#who knows how long it will take

[twotales]

Jump

Chapter One: Lifeline

Read on AO3

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis

Characters: Radek Zelenka, Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan, Chuck, Evan Lorne, Laura Cadman, Sam Carter, Bill Lee, More to add

Rating: T

Word Count: 1612

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Episode Rewrite

Note: I've labeled locations because of what happens in the actual episode. I may drop it after this chapter.

Summary:

Rodney swallowed thickly. They were dead in the water here. But this plan- Maybe it was too drastic. Too crazy.

No.

He steeled his resolve. This was their only viable option. "That-” Rodney pointed at the screen, “that would be the Replicator homeworld.”

Rodney turned toward them as hope bloomed over his face.

“You feel up to a heist?”

Location: Atlantis Gate Room

Oh. Of course. Rodney grinned inwardly as he snapped his fingers and turned toward John and Radek. “Experimental jumper." He looked between them. "Remember when I was zapped by that machine a few months ago, and I got, uh-” he flashed a smirk, “well, even smarter than I normally am?”

The corner of John’s mouth twitched up, “The one that almost killed you?” he shifted, “Yeah.”

Rodney waved his hand. “Well, before I was reset, I was very close to giving one of our puddle jumpers a hyperdrive.”

“Can you finish it?”

“Yeah!” He gulped and looked off to the side. “Yes, I probably can.”

John nodded. “All right, great. We-we'll make a jump to the Apollo. Tell them where we are.”

Rodney wagged a finger, “No.”

John’s face morphed in confusion. “Why no?”

“The jumper's hyperdrive would be limited,” Radek said. He shook his head and looked apologetic. “We wouldn't be able to jump that far.”

“How far then?” John said.

Rodney glanced at Radek a million thoughts flashing between them.

“What do you think,” Radek squinted, “like, two?”

Rodney rubbed his fingers together, “Yeah,” he leaned his head side to side, “two and change, maybe?”

Radek started typing on his computer, “Conservatively, maybe two thousand light years.” He sighed and pressed a few buttons, “This is a list of addresses that are within range.” Radek stood as the screen zoomed in on a map of planets with Stargates.

John nodded, “All right, we'll make a bunch of trips and ferry the crew to one of the planets.”

Rodney pointed a finger at him. “Again, no.”

“Why not?”

Rodney shifted around, “Well, the drive's never been tested.”

Radek nodded sadly. “Yeah, we'd be lucky if we get two jumps.” His lips compressed into a line.

“Well, we'll make a return trip somewhere,” John said.

Rodney stared at the map as an insane idea formed. “Yeah, ideally, somewhere with a few ZPMs to spare.” He waved his hand, “We come back, we get Atlantis fully powered.”

“Yeah," John made a face, "that'd be great.”

Rodney stared at Radek. Knowing the second the man picked up on his plan.

“M7R-227.” Radek said lowly.

John glanced between them, “What's that?”

Radek looked uncomfortable. “Well-”

John’s eyes locked onto Rodney. “There's a planet out there with ZPMs?”

The excitement drowned out his fear. “Yeah…yeah, we know they have a few ZPMs.”

John looked skeptical. “And who would that be?”

Rodney swallowed thickly. They were dead in the water here. But this plan- Maybe it was too drastic. Too crazy.

No.

He steeled his resolve. This was their only viable option. "That-” Rodney pointed at the screen, “that would be the Replicator homeworld.”

Rodney turned toward them as hope bloomed over his face.

“You feel up to a heist?”

-

Location: M74-277 | Jumper | ZPM

“Aren't they going to notice when we pull the plug on this thing?” John said over the radio.

Rodney gulped. “Probably, but they've got dozens of ZPMs. Let's just hope that they don't-” his heart seized as he waved his hand, “notice until we're long gone.”

“That's wishful thinking,” John said. Rodney grimaced at the words. “We still in the clear?” He added.

