Stargate Recs

Updated May 13, 2001

Mostly slash. But spiked with gen. Which tells you a lot about how badly I crave good writing in this fandom, since I am an unrepentant bred-in-the-bone slasher--a freakish fascination to my friends, in fact. I initially intended to recommend every single edible story I could find. Though it's still a relatively small pool of stories to choose from right now, I've decided to scale back my ambition and just give you some links to other rec pages:

Merry's page: http://trickster.org/radiofree/recs.htm -- Check out the Past Recommendations and do a find for "SG" in the text.

Stargate Rec-A-Thon: http://versaphile.com/fanwork/sgrecs.html -- Haven't checked it out in any depth yet, or gotten permission to link; but it was recced to me as likely to be a good rec page.

Most of the stories I rec are found on the Area 52 or JDFX slash archives. For the ones with an Area 52 address: if you like to read notes and spoilers you can always page down quickly to the end of a story, then click through to the author's archival homepage. Any notes will be found there. Sometimes my own notes will have spoilers or hints about content, though I usually try to avoid serious ones. If you trust me, you can always click through on a title before focusing your glazed gaze on my comments.

= A special favorite, sometimes for writing, sometimes for kink, sometimes for both.

May 13, 2001

Buddies by Quinn (slash) -- Three thematic vignettes.

I sink to the concrete floor of the balcony, careful not to spill my coffee. Bare feet planted flat against the rough surface, I rest my elbows on bent knees and cradle the hot mug in my hands. I lean back against the wall and gaze out at the twilight world beyond the railing. Without my glasses, all I really see is hazy shapes and darkening colors, but that's all right. I don't need to see clearly to know what's there. I've sat here so many times over the past year and stared out over the rooftops of the adjacent buildings, down into the busy street, and across to the small park that I could point out every landmark in the pitch dark. The bricks bite into my back through my thin shirt, but I don't bother moving. There's no point. I can't get comfortable out here anyway. I've sat out here often enough to know.

Why you should read this: Jack angst, Daniel angst, a sense of pervasive greyness and despair, angst angst angst.

What might throw you off stride: Occasional word and phrase choices that rang off-key, like "the freshly brewed beverage," "brethren," "clenched tight in delicate hands," and so on--some were off-key just in general, others were voice issues. But they don't dominate the narratives.

Ace O'Neill Stays Focused and Avoids a Tangent and Ace O'Neill Narrowly Thwarts Disaster and Chaos by Tenaya (slashy) -- Sort of like the Stargate version of a "Nancy Clue" or "Hardly Boys" story.

"Colonel, I had an idea that you could use Jupiter to slingshot around to bring you back to Earth but now I think it won't work. My calculations say it is impossible!"

Daniel could be heard in the background wailing in despair. "They'll never make it!"

Jack whipped out his slide ruler and made a few hasty calculations. Dark eyes were hard with steely determination as he activated the radio.

"Carter, you forgot to factor in the gravitational pull from all of the Jovian satellites. I believe you'll find that we can actually use Jupiter to shoot ourselves out to Saturn, and then use that planet to slingshot ourselves back to Earth."

Why you should read this: Parody, Jack "Mary Sue" O'Neill, good clean fun. Slashy fun. Plus, I don't know about anyone else, but I'm picturing comic book color illustrations: panel one, steely-eyed Jack sitting in the cockpit of his deathglider against a background of stars; panel two: Daniel's anxious face as he listens to the radio transmission. I have...eeriely clear visuals.

What might throw you off stride: Well, she's not off writing rape stories, and I'm personally kind of bummed. But these are damn funny.

This is It by Quinn (slash) -- By the author's description: "This story is AU and occurs several years ahead in SG1's future."

I threw my weight against the iron door to force it open. Trying not to breathe the stench of burned flesh, and vomit coming from the dank cell, I swept my light along the blood-splattered floor. The beam fell on a motionless figure sprawled in a heap against the back wall.

