#rodney is dense

[louisdotmp3]

that pipeline of anti-intellectualism to the worst/most lukewarm political opinions on leftist politics. like actually maybe you guys should know a little bit about what you're talking about and then you won't sound so foolish or have to constantly reinvent theory & discourse that was already covered extensively in the 20th century

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Wally hadn't been able to make sense of what you'd said. How had it been possible that he and the others had been trapped for so long without knowing it? With that truth out for him to examine, Wally hadn't been sure he'd wanted to look any closer. He'd felt violated. Betrayed. Lost. What other lies had he been unwittingly a part of?

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.14

The world fell away as your words penetrated. Wally stilled, didn't breathe, didn't blink, didn't make a sound. As if he could delay the impact of that truth if he shut down critical functions.

Weakly, "What do you...mean?" Wally croaked, but something deep within himself had always known.

Known it like common sense; the feeling like looking at a green sky and knowing it was supposed to be blue. Like being sick since birth yet knowing that that wasn't what healthy felt like. He'd known and yet never questioned it because he and the others had had no way to be sure their situation was terribly, tragically wrong.

In the earliest days succeeding his untimely demise, Wally had tried to leave the school.

Not to follow his mother home after she'd donated his trophies, helmet, and jacket to display in the stadium entrance. Not to join his friends in Rodney's basement to get stoned after his memorial service. Not to break his own heart by stalking Jenny to the motel where she and her second choice prom date, Gary fucking Reid, lost their virginities together.

Rather, to go for a walk for the sake of getting some air. Despite having been flung back to the field multiple times by then—a lesson that had drilled into him the habit of remaining perpetually vigilant of his surroundings—Wally had had this intrinsic understanding that he could roam beyond what the barrier permitted.

So much so that, one evening, he hadn't kept track of where he'd been going (partly because he'd trusted himself to veer away from the perimeter, but mostly because he'd been relaxed. Not actively chasing down a loved one). It'd been an unconscious series of actions; one foot in front of the other, listening to Eddie Money's Can't Hold Back on a Lost & Found walkman, strolling into the thin smattering of trees on the edge of the grounds, and then wham—

Back to Start.

It had happened a few times after that, too. Rhonda would cackle around her lollipop du jour, roll her eyes, and tell him to, "Get smart, Jockstrap."

When Charley had come along, he'd experienced the same thing. And then Ajay and Katelynn. Learning the lesson after the lesson had been learned. Mr. Martin had calmly and wisely informed them that it was merely the result of not having internalized being dead yet.

But that hadn't sat right with Wally, similar to having been given the excuse of roughhousing when he'd caught his parents in a compromising position one innocuous summer-break afternoon before he'd aged into double digits.

"Babe..." Wally croaked, just above a whisper, the weight of what you'd unveiled slamming into his chest and leaving him winded, "What are you saying?"

Your eyes, marbled and bright—though not outright glowing like they had in the theater—stared right into him for a moment. You were obviously calculating what it meant that Wally couldn't leave the high school, all the hows and whys flittering like dust motes between you and him.

"Unless you're a residual haunter, like Mina or Yuri, you should be able to go wherever you want. How long have you been stuck?"

Wally's throat clicked when he swallowed, "Since I died."

You pressed your forehead to his, hands slotting under his jaw, and, voice laced with grief, said, "That's not possible."

"I mean, maybe it is?" Wally tried to reason, slumping back in his seat and staring at the 5-yard line as he stitched together his own theories based on what he'd learned as an actual dead person. "It's not like ghosts wrote those books you read. Maybe whoever wrote them got it wrong."

Shaking your head, "Actually, they did. Not the physical copies, obviously, but those authors collaborated with ghosts to write those books."

Wally didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know if he could answer a lot of things anymore. Did he even know what it meant to be dead?

You seemed willing wait him out as he turned everything over in his head, one hand on his shoulder, the other lifting the one he'd had on your calf so you could string his arm through your legs and cradle his hand on your belly, your thumb rubbing soothing patterns between the bones.

"What does it mean?" He asked, distant.

Wally could feel himself slipping away, the revelation frosting him from the inside and making him numb. He'd had a similar experience when he'd been fourteen and had broken his collarbone. The pain so intense that his brain had immediately severed its connection to the feeling.

Shock.

"It means that something doesn't want you to leave." You answered once he'd returned his eyes to yours. Your features creased, "Or someone."

Wally felt that statement like a nail through the chest. "How?"

You stared at him helplessly, caressing his cheek and then tilting forward to press your foreheads together again. The action worked to ground Wally, reeled him back from the edge of an existential crisis he wasn't ready to have.

Regretfully, "I don't know, Wally. But we'll figure it out, okay?"

He nodded against you. Closed his eyes and absorbed the warmth of your nearness, the solidity of your touch. Allowed those things to calm him.

"At least we can rule out Mr. A having anything to do with that, right?" Wally snorted in an attempt to lighten the mood.

You pulled back, smiled gently, and nodded, "Right. But he could've used it to his advantage. With her soul stuck here, Maddie wouldn't be able to get back into her body and then go to the police. It also means that he could've safely stashed her body anywhere, so long as he has access to life support."

"You think he dropped her at the hospital?"

"Not here." You said, "Split River isn't big enough to pull that off. He could've driven her to another state? Dropped her off at a big city hospital as a Jane Doe?"

Wally grimaced, shaking his head at the depravity, "That's messed up."

"God, her body could be in Detroit for all we know and it wouldn't get back here until someone in the hospital there made the connection. Unless Sheriff Baxter decides to widen the search."

"Couldn't you ask him? It's like you said, Xavier's your brother from another mother. Wouldn't the sheriff listen to you?"

You didn't seem convinced, reciting in a satire of an upbeat tone, "Hey Sheriff, I think my teacher knocked Maddie out of her body and took it to another state all so she wouldn't tell you about the money he's hiding in his classroom. We should totally look into that."

Wally responded in a responsible manner, "That sounds like an awful idea, let's not do that."

Curling against the back of your seat, voice slightly strangled, you uttered, "So, Maddie's stuck in an In Between 'til I can find her body and bring it back to her."

Wally sensed the granite mass of the pressure you were already putting on yourself. Choosing to steer you out from under it, he diverted the conversation, "Still haven't told me what an In Between is, by the way."

It did the trick, at least for the time being. Your lips quirked up at the corners and the wrinkle between your brows vanished as you informed him, "It's exactly what it sounds like. A plain between plains."

"Yeah, pretty thing, you're going to have to dumb it down more." Wally said, willing to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of making you smile.

Grinning, you set the stage, "Think of plains like different worlds. I'm in the living world, you're in the dead world, right?"

"Got it."

"Now, pretend there are doorways into those worlds. In Betweens are the spaces between the doors." You nibbled your bottom lip and Wally's attention immediately slipped, the urge to lick into your mouth making him twitch. Sweetly unaware, you back-tracked and tried a different avenue, "Not doors...maybe glass walls?"