Elizabeth leaned forward. “There's a small group of Replicators two corridors over, heading your way, so you need to move quickly,”

Rodney looked over the data on the screen. His eyes widened. Oh wow, that would be-

“We're on our way."

“ Wait,” Rodney said, "Just wait.”

“What?”

“There is a side panel on your right. Open it.”

“Rodney, we don’t really have the time for-”

“Just trust me on this one.” Rodney snapped. Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, the look enough to chastise him.

“Woah,” John said.

Rodney perked up. "What?”

“I think you’re going to like this.”

What was probably minutes felt like eons as they waited for John and Ronon to come back. Relief rushed through him as they stepped into sight. Confusion flashed as John dropped three cases in front of him and Elizabeth. “Hook up the ZPM. We're leaving.”

Rodney opened one and inhaled sharply. His mouth fluttered. They had ripped out the foam, nothing to protect them in the case, and normally he would be losing his damn mind about it if it weren't for the treasure filling it.

He looked up at John. “Really?” He breathed.

John flashed a cocky grin. “Happy Birthday Rodney.”

-

Location: M74-277 | Jumper | Escape

John tilted his head back at Rodney from the pilot seat. "How's hyperspace looking?"

Rodney stood back up, knees creaking. "Not good. Look, harnessing power from the ZPM is tricky." He waved his hand in the air, " If I'm off even just the slightest amount, then we could all—"

"Two ships headed our way," John cut in as two Aurora battle cruisers appeared.

Rodney grabbed the cables above as the jumper rocked from a blast. Fuck. There was no way he could finish in time.

“Rodney?!" John called.

"Look, I need more time!" Rodney held tight to the ZPM as more explosions rocked the jumper.

"We just lost weapons!" John shot back.

Rodney wiped the sweat off his forehead. “Dammit,” he typed furiously on his datapad.

“Come on, McKay!” Ronon barked.

Rodney’s eyes snapped up. “This is not simple, you know!" His hand cut in the air, "If I don't properly calibrate the power output, we could incinerate the moment the hyperspace window opens!” Rodney clenched his teeth in irritation.

“I'm picking up something dead ahead,” John said squinting his eyes.

Rodney froze at the sight of a jumper uncloaking directly in front of them.

“Oh, crap," John said and looked back at Rodney. "They're powering up weapons!”

John started adjusting the settings on the console as Rodney typed faster. His eyes flashed around before he jammed a crystal into the ship. He inhaled sharply as he watched the results running over his datapad. “I did it, it’s done.” Rodney stood up his hands in the air, “go go go.”

John immediately opened a hyperspace window and rushed them through.

-

Location: Atlantis Jumper Bay

Rodney grabbed one of the cases and hurried out of the Jumper the second they landed.

Radek hobbled up to him, waving his datapad. “There is an anomaly near the west pier, power was being sent directly there, and we couldn't stop it.

“What!?” Rodney grabbed Radek’s datapad.

Radek pointed at the dot, “We won’t have enough power.”

"Power?" Rodney flashed a lopsided grin, pushed the datapad back to Radek, and opened up the case. “Oh, we'll have enough power and then some after we install these babies.” A collective gasp spread as Rodney pulled multiple ZPMs out of it.

"I know, I know," Rodney twirled his unoccupied hand. "Amazing, wonderful, thank fucking god, yes." He thrust one into Chuck's hands and snapped his fingers, "Now, come on people, we have two aurora class ships headed our way, no time for a celebration, let's go!”

Everyone scrambled as Rodney passed them out, rushing to install them. He handed one to Radek, understanding the excitement plastered to his face despite the situation. They had spent years searching for these, fought for them, lost good people for them, and now they were stocked full.

Hope spread through him. They would have all the power they needed soon. He sighed. Now, they just had to finish before the replicators came.

Great.

-

Location: Atlantis

Radek groaned as the output remained the same. He threw a wrench and stood, moving his leg slowly.

The anomaly.