"I've found another one," I keyed my radio as I knelt in the gore to search for signs of life. For one heart stopping moment, I couldn't find a pulse. Trying to be as careful as possible, I rolled the unconscious man onto his back. My breath caught in my throat as I came face to battered face with the thing I feared the most since SG-11 failed to report in.

"Daniel," I called softly as I took stock of his injuries. No response. He was a jumbled mess of broken bones, and ragged flesh. I tore into my pack to get at the med kit.

"O'Neill, do you require assistance?" Teal'c asked as he stepped into the cell, staff weapon held ready.

"Yeah. It looks bad. We have to get him out of here now."

Why you should read this: It doesn't reflect on this author's story at all, but I'm having one of those days where I don't feel like trying to find stuff to say. I just want to rec stuff. "Oh, go read it," I say. I mean, if you're visiting this page you're probably desperate for Stargate fiction. I could tell you there's a good Stargate story printed on a 2"x3" scrap of waxed paper and included in 10% of all Cracker Jack boxes, and you'd probably go buy out the store. Anyway. This story's good.

What might throw you off stride: Um...that's kind of a bad pun. I'm just not going to go there.

The Body Electric by Merry Lynne (gen) -- Let us pause a moment to celebrate the wonder that is Merry Lynne. When done pausing, please form an orderly line to receive this stor--oh, oh fine. Just trample right over me, will you.

The other Jack took his hand and gripped it warmly. "Call me Jack," he said. "I feel like I've known you for years."

Daniel blinked. His eyebrows went up, and he threw a questioning look at his Jack.

"You have known me for years," Daniel said slowly. He turned back to the robot, his expression carefully bland. "Just...not the past two."

Oh, for crying out loud. "Daniel," Jack said. "That was humor."

Why you should read this: Well, there's the whole wonder-that-is-Merry factor, then--like the pot of gold at the end of the Merry rainbow--the story itself, which has a sort of yummy Doublemint Twin thing going on; dialogue so precisely on target you'd swear she had GPS tracking installed in her cute little cranium; deadpan humor; light threads of angst; the uncannily canonical rendition of every twitch, tic, and eyebrow flicker of the characters; and an ending that brings a big, happy, dorky grin to your face. Or at least to mine.

What might throw you off stride: Wet pickles on the linoleum.

Storms by Merry Lynne (gen) -- What I love about Merry is that even when she writes gen, you can shade your eyes and squint far ahead toward the horizon and see the faint, shimmering outline of slash in the distance. Oasis? Mirage? You decide.

Jack had been willing to wait his turn. He'd waited through the testing of the gate -- knowing, almost instinctively, that they wouldn't be able to go back. He'd waited through that absolutely delightful hugfest, and then through the final, formal reunion of Katherine and Earnest. That was sweet, sure, and he was happier for Katherine than he was ever going to tell anybody, but he had other things on his mind.

Like exactly how long it was going to take him to get Daniel alone and rip his lungs out.

After that, there'd been the debriefing, and several times in his own report he'd had to stop for a second and fight for control. He hadn't looked at Daniel. If he'd looked, he would've shredded the man right there in front of the General and the team, and that was just not Jack's style.

But man, had he ever been tempted.

Why you should read this: There aren't many writers who can nail so subtle a conflict and its crisis, so beautifully. I am fairly sure I couldn't, and I'm damn sure I could never have written this story, even in my dreams. As Doc would say of Ringo: "Now I know I hate him." I must add that when you read one of Merry's stories it's as if you are right there in the room with the characters. Where'd that tiny pistol of mine go, anyway. Seems to have fallen out of my cuff.

What might throw you off stride: This is a few degrees off my own semi-developed interpretation of Jack, but that's the beauty of IDIC applied to fan-fic. Oh wait. That's my stride, not yours. Never mind, then. Get your own stride.

"I have not yet begun to defile myself."

Into the Maelstrom by Molly -- An intriguing, different story. Much thanks to Katharine S. for pointing me toward this.

