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31 August 2005 @ 05:11 pm
SGA Rec: Instantaneous (Sheppard/McKay)  
I sometimes brood about how I'm always right there ready to make a stale pun, but come on, I totally want to call this an insta-rec. Except that I actually did read the entire story first, because I'd never read anything by this author before and because once I started I couldn't stop until the squee pulled into the station, and wow that's a gimp metaphor. Anyway. This is such a cool story that even people who suck at making themselves stop after finishing a story and write a rec have to stop and write a rec, by which I mean me. But on the other hand, I've crushed madly on multitudes of other SGA stories too, and the fact that I haven't yet recced all of them is no reflection on how much I love them, and only on my usual lack of follow-through. I can't stand the thought that I might hurt anyone's feelings even by vapid omission, and so, just to clarify, I'm taking particular care to rec this story because today is Wednesday.
Story quote: "You don't read Ancient, do you? I know, stupid question, but maybe the console will give you something in the--" McKay looked up, and suddenly went from cooing dove to, well, not. His mouth jerked down in mid-grin, one side faster than the other, into that flabbergasted scowl that suggested he'd have to kick himself later for forgetting just how truly stupid other people could be. "No! What are you doing? Don't touch! Did I say to--"
I just can't express how much I love this--how perfect and observant a description it is, especially: His mouth jerked down in mid-grin, one side faster than the other, into that flabbergasted scowl that suggested he'd have to kick himself later for forgetting just how truly stupid other people could be.

And there are jillions of other McKay-spotting moments in the story. I mean, looking at it from just one valid reader-response interpretation, the whole story is one long, delirious, erotic meditation on Rodney's neck, and in no way is that a bad thing. Because, neck. Even just thinking about it makes me go dry-mouthed and twitch a little. So I'll probably go do that in private now.

Instantaneous by cimness

(Thank you to astolat for posting a rec for this! :)
 
 
 
Alizarin_NYC: rodney smilesalizarin_nyc on September 1st, 2005 12:40 am (UTC)
Thanks! I'm going to read this tonight. I love anything McShep particularly ones that highlight the McKay-ness of McKay.
Sarapanisdead on September 1st, 2005 12:47 am (UTC)
Yes. I need to write the author--although I personally could subsist on a diet of only crack, I'm not sure the fandom at large could. This was such an excellent break in the, um, supply.
Anna S.: penguineliade on September 1st, 2005 12:55 am (UTC)
Yeah. :) One of the things I liked very much was how it had all that cool math-y and science-y stuff that I didn't understand in the least. *g* I like dating stories that are smarter than me. (Except for now and then when I cry with authorial envy, but today I feel all happy and generous about that. heh)
Silvia Kunderasilviakundera on September 1st, 2005 12:59 am (UTC)
Except that I actually did read the entire story first, because I'd never read anything by this author before

oh, I love love the cim. She's faaaaaabulous. You should go and try some others.

Now I will cim!rec. Hmmmmmmmmm..

well, obviously her rec page should be checked out. Because she's so honest and tells you exactly what you're getting into. Any time I start reading in a new fandom, I check her first to see if she has some fics pointed to.

I would rec her Due South story Palm to Palm

"Another whine.

"Feet," Fraser said with dignity, "are made for walking. Besides which, I highly doubt the groundcoverings you would encounter in the wild would be more comfortable to walk on than this tile." Which Dief's claws were click-click-clicking on, a nice pitter-patter in the background that made you want to dance after a while.

And then you walked past one of those damned trashcans, and it said, "You're helping conserve natural resources!" like maybe it didn't want you to, and you jumped a foot in the air.

Or if you were Fraser, you stopped and said to it, "A little courtesy would not go amiss."

Silence.

"Try the book, Frase," I said. Myself I was thinking 'piss off', but we were making baby steps, here.

Fraser cracked his neck, thinking, then gave himself a little shake and took a breath and said, "I abhor this dilatory sloth." Sounded like a pronouncement and not an insult, but I was pretty sure it was Shakespeare and not real Fraser.

Dief barked.

"Yes, we'll try again," Fraser said smoothly, and looked around for a piece of trash. He probably would'a gone picking through the flowerbeds if I hadn't handed him a crumpled slip of paper. He tipped the Stetson on his head and stepped forward to neatly push the paper through the little flap.

Now the trashcan sounded better, not too enthusiastic, but not like it would rather be doing anything than holding trash and talking to us. "Thank you kindly," it said.

Fraser beamed.



and I adore her LotR slash, because her love for the books is so clear and vibrant, and it reads like it belongs in that universe. Promise, a Gimli/Legolas, may be my favorite.

" Gimli sat slowly and buried his ruddy face in his square hands, and threw his helm down so his braided hair gleamed, coarse and thick, in the sun stealing from behind a cloud. Legolas, standing a little apart, seeking for quiet in his mind, was not too distracted to take notice of this, nor too deeply wounded by his own pain to feel another surprising, fresh cut of it for Gimli's. He looked up into the sky, turning his face to the sun, and closed his eyes.

The grief would stay with him long and long, he knew; but already he regained himself, laying it aside for when he might better and more respectfully serve it. Now there was no time; even as he took a deep breath and opened his eyes again, looking automatically at Gimli who had not moved, Aragorn said, "Alas! I fear we cannot stay here longer." They left, and went down the road from the Gates of Moria, past the Mirrormere and Durin's stone. That night they reached the edges of Lothlorien, and Legolas led the company across the stream Nimrodel, to camp.

He felt great joy to see the golden trees of his people's fairest land, and to breathe the sweet scent of mallorn and elanor even in winter. His soul was much eased, that night, and he spun for the Men and the halflings and his Dwarf tales of Lothlorien, the River Anduin, and the Maid Nimrodel for whom the stream was named. Legolas had never before seen a mallorn, and reality mixed with the fantasies of his long-gone childhood now, and the lore of the Elves of Mirkwood, who had never forgotten the beauty of the golden forest. Almost he could lose himself in this gladness, in the dream, beyond the reach of the calm glow of Gimli's black eyes.
Silvia Kunderasilviakundera on September 1st, 2005 12:59 am (UTC)
Plus Thing, which is a written pre-Book 5 epic Remus/Sirius collaboration between her and Wax Jism. and I don't even know what to quote there, because it's all so tied together and multi-faceted.

There are rats in the wall, rats tiptoeing over hay and straw. Their scratching and scrabbling wake him and tease his ears; Padfoot has instinct to contend with, instinct that goes well with the human hatred that never really simmers down. He launches himself from his makeshift nest in the straw in an explosion of dust, and it's almost too easy. The rat squeals, Padfoot's powerful jaws close around its small, wriggling shape - crunch. The dog's stomach makes happy noises and the man's mind sings in chilly glee.

He eats all of it down to the bald tail, the wormtail, enjoying the crackling of small bones in his mouth, the taste of warm blood. He licks his chops carefully after, every drop of blood and smear of grease, thinking about catching another one. He decides against it. It's morning.



oh! and she wrote actual Finding Nemo slash - and it's very good, and it's smart (actual knowledge about clownfish sexuality).
torchflambeau on September 1st, 2005 05:43 am (UTC)
You never rec me on a Wednesday. I weep on you from my Thursday morning of pain.

Wasn't that a lovely story? :)