He pulled out his datapad and studied the blueprints of Atlantis as he headed back to the gate room. He had hoped he was wrong. That the anomaly had not affected this area. He had already come up with a contingency, but the idea was risky. He tilted his head. Although, he supposed it was less risky than stealing from the replicators.

Rodney was already barking orders and kicking a tech off his computer as he arrived in the gate room. “The conduits are all fried.”

Radek sat down near the man, hissing as pain shot through his leg.

Teyla arched a brow, “But we do have power.”

Rodney sighed heavily, “It doesn’t matter if the power can’t get to the engine.”

“The anomaly in section E12,” Radek reminded, “it was draining Atlantis and disrupting key areas.” He held his palm up, “It's why the power isn’t getting to the hyperdrive.”

“Dammit,” Rodney tightened his fists, “compatible parts are scarce.”

Radek looked back down at the blueprints. “Rodney,” he held up his datapad and pointed, “what do you think of this?”

Rodney’s eyes widened. He nodded as his gaze locked onto Radek's. “We would have to-”

Radek nodded back, “I already have a team of techs ready to dismantle-

“Good, then we need to work-”

“On the algorithms for power convergence, yes, yes”.

Rodney tilted his head. “Then we’ll need to divert the hyperspace power conduits to that section of the ship.” He pointed at a few techs. and scientists. “Cannabalize the crystals in non-essential areas.” He frowned, “we may need to use parts from the sublight engines." He snapped his fingers, "Get a group set up and ready to go just in case." Those techs nodded and rushed away.

“And the anomaly?” Radek asked.

“The anomaly is at-” Rodney looked at the screen, “point two percent as opposed to the sixty-two it extruded an hour ago. It's minimal compared to the replicators on our tail. Let's deal with it later.”

Rodney looked at Chuck, "Watch the anomaly and keep me updated."

Chuck nodded as Rodney and Radek split up, the rest of the room bursting into action.

[bowelfly]

gone fishin'

[inkskinned]

i hate to say it because i'm neurodivergent and a chronic-pain-haver but like... sometimes stuff is going to be hard and that's okay.

it's okay if you don't understand something the first few times it's explained to you. it's okay if you have to google every word in a sentence. it's okay if you need to spend a few hours learning the context behind a complicated situation. it's okay if you need to read something, think about it, and then come back to re-read it.

i get it. giving up is easier, and we are all broken down and also broke as hell. nobody has the time, nobody has the fucking energy. that is how they win, though. that is why you feel this way. it is so much easier, and that is why you must resist the impetus to shut down. fight through the desire you've been taught to "tl;dr".

embrace when a book is confusing for you. accept not all media will be transparent and glittery and in the genre you love. question why you need everything to be lily-white and soft. i get it. i also sometimes choose the escapism, the fantasy-romance. there's no shame in that. but every day i still try to make myself think about something, to actually process and challenge myself. it is hard, often, because of my neurodivergence. but i fight that urge, because i think it's fucking important.

especially right now. the more they convince you not to think, the easier it will be to feed you misinformation. the more we accept a message without criticism, the more power they will have over that message. the more you choose convenience, the more they will make propaganda convenient to you.

[dogesterone]

>acquaintance mentions that they think a kink is immoral

>ask them if their judgment is based on material reality or constructed disgust

>they don't understand |pull out illustrated diagram explaining what is material reality and what is constructed disgust

>they laugh and say "its a reasonable judgement"

>interact with them a little bit more

>its constructed disgust

[stevebabey]

pre-steddie (its rly scratching the itch atm), steve harrington being a sad drunk :(, angst with a happy ending, 1.4k

If you asked him how it transpired, Eddie couldn’t tell you — but somehow, there’s a drunk Steve Harrington on the Munson’s couch.

Physically, he’d hazard a guess Steve walked all the way from whatever party he’d been at. Which is a concern in itself—either Steve wandered through the woods or he wandered quite some way, but that’s a whole other can of worms.

The why of why Steve’s here—why he chose to sought out Eddie in particular—is another mystery altogether.