What hurts the most is that he's afraid. He feels Sha'uri getting farther and farther away every day; he needs to save her to save her, not to get his wife back. He needs to right the wrong of her loss, to give back the life he inadvertently caused her to lose... but he doesn't need her. Because chance happened again, as it is wont to do, and Daniel needs something else now. Someone else.

Why you should read this: A small flock of amazing insights, a few particularly brilliant lines that will take your breath away, and a carefully braided narrative that builds from mild unease to haunted loss. Also: Daniel being difficult and repressed and conflicted about his feelings. Yes! It's also a story that treats seriously Daniel's relationship with his wife.

What might throw you off stride: It's difficult to read in parts, a bit diffuse and vague in style--maybe even overwritten. But even the mistiest bits of writing contribute to the story's atmosphere, if nothing else. Also, though Jack's dialogue can seem a bit off-kilter, it's worth noting that the story gives you reason enough in terms of plot to accept any off notes. Do read to the end even if it initially appears not to be your stylistic cup of tea; the story switches gears here and there, and the mix sort of comes together at the end.

The Measure of a Man by Geminia -- Kind of a fixer-upper for "Double Jeopardy" (and other eps). Just updated; there's a part one and part two now. It appears to be the beginning of a longer work in progress. This is from part two:

By the time he arrived, the rest of SG-6 had as well. Medics were already placing Daniel on a stretcher as Dr. Fraiser began to examine him. Spotting Major Thomas, Jack marched toward him, concern for Daniel overriding his self-restraint.

"What the hell happened out there, Thomas?!" he barked in the other officer's face. "I told you if you were going to borrow my archaeologist that you'd better keep and eye on him and bring him back in one piece!"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but there was--"

"I don't want excuses--!"

"Colonel! That's enough!" Hammond's sharp rebuke immediately put an end to the tirade. Turning his attention away from Jack, he turned to the other man. "What happened, Major?"

Why you should read this: Some clumps of good dialogue, a mostly convincing Hammond, a brief spotlight on android love, and a handful of moments that feel canonical (e.g., Daniel and Fraiser wrangling in the background).

What might throw you off stride: A light sprinkling of spelling and textual errors, Jack being obvious, Hammond being a wee bit yentalike (though a thick coating of decent characterization helps distract from this), occasional off notes, and--to be honest--no real intensity. This is like pie from the vending machine in the middle of night shift. Custard, maybe. But I'll keep watching the progress of these stories.

Certainty of Chance by Kleio -- So, I was scrolling through the archive looking to see if there were updates and suddenly stumbled over an author. "Kleio," I noticed. "That seems like the name of someone sane and intelligent." I could have sworn that I looked through the entries for every author, exhausted all possibilities, but apparently not.

"It's not pessimism, nor determinism...well, not *per se*. I'm just acknowledging the facts, and the fact is that free will is only illusory and we're all objects, not autonomous actors as we would like to think." Daniel was leaning his head against the locker door, staring blindly at the ceiling. "It's all an illusion."

"Are we talking about god here? 'Cos if we are, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to pass on this one, it's not exactly my kinda thing..."

"No, no gods, please. I'm talking about something far more powerful than any human mind could ever construct, the ultimate basis for the need of gods. I'm talking about odds, chance, *Fortuna*. You know, in the 40's, anthropologists were still able to find indigenous peoples who lacked the word for chance. Evans-Pritchard, for example, studied the Nuer in Northern Africa who used witchcraft and magic to explain the to-our-eyes coincidences. They denied the existence of mere chance, it being the most terrifying and, by the same token, also the most powerful of forces in nature."

Why you should read this: Intelligence, whiskey, wrestling, Geek Daniel, the pursuit of tundra, man-to-man urination, and Jack saying, "Have a taste of chance, my gloomy friend."

What might throw you off stride: Some strings of polysyllabic words that elevate the diction a bit too high and which could have been simplified. It's not so much an issue with Daniel's dialogue, but with odd sentences like: "He kept registering the messages from his senses but no further processing was possible, no perception could be formed from the sensation." Still, this is the exception rather than the rule, and you should be able to glide across such patches of glossy ice and reach the next nice bit of writing without sprawling.

