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fanfic ate sunday, too
Mar. 13th, 2006 10:20 amIt's a great feeling to wake up after having gone to sleep too late reading an amazing SGA fanfic to wake up and see a rec for that very same fanfic on my flist. I wrote a stupid short comment that said nothing because I was still in the "oh" stage of wonder and I had no time (work!) but I think pointing out that I had read it was enough.
Freedom's Just Another Word For Nothing Left To Lose by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
synecdochic is about an older and wiser and more compassionate (where it counts--he still doesn't tolerate idiots) Rodney who has known great happiness and terrible loss and heartbreaking betrayal. I love that it's more or less gen (though the hints of slash are breathtaking in their simplicity, brevity and naturalness) and about academic life and students being his "children" whom he refuses to coddle because that's not how life in this (or any other) universe is like. Even for scientists. Especially for scientists.
I read a lot of other very good fics and some bad ones that made me wince and laugh at the same time because they were bad in such a familiar way. I haven't read this much in fictional English in kind of a long time and the good ones have made me fall in love with the language all over again.
In a sort of related but not topic, I thought about the math being sexy thing that comes up so often in SGA fanfic, and came to the conclusion that it was totally not sexy for me (though the characters finding math sexy was because I am geeky enough to appreciate that). I mean, yes, I have felt the thrill and immense satisfaction that comes after spending hours and many, many pieces of paper to solve one stinkin' complex problem, but it's not sexy. Neither are guns, really. In movies, in anime, in books, in makebelieve they seem to be, but I've held a gun and shot it (in a firing range) and it was heavy and scary and stink. Imagining the bullet (it was almost magic how how it reached the target in a blink of an eye) hitting someone makes me shake. Did I mention scary already? But words. Words are sexy. I'm not very good with them, not stylish or profound or witty or anything. And yet the right turn of phrase makes me shiver. Actually, just the right word can give me goosebumps. You know, that little almost soundless "oh" moment of pure and utter joy.
Freedom's Just Another Word For Nothing Left To Lose by
synecdochic is about an older and wiser and more compassionate (where it counts--he still doesn't tolerate idiots) Rodney who has known great happiness and terrible loss and heartbreaking betrayal. I love that it's more or less gen (though the hints of slash are breathtaking in their simplicity, brevity and naturalness) and about academic life and students being his "children" whom he refuses to coddle because that's not how life in this (or any other) universe is like. Even for scientists. Especially for scientists.I read a lot of other very good fics and some bad ones that made me wince and laugh at the same time because they were bad in such a familiar way. I haven't read this much in fictional English in kind of a long time and the good ones have made me fall in love with the language all over again.
In a sort of related but not topic, I thought about the math being sexy thing that comes up so often in SGA fanfic, and came to the conclusion that it was totally not sexy for me (though the characters finding math sexy was because I am geeky enough to appreciate that). I mean, yes, I have felt the thrill and immense satisfaction that comes after spending hours and many, many pieces of paper to solve one stinkin' complex problem, but it's not sexy. Neither are guns, really. In movies, in anime, in books, in makebelieve they seem to be, but I've held a gun and shot it (in a firing range) and it was heavy and scary and stink. Imagining the bullet (it was almost magic how how it reached the target in a blink of an eye) hitting someone makes me shake. Did I mention scary already? But words. Words are sexy. I'm not very good with them, not stylish or profound or witty or anything. And yet the right turn of phrase makes me shiver. Actually, just the right word can give me goosebumps. You know, that little almost soundless "oh" moment of pure and utter joy.