seticat: (sg1-sga - travel_by_gate - casett)

Sci Fi Buys ‘Stargate SG-1’ Flicks For Spring ’09 Schedule

Sci Fi Channel has acquired the U.S. television rights to premiere both of the Stargate SG-1 made-for-DVD movies released so far by MGM, with plans to make them Sunday-night movie events next spring, network officials told Multichannel News Friday.

Stargate: Ark of Truth, released as a DVD this past March, will air first, in early spring, and Stargate: Continuum, released as a DVD this past July, will air late in the spring, according to Thomas Vitale, senior VP of programming and original movies at NBC Universal-owned Sci Fi.

Doesn't surprise me.
seticat: (sga - atlantis by obanoa)
Okay, I know I'm not the first to post about this, nor will I be the last. I know shit happens and shows get canceled. I also understand the finances and dynamics of the entertainment industry to some extent - I learned a lot during the whole 'Save Daniel Jackson' campaign.

But DAH-UM! At least The Boys @ Bridge could be honest that they're pulling the plug on SGA so they can roll out their bright, shiny, new, 'cheaper coz most of the sets will be ship board' & 'we'll use new cheap actors' show. Now I haven't trusted TB@B since about 4th season of SG-1 when the M&M Twins came on board and my trust level has only take the low road since then. And I'll admit I was leery of SGA at first, but was pleasantly surprised by not only the casting [McShep, SGA-1, Carson and Radek], but the fact the plots were usually good. And this year even more so. So of course TB@B shoot SGA in the shorts.

So knowing that there's probably no way in hell we'll see it make it for S6, I won't totally give up hope. I remember the 'Save Star Trek' campaign in the 60's. I was a part of that. Ditto 'SOS - Save Our The Sentinel', 'Save Stargate SG-1' in/around S6 and certainly SDJ, which, despite what TB@B may say, worked and worked well. I will watch the remaining episodes of the season with love and enjoyment. And I will do my part, small as it may be, to continue the stories of the men and women of the Pegasus Galaxy in my fic. And I'll even consider giving SGU a chance.

But no where does it say I'm going to give it my heart.
seticat: (sg1-sga - travel_by_gate - casett)
I love "Deep Discount" when it comes to buying online. They are 99% of the time cheaper than anyone else online, they ship for free and they offer a 'ship now - pay later' plan that can get downright dangerous. The only downside for me is sometimes they don't have what I won't right when I want it.

It happens. But not this time.

I put my order in for "Stargate: Continuum" a couple of weeks ago knowing that the release date was the 29th and there was no way it would ship before then.

So imagine my surprise when I found my DVD in my mailbox TODAY!!! The 28th!

Tonight I get to see Continuum. Woo HOO!!!
seticat: (fun - abandon hope - fabricdragon)
I can *so* see Daniel Jackson having this: That 'in-the-library-smell'..

That is all...
seticat: (tvm - stardust - aerianya)
I just got this in an email from a friend. Julie Caitlin-Brown is Don Davis' convention agent.

Dear Fans and Friends of Don S. Davis,

So many of you have been touched by not only the work and art of Don S. Davis,
but by the man himself, who always took the time to be with you at the
appearances he loved, that it is with a tremendous sense of loss I must share
with you that Don passed away from a massive heart attack on Sunday morning,
June 29th.

On behalf of his family and wife, Ruby, we thank you for your prayers and
condolences. A family memorial where Don's ashes will be scattered in the ocean
will take place in a few weeks, and should you wish to, please make a donation
in lieu of flowers or gifts to the American Heart Association in Don's memory.
At this time there is no official address for cards, should that be made
available, I will send it along immediately.

Julie Caitlin Brown

I am just speechless. Don was a wonderful person and someone I will miss talking with at cons very much. It was the first Gatecon we talked about having both been in the Army and all the 'interesting' things that could bring into a person's life and how he had a stuffed 24" diamondback rattlesnake at home in his bedroom.

Rest easy, Captain Davis, US Army, ret. We'll hold the line for you.
seticat: (gen -i write)
I mean to post this on Memorial Day, but things, as usual, got in it's way. This is an old piece, circa. 1999, with the occ. clean up here and there. I've tried very hard not to rewrite some of my stuff because I think it loses a bit with too much polish. I don't know if this is one of them, but it's here anyway.

Anyway... here is it. Let me know what you think.