Up Close and Personal by Kleio -- And another from Kleio. Clee-oh. Klee-o. Klay-oh? Clay-O. Mmm, yeah. Move along, people. I'll just be resetting my babble meter to zero now.

"Yes, it was, and yes, we have. Um, Jack... what are we doing?"

"Not a clue."

"This can't be happening."

"I know."

"This can't be happening, this can't be happening...."

"Okay, Danny, I heard you the first time. We both agree that none of this is really happening."

"And if this isn't happening, then it must be a dream."

"Are you saying we're having the same dream?"

"I don't think I'm saying anything if none of this is happening."

Why you should read this: Men hanging from chains, in the dark, nose to nose and irritable. Many fast, sharp lines of whip-cracking dialogue...

What might throw you off stride: ...and many other lines that fall flat on the ground like limp, sticky spaghetti. It's uneven, to be sure. And there's really no excuse for the ending. But overall it's maybe, I dunno, three-fifths perfect? Four-fifths? Enough fifths for me to rec this unapologetically.

Ex Tempore by Kleio -- This author is clearly determined to right the wrongs of canon; whereas the show will consistently pair off the wrong two team members (Jack/Sam, Jack/Teal'c, Sam/Daniel, Teal'c/Daniel) whenever adventure comes a-knockin', Kleio kindly makes sure that Jack and Daniel are always stranded and imprisoned together. A kind and generous woman.

"Okay, let's see," Jack said, getting up and starting to make his way through the darkness in the direction of Daniel's voice, "we got hit by a shock grenade, all my weapons are gone - big surprise there - and half of my team is missing, but we do have a couple of *pillows*. You must excuse me, if I fail to see the silver lining here."

"I guess we'll just have to wait for our vision to return before 'seeing' *anything*," Daniel said and started to explore his own pockets as well, "I still have some of my stuff left, unfortunately not any weapons, but my anti-histamines are here..."

"Hooray, we're saved!"

Why you should read this: Loopy Priest Rumlna ("the liver tells me..."), purification rituals, abundant cultural references, a judicious application of canon, the act of divine love, a Daniel who sounds like Daniel, a Jack who sounds like Jack. In fact...ah, Jack. Man, Kleio can write some kick-ass Jack dialogue, uncannily sharp lines that could have been lifted right off a shooting script: "So, the Goa'uld tore these people away from their spaghetti plates, how does that help us?" And: "Well, there *is* a very close relationship between my hand and..." Um, yes.

What might throw you off stride: A small chunk of story with no paragraph breaks; what seem to be a few fairly crucial missing lines of dialogue; a uniquely disturbing sexual scenario; some misogyny; some blood; the usual off notes (often followed by sheer beauty); and an abrupt, lame ending. What can I say. It's a mixed bag--some of it is simply hit-the-sweet-spot amazing, and some of it is rather appalling--and it's still worth reading.

"I'm military, I love pain."

Objectives by Lady of Shalott -- Okay, so you have to realize that this author began writing after watching six episodes, and immediately sent a wicked dart winging smack-dab into the middle of both characterization and kink. You have to hate her. You have to worship her actually, because I'm pointing this staff weapon at you and my word is law.

Jack thought Sam handled the suggestion pretty well, all things considered.

Her voice was steady. "Unfortunately, I'm not on the pill. I don't suppose either of you have condoms along?"

"You'd be amazed how much sex I don't have on Stargate missions," Jack said.

"No, we wouldn't," Sam and Daniel said immediately.

Jack scowled. "Ha ha, very funny. So where's your wallet stash, Daniel?"

Daniel shook his head. "Sorry, fresh out."

Why you should read this: There's a justification for fannish cliches, and it's stories like this. Cliche, like Michelle, is such a common name, but then you meet Cliche, who is like no other Cliche you've ever met; she's sharp and she's chic and, yes, she wears trendy designer clothes but she makes them her own, she puts her stamp on them, she sets the trend, she reinvents it and makes everyone else look drab. Cliche, you murmur as you gaze at her piquant face over candles, then later, dreamily in your sleep.

