Malp on a stick!
Rodney, don't be mean to Ronon.
Maybe, you should have had someone translate first? You fucking morons? Did Teyla leave the braincell at home?
I might...skip a lot of this episode. It makes me really sad. They should have sent someone through with him!
John Flanigan with a beard, uh...really does it for me.
"Very clever Rodney!"
"It was Zelenka's idea"
"I am now"
You go, little girl.
The horror on his face when he finds out Teer undressed him though.
Ye olde Uggs.
Hypercompetent Rodney is so my jam.
"Least I thought they did" aw, John, bby.
"We are not afraid of anything"
Girl...you are very forward!
Poor John. No one has shot at him in months! What's a lad to do!
Oof, Teer nearly got her man, eh.
"I'm starting to develop some serious abandonment issues!"
Honey, I bet.
"What the hell is the matter with you people"
"Good Thinking" Aw, Rodney giving a compliment!
See! See, they didn't forget you!
John's so freaked out. "The one what?"
Oh boy, John's getting lucky tonight!
"We may even get a ZPM out of this" Buddy has one thing on his mind.
I love Rodney and Elizabeth being friends though.
John....don't offend your hosts at the dinner table, come on now. This is a discussion for after dinner.
It's been 6 months for him, and John is just so happy.
"I have a date" Carson ilu.
Yeah fucking Teyla! "Bitch I'll cut you!"
Okay, but AR-1 approaching the beast, while Carson and Elizabeth don't? Team! I love them!
And the cloister finds their spines!
Oh, and John doesn't even consider leaving his friends.
Don't break my house Dr. McKay!
I love how he backs down from Elizabeth.
Aww! They care! John looks like he's gonna cry!
👣 (because why not? also, feel better, ilu)
Send Me 👣 For My Muse’s Reaction To Holding Mine And Your Muse’s Child For The First Time - @classicwolvie - Accepting
[Note: This is 90s Wolvie so no Daken, Raze, etc. are kicking about. … Also, Beast probably wouldn’t be the one to do this, but fuck it. This is memeland. Also, this didn’t turn out anything like I intended. Oh well.]
If anyone managed to get her pregnant–Tess, with her once-in-a-blue-moon ovulation schedule–it came as no surprise that man was James “Logan” Howlett. All it took was too many beers on a warm April evening, an expired condom, and Wolverine’s swimmers being hardier than expected. (Fertile bastard.) She woke up the next morning with his head on her boobs, the taste of roadkill in her mouth, and decided that if her own fertility cycle didn’t keep them out of the woods, the liberal amount of spermicide in the condom was more than enough.
When the Clear Blue pregnancy test pronounced her Knocked Up, all Tess could think was ‘stupid, stupid, stupid–’ before vomiting into the nearest trash can. (Nerves, not morning sickness.) What followed was entirely too much soul searching: if she wanted a kid, was it worth the risk of passing on her particular mutation? (Oh, it wasn’t, but selfishness won out over mercy, just that once–)
Turner (after Tina) Mitchell (after Joni) McKay came into the world the exact way Hank McCoy claimed he would: via caesarean and with “Woolf” under general anesthesia so that her body didn’t kill the baby during the extended labor process. Apart from missing her son’s first cries, Tess had no complaints—not with the alternative. Besides, chances were any son of Logan’s would wind up having “his big goddamn head!” and no birth canal deserved that.
She woke up numb and somehow empty all at the same time, the taste of roadkill back in her mouth and a mumble of, “Whersh m’baby?” on her lips.
Tess drifted about in a haze on the hospital bed, the fingers of her free hand skimming along her stomach and the prettily-stitched incision Logan told her not to touch. She spoke nonsense to him from time to time, things like “What if he doesn’t like me?” and “Does he have a big head?”
As McCoy returned and settled the infant in her heavy arms, she stared in silence, not stunned so much as struck by the warm realness of him: the unexpected mouthful of teeth with the tiniest white fangs; his little claws and pale, bristly hair that hinted the father’s mutation won out over the mother’s. (’Thank God. Oh, thank God.’)
With a completely irrelevant, “But he’s blond!” that was all drugs and no actual disappointment, Tess burst into tears of relief. She planted countless kisses on top of his tiny head as Logan sat down on the bed, baffled by her outburst. (Her son was squirming and crying by then, and really, she wouldn’t have noticed if Logan sprouted a second set of arms.) “Hey, baby. Hey; I love you. I love you, I love you. You can be blond–”
(Tess spent the next month listening to every smartass who ever set foot in Xavier’s tell her how sorry they were that her kid was blond.)