The Oppenheimer Effect, nagi_schwarz (M)
Show(s): Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1
Rec Category: Crossovers
Pairing(s): John/Rodney, Evan/Cam/JD
Characters: John, Rodney, Evan, Cam, JD (clone!Jack), etc.
Categories: emotional hurt/comfort, friendship, pining, angst
Warnings: PTSD, foster kids with terrible backstories, polyamory angst, hospitalization, coming out angst, injury angst, all the angst!
Author on LJ: ficsco_and_nagi
Link: The Oppenheimer Effect
Why this must be read: This is a series that starts out incredibly cute, and then piles on the angst. It’s an AU where Cam never recovered the use of his legs after the Battle of Antarctica, John can no longer fly due to injuries sustained in a crash, and Lorne got a medical discharge after the incident with the Unas. They all share a house with Jack’s young clone, JD, and they all teach at a school for disadvantaged youth.
Enter Rodney, who only meets these guys because they find his wayward cat while he’s away at a conference. Love blooms, secrets are kept (John doesn’t know about the SGC at first), and chances are taken. There are some wonderful OCs, and I just love how much these men, each damaged in their own way, support each other. They really are a family, in all the best ways.
This is an active ‘verse, and Nagi is adding to it all the time. Don’t miss a tear-jerking moment!
After the last panel of the day - Rodney had moderated one, presented on two, and helped Lee with his demonstration in a third - it was time to head to the conference mixer. Rodney didn’t feel like mixing with anyone. Watching Lee collect phone numbers the way strippers collected dollar bills was disheartening. Watching Carter calmly fend off passes from men was depressing.
So Rodney found a corner and went to unlock his phone and check all the emails his department was likely bombarding him with, given that he’d had to leave Zelenka in charge, when Carter said, “Is that your boyfriend? He’s handsome.”
It was no secret on base that Rodney was bi, and because he was a scientist, anyone who had negative opinions about it could go boil themselves in oil. He worked for the USAF, but he wasn’t one of their unfortunately repressed soldiers. Things at the SGC would probably run a lot smoother if O’Neill and Jackson could just make out in lieu of an argument once in a while.
But that was neither here nor there, because on his lock screen was a photo of a very attractive man - wild dark hair, bright gray-hazel eyes - cuddling Oppenheimer. With the photo was another text message.
Your cat misses you!
Oppenheimer was curled around the man’s arm - he had nice forearms, dusting of dark hair, wearing a black wristband - like he was happy as a clam. Traitor.
Rodney gaped at the man’s gall, attractive though he was.
“No, he’s not my boyfriend,” Rodney muttered. “Like I could be so lucky. I’m sorry, Carter, I have to handle something.” He ducked out of the convention hall and headed for a quiet, shadowed alcove. He unlocked his phone, winced when he saw fifty-three unread emails in his inbox, and went straight for the text messages. He scrolled up to the oldest message after his brief reply.
We decided to shoot high on accommodations.
There was a photo of two silver feeding dishes, one full of water, one full of cat food, and a stack of Fancy Feast cat food tins on an unfamiliar kitchen counter.
Oppie is very friendly.
The next photo was of Oppenheimer sprawled across the lap of the handsome spiky-haired man while he sat on a couch beside at least two other men who Rodney couldn’t quite make out. The three of them were holding video game controllers.
Oh no. Oppenheimer had been kidnapped by some kind of frat house. Although the handsome man looked about Rodney’s age, maybe a few years younger.
Oppie is open to all kinds of new experiences.
The third photo was of Oppenheimer curled placidly on the belly of a man wearing grease-stained coveralls who was on his back and looked like he’d just slid out from beneath a fancy old muscle car. The man had short brown hair and blue eyes and could be mistaken for Daniel Jackson in bad light. His expression was amused and a little resigned as he patted Oppenheimer with one hand.
In the next photo, the man was heaving himself into a wheelchair, his legs hanging oddly, while Oppenheimer rode on his shoulders. The man also looked about Rodney’s age.
Oppie has great appreciation for fine art.
And yet another photo of Oppenheimer, this time stretched out along the top of an easel while a man - also handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed - laughed and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. A half-finished oil painting was on the canvas, and the man had a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other.
Apparently a house full of handsome men had found Rodney’s cat. Not Rodney, just his cat.
Oppie loves the stars.
And still another photo of Oppenheimer, this time curled across the broad shoulders of a boy, who looked no more than eighteen, while he was fiddling with a telescope on a balcony.
And there, that last photo of the handsomest man of them all, cuddling Oppenheimer and smiling at the camera.
