, Rod.” He turns and runs from the chair room to the jumper bay, not bothering to notify anyone of his plans.

“Sheppard! Sheppard!”

He hears Rod yell after him but he can’t think about that now. He has a job to do.

-

He gets beamed out by the Daedalus at the last moment. The battle is ugly, but the city and the expedition makes it out mostly intact.

Afterwards, Rod drags him into a conference room and yells at him for an hour about his reckless behavior.

John couldn’t give a shit. He has no regrets about his actions.

He gives an insouciant shrug. “Why the earful? It worked, didn’t it?”

“Because I am your team leader, and you didn’t even ask me for permission before nominating yourself for a suicide run!”

“That’s what this is about? Your precious chain of command? Grow up.”

Rod rounds on him and gets up on the balls of his feet. “There are people here who care about you, you dick!”

John blinks at the non sequitur. The idea that anyone would care more about him than about the city and everyone else in it is laughable. “Then they’re idiots,” he snaps and walks out.

Rod can write him up for that in one of the reports he so enjoys filing.

-

It would be nice if he could say that he learns and grows. That he makes friends. That he gets accepted by his peers and makes a home in the Pegasus galaxy.

But that’s not how this story goes. Not yet, anyway.

-

He does manage to make himself useful. He invents a new cryptographic algorithm to keep their computers and communications secure from Wraith interference. Elizabeth even gives him a grateful nod when he presents it to her, and says thank you.

He makes some progress on a quantum chaos approach to the Riemann hypothesis, not that anyone here understands that or how profoundly ingenious his work is.

And it turns out that many of the Ancient systems here are based on binary, just like computers on Earth, so he’s able to help Rod parse some of the more complex code. The two of them spend hours poking through the Ancient operating system, Rod fluttering around and theorizing aloud while John sits quietly in the corner, chewing on a pen and thinking.

It’s more fun than he would have expected.

-

And then, inevitably, he fucks up to a new and truly epic degree. He and Rod find the Ancient’s Project Arcturus, their great hope for extracting vacuum energy from subspace, and he convinces himself he can get it to work.

He’s self-aware enough to know he’s making poor choices, but not mentally strong enough to do otherwise. Because yes, of course virtually unlimited power is tempting, and of course discovering the last great experiment of the Ancients is thrilling. But he's a cautious person. He's not one to take unnecessary risks.

And yet the moment Rod turns to him with that look of delight, saying he's impressed, clapping him on the shoulder like he's done something wonderful, John is just gone. He ignores safety limits and all common sense, and he pushes and pushes and pushes for them to power up the generator, as if his wishes for it to work could make it so.

He wipes out most of a solar system with his hubris, not to mention nearly killing them both, and he's furious down to his bones because he can't figure out why he would have done something so stupid.

-

Bad enough to fail so spectacularly at your work that you devastate an entire star system, worse to have burned whatever credibility you may have built with your team, but worst of all to have to walk every day among people who know all about your inadequacy.

He's in the queue for the mess and a couple of the marines behind him are sniggering, one of them making a not-very-quiet crack about Sheppard’s ego being a weapon of mass destruction. John is staring straight ahead and pretending to ignore them, but the blood is pumping furiously in his ears and he's gripping his tray so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

“You got something to say?” Suddenly Ronon is there, all six-foot-three-million-pounds of him, glaring down at the sniggering marine like he might crush his skull with his bare hands. “If you’ve got something to say to Sheppard, you can say it to me as well.”

The marine backs away, hands held high and spluttering apologies.

Ronon throws an arm around John’s shoulder and walks him to a table so they can sit and eat.

John stares down at his food and wills the panic to subside. “Thanks,” he mutters once his breathing has settled.

“No worries, bud,” Ronon says and steals a piece of carrot off John’s plate. “So, how’s that bomb design you were working on coming along? You know I love a big boom.”

John tells him how his models have predicted the highly energetic variety of naquadah they’ve discovered could be harnessed into more efficient field explosives, and Ronon nods along as if this is all fascinating.

In that moment, John knows he would die for this man without hesitation.

-

Perhaps the worst part about the Arcturus incident is how unbearably nice Rod is about the whole thing. He tells John that it was both of their decision, that he doesn't blame him, that sometimes these things happen when dealing with advanced technology.

But John can see the disappointment in his eyes and hear the judgement in his voice. He gets a sick, twisting feeling in his stomach when he thinks about it, and that must be Rod's fault.

Rod picks a bad time to come visit the lab.

"Sheppard," Rod leans against the door frame. "I need your report on the Arcturus mission."

The sick feeling in his gut deepens. He hasn't written the report yet. "Bet you’re enjoying making me catalogue my failures."

"What? No. I just need you to submit a report so I can turn it over to Elizabeth."

"I see. You're looking for someone to blame, right? Going to write about how I pushed you and it's all my fault?"

"Of course not," Rod steps closer and there isn't enough air in the room. "I wouldn't do that. What's going on with you?"

He can't bear the look of concern on Rod's face, which he surely doesn't deserve and will surely evaporate soon enough. "Maybe I've had enough of you reminding me of my screw ups via the excuse of paperwork."

Rod's voice sharpens. "Don't blame me because you're feeling guilty. I can't deal with that for you."

The reminder of his lacking emotional skills stings and he lashes out. "Don't try to therapize me. You're hardly in the position to be doling out life advice." It's a mean, petty thing to say, but he's feeling vindictive.

Rod's eyes narrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

John's pulse is notching up and his face is getting hot, the last of his short temper fraying away.

“You’re a people pleaser, Rod!” He realizes he’s yelling. He doesn’t care. “Everything you do is to make other people like you.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Rod puffs up. “I try to be a decent human being. I try to think about others and support them. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it’s fake! It’s all bullshit. Do you even have a personality of your own, or do you just reflect whatever the last person who smiled at you wants?”

Finally, the cracks in the facade of nice begin to show. “Making an effort to treat those around you with consideration isn’t demeaning!” He gets up in John’s face, waving a finger at him. “Not that you’d know, because you never consider anyone other than yourself.”

“At least I’m honest,” he spits, and it’s venomous. “At least I know who I am. Do you? Do you have any idea who you’d be if you weren’t so absorbed in distracting everyone from your flaws?”

He sees the barb hit its mark. Rod stumbles back like he’s been physically shoved, his face crumpling.

“God, you’re an asshole.” It’s not even angry. It’s small, and quiet, and John is suddenly acutely aware of how much taller he is than Rod, how much he towers over him.

Rod turns on his heel and walks away, and John knows that means he’s won. But he doesn’t feel the usual curl of smug satisfaction he gets when he puts someone in their place.

Instead, he just feels empty.

-

Whatever. It’s not his problem that Rod is having some kind of breakdown. Why should he care that Rod is skulking around the base looking small and miserable? He only said what they both know to be true.

If Rod wants to be a dick about it, that’s on him. If he’s going to remove John from the team, that’s fine. There’s nothing that John can do about it anyway.

He gets back to work, running simulations of ZPM power levels and how long they can expect to sustain the city under different circumstances, given that they won’t be enjoying unlimited power any time soon. He likes modelling, and he knows this work is important.

But for some reason he can’t focus. His gut keeps churning and his temples ache and he’s haunted by the word worthless, worthless, worthless.

-

When his lab door chimes at well past midnight, he’s ready to tell whoever it is to fuck right off. In fact, the excuse to yell at someone sounds great right now.

But when he opens the door to find Rod standing there, twisting his hands anxiously, he’s too shocked to even be snitty. He’d assumed that Rod and he were done, that it was only a matter of time before he was kicked off the team.

But here Rod is, mouth downturned and saying, “You were right, okay?”

John notes the sad wobble of Rod’s chin and bites back the urge to say something dismissive. “About what?”

“About me. I do try to please everyone. I do want everyone to like me.”

It sounds pathetic, said out loud like that, John thinks but doesn’t say.

Rod is still going. “But it’s not what you think. It’s not some ego trip. When I was younger, I used to be -” He lets out a huff of air. “- very different. I said whatever I wanted to whoever I wanted, and I didn’t care if everyone hated me for it.”

John tries to imagine an angry, mean Rod. His brain can’t picture it.

“I pushed people away because I was afraid they’d reject me. I was always alone and I got very good at telling myself I liked it that way.”

An uncomfortable feeling of familiarity crawls up the back of John’s spine, and he ruthlessly quashes it.

“That changed when I went to the SGC. The people there… They believed in me. They wanted my help, and they wanted to help me. I learned that if I was going to work there, to do important work, then I was going to need connections. And to make connections, I had to think about others, and try to be what they needed. It wasn’t only about me any more.”

Something in the preachy tone of Rod’s voice sets John on the defensive, and his shoulders begin to rise, counterarguments springing to his lips.

“Wait, stop -” Rod lays a hand on his shoulder, and all the aggression leeches out of him. “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m just trying to explain.”

The earnest look Rod is giving him makes his skin itch.

“I care about everyone here. Including you, John. Perhaps I try too hard sometimes, but that’s only because you all matter to me. I don’t want to let you down.”

Rod is talking in plurals, but John gets the impression he’s speaking to him personally. It’s too weighty, to be handed that kind of sincerity without warning.

“I do...” He coughs and looks at his feet, “I do care about the people here as well. I might not be demonstrative about it but I’m not…” he searches for the right word, “... indifferent.”

He doesn’t say the other words he’s thinking, which are cold, callous, heartless, the things people always call him.

Rod’s hand is still on his shoulder, heavy and warm, and he squeezes gently. “I know you do. I just wish that sometimes you’d let other people see that too.”

-

John tries. He really does. Ronon tells him that he needs to get out of the lab more, so he resolves to make time to socialize. He doesn’t really know how to do that, but Teyla quietly slides him a copy of the city’s social activity schedule and suggests he goes through the list.

Painting with Major Lorne - no.

Choir with the medical staff - sounds awful.

Extra combat training - absolutely not.

Mensa club - now there’s a possibility.

“Join us for FUN and FRIENDS,” the tiny advert reads. “All welcome (as long as your IQ is over 150).”

That he can do. He joins the club.

It's him and Kusanagi from R&D and Parrish from botany, plus a couple of the gate techs and one of the nurses from medical. Every Thursday night, they get together to solve puzzles and play chess. It's dorky and awkward but it's kind of nice, actually, and the people there don't seem to dislike him.

He thinks maybe he's getting better at this whole people thing.

-

And then Rod leaves, and everything goes to shit.

It starts off with a crisis, like there always is around here, exotic particles exploding out of a containment chamber which isn’t containing anything. There’s chaos, but there’s also data, so it doesn’t take long before he and Rod are turning to each other as the explanation clicks for both of them at the same time: An experiment to generate vacuum energy being conducted in a parallel universe.

“We can’t do anything from this side,” John reasons. “The bridge is one-way.”

“The inhabitants of the other universe might not even know what the effects here are. We need to go there directly and get them to shut it down,” Rod says, firm and sure. “It’s the only way.”

“But how could we-”

Rod snaps his fingers. “The Ancient shield. That’ll protect whoever travels there.”

“Right. Let me run some calculations.”

His head is buried in his computer when Rod comes running back in with the shield in his hand.

“Fire it up whenever you’re ready,” Rod orders. “I’ve got the shield to protect me.”

John’s head whips up. “You? You’re going?”

“Of course me! Come on, the chance to visit an alternate reality? Who could resist that?”

Icy cold water settles at the pit of John’s stomach. “That’s a one-way trip.”

Rod shrugs, like that’s nothing. “If that’s the cost to save our universe, it’ll be worth it.”

Something like rage explodes inside John’s head. “Absolutely not! I should be the one to go.” He searches desperately for a reason. “You’re needed here.”

Rod gives him a small, sad smile and says, “So are you.”

“That’s bullshit, McKay, and you know it. I’m not letting you do this.”

“Tell you what, let’s flip a coin for it.”

And that’s about as reasonable as he can hope for, so he turns his back to dig a coin out of his lab coat pocket.

That turns out to be a mistake.

“Be safe, John,” Rod says, then he activates the shield and steps into the containment chamber.

That bastard.

-

He spends three days thinking that Rod is gone for good.

He can’t… He can’t think, and he can’t sleep, and he’s angry all the time. When Zelenka asks for his help running calculations on the spacetime tear above the city John bellows at him, calls him incompetent, and says they might as well just accept that the city is going to be torn apart. Then he stays up all night doing the calculations anyway, because it’s better than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for another interminable evening.

He doesn’t bother eating, or showering, because what’s the point if they’re all going to die within a week? There’s a restless, raging scratching under his skin and it’s not like he hasn’t faced the possibility of death before, but this feels bleak and empty and insurmountable in a way he simply can’t deal with.

And then the rift mends itself, and Rod returns on a beam of light, and everyone acts as if they’re back to normal now and that brush with annihilation was just one of those quirky things that happen in the Pegasus galaxy.

But it eats at John, that feeling of powerlessness, that rippling anger of a problem he couldn’t solve.

Rod slides back into life in the city like it was nothing but another mission, and everyone rushes to say how brave he was, what a hero, how selfless he is, and John’s blood boils.

Rod swings by John’s lab with his usual breezy demeanor.