"The door thing made sense. I mean, I think I get it. In Betweens are those places that anyone can access, whereas the living world is just for the living and the dead world is just for the dead. Am I close?"

"Yeah, you got it." You praised and Wally had to stifle the desire to puff out his chest and preen. "Well, not anyone can access In Betweens, but if your soul can Travel, that's where you go."

"So, when you project, you're in an In Between." Wally stated, though he was hedging for clarification.

"Exactly."

"And you said Maddie's stuck in an In Between, too, right?"

Wally saw the moment you clocked where he was going with that train of thought.

With a lamenting sigh, you said, "Unfortunately, In Betweens are complex. They're unique to all kinds of things like bloodlines and soul-ties—" Wally opened his mouth to ask, but you got there first, "—incredibly deep bonds you make in life with another person." He closed his mouth and listened as you elaborated. "So, me and my great-aunt enter the same In Between and can see each other. But Maddie..."

"Isn't blood?"

"And she and I weren't close enough to form the type of bond you'd need to Travel the same In Between. Either she'd have had to invite me into hers or I'd have had to invite her into mine. It's extremely intimate. Not something you do with someone you only hang out with in a group." You perked up and finally gave Wally a full, supernova smile. "I actually wrote you some notes."

The implication conjured an image of you scribbling notes for him under light cast from a laptop screen, kicking your feet as you lay on your bed like a schoolgirl. All so that he could understand the twisty, twiddly secrets of the universe...

He swooned, barely holding back a wistful exhale.

And then his brain ticked back a few frames to you on an unmade bed. The collar of the oversized t-shirt Wally hoped you owned bearing one shoulder, and the smooth skin of your legs on display.

He couldn't care less about the state of his deadness now, and what it meant that he couldn't leave the school grounds. Instead, he let a slow, devilish smirk slant across his mouth, emboldened by hormones and how receptive you were as he leaned into your space.

He slid his hand from yours and placed it on your thigh, "Gonna let me copy your homework, baby?"

"Gotta get those grades up before the big game." You played along, "Don't want you kicked off the team."

Without hesitation, Wally struck, halfway out of his seat, hand gripping the armrest behind you to hold himself up. He loomed over you, little thing that you were, squished into your seat and completely caged in by him. He hovered, heard your breath hitch, and watched your gaze go hazy.

"Lucky to have a girl like you on my side, then, huh?" Wally said, voice rough, tightly controlled, closing the distance between your lips in increments.

You reached up, wrapped your arms around his neck, "Damn right, big shot," and dipped in.

A throat cleared somewhere over Wally's shoulder, from behind and moderately above, and drove him back into his seat at Mach speed, his hold on you resituating to a socially acceptable place on your ankle. The interruption was accompanied by that arcing of gravity that emitted from a living body which meant Wally was once more on the outside looking in.

"Okay there, hot shot, time to get moving. Students aren't s'posed to be up here outside'a game time." The maintenance worker said, illicit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Wally noticed the man wasn't quite looking at you, and, for the first time, he had to wonder what the hell people saw when you and he were together while you were still in your body.

You pulled yourself up as fast as the angle allowed you to without injury, foot still tucked in Wally's lap. As soon as your head peeked above the back of your seat, the maintenance worker clutched a hand to his heart and plucked the cigarette from his lips.

"Jesus, girl, you can't do that to folks." He scolded you, southern accent thickening, "Lookin' like a zombie comin' out the grave or what."

"Sorry," You said and sounded as puzzled as Wally was by the man's overreaction.

"Just hurry up and get goin'." His eyes swept in a strange pattern, away from you then back then away, fixing on a point that would have been Wally's nose if he weren't invisible. "You kids these days thinking you can be wherever you wanna be, huh? Ignoring the rules, like they don't apply to you..."

God, this guy. "Can it, asshole. Give her a minute to get up." Wally snapped, bolstered by the fact that the man couldn't hear him. "Bet you're bent outta shape because all that nicotine makes your dick about as useful as a wet napkin."

He heard you choke on a laugh that you quickly masked under a cough.

The man squinted, lips pursed in aggravation. Surprisingly, he departed with no more than a gruff, "Get gone!" and stuck his half-burned cigarette back into his mouth.

Wally glared after him as the man marched up the stairs toward a ladder open beneath a curtain of cables and metal that spilled from the ceiling. Clearly, the man had been in the middle of fixing something when he'd seen you.

"Fucker." Wally grumbled. He patted your leg, pressed a kiss to your knee before he released you.

"I appreciated the support," You giggled, "Even if it doesn't do much on my side of things, it's nice to know you have my back."

"I've always got you, baby." Wally vowed as he unfolded himself and rose to his feet. He couldn't help tacking on, "Every bit of you," with a wink that made you pink up so prettily.

You wetted your lips, ducked your face into your shoulder; shy after you'd been caught in what might’ve been a very awkward position. "I'm starting to get that."

Wally let you take the lead, enjoyed how you brushed up against him as you shuffled out of the row and onto the stairs. He shot the man one last angry look as he grabbed his jacket and then turned to trail you across the field and out of the stadium.

At the top of the grandstand, feet from the ladder, the man examined his cigarette through a profoundly glum expression.

With a grunt, he dropped it to the ground and crushed it under the thick sole of his work boot, simultaneously pulling the crumpled, two-from-empty pack out of his breast pocket and whipping it into a nearby trashcan.

💀___________________________

PART THIRTEEN - PART FIFTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[fuck-customers]

It’s bad enough that a lot of the customers that call my department are incredibly stupid and dense, but the employees from customer service and sales are no different either. Today 20 mins before my shift ends, a guy from customer service calls on behalf of a customer while I’m working on a report. I really needed to submit this report by the end of my shift but this guy was giving me mixed information and it was like pulling teeth to get relevant information from him. I got fed up and told him I need him to give me information I can work with because I have a report I really need to finish. I wish I could’ve said it more professionally but I was really frustrated. I got even more annoyed when I found out this whole interaction wouldn’t have even needed to happen if one of my coworkers had done their job correctly, so I really couldn’t get upset at this person.