If Eddie had to guess, he’d say somewhere between the commonality of crashing at each other’s place to keep the nightmares at bay and a night of drinking is how Steve ended up here.

It’s nearing midnight the clock tells him, blinking red from the microwave. Steve’s holding a glass of water that he’s sipped from only once.

And he’s sad.

Considering it, Eddie hadn’t thought Steve would be a sad drunk. Especially if you consider the sheer amount of parties he threw as a teenager.

It just doesn’t quite fit into his ever changing picture of Steve Harrington. Like a puzzle piece the wrong shape that doesn’t fit with the rest. Happy drunk? Horny drunk? Those made better sense than this.

But then again, Eddie stopped trying to make sense of Steve a couple months after the Vecna-episode of their lives.

(It’s sort of something he really likes about Steve, that he can’t ever really pin him down — that he’s always surprising Eddie.)

Either way, the fact remains that Steve is drunk and Steve is sad.

Eddie just doesn’t know about what.

“C’mon,” Eddie nudges the glass in Steve’s hand gently, the second time tonight. “Gotta drink up, Stevie, lest you risk the wrath of tomorrow’s hangover.”

Steve’s slumped sideways on the couch, not too drunk to be out of it, but evidently rather physically beat. He’s leaning his head up against the ratty leather of the couch, his eyes closed.

Eddie sits opposite him, enough distance to keep it friendly, but close enough to catch the glass if Steve suddenly decides he doesn’t feel like holding it anymore.

He wants to sit closer, wants to maybe even hold Steve’s hand. Cup his face and murmur sweet nothings until sad drunk Steve is replaced by someone happier.

Eddie swallows the desire down, away.

By all accounts, there’s nothing Steve’s said or done to give away his sadness. Eddie only knows he’s sad from that slight downturn of his mouth — the slight jut of his lip. The world’s most adorable pout if it wasn’t being caused for bad reasons, Eddie thinks.

He knows what it looks like because it’s what Steve looks like when he wakes from a nightmare. When he’s properly distressed, thrust to the verge of tears. Eddie knows the sight well. (And Steve knows his.)

On the couch beside him, Steve makes a little noise in response to the nudge. His eyes crease open.

He looks tired. It’s not the exhaustion that comes with terror, with having sleep chased from you, but… bone-deep tiredness.

Eddie’s lip part, unsure if it’s to urge Steve to drink some water again or just to ask what’s wrong when—

“No one wants it.” Steve says, in the smallest voice. It’s barely a whisper.

Eddie’s brows draw together. The sadness in Steve’s words travel out, pushing an ache into his chest.

“Wants what?”

Steve is silent. He’s not looking at Eddie — he wasn’t before, but now his gaze is downcast, studying the glass in his hands. His finger traces the rim.

“Wants what, Steve?” Eddie tries again.

This time, Steve sighs and it looks like it takes the wind out of him completely. “My…”

There’s a crack in his voice. Steve clears his throat and closes his eyes again, this time scrunched up as if he’s resisting the emotion that tries to take over.

“My stupid love. Keep… keep tryna give it, but no one wants to take it.” He inhales jaggedly, turning an inch and pressing further into the couch, like he’s hiding. His voice is muffled and wrecked. “No one wants it.”

Something splinters in Eddie’s chest, slivers of agony burying beneath his skin. He’s speechless.

How can Steve think that? How can he believe that?

“I do,” Eddie says, before realising what’s he’s saying.

Steve stiffens on the couch, tentatively digging his face out from hiding. His downturned eyes still have that warbling sadness and Eddie just needs to make it better — even if it means throwing his pathetic crush under the bus.

“Eddie-” Steve says, wary and tired all at once, as if he’s saying don’t do this, don’t lie to me.

“I do. It sounds lovely,” Eddie insists, completely truthful. “If you want someone to give it to, I’ll take it. I want it.”

Steve eyes him. Some of that melancholy in him has turned to apprehension. He sniffles a bit and sighs again.