“Hey Sheppard! Wanna grab some dinner?”

The incongruity of Rod in his doorway, smiling casually like this is just another Tuesday, sends something hot and sharp spiking through his brain. “No,” John snarls. “Busy.”

“Okay. How about tomorrow?”

“Busy then too.”

Rod gives a self-deprecating little smile, and John wants to wipe it off his face. “Too busy to make an hour for your team?”

“A team?” he spits. “Is that what we are?”

Rod pales, finally taking in how furious John is. “Of course we are. I thought, since I’m back now, we could -”

“Oh, so you stride back in and decide to grace us with your presence, and we’re supposed to be thankful for that?”

“John, what -”

“You left!” he explodes. He’s shocked by his own vehemence. “You left us all. You weren’t planning to come back and you just left.”

Rod takes half a step forward, his face doing something complicated. “John, listen. I never wanted to-”

“Go fuck yourself!” He shoves at Rod’s shoulders, hard enough to keep him at a distance. He needs space; he needs quiet; this is all too much. “We don’t want you here anyway. You should have stayed in that other dimension. I’m sure it was great there.”

“That’s not-”

“Shut up, McKay.” He tunes his voice to the iciest, most dismissive tone he has. “You should have stayed gone.”

He enjoys a mean spark of satisfaction at the way Rod’s face falls, then he storms out of the lab.

Fuck that guy anyway.

-

Everyone on the base keeps looking at John like he’s volatile, as if he’s about to blow at any minute. Even his team starts handling him with kid gloves, like he’s fragile, and he hates it so much he could scream.

He meticulously constructs the bubble of hostility which has long been his go-to when he needs people to leave him alone. He snaps and snarls, and perfects a glare so hostile that no one dares approach him.

It’s restrictive inside that bubble, but at least it’s stable. At least he gets to decide the reason why people are going to hate him.

-

A few days later, Teyla strides into his lab wearing her patented “take no shit” expression.

“John,” she says, and the false cheery brightness of her tone has him scared already. “You will join me for tea.”

This is not, he recognizes, a request. He begins to mumble excuses but she cuts him off without hesitation. “You will come to my quarters, and we will drink a mug of tea together.” She crosses her arms. “Now.”

There are battles you can win, and ones you cannot. This is most certainly the latter, so he meekly follows her as she sweeps out of the lab and back to her quarters.

Once inside, Teyla forces him into a chair with an excessively firm hand.

“Sit,” she orders.

It’s easier to do as she says.

She carefully prepares the tea and warms the earthenware mugs, strong hands making practiced, confident movements. John watches the motions as she pours the tea and slides a mug over to him.

“Drink,” she orders, and again it’s easier to obey.

The tea is soapy and bland, but he fears her retribution enough not to mention that. He sips as they sit in silence. She regards him heavily over her mug.

Eventually she reaches some kind of conclusion.

“You are a valued member of our team, John.” Her face is impassive but her words are warm. “We would not see harm come to you.”

“That’s. Uhh. Good.”

“But your behavior of late has been,” she narrows her eyes, “ill-advised.”

John opens his mouth to defend himself, because it’s not as if Teyla could understand what’s been going on. But she holds up a hand which stops him short.

“I do not care to listen to your justifications. But you should know that if you continue on the path you have been on, it will be to the detriment of us all.”

John feels like he’s been pulled into the principal’s office to be scolded like a schoolboy. He didn’t care for that shit when he was ten, and he certainly doesn’t care for it now.

“If that was all,” he pushes the mug away and gets to his feet, “I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait.” Teyla’s hand shoots out with a warrior’s accuracy and closes around his wrist. “I am concerned for the team, yes. But I am also concerned for you. I would like to think that we are…” she tilts her head, “friends. And I should like for you to be happy.”

John is embarrassed to find a lump forming in his throat. He’s never truly had a friend before, and that someone of Teyla’s stature and courage would consider him as such has him flabbergasted. He suddenly wants, very badly, for her to think well of him.

“I’ll try harder,” he says. “I’ll try to be better.”

She releases his wrist and gives him a generous smile.

“That is all any of us can do.”

-

He starts small.

He saves up a few of the precious Earth-imported cookies they get for dessert in the mess sometimes and brings them to the next Mensa club night. Kusanagi beams and says that was very thoughtful of him, and Parrish splits a chocolate chip cookie with him while they speed-solve sudokus.

The next day he types up a report about the team’s most recent mission with as much detail as he can remember, and he makes special note of how brave Rod and Teyla and Ronon were.

He saves it to a flash drive and takes it to Elizabeth himself.

“What’s this?” she asks as he hands it over.

“Mission report,” John says, eyes fixed on a tapestry hanging behind her desk.

“Submitting a report without having to be asked five times first? Who are you and what have you done with Dr. Sheppard?”

Anger flashes for a moment, because he’s trying here and she doesn’t need to remind him of his past failings. But he looks down and sees she’s smiling. It’s a joke. She’s joking around with him.

Huh. Okay. That’s unfamiliar, but he doesn’t hate it.

“Maybe I’ve slipped in from an alternate dimension,” he says, and even though that’s not very funny Elizabeth laughs anyway, and that makes something glow inside him.

-

He grudgingly admits to himself that there does seem to be a pattern developing: when he makes an effort to connect with people here and, god help him, be nice to them, then they are happy and so is he. When he yells and pushes people away, they are sad and he is angry.

It’s sort of obvious, really, and he would be embarrassed that it’s taken him so long to figure that out, but humans are bizarre and complicated and not at all like numbers.

He has a hypothesis and now he needs to test it. He should try being more considerate to those closest to him and see if that improves everyone’s moods. If only he could figure out how to do that without the entire experience being mortifying.

He’ll work on Ronon first, he determines. Ronon has always looked out for him and they have a sort of unspoken bond. Finding something nice to do for him should be simple enough.

He decides on a data-driven approach. He takes to following Ronon around, looking for inspiration, trotting after him with a small notebook in hand to record his observations. Ronon finds the whole thing hilarious.

Ronon spends approximately 40% of his free time in the gym, which certainly is a lot, and a further 30% in the mess. Another 10% of the time he goes running around the city, and the remainder of his time is spent visiting with Teyla, stopping by the science labs to tease Rod, or visiting John.

“You like people,” John observes one day, when Ronon is warming up for a combat session with some of the marines. He’s added up the figures and plotted the data into neat hand-drawn scatter plots and histograms. “You spend almost all of your time around other people.”

Ronon’s lips tighten for a second, and then he relaxes. “Yeah, I do. For a long time it wasn’t safe for me to be around anyone, and I hated it.” He looks around the bustling gym and nods. “Now I don’t have to be alone any more. I’ll never fail to appreciate that.”

John squints and scribbles that down in his notebook too. “You like spending time with people even if they’re -” He glances over at the marines, loud and bossy and distastefully laddish, “- strange? Or mean?”

Ronon grins at him. “Even then, yeah.”

“But you go running on your own. Is that what you prefer?”

Ronon stiffens slightly. “No. It reminds me of running from the Wraith. But it’s important to stay fit, and no one here likes running with me.”

Ahah! The perfect opportunity. John bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’ll go with you.”

“What, seriously?”

“Sure. It sounds fun.”

-

It is not fun. Running is brutal, and he is terrible at it, but Ronon smiles the whole time and he keeps telling John what a great job he’s doing.

By the time they’ve completed one lap of the route, sweat is pouring off John and his lungs are fit to burst.

“Go get some rest,” Ronon says, slapping him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. “I’m going to do another couple of laps.”

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks between heaving breaths.

“You really want to do this again?”

“You run every day, right? So I will too.”

Ronon stops for a moment, then hauls John into a giant bear hug, apparently not caring that he’s sweaty and gross, and says, “Thanks, man.”

John is a little awed by how easily he expresses his approval, and how much it means to be on the receiving end of it.

-

He’s noticed on trade missions that the Athosians greatly value textiles, which they weave from plant fibers and dye bright colors. On his next trip to the mainland he slips away to ask the village elder Charin about the rugs which are spread throughout her tent.

She seems surprised by his interest but happy to show off her collection. She tells him how Athosians give rugs as gifts to celebrate relationships and achievements, and then she shows him how they're made.

He trades a whole month's worth of credits for supplies, and when he returns to Atlantis he spends hours each evening delicately weaving yarn through a wooden frame, building up a soft, textured rug. When it's done it's a little lumpy, but it has four clear bands of bright color running through it to represent their team.

He carries the rug to Teyla's quarters and fidgets outside her door.

"John." Teyla squints at him as she opens the door. "You appear nervous."

"I made this for you," he says and thrusts the rug at her. "Charin told me you're supposed to make them for family. This one has stripes for the four of us on the team. Sorry if it's not very good."

Tesla takes the rug and presses a hand to her chest as she examines it. A slow, warm smile spreads across her face.

"It is beautiful. You have my thanks, John. This means more to me than you know."

He has an uncomfortable flutter of emotion and he can't quite meet her eye. He focuses on the wall behind her instead.

"You are as family to me as well," she says, and steps forward to press their foreheads together in the Athosian way.

The frank sentimentality of her manner makes him squirm, but he sort of likes it.

-

Rod is trickier. He is not a person who cares much for stuff, and he always waves off supply runs from Earth, saying he has everything he needs.

But he has been complaining lately that the unstable nature of Lantea's sun has been interfering with some of his measurements. John has an idea that can help with that, even if it does involve working with grubby experimental data.

Once he's ready he invites Rod to join him in the control chair room.

"I did some modeling," he says quickly when Rod arrives. He doesn't bother with a greeting. "To predict solar influence on the Lantea system and help with your experimental readings."

Rod's eyes light up. "You modeled a star for me?"

"I thought it might be," he shrugs one shoulder, trying not to look too anxious about whether Rod will find it weird, "useful."

He plugs a flash drive into a socket on the chair platform and guides Rod into the chair.

"How does it work?" Rod is bouncing with excitement, the same look of delight on his face as when he finds a new piece of technology.

John indulges in a small, proud smile, and says, "Think about where we are in the solar system."

Rod leans back in the chair and its power hums on. Overhead, the holographic display bursts into life showing Lantea and its star, along with all the other planets and comets and asteroids filling the system, with notations on their size and mass and trajectory.

Rod whips the model around, running it backward and forward through time, watching the orbits of the planets dance.

Then Rod zooms in to see the sun up close and gasps. John has linked the model to the city's long range sensors so the display can simulate the star's fluctuations in real time, and as they watch its surface bubbles and releases a tendril of plasma which reaches out into space.

The display follows the plasma as it propagates out through the system, moving first through the asteroid field and then meeting the planet, interacting with the magnetosphere and lighting up the planet's atmosphere with an aurora of dancing colors.

The soft lights of the display are reflected in Rod's eyes, wide and joyful and curious, and the sight makes something like pain but not twist in John's chest.

"This is incredible." Rod pokes further through the interface, looking at zipping comets and distant moons. He sits up and the chair's power fades off. "Thank you."

Heat creeps across John's cheeks, and he busies himself unplugging the drive. "I wanted to do something… nice."

Rod stands and walks over to him, taking the drive from his fingers. But he doesn't let go, keeping hold of his hand. "This is very nice," he says, startlingly close.

And then something very strange happens, and Rod is leaning in and kissing him. John is distracted from the soft press of his lips by absolute bafflement at this turn of events and he freezes up.

Rod steps away and John stares at him, desperately trying to figure out how to respond. "You kissed me," he ends up on, which does have the merit of being true.

Rod rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry. I thought that's what you were going for. Was it not?"

John's brow wrinkles. His thoughts are whipping past at a million miles an hour.

That hadn't been his intention - he'd assumed that Rod was straight, not that he'd given it much thought - not that someone like Rod would be interested in him even if he wasn't - but there's something compelling about the concept, something intangible sitting on the edges of his perception. He can't quite see the shape of it.

"I need more data," he decides. "Kiss me again."

Rod breaks into a charmed smile. "I can do that."

This time when Rod leans in he's ready for it. Their mouths meet carefully, tentatively, and he angles his head so they line up better.

Oh. Interesting. The data is looking positive.

"Hmm." John draws back to breathe and consider. "Yes. That's good. Let's do that some more."

“An excellent plan," Rod says, putting his arms around John's waist to pull him closer and kiss him deeper.

Rod tastes incredible. Or maybe he just tastes of stale coffee and power bars, but John’s senses are so heightened that every sensation feels earth shattering, and he's starving for more. His hands scrabble at Rod’s collar, at his arms, at the hem of his shirt, trying to touch everything in a mad dash. He’s determined to get as much of whatever this is as he can before it comes to a crashing halt.

“Hey. Hey,” Rod’s hands are on top of his own, and he’s pulling away like John knew he would. John folds into himself, ready to turn his back as he listens to this is a mistake or we both know this isn’t going to work out or I’d never feel that way about you.

“If we’re going to do this…” Rod is giving him one of those lopsided smiles, soft and genuine. “I’d like to do it properly.”

John, still braced for rejection, has no idea what that means.

“Let me take you to bed,” Rod says, wobbly and uncertain and hopeful, of all things.