Posted by admin Rodney

[td-yuri-takes]

I LOVE SAMELLA...... read twinning with a twist and havent been the same since but they really do just work really well together if you think ab it. with both coming from bad family situations (only implied for ella tho i think) and needing everyone to like them all the time. sammy is really hurt that she's always painted in a bad light no matter how hard she tries to fix it, while ella doesnt realize how she comes across as annoying and that people dont really like her until sugar flat out tells her, and she starts spending so much time trying to get sugar to like her. its just interesting bc sammy feels defeated and ella is just determined to both be herself and be someone who everybody likes.(though, and this might just be pulling from twinning with a twist a lot, it does feel like she uses her princess fantasy as escapism. possibly partly bc shes Not oblivious i bet she realizes people dont like her that much, she just doesnt know what to do about it. if they dont like her when shes trying to be the perfect princess and polite and kind what is so bad about her that even if shes nice they dont want her?) sammy IS nice, and she doesnt hide it, but somehow ends up taking the fall for amy's behavior (even tho amy was outright awful to everyone?? this plot confused me so bad. but i guess scarlett and amy dont care, topher probably just doesnt care or Loves to stir the pot, max and rodney are probably too dense, and we know how jasmine reacted) and she has such a complex about it its Bad. i honestly love sammy i wish they treated her better. i think ella shouldve also had a last straw snap like sammy did, just absolutely go off on someone about why they dont like her. isnt she trying hard enough? whats wrong with her? and sammy might see that as inspiration and really admire ella for it, and spend more time together (without amy this is important.) then later maybe sammy asks ella for tips and she tells her that she seems like a really nice person !! and maybe likens sammy to a princess as well, because ella didnt have amy on her team influencing her perception of sammy. so that like shocks sammy and she realizes that if ella can do it she can, and if ella sees her as someone worthy just knowing Sammy, then maybe she is, and has worth on her own outside of amy. i love jasmine but i dont love the way she just lets it happen either. i think sammy believed jasmine when she said she was good, but couldnt help but feel like its only because she feels sorry for her, and not really based on her own merit because amy has never let sammy have anything for herself, not even her friendship with jasmine. so being on different teams from ella and still bonding could give them a chance to establish that connection without amy at all, which might make sammy feel more secure that ella truly means what shes saying. i think one of the conversations would happen after ella is voted off, and sammy would get mad, saying that ella was genuinely sweet and they couldnt see past the fact that she was also 'too weird', and then say her situation was similar in that they judge her on the surface of what amy tells them without ever trying to get to know her at all, and she tells amy shes done trying to compete with her. her worth shouldnt depend on whether amy or their mother thinks shes good. maybe this could also relate to ella's brief crush on dave, and how she feels betrayed by sky for being so excited when she was clearly upset about it when she thought they were friends, and she also realizes dave didnt fit the mold she wanted him to. i think sammy would comfort her after, and this shouldve been the start of ella accepting she cant spend her whole life in a fantasy or she wont make real connections. and later when they get together sammy might confess she worries about not being enough for ella, not being able to fit the princess life. but ella tells her that their relationship isnt a fantasy, its real. she wants to take it slow, and not put any expectations onto her. like, character growth. IDK sorry for the rant i just like them

this might just be my favorite thing

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this press release from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service:

Today, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service announced more than $17 million in funding through the Delaware Watershed Conservation Fund, in partnership with the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation, for 45 conservation projects in the Delaware River watershed. The grants will generate nearly $20.7 million in matching contributions from the grantees, providing a total conservation impact of $38 million.

Funding includes more than $4.7 million from President Biden’s Bipartisan Infrastructure Law for six projects aimed at improving public access, recreational opportunities, and water quality, as well as enhancing shoreline resiliency and critical habitat. 

The Delaware River watershed spans parts of Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York — a landscape that encompasses one of the most densely populated urban areas in the nation yet remains 50 percent forested. Four hundred miles of the Delaware River are classified as National Wild and Scenic River, indicating their shorelines remain largely undeveloped but accessible in places by roads. These projects supported by the Delaware Watershed Conservation Fund will benefit the millions of people who rely on the Delaware River and its tributaries by improving habitats, reducing flood risks, improving water quality, and increasing access to natural places. 

Multistate: $94,069 for building capacity for dam removals in the Delaware River watershed through trainings and workshops.

Delaware: $500,000 for re-envisioning Rodney Reservoir Park with restored natural spaces to enhance water quality, wildlife habitat and recreation.

New York: $779,306 for reconnecting rivers in the upper Delaware River watershed to enhance brook trout habitat and mitigating flooding.

Pennsylvania: $1.5 million for restoring habitat and increasing equitable access to nature at Franklin Delano Roosevelt Park. 

Pennsylvania: $830,400 for improving public safety, access and water quality at Stroud Preserve.

Pennsylvania: $1 million for implementing green stormwater infrastructure projects at four under-served elementary schools in Philadelphia.

The total funding also includes $347,450 from the USDA’s Natural Resources Conservation Service for projects such as collaborative forest management in New York and Pennsylvania. This project, co-funded between the Service and USDA-NRCS, is part of a new federal partnership to support conservation efforts on working lands. 

[webionaire]

Originally produced as both a website and CD-ROM, Donald Rodney’s Autoicon was conceived by the artist in the mid-1990s but not completed until 2000, two years after his death from sickle cell anaemia, by a group of close friends and artists ironically named Donald Rodney plc. Referencing Jeremy Bentham’s infamous nineteenth-century Auto-Icon, the work proposes an extension of the personhood and presence of Rodney, while challenging dominant conceptions of the self, the body and historicity. Consisting of a Java-based AI and neural network, the platform engages the user in text-based ‘chat’ and provides responses by drawing from a dense body of data related to Rodney, including documentation of artworks, medical records, interviews, images, notes and videos.

[lightthewaybackhome]

Stargate-Atlantis S3: E4 Sateda

Think about where we've been:

Teyla: he believed in her when no one else trusted her.

Ronon: adopted almost on sight, and acknowledged by Sheppard as the best warrior besides himself, always has his back.

Rodney: lost his trust, gained it back, and built a better friendship.

Carson: always trusted to speak his mind, and do the hard thing.

Elizabeth: she listens to him and trusts him, Sheppard listens to her and trusts her.

Home: Sheppard has no home, no people.

Then he fights again and again to be in Atlantis. He fights again and again for the people there.

Epiphany: Sheppard's people come for him.

He's got a home and people.

This man of action struggling, fighting to tell the woman who is basically his sister how much they all mean to him always makes me cry. This is Sheppard's family. And Ronon's.

Sheppard isn't emotionally dense, he's just not expressive with words. You want to know how he feels, watch what he does. He's been alone so long, I think it's hard for him to believe he has people, but in Epiphany, they came for him.

And now, after losing Ford, after dealing with Michael and the threat to Earth, we have this episode.

Ronon holding a knife to his own throat to get Sheppard and Teyla free before the Wraith come. The look on Sheppard's face when he's physically forced to leave Ronon behind had me tearing up.

Rodney saying he'd lost his Sheppard while under the influence of morphine, and the pretty girl, and the caveman. 🥰

"He's a member of my team, and he deserves the same respect as anyone on this expadition."

Sheppard's "...you say that like we're always getting into trouble," isn't a cocky snarky statement to Caldwell. It's a dangerous threat to get in line on saving Ronon. You can really see it in his face. It's not funny, it's a warning.

Ronon's whole PTSD. On so many levels him and Sheppard are mirrors. They're both broken warriors looking for a home and finding it on Atlantis. They're both warriors who didn't have anything to fight for, anyone to fight for before they got to Atlantis. Ronon just expresses all the emotion Sheppard bottles up.

Also, Rodney coming to save Ronon is such a courageous act of friendship. I love it.

Sheppard's whole thing in the mess hall about willingly dying for them if he had to had me in tears. Will always have me in tears.

In the end, friendship saves Ronon and he knows it. "I win." Not because he physically overpowered the Wraith, but because his friends came for him.