{EDIT} Heck with it. It's short and I'm just going to post it straight. I have a headache and don't want to fight with it.

Title: "Small Drops"
Author: Rowan [Jari L. James]
Date: 8/10/99
Category: Angst
Spoilers: none
Season/Sequel info: none
Rating: G
Content Warnings: none
Summary: "I will never leave thee not forsake thee."
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. I just get to look through their eyes every once in awhile. And they look back through mine.
This story may be archived for AlphaGate and JD-Divas. The title came from thoughts on another writing titled "Small Drops of Comfort". This piece was inspired by a real life experience.


Each of us are a sum of our whole. All the unique experiences of our life brought together to create the individuals we become. Much the same way bodies of water are formed by the drops of rain that fall and join together to become a stream, then a river and finally an ocean. Each tiny incident in our pasts bind together to create the memories that drive us; they reach out and touch us in ways we may never be truly become aware of.

Small drops of life that make us who we are.

Have you ever seen a man wander a military cemetery? Taking a moment out of his life to take in the trees and the grass. Pausing to watch the U.S. flag flying overhead, the wind causing it to swell and ripple in the breeze like a living thing. Strolling between the stately rows and columns of markers with no particular end point in sight. Walking with no set goal in mind.

Until something catches his eye. He'll stop, take a step or two back and kneel down on the grass, resting his hand on an old bronze plaque that's green with age and neglect. His head will bow for a moment as if in silent communion with the person who rests beneath the tough, green sod. A strong, callused hand will slip into a pocket to find handkerchief and ratty old knife. Reverently he'll unfold the blade and with slow, purposeful strokes, begin to clean the marker. It may take him 10 ... 15 ... 20 min or so until it suits him, but he'll stay with it… gently scraping away the green corrosion, gradually bringing bright light back to the metal.

That same blade will be called upon to shear the sod away from the edges of the memorial, creating a crisp, neat border, trimming the overhanging strands of grass until the fresh and vibrant green is no longer in control but sits in it's rightful place: a living backdrop behind the plate of golden brown metal that marks a soldier's final resting place. At last satisfied with his handiwork, he'll stand and step back from the grave marker, closing the knife and giving the gold touched bronze one last pass with the wadded piece of cloth; and then stuff the both of them back in his pants pocket.

And when all is done and a sense of military order has been restored, he'll bring himself to attention and, with back straight and head held high, give crisp salute in honor of a fallen comrade. After a moment of silent introspection his arm will return to it's position at his side and with feet executing a smart 'about face' he'll turn and walk away. And as you watch him moving off through the trees you know he's hearing 'Taps' and the crack of a gun salute echoing in the memories he will always carry.

He wasn't at the cemetery for any particular reason that day. He had been driving by, giving a friend a lift to the garage so that man could pick up his own car and his tired, jaded eyes were caught by the flags fluttering at the field's entrance. He didn't stop to look for someone he knew. He stopped at that grave because he saw a site requiring attention and it was part of his personal duty to remember the fallen. By his actions he gave reverence and respect where such were due.

Of such things are small drops of personal honor made.

And today I've seen a side of Jack I've never seen before. And I, and our friendship, are the richer for it.

Dedicated In Loving Memory to:
1Lt. Dorothy Boone Wood, US Navy, Pharmacist, WWII
Corpsman 1st Class [and later 2Lt. MSC, Korea] James Leland Wood, US Navy,
[attached to US Marines] - Pacific Theater - WW II.

By their daughter:
MSG/1SG Jari L. James, US Army, Medical Corps, Desert Shield/Desert Storm
And to CWO William P. Milliner, US Army - to listed /POW/MIA 6 MAR 71, Laos
and his family and friends:

"I will never leave thee not forsake thee." [Hebrews 13:5]

Your Brothers and Sisters will find you, William ... and bring you home.
seticat: (reject reality by blueashke)
An old piece of Stargate filk. This was inspired by the first season episode "Politics" where a US senator and a USAF officer come to Stargate Command knowing full well they are going to shut the project down and proceed to do so all the while doing the whole 'more but in sorrow then in anger, it's in everyone's best interest' sarcasm song-and-dance. I think it came out fair and it's a fun piece to do.