“Oh.” He could do that. They could do that. An ocean of unexpected possibilities opens up, glittering and unfamiliar and enticing. “Okay.”

Rod takes his hand and leads him back to his quarters. John’s palm is sweaty but his steps feel light as air.

-

Kissing Rod is excellent. Doing so while lying on Rod's bed is even better, and at some point they both lose their shirts and then there’s even more skin to explore and the comforting scent of Rod all around him.

It's what's next that's stressing him out, because while he's aware of the theoretical steps involved in sex, he doesn't exactly have practical experience to draw on.

There's the ever-present worry that he's missing something, that there's something he ought to know, like there's a handbook for this which everyone got a copy of except for him.

"You good?" Rod is looking at him with those very, very blue eyes. "You went away there for a minute."

His cheeks are blazing, but it seems important to set expectations. "I've never done this before," he admits.

"You mean with a man?"

He squirms. "With anyone."

He waits for Rod to laugh at him, but he merely looks contemplative. "Were you not interested, or…?"

"It never seemed that important, you know? Just another of those things that everyone else did except for me, like going to parties, or having friends, or spending Christmas with family."

Rod's face softens with sympathy.

"And even if I wanted to sometimes, it didn't matter, because who would want this?" He indicates himself with a disparaging hand. He knows what he looks like: too thin, too lanky, messy hair that will never keep a style. He's no one's ideal. "I'm not even sure why you’d be interested."

"God." Rod reaches for him and takes his face in his hands. "You really have no idea, do you?" Rod carefully removes his glasses, sets them aside, and says, "You're gorgeous," like he really means it.

Taking off his glasses makes John feel more vulnerable than taking off his clothes. Suddenly his shield is gone and there's the world, and Rod, and it's all very close and immediate and a little disorienting.

"Hey." Rod pets his face, soft and gentle, "It's okay. We can go slow."

He makes an effort to pull himself together. "I won't be very good at this."

"You don't have to be good." Rod traces his lips with a finger. "You just have to be you."

And that’s mystifying, frankly. But he’ll give it a go for Rod.

They kiss some more, and he relaxes into it, lets Rod take the lead, lets him explore his mouth until he’s boneless and breathless. He breaks for air and is lightheaded, the room almost spinning, but he wants more.

Then Rod is kissing along his jawline, and down his neck, and oh, when Rod’s lips brush against a spot near his throat his entire body tenses and twitches, and Rod makes a curious, happy noise and does it again. It’s a hair away from overwhelming but he likes it, he likes it a lot, and then Rod gently runs his teeth over that spot and John’s hips twitch off the bed entirely of their own volition.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, but Rod doesn’t look put off. In fact, he just grins, says, “Don’t be, I like it,” then pushes John back onto the bed and mouths at that spot some more.

His skin is hot all over and he’s shaking, and god, this is all going to be over embarrassingly fast and they haven’t even gotten all of their clothes off yet.

“Rod,” he says, and it comes out as a whine. “Will you -” He gestures vaguely at the bulge in the front of his jeans and hides his face in the pillow, too bashful to let Rod see him.

Rod pauses from his engrossment in John’s neck to breathe hot words into his ear instead. “Is that what you want?” he asks, and John is fit to burst already. How is Rod so good at this?

“Please,” he says, mumbling into the pillow. Everything is too much and not enough, and he wants, he wants, he wants. “Please, Rod, please -”

“Okay, of course I will, it’s okay.” Rod strokes his flank, petting him like a skittish horse, and that should be mortifying but it’s exactly what he needs. “I’d like to see you though,” he says, and reaches over to touch John’s chin.

John lets himself be turned, lets Rod roll him over so they’re facing each other and their eyes meet. That’s almost overwhelming too, but Rod looks so pleased he thinks he might be able to manage it, and then Rod is kissing him and unzipping his pants and oh, oh, oh.

Rod wraps a hand around his cock and John just melts, like every brain cell he possesses has decided to pack up for the night. He can't even bring himself to blush because Rod is touching him right there and it’s so good, it’s so good, and all he wants is more.

Rod handles him confidently, exploring what he likes: a bit faster, a bit slower, a bit more pressure, a bit less. If John could speak he’d tell him that it doesn’t matter, right now he likes everything, anything, whatever Rod wants to do to him he’d take it happily.

But Rod is a scientist, and he loves his data just as much as John does, so he does some experimentation and finds the ideal speed John likes, and the angle, and then he squeezes gently around the head and John’s orgasm explodes behind his eyes like bright, white light.

He floats for a while, like a spring that’s been twisted and twisted and finally bursts free, and he’s vaguely aware of Rod stroking his face. It’s nice, every muscle in his body slack and comfortable for once instead of clenched down tight.

“You good?” Rod asks, and John can’t help but smile.

“Very,” he mumbles, mouth lax and lazy.

Rod drops a kiss on his temple, and there’s something so casual and caring about that it makes John’s heart squeeze.

“You mind if I get myself off?” Rod asks and heat races up the back of John’s neck. He does not mind that one bit.

“Should I. Um.” He ought to offer, right? That was the polite thing. But, “I don’t really know what to do,” he admits.

Rod smiles softly at him and says, “How about you kiss me?”

And yes, John is definitely on board with that, he can do that. He puts an arm around Rod’s shoulders and pulls him closer, then kisses him: carefully at first, peppering soft pecks to his lips, and then deeper, lips sliding over each other as they grow more heated, and then finally wild and messy, slipping his tongue into Rod’s mouth while Rod pushes his pants down and works himself over.

He feels Rod’s fist bumping up against his thigh, faster and faster as he speeds up his hand, and John can’t help but glance down. He watches in fascination at the way the head of Rod’s cock peeks through his hand on each stroke, red and hard and leaking from the tip. Reflexively, he licks his lips.

Rod is making these soft groaning noises which have John entranced, like he wants to spend every spare minute he has learning how to coax them out of him. And then Rod is biting his lip, and twitching, and staring at him open-mouthed and breathing hard.

“Can I come on you?” he asks, and something in John’s brain short-circuits.

“Yes,” his mouth says for him. “Rod, god, yes.”

He can’t stop staring at the movement of Rod’s hand and, emboldened by a force he didn’t know he had in him, he reaches down to wrap his hand around Rod’s. He lets Rod guide their movements, adding a soft pressure from his fingers so they can bring him off together.

“John,” Rod sighs, full of warmth and contentment, and then he’s relaxing and coming. Fluid splatters across John’s thighs and he did that, he made Rod feel good, and that feels like the best gift of all.

Rod is soft around the edges now, smudgy like a charcoal painting, and when John asks, “Was that okay?” he pulls him closer and nuzzles into his neck, covering both of their bodies and their clothes hopelessly in come, and says, “That was perfect.”

-

John wakes up sticky, rather too hot, and filled with a roiling, anxious feeling. The bed is too small and Rod is too close, and his heart rate picks up as he looks fuzzily around the room.

He should go. He should just go, right now, before Rod wakes up and they have to talk about this and he says something wrong and ruins everything.

He’s squinting and patting at the bedside table, looking for his glasses, when he feels movement behind him.

“Morning.” Rod drops a soft kiss on his shoulder. Then he rolls over, John’s glasses in his hand, and opens them up and pops them onto his face. He slides them up John’s nose, smiles, and says, “There you are.”

And oh. All that panic seems further away once he has the armor of his glasses back, and now he can see the pillow crinkles imprinted into Rod’s cheek. He seems less like an agent of impending judgement and more like Rod, just Rod, Rod who knows him and has seen him at his worst and still, for whatever baffling reason, seems to like him.

“Hi,” he manages, and Rod beams like that was exactly the right thing to say.

“Coffee?” Rod offers. “Or shower first?”

As rare as it is for John to turn down coffee, he really is unpleasantly sticky. Deal with that problem first, he decides. “Shower,” he says, grateful that he’s not required to string together more than single words.

“Sure.” Rod gives his ass a cheeky pat as he rises, then throws him a towel.

He showers quickly and efficiently, but as he steps out and wraps a towel around himself he spots a purpling bruise on the side of his neck in the mirror. He stops to trace it with his fingers, remembering the feeling of Rod’s mouth there, hot and demanding.

“Ahh.” Rod stands in the doorway to the bathroom. “Sorry about that. I got a bit carried away.” There’s a flush on his cheeks, and he looks nervous.

John tilts his head, looks at the mark from another angle. There it is: incontrovertible evidence that he's wanted. What a fascinating concept. “Don’t be. I like it.”

“Oh.” Rod’s eyes go very round and the blush deepens. “That’s good. That’s. Ahh. Very good. I’ll just -”

Rod drops the towel from around his waist and makes for the shower, and John gets an eyeful of his half-hard cock, and then, as he walks past, an ass he has the sudden urge to sink his fingers into. A heat that’s beginning to feel familiar creeps up his neck, and he wants -

What the hell, he thinks, and he tosses his own towel aside to follow Rod back into the shower, delighting in his yelp of surprise when he slides up behind him.

-

“Shep! Think fast!”

John manages to get his hands up just in time to prevent the power bar from hitting him in the face.

“Thought you might want a snack before the mission,” Ronon says with a wink. “Just in case we have to run anywhere.”

“Hey, I’m getting better at that! I’ll catch up with you one day.”

“Sure you will.” Ronon checks the straps on John's tac vest like he always does, then says, "Looking good, buddy," and ruffles his hair.

John used to hate that, but he's given up trying to tame his hair and now he lets it stick up in whatever direction it wants. It's weird but it works.

Teyla bumps her shoulder against his as they walk toward the gate room. "What do you have for us today, John?"

“Remember that strange energy signal Major Lorne’s team picked up last week? I was able to map its topography through space and pinpoint its likely origin, and Rod took a look at the electromagnetic readings and he thinks it might be a power source -”

“So we are going to investigate the signal on P2X-884?”

“Bingo.”

Rod is standing in front of the gate like he belongs there. He claps his hands. "Ready for another thrilling adventure in the Pegasus galaxy?"

"Maybe we'll get to hunt some Wraith," Ronon says, entirely too cheerfully.

"Or discover some hideous alien parasite," Teyla joins in with a gruesome smirk.

"Or accidentally blow something up," John supplies, because that's usually how their luck goes.

"Sounds delightful." Rod grins and yells up to the gate techs, "Dial her up."

As the gate engages with a whoosh and a glow of blue light, Rod reaches out to graze his fingers against John's: a reminder, and a promise. Out of the corner of his eye, John catches his smile.

He stands a little taller, knowing his team has his back, and steps through the wormhole.

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter ten

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

*

The knock at the door made Chloe jolt. 

Aubrey was here, and Chloe was a nervous wreck. Even if Aubrey had shown nothing but support in the texts they had exchanged over the last couple of months, Chloe was bracing herself for judgment. It had become her default setting over the last couple of years, to always expect people to think the worst of her. 

It turned out Aubrey couldn’t make it for dinner that weekend and instead offered lunch on the following Monday, so Beca was currently at work. Meeting her alone made Chloe even more nervous; Beca had become her rock, her lifeline over the past couple of months, and someone Chloe actually trusted, and she would have been more comfortable with her being present. 

She wiped her hands on her apron and padded to the door, sucking in one last deep breath before pulling it open.  Her friend looked the same as Chloe remembered her, except for her hairstyle, which evolved into a neat bob and matched the lawyer persona well.

“Hey Chlo,” Aubrey greeted softly, eyes soft and smile shy. 

“Hi,” Chloe breathed out when she remembered she should say something, blinking. 

Before Chloe could step aside, Aubrey stepped forward and pulled Chloe into a loose hug. Chloe’s first reaction was to tense for a brief moment, eventually wrapping her arms around Aubrey’s back, in turn, her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled. 

“Thanks for having me over,” Aubrey said as she backed away.

Chloe nodded with a small smile and took a step back to let Aubrey through. “Come on in. I uh-- I made chicken pasta. Do you still like that?” 

Cooking had been one of the activities Chloe had rekindled with since finishing rehab. Following a recipe was a good distraction from her cravings. 

“I do. Sounds yummy.” 

“You-- you’ve been here before, I imagine?” Chloe asked as she shut and locked the door behind them, leading Aubrey to the main room.

Aubrey shrugged off her jacket. “A few times, yes. I think the last time was for Beca’s birthday last September.” 

Chloe nodded once more, then remembered her manners. “Can I offer you anything to drink?” She asked as she padded to the fridge. “We have water, flat or sparkling, coke and fanta.” 

“Sparkling water is good,” Aubrey said as she perched herself on a stool, resting her chin over her propped-up hand. “How’s it been living with Beca?” 

“Good,” Chloe replied as she reached for two water glasses in the cupboards, the water bottle in her other hand. “She’s been really amazing with trying to make me feel at home. It’s weird though because I can’t pay rent or groceries. I still feel like I’m taking advantage of her generosity.”

Aubrey hummed. “I get that. But you’re not. Beca wouldn’t offer all those things if she felt like you were taking advantage. And we all know you’re not. You’re getting back on your feet and could use all the help you can get, which I’m sure Beca is happy to give.” 

Chloe took a deep breath and nodded. She uncapped the bottle and poured some water into both drinks. 