Rec Category: Crossovers
Pairing(s): John/Rodney, Evan/Cam/JD
Characters: John, Rodney, Evan, Cam, JD (clone!Jack), etc.
Categories: emotional hurt/comfort, friendship, pining, angst
Warnings: PTSD, foster kids with terrible backstories, polyamory angst, hospitalization, coming out angst, injury angst, all the angst!
Author on LJ: ficsco_and_nagi
Link: The Oppenheimer Effect
Why this must be read: This is a series that starts out incredibly cute, and then piles on the angst. It’s an AU where Cam never recovered the use of his legs after the Battle of Antarctica, John can no longer fly due to injuries sustained in a crash, and Lorne got a medical discharge after the incident with the Unas. They all share a house with Jack’s young clone, JD, and they all teach at a school for disadvantaged youth.
Enter Rodney, who only meets these guys because they find his wayward cat while he’s away at a conference. Love blooms, secrets are kept (John doesn’t know about the SGC at first), and chances are taken. There are some wonderful OCs, and I just love how much these men, each damaged in their own way, support each other. They really are a family, in all the best ways.
This is an active ‘verse, and Nagi is adding to it all the time. Don’t miss a tear-jerking moment!
After the last panel of the day - Rodney had moderated one, presented on two, and helped Lee with his demonstration in a third - it was time to head to the conference mixer. Rodney didn’t feel like mixing with anyone. Watching Lee collect phone numbers the way strippers collected dollar bills was disheartening. Watching Carter calmly fend off passes from men was depressing.
So Rodney found a corner and went to unlock his phone and check all the emails his department was likely bombarding him with, given that he’d had to leave Zelenka in charge, when Carter said, “Is that your boyfriend? He’s handsome.”
It was no secret on base that Rodney was bi, and because he was a scientist, anyone who had negative opinions about it could go boil themselves in oil. He worked for the USAF, but he wasn’t one of their unfortunately repressed soldiers. Things at the SGC would probably run a lot smoother if O’Neill and Jackson could just make out in lieu of an argument once in a while.
But that was neither here nor there, because on his lock screen was a photo of a very attractive man - wild dark hair, bright gray-hazel eyes - cuddling Oppenheimer. With the photo was another text message.
Your cat misses you!
Oppenheimer was curled around the man’s arm - he had nice forearms, dusting of dark hair, wearing a black wristband - like he was happy as a clam. Traitor.
Rodney gaped at the man’s gall, attractive though he was.
“No, he’s not my boyfriend,” Rodney muttered. “Like I could be so lucky. I’m sorry, Carter, I have to handle something.” He ducked out of the convention hall and headed for a quiet, shadowed alcove. He unlocked his phone, winced when he saw fifty-three unread emails in his inbox, and went straight for the text messages. He scrolled up to the oldest message after his brief reply.
We decided to shoot high on accommodations.
There was a photo of two silver feeding dishes, one full of water, one full of cat food, and a stack of Fancy Feast cat food tins on an unfamiliar kitchen counter.
Oppie is very friendly.
The next photo was of Oppenheimer sprawled across the lap of the handsome spiky-haired man while he sat on a couch beside at least two other men who Rodney couldn’t quite make out. The three of them were holding video game controllers.
Oh no. Oppenheimer had been kidnapped by some kind of frat house. Although the handsome man looked about Rodney’s age, maybe a few years younger.
Oppie is open to all kinds of new experiences.
The third photo was of Oppenheimer curled placidly on the belly of a man wearing grease-stained coveralls who was on his back and looked like he’d just slid out from beneath a fancy old muscle car. The man had short brown hair and blue eyes and could be mistaken for Daniel Jackson in bad light. His expression was amused and a little resigned as he patted Oppenheimer with one hand.
In the next photo, the man was heaving himself into a wheelchair, his legs hanging oddly, while Oppenheimer rode on his shoulders. The man also looked about Rodney’s age.
Oppie has great appreciation for fine art.
And yet another photo of Oppenheimer, this time stretched out along the top of an easel while a man - also handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed - laughed and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. A half-finished oil painting was on the canvas, and the man had a palette in one hand and a paintbrush in the other.
Apparently a house full of handsome men had found Rodney’s cat. Not Rodney, just his cat.
Oppie loves the stars.
And still another photo of Oppenheimer, this time curled across the broad shoulders of a boy, who looked no more than eighteen, while he was fiddling with a telescope on a balcony.
And there, that last photo of the handsomest man of them all, cuddling Oppenheimer and smiling at the camera.