"Threes: ver. SG-1"
Rowan [J.L. James] 3/10/2000
Filked from an original piece written by Mercedes Lackey with music by Leslie Fish "Threes"
{inspired by the 1st season episode: 'Politics'}

Deep in Cheyenne Mountain down where mortals seldom go,
A Senator and Officer come a looking for a show,
They pass amused among us as they walk the corridors
With a personal agenda that they simply won't ignore.

Three things to be wary of:
a whiz kid in his field,
a soldier with a background
and an alien named Teal'c.

Summoned from our offices to the briefing room we go.
We bring our files and data 'cause we know they want a show.
Watching as we enter with a shifty restless eye,
The Senator sits waiting in his pinstripe suit and tie.

Three things never trust in;
the Accountant's final bill,
the promises of Congress
and the Government's good will.

The experts lay their science down, the soldiers do their tricks,
All hands are waved with vigor as we lay it on -- real thick.
The Senator just watches as we cater to his dance,
Then reaches for his briefcase barely giving us a glance.

Three things see no end;
another universe gone wrong,
a theory still unproven
and the verses of this song.

The briefcase spits a list of why the Stargate can't survive.,
All but two within the room are taken by surprise.
And all but two are thinking of this project with remorse,
The Senator and Officer who plotted out this course.

Three things hold no secrets:
files that somehow hit the 'net;
one's 'secret service clearance
and the third thing -- I forget...

The Senator proceeds to go through each file line by line,
Twisting details in to follies that no logic can define.
And when it ends there's only two not sitting there dismayed;
The Senator and Officer who'd plan to see this day.

Three things it is better for that only you should know:
what things are real,
how bad things are
and just how far you'll go.

Now we all here are frontline types with lives we'd freely give
Fighting for our homeworld and it's people's right to live
and none but us can tell full well the damage done today,
for it's what they won't accept that we will all be forced to pay!

Three things never anger:
first the ones who'll save your neck,
the one who seeking knowledge
and the one who speaks high tech.

The Senator and Officer are quick to leave our site,
They taken all their files and such and feel they've won the fight,
Their type will never understand that some things have no price.
And that careers and lives are not too grave a sacrifice.

Three things are most perilous;
the oath a Jaffa knows,
a soldier's sense of honor
and a young man's moral code.

seticat: (I Write - mine)
In honor of Sci-Fi showing the episode "Maternal Instincts" tonight in their 'Stargate:SG-1' slot [one of my favorites BTW], I dug this up out of the 'completed' folder. It's original write date is something like 2001 with a quick rewrite in 2003. Even over time, I still like how it came out.

Read more... )
seticat: (I Write - mine)
In a previous post I mentioned the piece "Song for a Winter's Night" and the fact that I had committed song-fic based on this piece quite a while ago. I decided to go ahead and post the piece here. This is one of the very first pieces of SG fic I ever wrote and was done before I entered my 'Angel of Death' fic phase. I think it's weathered the years fairly well. Like most of my SG-1 and SGA fic, it's slashy, but there's nothing to it other than an implied established relationship.

Maybe, one day, I'll finish off the companion piece that's been languishing on my drive since forever.

“Winter's Night"
Author: Rowan [ profile] seticat
Written : 7/31/1991 [bit of a rewrite 5/5/02]
Rewrite: 5/5/2002
Category: slash, ER, Jack/Daniel
Spoilers: none
Sequel: none
Ratings: PG-13 , bit of 'language', implied m/m relationship
Content: Smarm
Warnings: none
Summery: The following says it best. "Loving is not just caring deeply, it's, above all, understanding." - Francoise Sagan
Terminology: TDY = 'Temporary DutY' Roughly, to be sent away from your assigned duty station to do something else for however long they want you to go there and do it.
BX = the Base Exchange. Think ‘7-11’ on base. The kind of place that provides a bit of ‘this and that’ when you’re away from home.
Disclaimer: The original idea for this story was a long, dark night and a new CD. I credit "Song For a Winter's Night" sung by Sarah McLaughlin and Composed by Gordon Lightfoot, cut taken from the "Due South - Volume II" soundtrack, as my inspiration and recommend it to all and sundry. The CD I sited as the source in the story does exist.
As for the rest, Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may be archived on "The Alpha Gate". Others, please check with me first. I reserve the right to re-edit as necessary.

Note: // Italics indicate thoughts. //

Read more... )
seticat: (xmas puss3 by aerianya)
The new banner says it all.