Which is just another way of saying: this story rocks. And then gets them off.

What might throw you off stride: Oh...nothing, maybe? Yeah, nothing. That's it.

Reveille by Lady of Shallot -- And then she wrote this, damn her beautiful eyes.

Wow. Did his head hurt.

On the bright side, he was lying on something soft, and he didn't seem to be tied up or injured or dead, and he had the vague sense that he'd had a really good time last night. So all in all, nothing much to complain about. All he needed was about another twenty-four hours of sleep. He rolled onto his side and tried to shove his head into the pillow.

"Jack."

Oh, right. That's what had woken him. "Yeah, yeah."

"Jack." Daniel really wanted him to wake up.

Jack groaned softly and levered himself up. "Okay, what's the rush?" He rubbed a hand over his face and lifted one of the gauzy curtains aside to peer out of the bed, half-expecting to see a couple of Goa'uld with an army of Jaffa standing around the room, given their usual luck. No, nothing out of the ordinary, as long as you considered Early Byzantingly Whatever ordinary. Did they really have to plate everything with gold? Rubbing his eyes, he turned back to Daniel. "So?"

Why you should read this: Jack and Daniel and bittersweet angst and malak and neuronal symbiotes.

What might throw you off stride: Shoelaces, snakes in the road.

The Cost of a Used Spaceship by Marie Blackpool -- Run, don't walk.

Hammond arrested him with a minute lift of his head. "Doctor, in your absence there's been a little bit of excitement. The other members of SG-1 have captured a Goa'uld spacecraft."

"Oh?" Daniel certainly hadn't expected this news. Hammond looked like the day he'd been living for as commander of the SGC had finally arrived. He was radiant, in a disciplined, high-ranking manner. But as he watched, Hammond curtained his good cheer and revealed another expression that almost resembled —regret? Daniel decided it was time to put his pack and book bag down.

"Major Carter will fill you in on the details. While we are understandably pleased about the outcome of the mission, there are a few loose ends. The SG-1 replicas from P3X-989 were, unfortunately —" Hammond caught at his speech uncharacteristically. "—casualties. Most of them have been retrieved. Major Carter is examining them now. She thinks she may be able to recover data from one of them."

Why you should read this: There are no words. But if I tried, I might say: angst, layers, chills, and the slow brilliant ripping of one's heart.

Alter Ergo by ELG -- An examination of latent possibilities building from "Urgo," and going much further than syndicated television would ever allow. Thank god.

General Hammond looked around at his formerly flagship SG team with what he sincerely hoped was an expression of understanding. He wasn't actually feeling very understanding but it was obvious that asking them what the hell they thought they'd been playing at since Sunday evening was not going to produce a very satisfactory response. He still had no idea what had got into them, and they weren't being particularly forthcoming with their explanations. He felt rather like he had halfway through that business with the Tok'ra armbands. Watching a team of intelligent professionals starting to act like naughty children had been a disconcerting experience. Now they were acting like naughty, sulky children who'd had their toys taken away from them. O'Neill was sullenly picking the crust off the sandwich he'd asked for. Major Carter was doodling higher mathematical equations on a piece of paper with a stubborn set to her shoulders Hammond recognized only too well from arguments with his own daughters. Teal'c was sitting with his arms crossed and his nose in the air. Dr Jackson was slumped against the wall hugging himself and looking slightly green.

Why you should read this: An unusual story framing of a fun, abandoned romp. County fairs, heavy drinking, Daniel saying: "Well I have mixed feelings about being a piece of pie." The story's focus and thorough treatment gives more more attention to consequences than to the initial debauchery, which is refreshing.