“How have you been feeling otherwise?” Aubrey questioned then. 

Chloe shrugged, breaking eye-contact. “It’s been a real rollercoaster, to be honest. Somedays I feel fine, other days it feels like I’m drowning. If it weren’t for Beca’s support or--” The baby, which she had yet to tell Aubrey about. She swallowed, forcing herself to meet her friend’s gaze. “A few days before the end of rehab, I found out that I was pregnant.” 

Aubrey blinked twice in slow succession, much like Beca had done. “You are? I mean--” 

“I’m keeping it,” Chloe cleared up before Aubrey could attempt to reword her question. “I know it probably sounds crazy and irresponsible given my situation and who the father is, I--” 

“I think you’re going to make an amazing mom, Chlo,” Aubrey murmured before Chloe could finish. “And yes, your situation is tricky right now, but it won’t forever be that way. And the father might be a dick whose balls should be fed to wolves, but you and I both know that a  baby sharing your genes can’t be evil.” She tilted her head to the side. “Are you going to tell him?” 

Chloe froze. She hadn’t dared broach the subject with her therapist for fear of her telling a judge, and she didn’t know what she was allowed or not allowed to do. “Do I… have to? I mean, legally?”

Aubrey shook her head. “No, you don’t have any obligations to. The father’s name on the birth certificate can be left blank, and that means Marco will have no rights over the child.” 

Chloe nibbled on her bottom lip as she processed that information. “What if he finds out? Can he get custody?” 

“He’ll have to submit a petition to the court through a lawyer in order to have a DNA test done,” Aubrey explained. “After that, a judge decides if he has the right to have custody, but I really don’t see how he could, given his track record. I had a friend at the precinct look him up, and he’s been convicted several times for drug dealing and violence.” 

Relief swept over Chloe upon hearing that. The thought of Marco having any influence on that child gave her nightmares. “Okay. Good.” She cleared her throat when her brain caught up with the rest of Aubrey’s sentence. “I didn’t know he was a criminal.” But she wasn’t surprised, now. “I wouldn’t have-- he was really good to me at the beginning, and by the time his true personality surfaced, I had nowhere to go.” 

“He was toxic,” Aubrey said as she nodded. “A manipulator. He probably loved the hell out of you at first, bombarded you with sweet messages and calls and flattery? And little by little, the connection faded and you started to feel meaningless? Unworthy?” 

Chloe could only nod faintly, because Aubrey had just put into words what her relationship with Marco felt like, without Chloe telling her any of that stuff. 

“I come across so many people with the same profile in my job, and the victims, men or women, always blame themselves. But they shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.” 

Her therapist had already told Chloe that many times, but Chloe’s default thinking made it hard to grasp that. Being with Marco felt like chaos reigned in her head, her emotions, her body, her life, and he found a way to make her believe it was her own fault. 

Chloe mustered a soft smile, feeling more than ready to stop talking about that for now. “Should we eat?” 

The conversation thankfully transitioned to easier subjects. Chloe caught up on the last six years of Aubrey’s life, feeling a little lighter and more at ease around her friend now that it was clear Aubrey held no grudge or judgment towards Chloe for cutting her out of her life. They found themselves reminiscing about their college days, two hours zipping by without Chloe once thinking about her cravings. 

“I’m just a call away, alright?” Aubrey said as she slid her jacket back on. “And if you ever want to come to Boston for a weekend, I have two guest bedrooms.” 

A genuine smile spread across Chloe’s lips as she nodded. “I’d love that.” Chloe was the one to initiate the hug this time, letting it linger. “Thank you for coming down, Bree.”

Aubrey smiled back. “It was my pleasure. See you soon, Chloe.” 

Bean’s thirteen-week-check-up took place the following day. Chloe was set on having as many tests done as possible at this stage, with an NT scan to help assess the baby’s risk of having complications such as Down syndrome, other chromosomal abnormalities, and major congenital heart problems, as well as full blood work to rule out cystic fibrosis and Tay-Sachs.

Bean passed their scan with flying colors, much to her relief. The heartbeat was strong, and 

Bean’s features were unmistakably human this time around; Chloe could make out Bean’s head and their nose and the round belly and tiny feet.

She went home with three pictures, and Beca insisted one should go up on the fridge. 

The following month was punctuated with more therapy, NA meetings, and the visit to Oregon. Chloe felt more at home in Beca’s apartment with each passing day, though she tried her best to stay out of the way whenever Sarah was over. 

On the day of their departure, Chloe was beyond grateful Beca agreed to come with her, as telling her parents the truth felt incredibly daunting. 

They landed in Portland a little after four that Thursday, renting a car to drive the two hours to Newport, where Chloe’s childhood home was located. As Beca parked the car in her parents’ driveway, Chloe was rooted to her seat with nerves. 

Beca’s hand on her leg snapped her out of it. “Hey.” Chloe turned her head to the left, meeting Beca’s soft eyes. “Breathe. In and out.” 

Nodding, Chloe inhaled deeply through her nose and released the air through her mouth, closing her eyes. She reached for the door handle next and stepped out, swallowing thickly as she let her leaned legs carry her to the front door. She pressed the doorbell and stepped back, instinctively reaching for Beca’s hand. 

Her mom appeared on the other side a handful of seconds later, and she engulfed Chloe into a hug before Chloe could even utter anything. 

“Hi mom,” she croaked out, her eyes fluttering shut as she released Beca’s hand to hug her back tightly, basking into the instant comfort being in her mom’s arms brought her. 

Alice pulled away but kept Chloe at arms’ length, her gaze sweeping over her features. “It’s so good to see you, baby.” Her focus shifted to Beca, and she embraced her next, keeping it a bit shorter. They had met each other before when her parents flew to Atlanta for Chloe’s graduation. “Welcome to our home, Beca.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Beale.” 

Chloe’s mom glared playfully, tutting. “It’s Alice to you. Come on inside.” 

They stepped into the house, a smell Chloe knew well drifting from the kitchen: her dad’s famous lasagna, Chloe’s favorite. 

“Hey Chlobear,” her dad greeted as soon as they rounded the corner, smile bright and eyes sparkling as he sat in his electric wheelchair by the couch. 

Tears pricked behind Chloe’s eyes, and she crossed the distance between them, bending down to hug him. His working arm drifted up to snake around her back. “Hi, Dad,” she whispered, emotions trapping her voice in her throat. “I’m so happy to see you.” 

“Me too, sweetheart,” he murmured, his own voice wavering. “I made your favorite. Well, your mom made your favorite under my supervision, ‘cause she would have messed it up otherwise.” 

“Hey,” Chloe’s mom objected, drawing a chuckle from both Chloe and her dad. 

Chloe straightened, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “You remember Beca, right?” 

“Of course I do,” Mike confirmed as he made his chair go forward, then extended his hand. “How are you, Beca?” 

“Hello Mr. Beale,” Beca greeted, shaking his head. “It’s nice to see you again.” 

“You, too. And it’s Mike. No Mr. Beale around this house.” 

Beca laughed, nodding. “Got it, Mike.” 

“I hope you guys are hungry, we’ve made enough food to last us until next month,” Mike commented as he moved towards the table. 

After freshening up, she and Beca sat at the table just as Alice pulled the lasagna out from the oven, then grabbed the salad and the wine bottle from the counter. 

“Wine, Beca?” She asked, holding up the bottle. 

“I’m good, thanks, though.” 

Chloe glanced at her. “You can have some if you want.” 

Beca shook her head, smiling softly as she unfolded her napkin and draped it across her lap. “I’m okay, I promise. Water’s fine.” 

Chloe caught her parents sharing a confused look over the exchange, and she cleared her throat, knowing it was probably best to get this over with. “Mom, you should probably sit down.” 

Concern creased a frown on Alice’s forehead as she set the bottle down and lowered herself next to Chloe’s dad. “What’s going on, Chloe?” 

Chloe took a deep breath, and she felt Beca’s hand cover her own under the table. She flipped hers over and wrapped her fingers around Beca’s, grateful for the grounding contact. “I um--” she swallowed, unable to figure out where to start even though she had practiced her speech countless times leading up to their visit. 

Shame and guilt rushed through her, digging their claws into her heart and lungs, making it harder to breathe. 

“Chloe,” her mother’s voice pierced through the buzzing in Chloe’s ears. Chloe looked up from her plate, finding soft eyes. “Whatever it is, you can tell us.”

Chloe closed her eyes and sucked in a sharp breath, forcing herself to own up to her situation by looking at her parents while she spoke. “I have a drug problem. Had. I’m--I’m in recovery. I got out of rehab a couple of months ago.” 

A heavy silence settled over the room as Mike and Alice processed the news. Chloe felt like bolting out of the house as she watched her dad swallow thickly, and her mom’s jaw-dropping. She felt a squeeze to her hand and remembered to breathe. 

“Oh Chloe,” her mom whispered and got up to sit in the vacant chair on the other side of Chloe, taking her other hand as she tilted her head to the side. “How long have you been struggling?” 

Chloe cleared her throat. “About five years. I never-- I never graduated from vet school. I dropped out.” 

Her father frowned, his mouth moving wordlessly for a few beats. “But-- the money you gave us for my treatment every month?” 

“I was a stripper,” Chloe admitted quietly. “That’s how I got introduced to cocaine. How I met Marco. How I... made so much money.” She was hit by an array of emotions -- shame, fear, and somehow, relief -- right then, and a sob burst out from her throat before she could reign it in. “I’m s-sorry I lied to you for so long.” She released Beca’s hand to cover her mouth, her body shaking as she crumbled under the weight of her feelings. 

She didn’t fight it when her mom pulled her into her arms, rubbing her back in slow circles and whispering reassuring words into her ear. “It’s okay, sweetie. Breathe. We love you. No matter what.” 

It took a few minutes for Chloe to be able to get her breathing under control, straightening when she did and taking the tissue Beca offered her. 

“You must have a lot of questions,” she murmured, licking her dry lips. She still had the baby bomb to drop, but one thing at a time. Thankfully she wasn’t showing that much yet, and her large hoodie kept her small bump concealed. 

“Thank you for telling us,” her father murmured, and Chloe saw him wipe a tear away when she looked up. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be, as for deciding to seek help.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it before. I was ashamed and lost and--” she shrugged. “I wasn’t myself.” 

“How are you feeling now?” Her mom asked softly, pushing Chloe’s hair behind her ear. “You said it’s been two months since rehab?” 

Chloe nodded, sniffling. “Ups and downs. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Beca. She’s the one who encouraged me to get help, who paid for rehab, continued paying for your treatment, and I’ve been staying at her place while I get back on my feet.” 

Both her parents’ focus shifted to Beca, gratitude swirling in their eyes. 

“She’s been incredibly strong and responsible,” Beca said, smiling softly. “Hasn’t missed a therapy session or NA meeting since getting out of rehab.” 

“And this Marco…” her dad trailed off in a questioning tone. 

“He’s out of my life. He wasn’t a good person, but I failed to realize that.” 

“More like he hid it well,” Beca corrected gently. Chloe met her eyes. “Remember what Aubrey and your therapist said about how you didn’t have to blame yourself for that?” 

Chloe nodded. “Right.” 

“Did he… hurt you?” Mike asked next, a tremor in his voice as he seemed to brace himself for the answer. 

“Not physically.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but Chloe didn’t think that slap was worth mentioning. “Just… emotionally. He knew how to get into my head, and the drugs didn’t help. They have this funny way of having you believe whatever it wants you to. Logic and reason no longer existed for me when I was at my lowest. I was ashamed of lying to you every time we spoke on the phone, but the paranoia over you not wanting to talk to me again if I told you was stronger.” 

She was sure her dad had a lot more questions and probably wondered if his treatment and their financial problems pushed Chloe into taking that job, but he remained silent, clearly mulling everything over. 

“We could tell you looked tired every time we called, but we never…” Alice trailed off, shaking her head as a few tears rolled down her cheeks when she blinked. “I’m so sorry.” 

“No,” Chloe croaked out, having feared this: her parents blaming themselves. Her heart felt incredibly heavy as she sandwiched her mom’s hand between her own, glancing at her dad briefly. “I don’t want you guys to feel guilty and think that you should have noticed. I hid it well, especially the first few years. Then it sort of derailed, that’s why I stopped visiting. Please don’t apologize.” 

“Did you take that job because you felt like you had to help us?” Her dad asked, just as Chloe had predicted. “With my treatment?” 

Chloe took a deep breath. “I took it because NYC was expensive and I was struggling a bit with rent. And when your health worsened, I asked for more shifts to help out.” She didn’t want to get into what she was asked to do for more money. She couldn’t. Her dad would be eaten away by guilt if he knew how much of a toll working in the VIP room took on her. The whole truth would hurt him more than a small lie. “It’s when I started doing drugs that everything fell apart. It’s not on you, dad. I promise.” 

Mike swallowed and ran his hand over his face as he visibly tried to keep a hold on his emotions. “You’re my daughter, you shouldn’t have had to provide for me, or to put yourself first.” 

“Dad, please,” Chloe whispered, feeling her throat shrinking. “I wanted to help. I just… made bad choices and met the wrong people. It’s not your fault.” Her eyes found her dad’s. “Please tell me you believe that?” 