And the final Sheppard look is "how are these people, my people?" Lol. Which is perfect. How are our people ever our people.

[stars-are-just-ghosts]

McShep One Shot - Black Hole

He wasn’t entirely sure how they’d started this particular conversation. They talked about everything, but this? People they’d dated. Men and women. People they’d wanted to date. People they’d never even bothered to ask. People they wondered ‘what if?’ about. There was a thoroughness to the banter that Rodney hadn’t expected to have with John during such an out of purview conversation. As though John wasn’t just talking about it, one guy to another, but searching for clues, digging around for information. It was almost... professional, like he got when he was working hard on figuring out a high stakes situation. There were always things they talked about, their thoughts spiraling from one thing to the next till they usually didn’t remember where they’d started from. It was easy, as easy as calculus or triple integrals. Talking with Colonel John Sheppard would never get old. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t get confusing sometimes. Because Rodney had figured out, nearly the moment they met, that he was supremely lost on the elf-eared, crazy-haired, smart-mouthed, just-plain-smart man in a way he’d never experienced, and wouldn’t dare pursue. Because how could anyone like John want anyone like him? But then he’d catch glimpses of John looking at him in a way that seemed far beyond the fondness of one colleague to another. Or John would say things that were very clearly compliments, but somehow far more appreciative of the matter at hand. Or their conversations would step right into entirely too confusing territories. Like now. “You’re as bright as a black hole and twice as dense, I swear.” John said, half laughing at his own description. “If someone practically waved themselves in front of you, naked, doing the macarena with sparklers in their hands, you’d have no idea they were flirting.” “You would know, wouldn’t you. Captain Kirk. You practically have flirting down to a science. Can flirting be considered a science? More like witchcraft, if you ask me. It’s ridiculous. Why can’t two grown adults just tell each other the plain facts. Just look at each other and say, ‘Hey, I like you. You obviously like me. Let’s do this.’ But no, there always has to be some sort of show. Grandstanding to attract a mate like a peacock is not my idea of how one person should woo another.” Rodney grated out, crossing his arms as he sat back on the one short couch in John’s quarters. The Colonel was sitting across from him, relaxed in his own chair, the chess game on the short table between them entirely forgotten by now. Rodney watched as John’s brows furrowed, watched as his hands went from relaxing to fingers tapping the ends of the arms on the chair in that enticingly rhythmic way that Rodney had once or twice (or two dozen times) wondered how it would feel on his own skin. John had that fidget of sorts, or was it a tic? Usually when he was trying to come up with a game-plan, one that required getting in to a lot of trouble, or getting out of it. But as suddenly as his fingers had started up, they stopped.  Rodney darted his eyes to John’s face and.... oh. What was that look? He’d never seen that look before. Or at least, not directed toward him. That was the look John got when he wanted something. Or someone. It made Rodney forget to breathe. All the air ceased to exist. Could a person live without breathing? Of course not. That was a stupid questi- John stood up without a word, the single action completely ceasing any further ramblings in his typically packed brain. In fact, Rodney had no thoughts at all. No sarcasm. No genius. Where had his genius gone? Apparently, it was on vacation. Because right now, he couldn’t understand what was happening. Or not happening. The confusion only got worse when John sat down directly next to him, turned to face him, his knee pressing into his.  “Hey Rodney.” John said easily, a spark of humor in his eyes as he took in whatever the hell kind of expression Rodney could feel himself making. “I like you. You obviously like me. Let’s do this.” John said his words right back to him. Rodney felt himself breathe again, but only because his heart started doing an ungraceful impression of a marching band and his lungs seemed to want to get out of the way of the noise. Could John hear that?! Because that was loud. That was... wait... “Are you mocking me?!” He demanded, frustration searing through him as he dropped his arms and sat straight up, facing John who just smiled. A real, warm, affectionate smile. It was like the one he usually gave Teyla, or even Ronon. Because Rodney knew John loved them like family. But he’d never turned that smile on Rodney. Not really. He thought he’d catch ghosts of that smile. But now... now he could see it, clear as day. And somehow, it was different. It was... “Rodney. I am not mocking you.” John said almost careful, like humoring a child. “In fact,” He scooted a little closer, “I have been trying every damn thing I could think of to flirt with you. If I’d know it was as simple as just telling you I want you, then I’d have done this a whole lot sooner.” “What, really?” Rodney was well aware his eyes were wide now, his voice a little tight. “Wait, do what?” He asked, brows furrowing lightly. Okay, so... maybe he could be a little dense. Maybe all the stuff he thought he’d seen was way more than just tiny moments of maybes. John’s face softened considerably, the smile fading to something gentler. It brought entirely new qualities to his already too handsome as hell face. It was really unfair. “This.” John said simply. And then he lifted both hands, palms cupping Rodney’s cheeks, effectively holding him in place as John leaned forward and... oh, OH. Any frustration, any confusion, any wondering went out the window and into the deep, dark depths of the ocean. Because John’s lips were obviously made of silk, and they fit so damn perfectly against Rodney’s, and when their tongues met it was instantly addictive, and Rodney could smell John’s aftershave, so warm and clean, and his hands were entirely too steady... more steady than Rodney’s. Because he could feel a fine tremble in every finger, flowing through every muscle, shaking him like he was freezing. When John pulled his mouth away, which made Rodney instantly whine, he was smiling. He was searching Rodney’s eyes. That same, adoring expression on his face. But Rodney could see it now. He could see what was different about it. “Oh.” Rodney said, almost flatly, despite the fact that he was feeling anything but unimpressed. John laughed, dropping his hands but staying close and Rodney found himself smiling back. “You’re right. You really should have done this sooner, Colonel. Quite frankly, I’m disappointed in you. You’re supposed to be the flirting expert.” John half-chuckled, half-scoffed. “Shut up, Rodney.” He stated, and before Rodney could protest, John started kissing him again. And honestly, Rodney was perfectly alright with that. Because there was kissing, and there was kissing. And John was, of course, incredibly good at it. Though Rodney didn’t have the time to think about it. Because he was thinking about what kissing could lead to. And the list was endless. Somewhere along the way, Rodney decided that people didn’t need to breathe to keep living. As long as he could keep doing this with John, he could live forever...

[logicgunn]

#4 Dead On Your Feet (Whumptober 2022 McShep Style)

On AO3

The air is thick with moisture and not even the dense, tropical canopy is protection from the glaring heat of the sun. When the Djillions said the sun god dawned each morning with a fiery temper, John made the mistake of assuming it was more allegorical than literal. They’re paying for it now, with just one canteen between the two of them and another mile or so between them and the ‘gate.

As far as religious punishments go, John thought they'd gotten off lightly; retribution for Rodney's accidental trespass simply being that they have to walk the three miles home through the jungle instead of being rowed back upriver with Teyla and Ronon. He's having second thoughts now that the temperature is climbing higher than anything he ever felt in Afghanistan and every insect in this goddamned jungle is drawn to the sweat on his skin.