“Not- not like that.” Steve murmurs, eyes falling back to the glass in his hands. He speaks with a lilt of embarrassment, as though he thinks it’s shameful to care this much. “Not as a friend, Eddie.”

A stone grows in Eddie’s throat. It’ll hurt like hell to swallow it, to speak, but Steve has always been worth it.

“I know,” Eddie breathes. He can’t quite keep all his nerves out of the words and they jam up in his mouth for a moment. “Not like that, Steve.”

He desperately wants to grab his own hair, to fiddle with it, release some tension, but he also doesn’t want to break the quiet softness between them.

The fridge hums in the silence. The clock on the microwave blinks back midnight.

Wishing hour? Maybe in some myths and stories. Eddie clings it anyway.

Steve’s hazel eyes are a little wider now. A little more awake. He’s picked his head up, no longer leaning against the couch cushions.

“You…”

Freak. Fag. Eddie’s brain helpfully supplies every awful way this could roll, entirely too late. He tenses up, shoulders curling in, a minuscule motion.

But Steve doesn’t look disgusted, he looks a little in disbelief.

“You… want it?” He asks, that same quiet whisper.

And that does a number of Eddie’s heart—the enormity of Steve’s disbelief that someone would want his love, that the rest of it—the semantics, the fact that boys can’t kiss boys—doesn’t even matter to him.

“Yeah,” Eddie croaks. He nods jerkily, the nerves still there, even with Steve’s easy acceptance. “I do. I’d love to have it.”

“Oh,” Steve says. He’s laid his head back down, his hair scrunched up against the leather, but his eyes are still on Eddie. Not scrutinising, just studying. There’s still that hazy look to them, no doubt the alcohol still in his veins.

“I never… didn’t think…” He’s murmuring more to himself. From the concentration of his gaze, he’s thinking hard. He sniffles again, nose twitching and then frowns, eyes cast to the side, before,

“Okay,” Steve says finally, voice quiet. “If you… if you mean it.”

Then he unfurls his hand, the one that had been tracing the glass, and puts it forward. Between them on the couch.

Eddie eyes it, stomach swooping, pulse thudding, and then does what he does best; throws caution to the wind. Steve might hate him tomorrow but tonight, Eddie won’t hide.

Their fingers slot together easily, two perfect puzzle pieces.

Eddie wonders if him in Steve’s life, him like this with Steve, is one of those things that would work—would make sense. If he wants to make sense with Steve or instead be another surprising thing about him.

(That Steve Harrington might like boys. Might like Eddie.)

Steve is gazing at their joined hands. For the first time since he got to Eddie’s trailer, his lips turn upward, a very small yet happy smile. He gives a very light squeeze with his hand, the lack of strength evidence of his sleepiness. Eddie squeezes back nonetheless.

Then Steve’s eyes are closed and in a few deep breathes, he’s out like a light.

It’s a careful process to extract the glass of water from Steve’s clenched hand, but Eddie manages it. It sits on the edge of the coffee table and when Steve wakes up, mouth dry and in need of water, it will be there.

And so will Eddie.

The burning possibilities of what happens come tomorrow—when Steve’s sober and actually thinking straight (ha)—filter through Eddie’s mind, but he can’t find it in himself.

There’s no regret of he’s done. What he’s said, what’s been revealed.

It’s tomorrow’s problem (or tomorrow’s fantasy come true…?), but til then, Eddie burrows into the couch and readies for a sore neck tomorrow morning.

He should really get up and turn the lamp off, Eddie thinks to himself. Then Steve snuffles in his sleep, uses their intertwined fingers to bring him closer, and he forgets all about it.

[oh-gh0st]

i heart these rivals so much. maybe they'll kill each other. maybe they'll kiss. maybe they'll make ou

[bluejulius]

snotlout pls answer 🥀

[flamingpudding]

Guys it's just merch

Danny watched with a smile hidden behind his mug of hot cocoa his new family. Originally he was only going to mess with them a little, since he wanted to keep his civilian live he gained with them but at the same time wanted to kind of provoke them to tell him about their night time jobs on their own.