Her father remained silent for a stretch as he stared at her. He eventually offered a faint nod, but Chloe wasn’t sure if he was being honest. 

Her mom reached up to wipe her tears away, sniffling. “What… what can we do to help you through your recovery?” 

“Being part of my support system, like you unknowingly have since I got out of rehab,” Chloe murmured with a small smile. “And dealing with more of my visits,” she added, knowing they would both be all for that.

“You are always welcome to move back here, Chlo. For as long as you want,” she offered. 

“I…” she cleared the rising lump in her throat as she briefly glanced down to her lap. “There’s something else that I need to tell you.” Another deep breath. “I’m four months pregnant. With Marco’s baby. But he’s not going to be involved. I’m going to raise them on my own.” 

There. Everything she was ready to share was out there in the open, and Chloe felt incredibly lighter, despite her heartbeat picking up as her parents once again fell silent. She really couldn’t blame them, after everything she had just dumped on them. 

“I know it’s a lot,” she added, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I know my decision to keep it might come across as strange, but I couldn’t get rid of it, and this baby is giving my life purpose again because I want to be a better person for them.” 

“I think you are incredibly brave,” Alice said after a little while, reaching out to catch a tear falling on Chloe’s cheek with the side of her pointer finger. “And I’m failing to find words to express how proud of you I am.” 

Chloe sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as her gaze met her dad’s once more. She could tell he needed more time to work through everything, and maybe they could talk about it some more the next day, once he had slept over it. 

“That kid is going to be the most spoiled grandchild of all Newport,” he joked with a soft smile, his words loosening the nerves in Chloe’s stomach.

Chloe released a watery giggle. “I love you guys.” 

“We love you, too, Chlobear,” her dad murmured, and after embracing her mom tightly, Chloe stood up and rounded the table to hug her dad. 

They eventually dug into dinner, the conversation shifting to the baby, whether it was okay, what the risks there were, when was her due date... Her parents offered to turn the office into a nursery if Chloe wanted to move back in with them, to which Chloe answered that she would think about it. She had been concerned about how much the pregnancy and having a newborn baby around would affect Beca’s life and her relationship with Sarah, and this would be another alternative to which Chloe needed to give some serious thought. 

Chloe and Beca headed upstairs shortly after dinner, both feeling exhausted as their mind and body were three hours ahead. After showing Beca to the guest room, Chloe changed into her pajamas and washed up for bed, knocking on Beca’s door on her way back to her own bedroom. 

She pushed it open upon hearing a soft come in, finding Beca lying on top of the comforter, already changed in her sleeping wear. 

“You okay?” She asked, smiling as Chloe sat down on the edge of the mattress. “That went pretty well.” 

“Yeah, I…” she swallowed, shaking her head in leftover awe. “I have amazing parents. I didn’t think they would be so understanding.” 

“Of course they’re amazing. They raised you.” 

Chloe bowed her head as blush bloomed in her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “I think my dad is a bit shaken up and part of him feels to blame, but I’m hoping he and I can talk some more tomorrow.” 

Beca nodded. “Yeah. I think that’s a good idea.” 

Chloe let out a small sigh, and she reached out to squeeze Beca’s hand. “Thanks again for coming here with me.” 

“Not a problem. I’m hoping you’ll show me around the town at some point, take me to your favorite spots.” 

“We can definitely do that tomorrow,” Chloe agreed, her smile genuine. “Goodnight, Bec.” 

“Night Chloe. Night Bean.”

[itwoodbeprefect]

stargate atlantis 1x03 hide and seek, thoughts:

carson injects rodney with an experimental drug to give him the ata gene that contains a “mouse retrovirus” and rodney is nervous about that so carson jokes about it giving rodney an irrestible urge to run on a small wheel, but as someone who knows nothing about medicine but has seen the episode in which john slowly turns into an iratus bug because of a wraith retrovirus... AU in which half the atlantis expedition starts to display mouse characteristics.

fjdkfd one thing about john gleefully shoving rodney off a balcony (to test rodney’s personal shield device) that i don’t see mentioned that often (which is fair btw, because “i shot him :D” eclipses a lot) is the perfect timing of it. elizabeth is walking down the halls with grodin updating her and he’s like, major sheppard is taking his sweet time okaying sections of the city for people who need living space, and elizabeth is IN THE MIDDLE of a sentence defending john going “well, the safety and security of this expedition-” and that’s when they see john do the thing. amazing. one week in atlantis and their replacement military commander has decided to just straight up murder some people.

rodney’s smug “that’s not the first thing we tried!” followed by that partners-in-crime look of excitement he shares with john always strikes me as... suggestive. so you got john to try some things with you, huh, rodney.

john getting really into recounting earth horror movie plots to extremely confused athosian kids while being seemingly totally oblivious to how much they’re not getting it is my FAVORITE THING.

john: “hope i didn’t scare ‘em too much.” halling: “i don’t think so.” THIS IS THE EARTH/PEGASUS DYNAMIC I WANT.

john, clutching his HUGE bowl of popcorn, swaying left and right because he’s so engaged in the football game happening on screen: “oh! that is beautiful, can you believe that?” teyla, not really sure what’s happening: “s- should i not?” PERFECTION.

god i just. want to live in these little minutes of this episode. teyla asks what a hail mary is and john goes “it’s a play that you just saw” and when he realizes that’s not enough he keeps going until he realizes he’s now talked himself into a corner where he’s on the verge of having to explain all of christianity to explain who mary is and goes “did i mention i like ferris wheels?” which is nice but also. oh my god john. going by how you’re doing at explaining stuff, teyla is probably still under the impression that a ferris is an earth method of transportation and john has an obsession with its wheels. (teyla, a social person trying to learn and make friends: “how many wheels does a ferris have?” john: “just one.” teyla: [now imagines earth as a planet full of people on unicycles])

fjdkfjk. okay so jinto is missing and his voice is leading a group to where he went, which is a transporter except nobody knows about those yet, so we get like. john and rodney standing in front of these doors that slide open and where there should be “boxes from earth” so rodney’s like “someone thought that would make a nice closet” and then john and rodney step inside together. god. okay

“definitely not a closet,” john decides, once he’s inside this closet, with rodney. but he’s RIGHT it’s NOT a closet it is in fact A TRANSPORTER that can take you anywhere you want. there’s some complicated metaphor here about finding the control panel of being gay and realizing it’s actually a magical thing that will take you places you never thought you’d go. it’s somewhat narnia.

wait. so jinto went into the room with the boxes at point A and transported both himself and the boxes to point B, and then he left the transporter but the boxes were still there, and when john and rodney go from A to B, the boxes leave B and show back up at A, seen by elizabeth and teyla and halling who are still there. which means that if you transport to a transporter, whatever is in that one will get taken to your location, as in, it’s a literal swap of the contents, which has many potentially hilarious implications. you step into a transporter, you lift your arm to hit the spot you want to go to on the map, but before you can you’re suddenly in a different transporter on the other side of the city, because someone coming from there wanted to go to yours. if you’re really unlucky and you’ve hit peak transporter hours you might get zapped around the city a few times and you will need to be very quick in getting out if you reach wherever you wanted to go, because otherwise you might unwillingly start another round trip. at a certain point just walking might be faster.

out of everyone working on the problem of the energy-sucking alien darkness teyla is the only one who actually stops to think about what this strange being might want and that is just!! very good!! and says very much both about how she thinks and how the people from earth are thinking!! AND is also very much why the expedition’s “the athosians can help but only in ways we think are good” is so bad, because those athosians (very obviously, come on guys, COME ON) have perspectives and knowledge that the earthlings do not but that are extremely valuable to the survival of everyone involved.

rodney’s fearfully heroic moment is also very good, obviously. so much good character stuff happening here!

“that was a hail mary,” john tells teyla, still greatly failing at explaining anything whatsoever. a worthy ending of an episode full of john talking to pegasus people who are endeared but confused by him.

[jmoriarty-221b]

New AU idea: I’ve found out that there’s some versions of the Batman comics where Tim Drake becomes Red Robin straight off the bat (he was never Robin & didn’t go to Batman) so I’m running with that

This Tim Drake doesn’t find Batman all that amazing, he recognizes Batman as a hero and as a symbol of Hope for Gotham, but he also sees him as just one man trying to make a difference, he holds more admiration towards Robin, specifically Jason’s Robin since he knows Gotham in ways Batman doesn’t, he checks on the street kids and the homeless, makes hot chocolate runs for the working girls when he can, and he is more interested in helping those in Crime Alley, a place where Batman and the previous Robin didn’t tend to patrol before Jason

And Tim has never been a normal child, there’s really no way for him to be human but there’s also no way to prove that he isn’t human, he passes the DNA tests, he doesn’t have a meta gene, he doesn’t have a mutation nor a difference in genetics, physiologically? There’s nothing to prove that Tim is anything other than human. In practice? Tim isn’t exactly limited if he cut off a limb, if he were to be shot in the head it would take approximately five minutes for him to heal back up, he can decide whether or not a wound will leave scars on his body, he can choose whether or not a mortal wound would put him in the ground permanently, most importantly, he can choose whether or not to contact his crew from the Isle that was supposed to be his home

There’s a reason as to why Tim isn’t exactly fond of heroes, after all, heroes decided to sentence countless of children yet to be born to a life of pain, suffering and poverty amongst an island filled with villains, heroes are the ones who put a barrier over the Isle that prevented its occupants from accessing their magic, heroes are the reason that his fae sisters and djinn brother and sea witch cousin and pirate friends are unable to access a part of themselves, he reason that they are unable to grow up properly and learn to control and feel and channel their magical cores, heroes are the reason for why him and his family hide behind fake names, and if it wasn’t for his parents’ quick thinking and preparations to flee then heroes would’ve been the reason he would’ve also grown up imprisoned and unable to access an integral part of himself

So no, Tim isn’t exactly impressed by the Batman

But Gotham exudes a similar signature as the one of the Isle of the Lost, making it the one place to where his parents could establish themselves undetected as the pollution would obscure their magical signatures had anyone looked for them, of course, Tim wasn’t old enough to learn how to lock down his own magical core in a way that wasn’t detrimental to himself, so he couldn’t be taken out of Gotham to accompany his parents on their numerous trips around the world, and such was his boredom that he decided to take advantage of his lack of adult supervision and explore Gotham

Having been taught about what became of the people he would’ve known as family from his parents as well as reading up every book he could in the ancient family library regarding long distance communication with magical kin, Tim ends up with a plan to meet with kids on the Isle as soon as he can, it turns out that establishing communication with the Isle requires for him to be in a part of Gotham that has the same atmosphere as the Isle, so Little Tim sets up shop in a semi secure rooftop in Crime Alley and establishes communication, needless to say he’s in for a surprise because “Oh wow why are you there Mr. Hades, you could escape any time and there’s no way those mortals could hope to contain your power, so why are you on the Isle?”

Turns out that attempting communication from a place surrounded by death and sorrow would lead to Tim establishing a magical video chat with the Lord of the Underworld, who’d’ve thunk? Anyway, Hades is literally just chilling for the next hundred years on the Isle because it’s easier to agree to mortals’ demands than obliterate them, and it’s less paperwork too so win-win, and one afternoon he’s suddenly communicating with one of the cutest little chipmunks he’s seen (kids are cute, and Tim is still a baby so he’s Tiny Cute) who introduced himself as Timothy Dwake and isn’t that just precious that the little tyke still has trouble with his r’s but how is he able to communicate with him on the Isle oh, that’s Janet’s kid, well shit guess he has a godson now (Janet had always wanted for Tim to be protected and that’s why she had been one of the few to escape the Isle, she had been a good friend back in the day so it seemed only fair for him to return the favor by looking out for Tiny Tim; it has nothing to do with Tim’s very cute face and slightly chubby cheeks that he kinda wants to pinch and his cute little lisp no Persephone I’m not attached-)

Anyway, so Tim ends up learning from his Uncle H on how to control his magical core and how to defend himself against physical and magical threats, he has a talent for using shadows to conceal himself as well as to listen in on others and gather information, if he concentrates really hard he can even manipulate shadows into solid figures, once he told this to his Uncle new training lessons began and now Tim is able to maintain his shadow constructs solid for longer periods of time as well as give them shape, over time he would learn more control over his ability and it will become easier to make weapons from shadows, his Uncle H also trains him in combat, particularly lost forms of combat from ancient civilizations

One particular night Tim wasn’t able to go to their meeting spot in Crime Alley, there was an Arkham Breakout and he wasn’t about to be caught up in that shit because could he fight off some villains and protect himself? Sure, but that would mean a possibility of getting the Batman’s attention and he’s not about to do that so staying at home it is, and now he is walking alone in the Drake gardens, he has no one to practice his fighting techniques with, no one to talk to, no one to teach him about what’s happening in the Isle, no one to teach him how to control his powers and his parents are gone for most of the year and they say that they’ll take him with them when he’s older but they’ve been saying that for years and now he’s much better at concealing his power and the King of Auradon believes he put every villain away for good so it’s not like they’re searching for his magical signature anyway so WHY WON’T HIS PARENTS TAKE HIM WITH THEM!?!?!? WHY IS HE ALWAYS LEFT ALONE!?!?!?