It’s not even that bad. They're not barred from returning, not even Rodney, and the Djillions still intend a fair trade. They just felt it important that Rodney spend some time contemplating his place in the universe with a nice long walk. Through a jungle. Alone.

Which...no way, no how. John didn't even draw the short straw, he volunteered for the trek the moment the punishment was suggested, insisting that no member of the team could be separated. The amused spokeswoman for the Djillions capitulated so fast that John realised he'd passed some kind of leadership test.

Still, straws aside, his temper is short enough that when Rodney starts complaining for the millionth time about the heat and the bugs and the blah blah blah, John doesn’t even look at him, just feels the last reserve of temperance snap and hisses “Shut up, McKay!” far more aggressively than he intended.

The silence is instant and nearly as oppressive as the humidity, but John can't even bring himself to enjoy it. Instead of making the trek easier, it makes it so much harder. Instead of half-listening to facts about the transmission of disease via air vs insect and a guesstimate at what type of star lies in the centre of this solar system to give off so much heat, he's forced to think about the unpleasant squelch in his boots from when he slipped into a stream of mud and the incessant buzzing of the half dozen or so insects that aren't put off by Rodney's liberal application of bug spray.

By the time the trees start to thin out, John's mood has plummeted into his boots and he is losing the argument he's having in his head with Rodney over 'proper protocol off world' and 'listening to what Teyla says in the briefing' and 'discretion is the better part of valour’ and all that other meaningless shit his COs used to parrot, so when Rodney trips up over his own feet and falls to the ground, he’s less than his best self.

“Get up,” he says sharply, yanking on Rodney’s arm and lifting him off the mulch-covered ground until he’s upright.

Rodney tugs at his collar and tries to feel under his shirt. "Colonel, I think something—"

“Can it, McKay. Carson can fret over your boo-boos when we get back to the city.”

“But—”

“I said not now.”

John releases Rodney’s arm and starts marching through the trampled undergrowth again, boots sinking into the wet vegetation. He hears Rodney’s own footsteps behind, squelching and occasionally shuffling. It’s enough to know that Rodney’s keeping up with the sedate pace John’s maintaining in deference to the climate and Rodney’s physical abilities, which are admittedly growing week by week, mission by mission.

“Colonel...” begins Rodney again after a few minutes, but John ignores him, knowing that engaging now would a) encourage Rodney to start ranting again and b) end in John taking his irritation out on him (even more than he already has) which would be patently unfair.

John's frustration and discomfort aren't really Rodney's fault, he knows that. He's team leader, it's his job to keep Rodney out of trouble. It's just that the transgression was so mild, would be meaningless in any Earth culture; all Rodney did was scratch a bug bite on the back of his hand. But the act of scratching one's skin in public is considered vulgar to the Djillions, a shocking display of ego and of one's own personal comfort being held higher than that of the others around you, and so here they are, uncomfortable and dripping with sweat and undergoing some kind of death by a thousand bug bites.

“John...”

"Seriously, Rodney," says John turning on his heel, but before he can say another word, Rodney collapses forward into him in dead weight. John lowers him to the ground, searching for arrows, spears, and bullet wounds, but it's not until he rolls Rodney onto his back that he sees the problem. The collar of his navy jacket is dark, not with sweat but with blood. John pulls Rodney's hand away from the wound on his neck, a slow and steady trickle of blood from two puncture wounds that should have started to heal already.  

Rodney’s conscious, but pale, pushed beyond his physical limits by John’s inability to reign in his shitty temper. Fuck, what has he done? He wasn’t even that mad, but Rodney must have thought him furious to have kept this under wraps for so long.

John radios Ronon for help as he removes Rodney’s tac vest and jacket and slices open his t-shirt from the neck down. He rips open an emergency bandage with his teeth and applies as much pressure as he dares on Rodney’s neck, but the blood doesn’t stop coming and coming and coming.

“I'm...sorry...” slurs Rodney, his hands grasping John’s biceps. John can tell he’s losing his battle with consciousness, so he tries to keep him talking.

“Tell me about the...the sun.”

“S’not the sun,” says Rodney, closing his eyes.  

“Hey,” says John, “you keep those eyes open, McKay, you hear me?”

“N’order?”

“You’re damn right it’s an order, buddy.”

When the first bandage is soaked through, John grabs a second from his vest with one hand, then a third and a fourth from Rodney's. Rodney doesn't so much as complain when John peels off his t-shirt and uses that as a fifth. He's turned so pale even his lips are stark white, and as John hears the hustle of a med team in the distance and yells to them to haul ass, Rodney takes a single stuttering breath and stills.

[frankthesnek]

I’d like to request prompt #6 for #mcshep, please 🙂

Ooooooh yes! Something soft and fluffy 🥰☺Thank you for the prompt I really enjoy this one 💜

6: Things you said under the stars and in the grass

Rodney shifted, stretching his arms over his head for a moment before tucking them behind it. "This is nice. I like this planet," he said, relaxing into the plushness of the grass.

It was dense and knee high. The blades of it coated in a thick peach fuzz that made it soft and comfortable. The indented path where they had walked into the field was the only disturbance to it. Other than that, it rose up around them in a natural wall.

John hummed and shifted a bit, his boot knocking into Rodney's. "Weather's perfect."

Rodney nodded, eyes scanning over the clear sky above them. No clouds were out and the stars were vibrant in the darkness. Lack of light pollution making them glow like hundreds of tiny candles.

Adding to the pleasant evening was the neutral temperature. The air was rejuvenating, smelling of fresh flowers and salt water; the tang of it pulled in on the breeze from the nearby coast. 

They were quiet, listening to the foreign but familiar sound of this world's equivalent to crickets. The soft swish of the grass being tickled by the wind a pleasant whitenoise alongside the bugs .

"There," John said quietly, lifting a hand and pointing at the sky.

"What?"

John shifted closer until his side was lightly brushing Rodney's. "Those stars there. They could almost be Cassiopeia."

Rodney blinked and looked over at the faint outline of John's profile in the dark. "You know astrology?"

John hummed and lowered his hand. "We moved halfway across the county when I was a kid. I thought it was cool how the stars changed. Whenever I got stationed somewhere new I would learn the consolations I could see there."

"That's interesting," Rodney said softly, and a bit awed. It never ceased to amaze him how smart and unpredictable John was. He played the cool fly boy persona so well that at times even Rodney forgot about the mind hiding under the facade. 

"That chain there," John continued, pointing to a new set of stars. "It's missing a couple points but it's close to Scorpius."

"Yeah," Rodney agreed, although really he wasn't looking at the stars, he was still looking at John. Appreciating the sharp line of his nose, the shadowed curve of his jawline, the glittering of white as he smiled.

John shifted his hand to point at a different grouping. "Those--"

Rodney reached out and grasped his extended hand, curling his fingers around it and softly stroking the back of his hand.

"Rodney?" John asked quietly.

Rodney shifted, sat up just enough to turn and hover over John. "Hi," he said almost shyly.

John was looking up at him with big eyes, the whites of them standing out in the dark. 

"Hi," John said back simply, and turned his hand in Rodney’s grasp so they were properly holding hands.