What might throw you off stride: Oh, maybe there's some tiny nugget that could theoretically work its way between your foot and your shoe, but I'm in my honeymoon period right now and I can't think of anything. Of course there's always the "More sex, please" request. But I'm trying to set that greed aside and stop using words like "tawdry" and "yum" in every other sentence. At least for Lent.

Undercurrents by ELG -- A sequel, of sorts, to "Alter Ergo."

"I don't think the human brain can really deal in vacuums." The young prisoner swung his pick again. "By which I mean we'll have to start thinking of ourselves as something because that's what the human race has always done." There was a pause before he sighed. "At least I think that's what it's always done. I seem to remember knowing about..." He broke off with a shrug.

"I'm calling myself 'John' until I find out what my real name is."

The prisoner glanced at him. "You don't look like a 'John' to me."

"What do I look like?"

The prisoner frowned, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He shook his head. "Sorry. It's gone. John's fine." He swung his pick again but it was clearly costing him something, the weight of it pulling at his shoulders painfully. The pick head struck the ice at a sideways slant then bounced off and the prisoner had to jerk his head out of the way to avoid being hit by the rebound. He let the pick hit the ground and bowed his head, snatching a breath. "I don't think I can - "

Why you should read this: You like prisons, right? And amnesia? I knew you did.

What might throw you off stride: It's surprisingly easy to get past the nominative facade of "John" and "David" and see into the characters, but still--there's sometimes cognitive dissonance. We also have Jack thinking of Daniel as a "boy." Not once, or twice, but often. Mmm, yeah, okay. Oh, and the clothes shopping...stuff. Let's just not think about that. In short, there are some issues here. But I'm in a forgiving phase right now, and this is a nice, broad fantasy.

What this Is by Emma Woodhouse -- Emma Woodhouse! Apparently Emma went from Sentinel to Stargate and then up and disappeared, leaving behind only this one lone SG story in the archive, dated late 1999.

On the evening of the eighth day, SG-1 sat around the campfire and discussed Jackson's findings. Carter would have been able to concentrate better if the archaeologist hadn't been leaning back against the Colonel's knees. And if the Colonel hadn't been absentmindedly stroking the back of Jackson's neck.

"So," Daniel said, "I can't find anything human that predates about five thousand years ago. And then about three thousand years ago, they're all just gone."

"But no evidence of Goa'uld?" O'Neill asked.

"None."

"So. Any conclusions?"

"Just a theory," Daniel admitted.

"We're listening," O'Neill said. ('Listening and fondling', Carter said to herself.)

Why you should read this: Ohhhh, um. Sex. Fondling. Primal sex. And other good stuff. A surprising balance of kink and character professionalism. I don't know how to describe it better. Example: Jack experiences something that should be highly mortifying, but instead pulls it together and behaves very maturely about it afterwards. Likewise, Carter, Daniel, et al. Oddly, I'm not sure that level of calm is entirely plausible at times, given the circumstances, but it certainly helps keep the story on an even keel.

What might throw you off stride: There are excruciating, intrusive exclamation points in Very Wrong Places; and capitals are used for emphasis. (To be fair, this is common in many archived stories. It may be an uploading macro.) Also, if you have an embarrassment squick, it may be pinged. As with a hammer. But despite issues, this was worth reading. In fact, my kinks were ringing like happy little bells, but that's just me.

Forced Perspective by Tenaya -- Welcome to my world of kink.

An hour later, Daniel stood in front of the mirror. His filming finished, he had extracted the tape and was labeling it with his fine, precise handwriting. "You know there could be an alternate reality Earth that already has a weapon that is effective against the Goa'uld. Or maybe one where they already know how to remove a Goa'uld without damaging the host. Jack, all we'd have to do is make contact, ask them for the knowledge, and it'd be ours."

Jack watched Sergeant Siler sketch an outline of the mirror on a sheet of titanium/trinium alloy in preparation for cutting it out. Bored, he turned back to Daniel. "And we will--" He was stopped in mid-sentence by a flicker of light from the mirror. "Hey!"