As he got progressively angrier, Tim hadn’t noticed how his power became stronger, how shadows grew larger, nor how the ground seemed to tremble and crack, it wasn’t until the ground literally split in front of him that he realized that maybe his power may have gotten out of hand, a bit, maybe, to be fair, he didn’t mean to summon a skeleton warrior with who he could practice his fighting with but hey, silver lining and all that, and he has something else to tell his Uncle H about in their next meeting (Hades may or may not have blessed his godson, and the blessing may or may not have given Tim some sort of control over his domains)

Anyway, eventually Tim learns how to see what’s happening in the Isle on his own from a sort of bird’s eye view, he sees what kids his age are going through and tries to find ways to alleviate the pain, he begins to talk to the kids and establishes rapport with them, he becomes friends with little Uma and Harry by bonding over swordplay, he gives Jay and Carlos tips for how to find the best hiding spots, he learns from Evie how to hide more stuff in his clothes and how to add more protective fabrics to his wardrobe, he and Mal bond over high parental expectations (she reminds him of Hades sometimes, and he thinks her eyes are a very pretty green with gold flecks sprinkled in, he may have a crush???) (Psssst, Mal likes Tim’s eyes too, she thinks it’s very pretty how they seem to change shades depending on his mood and when he’s happy they match her purple hair) *cue cuteness from these unfortunate little beans because yes*

Anyway, Tim has been working on creating a portal to a secluded part of the Isle from where he could send supplies to kids there, he was 8 years old when he started looking into this possibility after managing to make friends with the kids and now, at 13, he has finally managed to make it happen, he can only send non-living things through the portal tho, because although theoretically he Could send himself over, then he’d be stuck behind the barrier and couldn’t access his magic so that’s a big no, and he also can’t take the risk of getting someone from the Isle out because he can’t guarantee their safety (he tried with small insects and one time with a mouse; they died); the first thing he sends are medical supplies, food and bottled water, at first it’s only for his close friends, then they all establish a sort of routine and plan to get these supplies to other kids while hiding what they’re doing from their parents behind the guise of building their own gang on the Isle, Uma with the pirates and Mal with the inner city, Tim becomes their sort of advisor on important matters having seen what strategy tends to work when recruiting people as well as how to better approach street kids, he gets nicknamed the Shadow Angel for helping from behind the curtain, literally

Tim continues to learn as much as he can from his Uncle H, shadows Robin around Crime Alley, avoids gaining Batman’s attention and acquires supplies to send to the Isle three times a week from different places (he’s gotta cover his tracks, otherwise he runs the risk of getting Batman’s attention even if it’s just because the same person keeps buying food, water and medical supplies from various stores each week) but Tim has money, and he has experience regarding gangs and their recruiting and internal works (he’s helping his friends make their own gangs after all) and these people are in need of help as well, so he decides to make his own ‘gang’ by hiring people to do supply runs for him, he poses as a recruiter and gives fliers with information about his own gang and the benefits that joining will have (health insurance, dental, payed maternity leave, payed recuperation period, payed physical therapy and medical bills in case Batman decides to pop in, education is provided for anyone who wishes to get their GED and continue their education, etc); in the end, Tim keeps the Boss’ identity a secret until he reaches adulthood because no one would take a kid seriously, but he ends up amassing his own gang in Gotham while at the same time improving the life of people in poverty areas like Crime Alley and the Bowery

Of course, everything comes to a head when Mal, Evie, Jay and Carlos are elected to go to school in Auradon leaving Uma as the only leader on the Isle, meanwhile Tim has been keeping tabs on Robin and gets to save Jason from Joker in Ethiopia (turns out being able to summon a skeleton army comes in handy when rescuing Robin from a deranged psychopath like Joker) so Tim is simultaneously saving Jason while still trying to remain anonymous to Batman (he’s built and maintained an entire gang in the most crime ridden part of Gotham for years, he’s not about to get involved with the Bats now)

So Tim only finds out about what happened to Mal, Evie, Jay and Carlos until they’re already in Auradon and decides you know what? Fuck it, I’m gonna meet my friends face to face, besides, he can handle maintaining a gang in Gotham, he’s sure he can handle Auradon (update: he cannot, he’s this close 🤏 to rocking someone’s shit, he proposes overtaking the kingdom twice a day, he knows they could do it, and it’ll be easy even, but it’s the paperwork that’s holding them back, meh, let Ben do the grunt work and become an advisor, at least their manipulations would be in favor of improving the life of kids in poverty unlike other people who just want to get more money from their position close to the crown, gotta love politics)

Anyway, Tim Drake does become Red Robin, gang leader and benevolent overlord of Crime Alley and the Bowery, helping Gotham citizens and being the Shadow Angel of the Isle, plotting Auradon’s downfall for fun on his slow days as well as working on taking out the kids from the Isle and setting up safe houses for them for when he and his friends figure out how to save the kids

[sisterspooky1013]

Title: Everything

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5030

Description: in an AU season 7, the IVF worked

Read it on AO3:

She felt sick, scanning the room for something she could throw up in if it came to that. One of the drawers was labeled “emesis bags” and she took a mental note. She couldn’t recall having thrown up a single time since her cancer went into remission, and she had the thought that this was a fact that would probably change if the procedure worked. She took a deep breath to fend off the nausea and looked around for something to distract her from the news she was waiting for. They’d drawn her blood 30 minutes prior and told her they’d call her with results, but she’d asked if she could wait, not sure she was capable of doing anything other than waiting, her stomach in knots. There was a rack of pamphlets on the wall about different tests, conditions, and procedures and she read over their titles, wondering if there’d be any she hadn’t heard of. “IUI,” “IVF,” “PCOS,” “POF,” the acronyms spoke to a world that could only be understood by the few that wished they didn’t have to be there. She noticed there wasn’t a pamphlet for “ova harvested by government evildoers (or possibly aliens) then later recovered under cryo refrigeration” and chuckled to herself at the idea. Mulder would have found that joke funny, but he wasn’t here. Not that he hadn’t asked to be, but she couldn’t stand the idea of having to get bad news in front of him. The downside was, of course, she’d have to repeat the bad news to him later, but at least she could have her own initial reaction in privacy.

Her eyes fell to a pamphlet titled “sperm donation” and she plucked it from the rack, scanning the panels that talked about how to select a donor and how to talk to a child about being donor conceived. Her selection of Mulder as her donor had been nothing like this. She’d spent weeks thinking about how to ask him, rehearsed the words over and over, considered sending them in an email, or calling him on the phone so she didn’t have to look at his shocked expression and watch him scramble for a way out. She decided that she’d insist he take some time to think about it, not accepting an immediate answer. She’d feel more confident that he came to the right conclusion if he had a day or two to consider it, and this would avoid her either worrying that his “yes” was one he’d come to regret, or wondering if his “no” would have been a “yes” if he hadn’t felt like he had to decide quickly. In the end she’d blurted it out after an evening spent spitballing about theories of alternate universes on his couch, their relaxed and comfortable banter a safe place for her, helping her feel brave. She’d been poised to walk out the door, her coat on, when she stopped and turned back to him as he rinsed dishes in the kitchen sink. Taking a breath and swallowing hard, she closed her eyes and forced the words out.

“Mulder, I need to ask you something. Something important.”

His expression was mostly concern, but there was curiosity there too. “Okay, what’s up?” He dried his hands on a dish towel and leaned against the doorframe, studying her. She wished he would have stayed at the sink, occupied. She wished he weren’t looking at her, his hooded eyes boring into her.

“Uh, well. You know that I’ve been pursuing in vitro fertilization with the ova you recovered.”

“Is something wrong? Are they not able to do the procedure?”

“No, nothing is wrong. It’s going fine. I’m to the point in the process where I have to choose a sperm donor. For the other half of the genetic material.”

“Okay.” He still had that same look on his face. He certainly wasn’t going to draw his own conclusions.

“I’ve looked at some of the donor profiles, but I’ve come to feel that I’d rather use a known donor than a stranger.”

“Okay.” There was more confusion in his face now than anything. She looked at the floor in frustration, sighing. Mulder laughed a little “I’m still waiting for the question part of this, Scully. Do you want me to help you choose?”

She laughed a little as well. “No, that’s not what I’m asking, Mulder.” She raised her eyes to look at his face. “I wanted to ask you if you’d consider being the donor.”

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but it just hung there and she recognized that it was an expression of shock.

“Please, don’t answer now, I’d like you to take some time to think about it. And it’s okay if the answer ends up being no, really. I wouldn’t have any expectation of your involvement, financial or otherwise. I just can’t think of anyone else I’d want to scramble my DNA with.”

He closed his mouth and nodded once, still not able to find the right words to say, or any words for that matter. She’d turned and left without saying anything else, leaving him stupefied in the doorway of the kitchen.

When he stopped by her apartment the next night and told her his answer was yes, she’d been so overwhelmed she nearly lost her composure and kissed him right there in her living room. She was glad when he’d left soon after delivering the news, so that she could cry tears of happiness, and relief, and grief that this was the only bit of Mulder she could potentially have the opportunity to truly love. Though she wanted so much more of him, this could be enough. That knowledge made the stakes even higher as she jabbed her thighs and buttocks with the fertility drugs that would prepare her body to become pregnant. It made it even more bittersweet when he asked after the side effects, making clear he’d done his research, and joked about the awkwardness of the donation room at the clinic, not wanting to come back out too quickly so the nurses didn’t come to any conclusions about his stamina. She wanted so much more of him, but she could accept getting to have his child as enough.

Standing to replace the pamphlet on the rack, she smoothed the front of her dress and tugged at the hem of her sweater. It was a Saturday, so she was in non-work attire; a lavender knee-length cotton dress with a scoop neck, paired with a white cardigan and white strappy heels. It was something she might wear to church with her mother, and somehow this situation felt like one she could treat with reverence and respect. She paced the room as the nausea returned, knowing that each moment brought her closer to something big. She’d decided that if the results were negative, she’d call Mulder once she got home. If they were positive, she’d stop by his apartment and tell him in person.

There were three soft taps on the door and her heart lurched as Dr. Parenti peeked his head in, a soft smile on his face. She immediately looked for signs of the results in his expression, though as a fertility doctor she also knew he was well versed in how to deliver this kind of news.

“Dana, would you like to sit down?”

That must mean it was bad, if he was suggesting she sit. She did as told and braced herself, already forming questions about her odds if she tried again; she knew she had more than one ova that had made it to blastocyst.

“Congratulations, you’re pregnant.” He had that same soft smile, his tone measured.

She heard a ringing in her ears and her heart seemed to stop momentarily.

“I’m sorry….what?”

“You’re pregnant. Your HCG levels are nice and high for 15 days post transfer. We can do an ultrasound in a few weeks and look for a heartbeat. You’re not entirely out of the woods, but so far everything looks very normal, and very healthy.”

Her slackened jaw gave way to a tentative smile, her expression incredulous.

“I’m pregnant? You’re sure?”

“Quite sure, we do this a lot here” he reassured with a chuckle.

“I…I’m a bit speechless, I’m sorry. I had prepared myself for bad news. What do I do now?”

“Just keep taking your prenatal vitamins, and your oral progesterone. We’ll have you taper off that in a couple weeks. Avoid any especially high impact activity, now isn’t the time to hit the slopes, but for the most part you can do whatever you normally do, while abstaining from alcohol, of course. Sex is perfectly fine, and healthy. You can make an appointment for three weeks out to do a transvaginal ultrasound, and if you experience any spotting or cramping, or any other symptom that concerns you, please call.”

“Okay, I will, thank you again Dr. Parenti. Thank you so much.” The initial shock was wearing off and she felt tears pooling in her eyes.

“It’s what I do. Feel free to use this room for a bit, if you need some time to absorb the good news. We’ll see you soon.”

He closed the door softly behind him and she was alone again, a pained smile etched on her face as tears ran down her cheeks. It worked. Somehow it had worked. She put her hand on her belly and imagined a tiny embryo nestled into the wall of her uterus. The cells duplicating, she and Mulder’s genes dancing together to form a little human who was half of each of them. She choked back sobs of relief and thought about picking up her cell phone to call him, but she wanted to wait. She wanted to see the look on his face as he realized what she was realizing. They were going to have a baby, the two of them, together. She would have a piece of him to keep and to love endlessly. Their child.

When she was finally able to compose herself, she walked out of the exam room and through the lobby with reddened eyes but a beaming smile. The couples in the waiting room all lifted their heads as she passed through, looking at her for a sign of hope as she had each time she was in the same seat. She met each of their eyes and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Good news. Yes. They all seemed to relax a little. Maybe it was their turn next.