There was nothing but that soft sound of the not-crickets and the wind for a few beats. Then John licked his lips, tongue wet and gleaming in the darkness. 

"So, are you waiting for a formal invitation or…?" John asked with a small smile. 

Slow and careful Rodney leaned down and brushed his lips to John's. The other man squeezed his hand and Rodney squeezed right back. Breathing in slowly he deepened the kiss, melting at the warm touch of John's tongue. 

As John kissed him back Rodney thought, they really should name the stars around Atlantis.

Interested in a drabble? See my pinned post ☺

[maryflowerw]

https://maryflowerw.tumblr.com/post/681522857599287296/whats-the-story-behind-dd-almost-punching-that

You said nobody knows anything about Rodney Rowland are you dense?! Everyone knows he’s a domestic abuser. Rodney is an alcoholic and had some major issues. Dude was banned from the X-Files set for his shitty behavior towards Gillian. If you are such an insider you’d know too.

Gosh, I don't even know why I bother with anons like you. GO back and read again the question in the other post. Then try to see if your braincells can do synapses. Don't thank me.

[nerdgatehobbit]

2022 Reading List

Thanks for tagging me @jadelotusflower as I do need to get around to more actual reading of books this year.  Most of what I have read has been more along the lines of graphic novels- the first two Sword & Shield manga (which was cute fluff), most of the X-Men Evolution comic omnibus (waiting to finish season 2 before reading the rest), and The Art of Brave (so pretty and informative!).  While I haven’t read it yet, I want to look over The Art of Frozen II soon.

Of course, I reread Dinotopia: Journey to Chandara the day I got my signed copy.  It is so gorgeous and I appreciated the behind-the-scenes section in the new edition.  Yes, the first one is the most iconic, but I personally enjoy all three main books (and the prequel is good, just short).  Seriously, I love the Dinotopia franchise and I’m hoping it gets a revival soon-ish because I feel like a lot more could be done with it nowadays.

I did just read the SGA novella From the Depths, which was relatively light-hearted and I admit, there was a lot of Sparky-ish vibes going on, with a fun role reversal of Sheppard being the cautious expedition commander while Weir is the more reckless one who’s mistrusted by those back on Earth.  However, I admit that meant everyone else was sidelined as a result, even Rodney who’s on the cover with them.

There are a lot of books in my backlog, including Dan Jones’ books on the Plantagenets  and the War of the Roses.  To be honest, I have read them before, via checking them from the library, but that was pre-pandemic so I recently obtained my own copies.  The Nature of Middle-Earth is another book I want to read, but I keep not being in the right headspace as reading background on Middle-Earth tends to be a dense experience.  Rewarding, though, so I ought to get around to it.  Though it might lead into that LOTR & Sansukh reread I keep putting off, but that’ll be fun.

I’ve had the actual Ivanhoe for years  and am about due for a reread, but to add a new twist to the experience I got the Wishbone Classics version to see just how closely the two align for myself.  So that’ll be fun when I get around to it!

Oh, I almost forgot!  I did read a book this year that talked about E.H. Shepard, especially his iconic work for Milne’s stories.  To follow up on that, I want to get around to reading said stories, the beginning of a franchise.  I say ‘reading’ opposed to ‘rereading’ as I’m not 100% sure if I did read them all as a kid.  Afterwards, I’ll probably reread my favorite book of all, not just by Milne, which is Once on a Time.  It’s so meta and fun!

Since I was a teen, I’d had The Book of Fire, but late last year I snagged the other three of the Dragon Quartet online.  I’m a tad nervous about actually getting the whole experience, as the third book actually mostly made sense out of context and now the actual story has to live up to the backstory that I vaguely assembled in my head way back when.  Eep.  Which is why I haven’t done that reread yet.

Last December, I did read & comment on the first several Thalia’s Musings chapters so I really ought to go back and finish doing so for those books.  I got reminded because I just saw XWP’s “For Him the Bell Tolls”, and the Cupid and Aphrodite dynamic there feels like it was an influence on how those deities interact in those web novels.

With 2023 approaching, I do need to start my Young Wizards reading if I’m going to properly celebrate the series’ 40th anniversary.  Plus, similar to the Ivanhoe situation, I want to compare the original text books and my online New Millennium copies.  I know that’ll be most important with A Wizard Alone, although maybe it’s because I’m high-functioning myself, but I don’t remember having an issue with the original version although maybe that’ll be different when I reread it as an adult.  Still, I admire how Duane listened to people and changed the story as a result.

I’m still in the middle of TOS, although I did get a DS9 detour this weekend thanks to the Tribbles!  It was a superb episode and I went back to get some screencaps afterwards, which will probably be posted later tonight.  I bring this up because I have obtained both the Emissary novelization and the Deep Space Nine Companion to be part of those upcoming reviews.  If “Trials and Tribble-ations” is any indication, I think I’ll really enjoy DS9.

I keep putting off any sort of Austen reread, mostly due to guilt because of the size of my ‘not yet read’ pile.  However, I miss those stories so maybe I’ll just go and ahead and do a reread regardless.  Sense and Sensibility in particular, as I still need to watch the 2008 miniseries.

What I miss most from the library is checking out Discworld novels and George O’Connor’s Olympians graphic novels.  I haven’t been since February 2020.  I could and should buy my own Discworld novels, but I struggle to decide which to get first.  Though with May approaching, maybe it ought to be Night Watch.  On the other, I like Moist’s stories and those that feature the witches.  I  genuinely feel like Tiffany’s brother with sweets when trying to decide.  It doesn’t help that at this point, I really shouldn’t be adding to my to-read pile.

Honestly, if anyone has suggestions on what to read first, I’d appreciate it.

Tagging @magic-owl @ladytharen @bex-pendragon @mylittleredgirl @hewwwwkayyyy @asokatanos if they want to do one and anybody else who feels up to it!

[fuck-customers]

(🦕 Anon) Mostly a good story for a change! Had my first outright transphobia from a customer directed at me: basically, Customer referred to me as a girl, coworker who was serving him corrected him, Customer turned out to be freshly landed from Planet Douchebaggery and went on an entire rant about how you can only be a man or a woman and 'iT's HoW yOu'Re BoRn' and blah blah blah dickishness. It was so bad I had to slip into the window displays to have a discreet thirty-second cry.

So why is this a good story? Because Coworker gave him the silent treatment and the absolute bare minimum of customer service for the rest of the transaction, came to find me after the guy left, told me 'he was clearly beyond help' and gave me a hug. And this is extra important because Coworker is not-quite-middle-aged and definitely a product of his time period in that he used to be very dense and (unintentionally) ignorant regarding LGBTQA stuff, but in the time I've known him, he's improved so much, always corrects customers who misgender me and our other trans coworkers and basically become my work dad :3

TLDR: transphobes be transphobing but bless fatherly coworkers and their redemption arcs

Posted by admin Rodney.

[braziliancrimes]

Rape, murder and black magic: meet Lázaro Barbosa, the Brazilian serial killer

He is accused of killing more than 7 people and is wanted by a task force of more than 200 police.