"Michael Shanks Online: The Official Michael Shanks Website"

What a wonderful fandom Christmas present. :}
seticat: (Default)
Okay, I have finally done *IT*. I have committed SGA fic. What can I say? I've got it bad for the brainy types with accents.

So, if I've managed to post this right [and get the whole 'tag' thing, etc], the following is my backstory challenge contribution to SGA Flashfic. Bekind. As I said, this is my first SGA fic and one of the few pieces I've written in the last few years.

7/9/07 - ADDENDA: After posting this I caught some major errors [and my thanks to those who helped me find them] so this may now look a bit different then it was when I first posted it. - Rowan

Wings by Rowan {a backstory challenge]
Written: 7/8/07
SGA Flashfic Backstory Challenge
Word count: 840
Character: Radek Zelenka
Summary: " He was 12 years old when his father came home …"


Growing up Radek never really knew what it was like to feel restricted. His parents loved him very much as did his sister Marjeta and brother Josef. They were not a rich family. Few who lived in Communist held Czechoslovakia in the 60's and 70's would have called themselves wealthy. The exceptions were the Party Officials who administered to this city of Liberec, but they were a special case unto themselves and were not often counted among the common man of the day. His father seemed content with the money he made teaching agriculture at the local university and tutoring the children of Party members and the local Chairman in such sciences as he had knowledge of. His mother helped make ends meet by taking some of the smaller children of his neighborhood into their home while their parents worked during the day light hours. Perhaps the Zelenka's didn't have the biggest house or dine on the most expensive foods, but they were warm in the biting winters, their bellies were full and Radek never wanted for company and playmates.

Though Tomáš and Lida were often times poor in material goods, they tried to give their children the one gift they considered the most important of all: the love of knowledge in all it's many and varied forms. But as much as they struggled and encouraged, Radek seemed indifferent. He simply did not share his father's love for green, growing things that his brother had shown such an aptitude for, nor his mother's love for the skills of home and hearth that his sister shared. Radek's passion was to learn how things worked. Not plants or animals. Not people or children or food or cloth. But *things*. His parents were at a loss how to convince him that a formal education would be of benefit to him. Radek simply *knew* how things worked and he believed completely and passionately that this innate ability wasn't something that could not be improved upon with hours spent on music or history. It could only be bettered by more time spent with his hands on things and he begrudged each and every moment stolen from his beloved projects for such things as homework.

No one he knew shared his passion. Certainly the members of his own family didn't understand how it drove him. But they did not try and dissuade him either. Their youngest son was a stubborn young man and there was no changing his mind when he had decided on something this strongly. In the end, they simply came to terms with the difference and acknowledged that it was a part of Radek they did not fully comprehend but they loved him none the less for it. They also came to accept that any one of them might find a personal or household item taken down to it's component pieces laid out on the kitchen table in the early morning sun, and that it would be back together and working by that evening. And if there were one of two pieces left over when it was all said and done, the item always worked in the end. And sometimes even better than it had before. He soon became a very popular young man in his neighborhood after his brother told his friends about this talent and usually was able to earn a bit of pocket money for his troubles. But truth be told, he would have done it for free; just for the shear joy of being able to discover how one more thing worked the way it did. Anything he might earn was merely an added benefit.

He was 12 years old when his father came home and told his mother that he had been reassigned to teach genetics at the University of Agriculture in Prague and that he must leave home within the week. But, he promised, he would find them a new home to live in and that she and the children would be moving to join him before classes started that Fall.

That was the year Radek's world changed.

He discovered a entire world filled with others just like him. People who spoke the secret languages of mathematics and physics and chemistry. Other beings who openly came together in worship of 'Faith Mechanica' where knowledge was the Supreme Being and those who strove to understand it's worldly mechanisms were lifted up to be Holy Acolytes. It was a faith whose holy books were written in the lines and columns of algebra and trigonometry, of statistics and differential equations; it's liturgy crafted in the fluid lines of calculus and sung on high in the beautiful strains of quantum numbers. It became the focus of his life. It would ensnare and enslave him from this day forward and for the rest of his life. It would, ultimately, seduce him away from hearth and home.

It was a universe he ran forward to joyfully embrace with open arms and heart. Radek Zelenka had discovered a brave new world he could share with others who also strove to understand the beautiful foundation of the mechanical universe.

His soul grew wings and he flew. And he never looked back.


seticat: (Default)

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