She drove across town to Mulder’s apartment with the radio off and the window open, her heart bursting with the kind of hope she hadn’t experienced in years, maybe ever. For as many times as she’d wondered where she took a wrong turn in life that brought her to a point where a family of he own seemed impossible, she had never imagined how sweet it would be when it did happen. As she turned on to his street, her heart thrummed in her ears and the nauseous feeling returned. She was pretty confident this would strike him as great news, but was also a little worried that he’d react with fear or regret. Maybe he’d only agreed because he assumed it wouldn’t take. This possibility meant that by the time she was standing outside his door, hand raised to knock, she had steeled herself against disappointment if he didn’t respond happily. She was businesslike, sharing a test result with him as she had 100 times, this test just happened to affect them both more than the others did. He flung the door open before she’d finished knocking, as though he’d been waiting for her. He looked her over and took in her puffy, red eyes and solemn expression, his own face dropping in understanding. He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her to him so he could wrap her in a hug while kicking the door shut behind her. She leaned into him, pressing the side of her face to his chest and threading her arms around his waist. He smelled like home.

“It’s okay Scully, we can try again.”

The ‘we’ in his statement did not go unnoticed. She smiled against him, her nervousness giving way to excitement as she gained confidence that his response would be a happy one. She laughed a little and he pulled away from her, his hands still on her shoulders, looking at her quizzically. She smiled a dopey, twisted smile and new tears welled, blurring the image of his deepening confusion.

“It worked, Mulder.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, trying to make sense of her words, her demeanor, her concurrent tears and smile.

“It worked. I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows, which had been knotted in confusion, leapt up in surprise as his mouth slowly opened in an expression of shock, then stretched into a wide smile. Watching him realize what she had come to know in the exam room, that they were going to have a baby, together, was even better than experiencing it herself.

“You’re pregnant? You’re going to have a baby? We’re going to have a baby? You’re sure?”

She beamed at him and nodded enthusiastically, the ‘we’ in his words again filling her heart to bursting. Maybe he did want this with her, as more than just a donor. He pulled her to him again, squeezing her tightly as he pressed his nose to her hair and rocked gently back and forth. His joy was palpable, and she found it hard to believe that minutes ago she had feared that he’d be upset. She dug her nails into the flesh of his back and let her tears of happiness wet his shirt, not feeling a shred of discomfort at what was a very uncharacteristic amount of physical contact between them. This was exactly where she was supposed to be, right here in his foyer, next to his dining room table covered with junk mail and abandoned research papers, learning that the things she wanted from life were still available to her, with the man she loved, no less.

Mulder pulled back again, this time bringing his hands up to cup her face, and she was surprised to see that his own eyes were damp as well. She wasn’t sure if his joy was for her, or himself, or both, but the love in his gaze was undeniable. She placed her hands gently on his wrists and stroked his knuckles with her thumbs, returning his look. When he leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, she closed her eyes and sighed. When he placed yet another kiss on one cheek, then the other, her pulse quickened. When he placed his lips softly on hers, she felt the ache of 1,000 times she’d wanted to kiss him run down her body, exiting through her toes and spilling out on to the floor. She kissed him back, partly because she couldn’t not, and partly because she desperately needed him to know that she wanted this, that it wasn’t a mistake. He released her lips and rested his forehead against hers, moving his hands to her waist, hers finding their home at the back of his neck, gently tracing his hairline.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this happy in my entire life” he whispered to her, and she laughed with the knowledge that she had given him that, that they had created this moment together, for both of them.

“Can I kiss you again?” The question was so earnest, and so hopeful, it tore at her heart. How could he ever think the answer to that could be no?

Instead of answering him, she pushed up to her tip toes and gently pulled on his neck, bringing him to her. She tried to make it as sweet and chaste as his kiss had been, but the un-sated desire of 7 years and the heightened emotion of the moment got the better of her and she devoured his lips, tugging at them with her teeth and tasting them with her tongue. She felt his hands slide a little lower until they rested just above the swell of her ass, and the resulting throb between her legs made her wonder how early pregnancy hormones could affect her sex drive. He pulled away then, breathless with pupils the size of dinner plates, his lips swollen and moist.

“I’m sorry, is this okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable” he mumbled. As though she hadn’t been the one to put her tongue in his mouth. As though she hadn’t tipped her pelvis against his hungrily. He was so protective of her that he felt compelled to guard her from even himself.

“It’s more than okay, Mulder” she purred, already missing the salt of his sunflower seeds on her lips, already begging God or the universe that he should carry her to his bedroom. Full of wonder that only when his child was taking shape inside her could she find the courage to show him how she felt. Talk about putting the cart before the horse.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his eyes searching hers. She had the realization that he may have been wanting this just as much as she had. That they’d been standing together on the edge of the cliff, waiting for the other to jump first.

She met his gaze and let down every wall she had built around herself, hoping that he could see in her icy blue irises how completely she meant what she was going to say next. Hoping he could hear the hum in her body that he was responsible for. “I want you” she said, surprising herself with her own boldness. Having seen today what possibilities awaited her if she took a chance, she no longer wanted to take the safer path. If leaping off the cliff meant a baby with Mulder, maybe a life with him, she was prepared to hurl herself over the edge and accept the consequences.

His face crumpled a little, his mouth puckering with emotion. She recognized the way his chin pebbled and wondered if he was going to cry. The expression quickly passed and was replaced by a tender smile, though his eyes shone with dampness. “You’re really hitting it hard with life-changing news today” he teased.

“Go big or go home, Mulder.” She replied, leaning into him and brushing her lips lightly against his. Her calves were tired from propping her up to meet his height and it was the closest she could comfortably get.

“Will you stay a while?” He asked, ever the gentleman, not wanting to assume anything about what would happen next.

She said nothing, but nodded, and he released her, taking her hand and guiding her to sit beside him on the couch. She slipped her shoes off and kicked them underneath the coffee table, folding her legs under her her torso and gratefully sliding under the arm he extended to drape over her shoulders, nestling into his side. He took her hand and held her palm to his lips, sighing deeply, then placed their joined hands in his lap and kissed the top of her head. With her ear against his chest, she could hear the steady measure of his heart beating and felt an overwhelming sense of peace. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that this was her happy ending, but even just this moment where she had the knowledge that she was going to be a mother and Mulder returned her affection, it was enough. She knew well enough by now that she should cling to even the briefest glimpses of happiness and normalcy, because they were too often fleeting and untenable.

“How do you feel?” He asked her, and she wasn’t sure if he meant the pregnancy or the kiss, or both. Years of experience taught him that any inquiry into her state would be met with “I’m fine” 98% of the time, but he still always asked. He needed her to know that it mattered to him. She tipped her face up to look at his, no longer trying to conceal her feelings. It was incredibly freeing.

“Amazing” she answered, and she meant it. She couldn’t recall ever feeling better than she did right now.

He smiled at her, his own demeanor always being so impacted by hers, and lowered his head towards hers until their noses brushed together. “I love you” he whispered so quietly she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. She tucked her face back into his chest to conceal a yawn.

“Am I boring you?” He joked, and she chuckled, facing him again while she shook her head.

“I’m just suddenly exhausted” she remarked. How much had her life changed in the past couple hours? It’s was a lot to absorb.

“Wanna take a nap?!” He proposed with the same level of excitement he might normally ask “wanna go to Kentucky?!” Except this time, what he was offering actually sounded good.

“You don’t still have a water bed do you?” Her tone was skeptical, but also curious.

“Nope, I got a real mattress after the last one sprung a leak, at the insistence of my landlord.”

“In that case, sold.”

He stood and offered her his hands to help her off the couch. Without her shoes, the top of her head barely met the height of his armpits and he squeezed her to him, laughing. “Is your money on this kid being average height? Will we cancel each other out?”

“I don’t think that’s how genetics work, Mulder.” She replied, her words muffled against the fabric of his T shirt. Spitballing about whose traits their child would inherit was beyond what she ever could have hoped for. She wished she could bottle this moment up and save it forever.

He escorted her to his bedroom, never breaking contact with a hand on her arm or back. She let her sweater slide down her arms and folded it neatly before setting it on his dresser, and then lay down on her back on the bed. He took his place next to her, lying on his side with his head propped up under his arm. He tentatively reached out and placed his hand on her stomach, just above her belly button. She put her own hand on top of his and pushed it down until it was low on her pelvis and he could feel the hem of her panties underneath her dress.

“More like here” she corrected with a shy smile, very aware of the intimacy of where he was touching her.

“Guess I need to brush up on my anatomy” he said dryly, transfixed on the gentle rise and fall of her belly under his hand as she breathed. He rubbed his thumb back and forth and she stifled a gasp at the contact, apparently not well enough because he turned his head to look at her face. “You okay?” He asked, his tone tender. She nodded. “Does this bother you?” He inquired further, and she shook her head no, reaching up to touch his face so he knew she meant it.

Turning his attention back to his hand, he said “I wish you weren’t wearing a dress so I could see better.”

She laughed and his hand shook. “See what, Mulder? There’s nothing to see, not yet anyway.”

He looked at her sheepishly “I know, but it seems like bare skin is somehow closer to the real thing. I realize as I’m saying this that it doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it doesn’t, but the things we want don’t always need to make sense.” Her voice had a faraway quality, like she was applying the logic to more than just this specific situation. “You know there’s this really cool thing dresses can do that you don’t appear to be privy to” she continued in a much more jovial tone. Pushing his hand off her, she flipped up the hem of her dress to reveal her stomach from the belly button down, including her pale pink lace panties. Mulder’s eyes went big momentarily before he tried to play it cool.

“That IS a neat trick” he marveled, forcing himself to look at her face. He tentatively put his hand back on her lower belly and her skin prickled up in goose flesh at his touch. His fingers danced over her flesh, tracing the place her uterus would be, imagining the tiny life growing there. Wordlessly, he dipped his head down and touched his lips to that place, causing her back to arch into him and her breath to catch in her throat. Mercifully, he didn’t ask if she was okay with what he was doing. She didn’t think she’d have been able to form words if he had. She felt his tongue hot and wet, darting out a trail up to her navel. She sighed, a tiny show of disappointment that he had traveled up instead of down. Bringing his face back near hers, he kissed her again, this time drawing it out, moving to her cheek and then her ear. Her neck and then her chest. She felt like she was floating.

“What do you want?” He whispered against her earlobe, grazing it with his teeth.

“Everything” she sighed. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to be on fire.

He moved over her, his elbows bracketing her rib cage and his knees just outside hers on the bed. Kissing down her throat, he made his way to the neckline of her dress, slipping his tongue just under the fabric to taste the flesh of her breasts before continuing. Shifting his weight to one arm, he pushed the hem of the dress up further, exposing her rib cage, and kissed every inch of her, giving extra attention to each scar. By the time he reached her belly button, her hands were in his hair, encouraging him on his journey. He again found the place where their baby grew, dropping kisses for each night he had prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that they would exist. His tongue flitted under the hem of her panties and her hips shifted slightly in response.

Lifting his head to look at her he asked “is this okay?” and she said “yes” with as much conviction as he had ever witnessed in her face.

“It won’t hurt the baby?” He questioned. He had to be sure. “No, it won’t hurt the baby” she replied, touched by his care almost as much as she was aroused by where this was headed.

He kissed the insides of her thighs, ran his nose along the crease of her leg, pressed it into the damp fabric of her panties and inhaled the smell of her want for him. Her hips were gyrating ever so gently, rebelling as she tried to temper her desire, resisting the overwhelming urge to beg him to fuck her immediately. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and asked “okay?,” waiting until she said yes before he pulled them down her legs, tossing them haphazardly over his shoulder. He followed the same path again, kissing her thighs, running his nose along the crease of her leg, and then concluding with a kiss to her labia. She sucked air into her lungs sharply and her fingers in his hair grasped and pulled. It may have hurt if he’d been paying any attention. If he hadn’t had more important things to attend to. Gingerly, he tried his tongue against her slick lips, tasting her wetness. God she was wet. He found her opening and lapped at it before sliding up to almost her clit. But not quite. Her head was thrown back, hiding her face from view, her back arching wildly, her fists gripping at his hair. She made tiny sounds; gasps and truncated moans. She was trying self-consciously to be quiet, something she always worried about since an ex had teased her about being loud. He explored her, pulling her lips between his, sliding his tongue through each crevice and fold, pushing it inside her until he earned a soft moan. Finally he flicked his tongue across her clit and she said “oh” in the most breathy, beautiful way that he thought he might cum in his jeans. He continued the motion, listening to her responses and increasing his pace until he felt her body tense. Gently, he slipped one finger inside her and she gasped just before he felt her muscles clamp around him, a single piercing cry escaping her lips as she began to pulse rhythmically. He continued to lick her and flex his finger softly inside, drawing out her orgasm and eliciting an “oh my god” which made him smile. He’d always wondered if she’d say that in bed. He’d always wanted to make her say it.

When the pulsing subsided, he carefully withdrew his finger and crawled back up to her. She had her eyes closed and was still breathing heavily. He pushed down the hem of her dress, feeling as though he should protect her modesty, even in light of what he’d just done. Nuzzling his face into her neck, he waited to see if she might fall asleep. After a few minutes she spoke.

“Mulder?”

“Hm.”

“I’m not sure this day could get any better.”

He laughed, and she joined him, rolling to her side so that they were face to face, her leg threading between his while her hand wrapped around his waist. He brushed her hair from her face and kissed the tip of her nose tenderly.

“Thank you” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

“For what?”

She shrugged, her voice caught in her throat. “For everything” she rasped out.