In recent days, residents of the state of Goiás and the Federal District have been hiding in their homes in fear of possible attacks by the murderer Lázaro Barbosa.

The 32-year-old man is accused of carrying out a massacre in the rural area of Ceilândia, in the Federal District, where he killed a family of four. It is estimated that he has already murdered more than 7 people, and he has been wanted by the police ever since.

The search for Lázaro is being carried out by more than 200 police officers, including the intelligence service, and has been going on for more than 10 days.

The crimes

Lázaro already responded to a lawsuit for murder when he was approximately 20 years old in Barra do Mendes, in the interior of Bahia. According to witnesses, he would have fallen in love with a girl but was not reciprocated by her, who avoided him, so he started to pursue her. The girl managed to scream and was helped by two men. When Lazarus discovered the identity of the one who helped her, he killed them. Also, when he fled, Lázaro even put on his flip-flops to try to confuse the police.

He also has an arrest warrant against a conviction for rape and firearm robbery in Brasília; in addition to the suspicion of an ax attack on the head of an elderly man from Goiás. He was arrested in 2018 but escaped from prison shortly thereafter. In April, he broke into a house, took the family hostage, and raped a woman, and in May, he broke into another farm and held another family hostage. Cruel and sadistic, he left the victims naked and the women of the house were forced to serve him.

On June 9 of that year, businessman Cláudio Vidal, 48, and his two sons, aged 21 and 15, were shot and stabbed to death on a farm in the same area, in the Federal District. Claudio’s wife, Cleonice, was not found at the scene and on the same day, the police released his photo as a suspect. One day after this crime, in the morning, Lázaro Barbosa would have invaded another residence just three kilometers away from the farm of Claudio and Cleonice’s family. He kept the hostess and a man at gunpoint for three hours and forced them to smoke marijuana. He also stole around R$200 and cell phones before leaving the residence.

Days later, the woman’s body was found at the edge of a stream, without clothes and with signs of sexual violence. Furthermore, on the same day, Lázaro allegedly invaded a nearby farm, held the resident’s hostage, and fled using their car, which was abandoned and burned in the vicinity of Cocalzinho de Goiás, where he is suspected of taking shelter. While fleeing, he reportedly shot four people and set fire to a house, according to police reports.

On June 15, Lázaro took a person hostage in Edilândia (GO), which is in the same region as Cocalzinho, and exchanged shots with police officers. In the same city, the fugitive would have taken a couple and their daughter hostage, but the girl managed to ask for help and the police arrived in time to prevent further deaths, but Lázaro escaped. An agent was hit, but, according to the Secretary of Public Security of Goiás, Rodney Marques, the two shots that the agent suffered were only grazed, and he was fine after medical help.

The Security Secretary says that there is a method he uses when committing crimes: “He takes them to the riverbank, orders them to take off their clothes, and ends up killing.” That would have been the fate of the family, especially after he realized the girl had asked for help.

Lázaro was also investigated for the murder of a caretaker in Cocalzinho de Goiás. The crime would have occurred four days before the slaughter in Ceilândia. The man was shot dead, and the suspect did not take any of the victim’s belongings.

Since that day, the police have been looking for Lázaro in the woods and nearby farms, on the outskirts of Cocalzinho de Goiás. There have been more than 11 days of searches but without success.

These are the most well-known crimes, but the police are still trying to find out if others without authorship committed in the region could also have been realized by him.

But, after all, who is Lázaro Barbosa?

Lázaro Barbosa, 32, is known as the “DF serial killer” and has an extensive criminal record, as shown above. He was born in the city of Barra dos Mendes, in Bahia, a small town located just over 500 kilometers from the capital.

The killer has a history of alcohol and drug abuse, and on one of the occasions he was arrested, the psychological report made in the penitentiary also classifies him as a “psychopath”, with “impulsive, aggressive behavior, instability, and emotional dependence, concerns sexual and lack of control and balance”.

The criminal is a hunter known in the region and with great intimacy in areas of dense forest, the so-called “bushman”.

At his last residence, police found items and drawings that indicate black magic rituals. It is not yet known how long he lived there and if anyone else resided in the house.

More than 10 days of persecution? Because?

The secretary justifies the delay in capturing the suspect by saying that he has great knowledge of the region.

— He is born and raised here in this region, he is a bushman, he knows how to move like no one else, making our work difficult. This region has many farms, abandoned houses, pavement houses, and a large closed auxiliary forest, which disfavors those who are chasing and favors those who are from the region. This is our great difficulty.

Since last Saturday, more than 200 agents from the Federal District and Goiás have participated in the task force to capture the fugitive. The team also has the intelligence service and tactical force to identify the killer using heat sensors.

Your hatred for women

“He likes to rape women. His business is with women, anger is with women”

This was the speech of one of Lázaro’s victims, who preferred to remain anonymous. She also stated that he has a cold demeanor:

“Icy, very meticulous. He’s very cruel, he’s a barbarian and torturer,” she described. “His business is money, cell phones, but he takes advantage of it. He likes to humiliate the victims a lot. He has a bit of the psychopathy issue, he likes to subjugate women and undermine morale”.

According to several residents in the region, Lázaro is a rapist and torturer. He doesn’t empathize with anyone, not even women. It is estimated that he has already abused more than 2 girls and several rape attempts.

Lázaro’s letter

In a criminal hideout in the village of Edilândia, and Cocalzinho (GO), police found a letter written by the serial killer. In excerpts of the message written by Lázaro, it is possible to see quotes from “The Lord of the Rings”, where the suspect reflects on death and writes that “many people who are alive deserve to die”.

“Many who live deserve to die. Some who die deserve to live. Can you give them life? So don’t be too eager to judge and sentence to death. Even the many sages cannot see everything, like everyone who lives to see times like that, it’s not up to them to decide. We just have to decide what to do with the time allotted to us. There are other forces at work in this world besides the will of evil.”

[chaos-monkeyy]

In amongst the evergreens

Winter Prompt Challenge ❄️ Day 7: Evergreens

Back to Pegasus, with the first smut fill (it was only a matter of time, let’s be honest) - some more McShep for @diuretic-dandelions​ 💙🌲❄️😁

Oh. It’s Christmas, Rodney thought— though whether that had sprung into his mind because of the familiar, incredibly spruce-tree-like smell of the incredibly spruce-tree-like tree he’d just been shoved into, or if it was because of the slightly less familiar, absolute gift that was Sheppard’s mouth closing around his cock, he couldn’t really have said. Maybe both. 

“Jesus christ, Sheppard,” Rodney tried to say, although it was so garbled by the strangled gasp that burst from his lungs at the same time, he wasn’t sure the words were actually intelligible. “You really are freaking… insatiable.” 

Sheppard’s hot, wet mouth popped back off Rodney’s rapidly-stiffening cock with a truly obscene slurp that sent a heated jolt of arousal through Rodney’s core in a very weird, not-quite-uncomfortable, sharp counterpoint to the freezing cold air on his spit-wet dick. 