Why you should read this: Which particular kink are we talking about here, you may be wondering? Mwah ha ha ha...ahem. Well, those of you who don't like rape stories will want to know that this is one, and those of you who do like rape stories will want to know that this is one, so let's just get that spoiler out there: hey, this is a rape story. And it's a cool rape story: it's deeply hot, it's partner rape, and Daniel's reactions could not be more perfect. (Note: When partner rape is good it's very, very good, and when it's bad it's icky.)

What might throw you off stride: The first half of the story was stronger than the second half, I thought--including Daniel's reactions. But it's only a relatively small dip in intensity and focus, and it may just have been my own idiosyncratic reaction.

After All by Sar -- I had to upturn every single stone in the field to find this quiet little gem. Of course, this is why I never get around to doing laundry on the weekends. But it was worth the time and effort, even though I ended up on Monday wearing those ancient trousers which originally lived somewhere near my ankles and eventually shrunk into ersatz Capri pants. I'm glad I can share these things with you.

"Colonel O'Neill, the security of this facility is not something I'm inclined to take lightly."

"Yes, sir. That's why I followed him." Jack shifted uncomfortably under General Hammond's glare. He finally threw his hands up and began pacing the small office. "Far as I can tell, it was just cabin fever. You know, fresh air, change of scenery..."

"Cabin fever." Hammond sounded distinctly unconvinced. "Do you have any idea how long a climb it is to that escape hatch?"

"Firsthand, General."

"The point is, Colonel, that Dr. Jackson has been acting strangely ever since the Harsesis child was here."

"Come on, it's Daniel. He's been acting strangely his entire life." Ok, tough room. Hammond didn't so much as blink. Jack sighed. "Look... sir. He had a bad dream, and he's had a pretty lousy year. He's just trying to figure stuff out. I'll talk to him about taking the elevator from now on."

Why you should read this: Daniel feels and sounds and reacts like Daniel, and Jack like Jack. The situations feel believable. The resolution feels rights. It's just a feel-good story. Well, it's a layered, somewhat angsty feel-good story.

What might throw you off stride: The quotes were unnecessary, and I think Jack would have waffled a bit more uneasily about the issue. (You know, the issue.) But otherwise, this is straightforward and good and doesn't make your head hurt.

No Consequences by Brenda Anders -- Based on the ep "Window of Opportunity."

Only a desperate need for air forces me away from him. I pull back slowly, moving my hands to rest lightly on his shoulders and reluctantly meeting his gaze. His blue eyes are huge behind his glasses...and a little dazed. He stares at me for what seems like an eternity, then he suddenly draws a breath as if just remembering to breathe. I remove my hands from his shoulders and take a step back, out of his personal space.

He blinks once, twice, then raises a hand - an unsteady hand - and fumbles with his glasses for a moment. "What --" He stops and clears his throat. "What was that?"

Why you should read this: Kissing and some good shots of Jack/Daniel.

What might throw you off stride: Jack is a bit lovey-dovier than I like, but even that has its sweet moments. The broader characterization--well, I tend to feel that the author's nail gun missed Jack and shot its load into the wall. (Gosh, that sounds obscene.) Daniel's a bit more on target, perhaps simply because it's not his POV. But there's writerly effort here, and it's unlikely anything will throw you violently out of the story.

Ritual by James Walkswithwind -- I've given you the link to the Area 52 archive, but note that this is actually at http://www.jbx.com/~gila/ashel/rit.html.

"Visitors, we thank you for your participation in the Autumn's Ritual. Please come with us so the ritual may begin." The Chief had looked happy enough to see them, so that didn't explain why O'Neil got shivers up his spine. When they reached a small village, filled with grass and wood huts surrounding a large open courtyard of sorts, the Chief raised his arm.

The tribesmen grabbed Daniel, Sam, and Teal'c.

"Wait a minute!" O'Neil stepped towards the Chief.

The man faced him with a solemn expression. "The Ritual of Death may now begin."

Why you should read this: It introduces an interesting question and dilemma, and elaborates on them.