He shook his head. “You are everything, Scully. Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”

She nestled against his chest, taking comfort in the circles he traced on her back until she drifted off to sleep.

[hazbinextgeneration]

Safe Haven’s Angel Book1 Ch10

The cold winter air nipped at his skin. He didn't respond to it though. He stood perfectly still against the otherwise freezing weather. "........" His sharp blue eyes darted to the right as a black limo slowly drove up. It stopped it front of him before the passenger door quickly swung open. "Get in. Now." He didn't need to be told twice as he ducked his head and climbed into the limo. As soon as he sat down, the door was slammed shut and the limo took off. It was dark, making his father's yellow eyes glow besides the end of his cigar. They stared at each other silently. ".........What happened?"

He knew his father wouldn't accept just any excuse. Answer incorrectly and his father would most likely punish him by refusing to let him see his mother. Don't answer and he'll become more agitated. "......He insulted Mother. I merely put him in his place." His father's eyes narrowed.".....Who?" "Travor." He nodded and more silence followed. "........Winter. If given the chance, you have permission to end him......Understood?" "Yes, Father." .................................................................................................................................................................................................. "Exactly how long do these tests take?" The doctor tiredly looked over his shoulder at the giant cheetah before rolling his eyes and turning back to the viles. "Well.....Considering that we're STILL using all the limited resources we have for the coma patients AND studying the blasted virus.....I can't be too sure of any due dates." "......I see." ".....Do you really think she's connected to this?" "I can't be too sure of anything yet, and I can't exactly rule out ANY possibilities just yet." "Mmm hmm." A moment of silence pasted. "......So, what DO your capital scientists know about the virus?" The cheetah narrowed his eyes."......Only that it's a genetically altered virus gene that's been spliced with something that mimics a knockout drug that renders the victims unconscious. Whoever did this was very scientifically skilled." "Hmm. There's not many with the intelligence to cook up such a thing." "I know. Which makes it more difficult to narrow down suspects." "Anyone you suspect yet?" "............A few." "Really? Like who?" ".......I'm not at liberty to say." "Really now?" A sudden knock at the door got their attention. "......Come in." The door slowly opened and a nurse stepped in. "I'm sorry to bother you, Doctor." "That's alright. What do you need?" She held up her hand, and in it was a phone. "There's a call for Mr. Zechariah from a Mr. Fabian. He seems persistant." The giant cheetah stood up and walked over to the woman. Ringing his tail around the phone, he brought it up to his ear. "Fabian?" "Zechariah," the familiar voice of the fox came through. "What is it? I haven't got much time to spare." "......*sigh* I know. I wouldn't have bothered you if it wasn't important.'' "Then what is it?" "The girls got into a fight today." There was a pause. ".........What kind of fight?" "*sigh* Baltimore's children." "Travor." "And Josslyn and Winter I'm afraid. The boy was harassing the girls again." "Oh, no. What happened this time?" "From what I understand, the boys started a fight and dragged the girls into it, then Zoey assaulted the two troublemakers." He held a paw to his face. "And what did you do about it?" "After school detention for the girls and Winter, and detention for the two who started it for the rest of the school year. Plus tutoring from Carrie." "Not suspention?" "They need less free time and more discipline. And no one can do discipline better than Carrie can." "No argument there. What about the girls?" "They're in their rooms. Grounded." He hummed. "Good. There is something I need to take care of, but be assured I'll have a talk with them once I get home." "Alright." There was a click signaling Fabian had hung up. He carefully gave the burse back the phone and turned back to the doctor. "How soon can you have that test done?" "*sigh* Two maybe three hours." "Wonderful." .................................................................................................................................................................................................. The stepping of feet calmly stepped through the slush on the sidewalk. Though the stopped and turned to wait for the other figure. "W-W-What m-misssserable weather." The naga slithered in a VERY thick coat, two scarves, and a hat. Being half snake, Travor was partially cold blooded and was weak in cold weather. Unfotunately there was no clothes to cover a snake tail. "It is winter." He hissed and narrowed his eyes. "I would appreciate it if you didn't mention that word." She only mumbled an ok in a monotone, almost emotionless voice. He paused and looked down at her. ".......N-Now what'ssss with that nonsssssscenssse?" "What?" "Y-You usually l-lighten up when we g-get home." "So you listen when I'm unhappy but not when I try to warn you when something's gonna happen......Nice." He gave her a look. "W-What? S-Sssso you're s-sssssaying thisss isss MY f-fault?" "THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IM SAYING!!," she yelled throwing her arms up. Her loud outburst made him lean back, "YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME!!" He watched shivering as she continued to ramble. "WE COULD'VE GOTTEN KILLED MULTIPLE TIMES!! BUT EVERYTIME I TRY TO SAY OR DO SOMETHING YOU BLOW ME OFF LIKE I'M JUST A PUP!!" She stopped to take a few deep breaths, tears running. "AND I ALWAYS GET HURT BECAUSE OF YOU!!" "......T-Then why do you even bother to ssstay around me!?" "Because no matter how many times your stupid a$$ gets in trouble, you're my friend! And I still love and care about you!" "................L-Love me?" "Just f**king forget everything I said." She turned away. "You always do anyways." The door was opened and she stormed in. "Hello, Jossy." "Hi." Slowly, the naga slithered in after her. "Hi, Honey! How's my precious baby?" "......." He slowly looked at his mother. ".......I may have a few concsssserns."

[perish-the-creator]

Godzilla and gojirin, fluff, 17

Put it in the bag nice and slowly chump

TW: Mpreg. Teen Parents. Gijinka. Blah blah blah.

“I’m here for you.”

Goji held the phone close to his ear as he resisted the urge to start crying again. When Gojirin had said she would be moving away, the young couple had decided to lose their virginity to each other and keep in contact by any means necessary.

So when Goji found out he was pregnant, he made sure to call the girl who helped make it happen.

“I’m sorry,” Goji said. “I-”

“Don’t apologize,” Gojirin said. “It’s alright. Like I said I’ll be here. It’s just-”

“We’ll have to tell our parents.”

Both young teens held their phones in silence. The mere fact that they would have to confess to their parents that they had committed such an act was hard to stomach (literally). Not to mention the fact that Gojira was only just starting to loosen up and trust Goji more only for him to go and pull this stunt.

“I….I don’t know if I can,” Goji whimpers. He slides against the wall and curls in on himself. He can’t imagine looking his father in the eyes and telling him such massive news. They were barely making ends meet with the two of them, but now they’d have to worry about another mouth. Or even worse, his father would make him give the child up for adoption. “Gojirin I can’t-”

“I’ll tell my parents first,” She sighs as she looks at the picture of Goji and her from the photo booth at the arcade. The same arcade they snuck behind that day to do what led to this moment. She loved Goji and she knew he loved her. She had convinced her parents to let them stay in contact because they had faith that it wouldn’t lead to anything more than just a simple childhood romance. And look at them now. “And then they’ll probably call your dad and we’ll...figure something out.”

There’s a pause.

“I love you,” Goji finally says. “Again, I’m sorry-”

“Goji, this is a two-person act. We both had a part to play. 50/50,” She laughs lightly. “Maybe our parents should’ve let us take those sex-ed lessons after all.”

They both laugh.

_____________________________________________________________

“Can you feel him moving?” Goji asked as Gojirin placed her hand on his stomach. They were sitting on the floor in Gojirin’s mother’s living room. She was in the kitchen making some soup for Goji to eat while he stayed for the night.

Of course, when the two teens had to tell their parents there was the expected reaction. Gojira passed out after Goji told him. He even thought it was a cruel prank before Goji went fishing for the positive test in the trashcan.

After many long weeks of talking, groundings, and otherwise, it was decided that Gojirin and her mother would move back to Japan so that Gojirin would be involved with the growth of her child. Not that either teen truly complained. They were more than happy to get to spend time together.

Granted, it was expected that in the next three or so years the two would be wed, but again it wasn’t an issue. Thankfully their child was conceived out of true love.

“A little,” She says as she draws circles on his stomach. “Kinda crazy, you know?”

“What is?” Goji asks.

“You know,” Gojirin chuckled. “How me and you made another human being. Like man, we made a life together and it’s just mindblowing.”

Goji laughs with her before grabbing her hand and looking at it.

“Do you think he’ll come out brown like you?” He shyly says. “I...would like it if he does, you know? You have a very pretty complexion and I’d hope he gets to reflect that.”

“It doesn’t matter to me either way,” Gojirin says just as her mother starts to set up the small table for them. “As long as he’s a healthy baby that’s what matters most to me.”

“I see,” He nods. “Though I’m a bit scared. I can’t decide whether or not to give birth the normal way or to get cut open. And frankly, both options scare me.”

“Well, I’ll be there either way,” She lightly kisses his cheek. “From your first labor pain to the moment our son is out, I’ll be right by your side.”

“And so will we,” Gojirin’s mother pipes in. “Ugh, I still can’t believe you made me a grandma already, child.”

“Hehe, sorry mama,” The young teen chuckles before helping arrange the table. Goji attempts to stand up but Gojirin’s mother was quick to give him a look. He shrank down and waited for them to finish. The night was filled with laughter. Gojirin’s mother giving the young man advice as to how to handle certain sicknesses and pains.

She prays over the three as well. She hopes that misfortune does not fall upon them. Goji genuinely made Gojirin happy. She remembered the days her daughter would come home brighter after only an hour of walking with him. They complimented each other in a way that reminded her of the love between her husband and her.

Though fear did linger. She learned that Goji’s mother died in childbirth, and Gojira had made a passing remark that his family had a history of producing large babies. She hopes that the young man will be able to grow with his son and her daughter.

_____________________________________________________________

“Oh my,” Biollante says as she looks down at the infant.

The newborn showed off his parents’ genes perfectly. With time the family was certain he would develop that nose Goji has. Lots of curly brown hair on top of his head that laid on beautiful brown skin. To be honest, he wasn’t the prettiest looking baby, but honestly what baby comes out completely perfect?

“Goji please sit down,” Gojira urged as his son gently placed down the baby carrier. Obviously, after several hours of intense labor, the young boy’s body was still recovering even five days later. Gojira was thankful his boy was strong and survived the ordeal.

Gojirin came to him and guided him towards the mat on the floor for him to lay down. They kissed briefly before he eased himself down. Gojira began to attend to his grandson.

Minilla. That’s the name they decided to give him.

“How you feel Uncle?” Biollante asked as Gojira picked up the infant and cradled him. “You know, you’re already a grandpa.”

“Ah it’s weird,” He admits. “But it’ll grow on me.”

Gojirin lays beside her boyfriend, whispering sweet nothings to him as she grabs his hands and caresses them. It was very clear the two were still deeply in love.

But on cue, the newborn awoke with a fury. An ear-piercing screech rang in the air. He was hungry, again, and all Goji could do was groan.

“We don’t have formula yet, huh?” Gojirin asked as she helped Goji sit up. The family shook their head just as Gojira gently handed his grandson off to his son. The young man yawned as he unbuttoned his shirt. Instantly, once latched on the newborn ceased his uproar and suckled peacefully.

“I just want to sleep,” Goji starts sniffling.

“Haha, should’ve thought about that before you two got busy,” Biollante teased just as her uncle hit her upside the head. But as Gojirin rubbed his back, Goji knows that he doesn’t regret a thing. And neither does she. She promised to always be there for him.

And she always will.

[redhoodedangel]

The Three Jokers (Jason Todd/Red Hood X Scarlet Witch!Reader) Part 1-The Clown (Preview)

This is inspired off the original four-part comic special, 'The Three Jokers'. Mind you, this will get graphic, violent and even a little explicit (if you read the comic, you probably know why I say that), so please skip this story if you aren't comfortable with what happened in this story.

Now, Reader, at a young age, was experimented on by Scarecrow, who used her as a test subject. However, when she built up an immunity to the fear toxin, Crane used a different toxin/drug he created that, unbeknownst to him, unlocked a super gene she didn't know she had, giving her psionic powers and unleashing her Chaos Magic. With her new powers, she escaped and was found by Batman, who then took her in. This is how she meet Jason and they become friends, later becoming lovers, even after his torture and death at the Joker's hand, his resurrection and becoming the Red Hood.

P.S.: Your costume is the same as Wanda's Scarlet Witch attire as the end of WandaVision.

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The Criminal...

The Comedian...

The Clown...

The three names used to refer to Batman's greatest and deadly foe... or foes. The Joker was as difficult to read as he was unpredictable and chaotic. And you were one to talk... You were practically the manipulator of it. It was your sword and your shield. Chaos came in many forms.

Joker was the violent and sadistic form of it, the destruction and death it brought, which manifested as his and others' crimes... the violence of everyday life...

You were the more quiet form of chaos, the many probabilities of one event, the messy side of justice, the good luck gifted to random individuals, the side that supported and protected life...

However, you used your Chaos and other abilities to bring order. Especially after your experience with a certain fear-drunk doctor. It was because of him that your powers were unlocked. But, they weren't as strong as they were now. Otherwise, you would have been able to save your best friend, now resurrected boyfriend, Jason Todd from being killed by the Clown Prince of Crime himself. Back when you were both with Bruce... back when Jason was Robin...