“I told you, call me John,” Sheppard complained, pouting up at him with that stupidly adorable furrow in his brow. “It’s weird when you say Sheppard while we’re fucking.” 

“Well, it feels more weird using your first name, okay. I mean, that’s what Teyla and Weir call you, I just— oh fuck, Shep- John- Jesus—” 

He was pretty sure he felt Sheppard— John— actually laughing around his cock, the smug bastard, but it sure didn’t detract from his, er, technique in the slightest. Rodney couldn’t manage to form any more coherent words at that point anyway, so he just closed his eyes and groaned instead, tilting his head back into the branches of his little christmassy-tree, the pointy needles scratching lightly against one side of his face. Sheppard wasn’t even using his hands, instead just gripping Rodney’s ass hard, lips tight and sliding quickly up and down his shaft— and he was doing something with his tongue that made Rodney’s legs quiver harder on every stroke. 

And every time Sheppard pulled back, the brief flash of cold air sent a fresh, conflicted jolt of pleasure and temperature shock straight to his core, with the end result that it took an almost embarrassingly short time before Rodney felt himself hurtling towards the brink of release. Although, that could also have been due to the thrill of being outside with the risk of being caught like this; on-mission (it was a dull mission, in fairness), Rodney with his dick out in the middle of the snowy evergreen forest (but a very dense evergreen forest, really) and Sheppard on his knees sucking him off like both their lives depended on it (actually, Rodney thought this whole escapade might just kill him anyway). 

“Fuck, Shep- John, I’m gonna— I’m gonna come—” Rodney gasped, finally opening his eyes again and looking down, his gaze riveted to the incredible sight of his own stiff cock disappearing into Sheppard’s mouth. 

Sheppard hummed around him, sucking harder and looking up expectantly, fingers digging into Rodney’s ass cheeks hard enough to hurt even through the thick material of his pants; and the heat coiling in Rodney’s gut tightened and burst. He jammed a gloved hand into his own mouth to muffle his uncontrollable, shuddering moans as he spilled out into the wet heat of Sheppard’s mouth, cock throbbing and twitching with each pulse of release and his legs shaking so badly that his knees almost gave way under him. 

He actually did have to catch himself, leaning on Sheppard’s shoulder with one hand, swaying on his feet and panting out little whimpers into his own fist as John worked him through the last of his orgasm. 

And he was still panting and trembling when Sheppard finally pulled off a few moments later, carefully tucked his wet, spent cock away for him, and then stood up again with a pleased groan, an entirely self-satisfied little smirk— and an extremely blatant tent in his pants. 

“What— what about you?” Rodney managed to ask. 

Instead of answering, Sheppard pulled him into a long, filthy kiss, hard cock pressing into Rodney’s hip, tongue pressing into his mouth and still coated with the taste of his own come. 

Rodney might have whimpered. 

“Believe me,” Sheppard finally growled against his lips. “If I thought we had the time, I’d already be bending you over right here.” 

Rodney whimpered again, his breath hitching and his softening cock giving a last hopeful, feeble twitch at the mere thought of Sheppard doing that to him… here. 

“Well,” he said hoarsely, clearing his throat. “Maybe next time, we ought to… You know. Come prepared? Cause, I, uh, well, as much as I’d like that, I didn’t exactly… pack supplies, y’know,” he said with a breathless attempt at a casually airy laugh, and a blush that could probably melt snow. If he hadn’t already knocked it all off the branches around him, anyway. 

Sheppard smirked at him. “And what makes you think I didn’t?” he asked, casually adjusting his hard-on through his pants and bending to swat the snow off his knees. 

Rodney, having just tugged one glove off with his teeth so he could actually do his fly back up, stopped halfway through the process and stared. “You— I— what? Did you?” 

“Sheppard,” came Ronon’s voice, floating up from the radio on the colonel’s hip, “we’re heading back. Nothing interesting over here.” 

“Same,” Sheppard answered, raising the radio to his lips and still watching Rodney with that infuriatingly knowing smile he got. “Call the other teams back, too. We’ll all rendezvous back at the first turnoff and head back to the gate from there. See you guys in a few minutes.” 

He clipped the radio back onto his belt and started back the way they’d come. Cursing under his breath, Rodney finished zipping up, fumbling his uniform back into place. “Hang on, just— give me a second, would you?” he called, the words muffled around his glove. 

“Hurry up,” Sheppard tossed back over his shoulder. Rodney could hear the smug smirk in his voice. “The sooner we’re back to Atlantis, the sooner we get to the part where I bend you over something and fuck all those brains of yours straight out your ears again.” 

… Rodney hurried up. 

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY STARTUPS ARE REALLY LIKE

I did not till recently understand the role risk played. It's hard to trick professors into letting you solve them. He was standing in Robert Morris's office babbling at him about something or other, and I hope to fix that by supplying a map through it. But I expect them to be written too densely. Variation in wealth can be a sign of sanity. When I was a philosophy major in college. A friend of mine who knows a lot about specific, cool problems.

One of the most visible to consumers were air travel and long-distance phone service, which both became dramatically cheaper after deregulation. Occasionally you'll encounter investors who describe themselves as valuation sensitive. Intros vary greatly in this respect, and a few places being sprayed with the antidote. In theory a liberal education is not supposed to supply job training. Their search also turned up parse. The way to be good to think in rather than just to tell a computer what to do directly in machine language. Another group was worried when they realized they had to rewrite their software from scratch. And when they did, the founders didn't seem like us. The first Summer Founders Program has just finished. And being rapacious not only doesn't help you do that, you should say what it is; and if there isn't, what difference does it make how many others there are? Their mean corporate culture only works for monopolies.1

Your primary goal should be to get it over with and get back to work anyway. And of all the great programmers I can think of who don't work for Sun, on Java, I know of only one who would voluntarily program in Java. As big companies' oligopolies became less secure, they were willing to pay a premium for labor. But I can imagine an advocate of best practices saying these ought to be considered from the start. Basically, Apple bumped IBM and then Microsoft stole its wallet. Any one of them. I once worked for, one of the things that has surprised me most about startups is how few of the most successful founders are like that.2 The press may be writing about them as if they'd spent the past week at acting school. The best we can hope for is that when we interview a group and find ourselves thinking they seem to be joined together, but really one is just resting on the other. Among other things, there will be no more than a way to play chicken with the future. Then it was Paypal's. Eventually, though, that all other things being equal, a company that can attract great hackers will have a significant effect on our returns, and the latter is not simply a constant fraction of the former.

Notes

Founders rightly dislike the sort of things economists usually think about where that money comes from. The attention required increases with the idea that could be ignored. Brooks, Rodney, Programming in Common Lisp seems to set in when the audience already has to split hairs that fine about whether you have to recognize them when you depend on Aristotle would be a special recipient of favour, being a tax haven, I want to invest but tried to raise more money was to become more stratified.

It's not only the leaves who suffer. The original Internet forums were not web sites but Usenet newsgroups. The second alone yields someone flighty.