What might throw you off stride: The writing is rather pedestrian, the characterization feels off, and there are a few Britishisms. With a carefully obscure allusion to plot, I'll also mention that I think Jack caves too quickly and would not let things go down like that. "Gosh, you're a bitch, Anna," you may be thinking. "Why rec this then?" Well, pie may not be the same without Urgo, but it's still pie.

Time by Mandalee -- A reasonably long story. On an alien planet. With sex.

He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the latest dirt object and asked mildly, "I don't understand the big deal about watching the playoffs live, anyway. You're going to see them on tape."

Jack ignored this blatant male heresy. Daniel just wasn't a jock, that's all. He just didn't understand. Jack could forgive him.

Apparently recognizing that this shot had failed, Daniel tried another. He inspected the large fragment in his hand for several excruciating minutes before he said, "I mean, I thought I heard you ordering--oops, sorry--*suggesting* to Simmons that he record the games for you." Daniel gently tossed the fragment aside and picked up another for an even more irritating inspection. "If I understand military life, that's the kind of brown nosing favor Colonels expect to extract from their helpless underlings." Gauging the damage, Daniel stared meaningfully at Jack before he picked up a third piece of something nobody cared about but him.

Why you should read this: Sniping and goading and deliberate planning to get laid. Remembrance of Peter. The whole pussycat-and-toaster thing. Jack's canny manipulation of Sam and Teal'c.

What might throw you off stride: That canny manipulation--well, you kinda have to wonder how Jack would feel if something had gone horribly awry in his plans. On a mission. A military mission. But oh well. The story is also pretty long, as mentioned--and while that's usually good, the story is all about one thing, and the pacing can drag now and then. So though I like long stories by nature, I feel a bit equivocal reading this. Nonetheless, this is a decent slice of pie.

I like this pie metaphor, by the way. This may have to become the 'pie rating' rec page.

Empty by Mandalee -- Fascinating angstfest. Crossover with Sentinel.

Blair's hand swept over the empty space. The sheets felt rough and strangely unforgiving. Military sheets, military bed--he couldn't sleep in it.

Not right now.

He was too keyed up from the mission, wired from watching Jim...touching Jim.

He knew what would help. Blair reached for the tissues by the bed, put the box next to him. Might as well be ready.

So premeditated. So empty.

Why you should read this: Really cool narrative device, hot men, erotic musings. Slide up a level and you can contemplate the refraction of unspoken love, the prism of point of view, the circulation of requited lust. Smooth and quite absorbing. Plus the--well, it's almost an assumption of crossover that the story is built on, without context, and the savvy simplicity of this works very well.

What might throw you off stride: Probably helps if you know both fandoms. I did not appreciate this story as much when I was solely into Sentinel.

The Beggar's Ride by Russet McMillan -- Russet's lone venture (so far) into Stargate fiction. All tacky pleading for more has been deleted from this entry and replaced by this sentence.

"No!" he gasped. "Stay back. I don't want you falling too. Just -- don't move a muscle."

Daniel froze in place, watching with an expression of horror as Jack struggled. He had managed to stop his fall just a few feet below the path, but he couldn't find the foot- or hand-holds to pull himself up.

Then the handle of a staff weapon appeared in front of his face, and Jack grabbed it gratefully. He let Teal'c haul him up to the path, then patted the Jaffa's shoulder.

"Thanks, Teal'c. Daniel --" Jack frowned.

Daniel was still standing motionless, staring at the spot where Jack had fallen.

"Hey, Daniel, it's okay. You can breathe now."

The anthropologist pulled in a huge lungful of air, staggering against Jack as he gasped for breath.

Why you should read this: High kink factor, and Russet's enaging writing style.

What might throw you off stride: Characterization is askew, as if the author was getting a feel for things but hadn't nailed the material yet. Still worth reading.

Keiko Kirin's stories -- Keiko is kicking this fandom's ass. More about her stories to come, but in the meantime, go read!

go back and look at the hippie boy (Not in frames? Click here to go home.)