Not like he could just flat out tell them he knew about their vigilantes lifes and that would be embarrassing to explain.

It's not every day that Danny's powers fluked on him, but with the stress of the past months, it happened. Right at a moment, he had to be clumsy and trip over his own feet and accidentally phased through a grandfather's clock, finding a hidden passage. Well at least he learned that way that Batman hadn't placed him with some other rich fruitloop that wasn't his godfather but well... with Batman himself and his family out of mask.

Yeah no, he did not want to explain that and hoped they would do that themselves. But apparently, they took Danny's statement of wanting a normal life a bit too serious.

Which brought him back to his current entertainment in the form of messing with his siblings.

"I don't get what the problem is guys. It's just merch." He chuckled slightly at the face Damian was making. While Jason chose to kick Tim under the table.

"Soooo how much merch on Red Robin do you have with this shirt now?" Dick asked instead with a bright smile, Danny still hadn't figured out how to tell what emotion he hid behind them sometimes.

"I think this is my third shirt of him." Danny mused, placing his cup back on the table and tapping his lip in a thinking motion. "Though I was going to pick up a couple of custom-made jackets of Red Hood and a Nightwing plush later today."

He acted like he did not hear the triumph like hiss of 'yes' from Jason as well as the very upset huff of Damian.

He just grinned at the amusement about how they apparently were competing over how much merch he owned of each of them.

When he found a Robin figure and several Robin pins mysteriously placed on his desk the next morning, he broke out laughing. Yet still just to mess with them gushed about his newly gotten merch to his family while sharing a knowing look with Alfred who knew he was just messing with them.

If there was a surprising amount of Batman merch, suddenly mixed into what he already owned the following week without his knowledge. Well, he wasn't going to complain about free stuff.

But he still would get a good laugh out of their reactions on the day he decided to full on dawn every piece of Batman merge instead of theirs.

[podcastwizard]

Cock and balls at 20k king?

one like and i'll post shaft

[justaz]

a spell is cast on camelot that thins the veil enough for ghosts to appear. the catch? the ghosts that appear are spirits of people that were killed by the person they’re haunting. the knights have a good amount of bandits/raiders/whatever that they took down in battle, maybe a few shady knights have genuinely innocent people that they murdered and got away with. the executioner’s killings are transferred to the king since he was simply acting out the king’s commands. arthur has quite a few. uther has hundreds of sorcerers in various states of gore and horror. those who were hanged have perpetually bent necks, those who were beheaded have either no head or just a head floating a bit above their body, and those who were burnt are more charred remains (the most grisly of them all). merlin has more than anyone expected (which was zero) and all of them keep calling out for arthur/uther’s death and camelot’s downfall while also turning to merlin and calling him a traitor.

[clownowo]

🤨

bonus:

[starry-bi-sky]

*hits blunt* Joker has a long-standing one-sided beef with Nightingale in the Blood Blossom au because Nightingale clocked his shit almost immediately and began "sharks are smooth"ing at him. But because Nightingale only comes out in case of emergencies, Joker has to come up with increasingly convoluted schemes to trap the Batman in order to lure him out.

This has the opposite desired effect because this is the equivalent of using increasingly difficult locks to keep the raccoons out of your trash. All you're doing is teaching the raccoons how to pick locks. This also pisses off the other Rogues because Joker keeps making trapping the Batman exponentially harder all because he's beefing with his teenage son.

[black-and-yellow]

'You've looked after me so much, Midnight' never fails to hit me like a ton of bricks.

[superbat-lmao]

Bruce gets hit with a spell that makes his outward appearance reflect how he thinks of himself.

Most of the JL is stunned, his kids are unruffled because at least his consciousness is in his own body, and Clark realizes a couple of things about himself.

[yesterdayiwrote]

Robbie Williams' open letter to his former manager after they both appeared in Louis Theroux's Boybands Forever documentary is really quite something...

[badninken]

let's go