seticat

Liberated from flingslasswho grabbed it from kenderlyn.

My turn.

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The Mindgamer

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Anyone who knows me and my writing would find this off the mark. I like to play in people's heads, figure out the 'what if' and the 'what might happen if'.

Title: "Messages"
Challenge: #11 Illustrative typography
Artist: strivaria
Author: seticat
Posted: 8 July, 2008
Pairing: gen
Type of Art: full-color graphic
Rating: G
Wordcount: 362
Warnings: None
Written For: Written for the writer's side of the "artword" ficathon and inspired by this wonderful graphic created by strivaria. My thanks to her for her tremendous patience with me for lagging far behind and to her for the beauty she created and entrusted to me care. It all by wrote this piece in my head for me. I simply had to find the right words to bring it to life.

Summary: "The world wide simulcast by the heads of the planet Earth was to go down as a day in history to rival that of the passing of the Magna Carta or the announcement of the splitting of the atom."



Author's Note: The art work for this piece can be found at the end of the fic. It just seemed to work out better when done that way.

(  " Messages"  )

Let's hope I get the whole 'cut' thing right.


"Hunger"
by Rowan / seticat
written 4/26/08
drabble for satedan_fire
Definition of "Hunger"
" A feeling of discomfort and a need to eat, caused by a lack of food;
" A strong desire

Author's Note: A big grammer glitch corrected.

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He had never had a hunger quite like this. This almost primal, driving need. He'd had compulsions before. After all, he was a man and only human. The only way he'd been able to survive those Wraith filled years on the run was to suppress all his baser needs. Women. Drink. Wealth. Everything was pushed down into a box and shoved away to the furthest back corners of his mind. Except the need to kill Wraith. That he gave free rein to. But this? This was different.

Now he understood why the snack bag said "Betcha can't eat just one."

I *can't* believe I signed up for *another* fic-a-thon. SGA Gen Fic-a-Thon

If you're at all interested, run fast and sign up. Today's the deadline. Don't leave me out here alone by myself. Misery loves company.

Min. 2000 words. Oy!

Sorry - me bad. Didn't remember to unlock it after I figured out how to do the whole lj cut thing.

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

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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 …"

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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.