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Show Me The Money!
Jan. 9th, 2016 09:14 amThank goodness the American media has something to talk about besides He Whose Name I Am Tired of Hearing. Powerball fever sweeps the nation! Every TV channel is doing live stand-ups of folks buying lottery tickets.
The jackpot is unimaginable. I mean, I literally cannot wrap my head around that kind of money. If one person wins and takes the cash pay-out, they will win nearly $500,000,000. Yes, that is five hundred million dollars!
And, of course, the next question is: what would you do with that kind of money. (Yes, I have a ticket. How could you not?) Buy a house, buy ten houses? An island? A car for every day of the week?
I would take care of my family first. None of my siblings would have to worry about mortgages or car payments or how they are going to send their kids to college.
I would build myself a nice house. Not Highclere Castle but something that has enough room to have company and has plenty of outdoor space and a good view. And, unfortunately, it would also have to include gates and fences because the nuts would be swarming the place.
Get a nice set of wheels. I don't need an Italian sports car but a nice spacious SUV might be nice.
I would build three things for my community. A new library and a new community center that includes things like a fitness center and a movie theater, or something for the young folks to do. And some type of venue for live music, plays, etc. There is such a wealth of musical talent in my area; I'd like to foster that somehow.
I would set up a foundation through which to funnel all the donation requests you know you're going to get. I'd like to focus on scholarships, mental health issues, food insecurity, employment opportunities.
I'd take myself off to do some things strictly for myself. Travel to Hawaii and Ireland, two of my dream trips. Visit some of my online friends; Australia and England, here I come! Maybe take in some Stargate cons, see some folks live and in person. Attend some University of Kentucky basketball games. Even some of those away from home, like Italy or the Bahamas......
If you hear a big thunk around 11PM local time, it'll be me falling out of the recliner.......
The jackpot is unimaginable. I mean, I literally cannot wrap my head around that kind of money. If one person wins and takes the cash pay-out, they will win nearly $500,000,000. Yes, that is five hundred million dollars!
And, of course, the next question is: what would you do with that kind of money. (Yes, I have a ticket. How could you not?) Buy a house, buy ten houses? An island? A car for every day of the week?
I would take care of my family first. None of my siblings would have to worry about mortgages or car payments or how they are going to send their kids to college.
I would build myself a nice house. Not Highclere Castle but something that has enough room to have company and has plenty of outdoor space and a good view. And, unfortunately, it would also have to include gates and fences because the nuts would be swarming the place.
Get a nice set of wheels. I don't need an Italian sports car but a nice spacious SUV might be nice.
I would build three things for my community. A new library and a new community center that includes things like a fitness center and a movie theater, or something for the young folks to do. And some type of venue for live music, plays, etc. There is such a wealth of musical talent in my area; I'd like to foster that somehow.
I would set up a foundation through which to funnel all the donation requests you know you're going to get. I'd like to focus on scholarships, mental health issues, food insecurity, employment opportunities.
I'd take myself off to do some things strictly for myself. Travel to Hawaii and Ireland, two of my dream trips. Visit some of my online friends; Australia and England, here I come! Maybe take in some Stargate cons, see some folks live and in person. Attend some University of Kentucky basketball games. Even some of those away from home, like Italy or the Bahamas......
If you hear a big thunk around 11PM local time, it'll be me falling out of the recliner.......
Get well cards for RDA
Nov. 19th, 2015 12:25 pmhttp://www.rdanderson.com/
Richard was forced to cancel his weekend commitments due to debilitating back pain. On his site, there is a list of people who have agreed to receive and forward cards to RDA. Although online well wishes are nice, it has been pointed out that it may well be some time before Rick can sit comfortably at a computer to view them.
On the website, click on the get well update in the box on the right and you can find the email addresses of folks who will give you, on request, their address so you can send the card that will then be forwarded to Rick.
Please think about picking up a card or sending a note to a man who has given us so much pleasure and happiness over the years. Keep him in your thoughts and send him happy vibes and let him know we love him!
Richard was forced to cancel his weekend commitments due to debilitating back pain. On his site, there is a list of people who have agreed to receive and forward cards to RDA. Although online well wishes are nice, it has been pointed out that it may well be some time before Rick can sit comfortably at a computer to view them.
On the website, click on the get well update in the box on the right and you can find the email addresses of folks who will give you, on request, their address so you can send the card that will then be forwarded to Rick.
Please think about picking up a card or sending a note to a man who has given us so much pleasure and happiness over the years. Keep him in your thoughts and send him happy vibes and let him know we love him!
Just thinking out loud
Nov. 18th, 2015 08:51 amSo ION TV just finished airing the first season on Saving Hope. And how could I have forgotten how damned good Michael was? I don't know when they will start airing season two, which I have not seen, as this is as far as American TV got when airing the show originally.
I owe a lot of folks comments on some stellar fic and artwork but I've been very under the weather for several months. Bad side effects from the meds I have been taking to get my thyroid kick-started have kept me tied down too long. But the doctor cut back on one med and started me on another so we will see.
I'm going to put this under a cut because it is very NCIS spoilery for last night's episode.
( Read more... )
I owe a lot of folks comments on some stellar fic and artwork but I've been very under the weather for several months. Bad side effects from the meds I have been taking to get my thyroid kick-started have kept me tied down too long. But the doctor cut back on one med and started me on another so we will see.
I'm going to put this under a cut because it is very NCIS spoilery for last night's episode.
( Read more... )
A is for Alpha Site
Jul. 28th, 2015 06:42 amA is For Alpha, by SG-wonderland
Gen
Summary: The SGC’s inability to create an outgoing wormhole results in SG1 spending a week visiting the folks at the Alpha Site.
Word count: 1951
Characters: Colonel Jack O’Neill, Major Samantha Carter, Teal’c, Dr. Daniel Jackson, Colonel David Spencer, assorted Alpha Site personnel
Era: Classic team
Categories: Team interaction/interaction with Alpha site personnel
Author's notes: Stranded off-world but no danger. For the Off-world Alphabet Soup
A is for Alpha Site
Colonel David Spencer allowed himself two minutes of self-pity as he strode toward the mess for the evening meal. Life on Alpha usually chugged along quietly, like the well-oiled machine upon which the military insisted. However, this morning a wormhole malfunction threw a monkey wrench squarely in the midst of that machine, leaving it squeaky and laboring toward an uncertain future. Well, technically, that would be four monkey wrenches.
He took a deep breath before entering the mess hall and facing his biggest problem head on. SG-1 was seated at his designated table and as far as he could calculate, would be his honored guests for at least a week.
“Colonel O’Neill, Major Carter, Dr. Jackson, Teal’c,” he greeted his guests. “Sorry I’m late.”
O’Neill waved his hand languidly. “That’s okay; we’ve already been greeted by both the waiter and the sommelier.” Dr. Jackson choked. “Something funny, Daniel?”
“There’s no such thing as a beer sommelier, Jack.” Spencer thought he detected a noticeable twitch to Dr. Jackson’s lips. He knew that SG-1 was the most unusually manned team at the SGC but he was surprised at the casual attitude Jackson had toward his commanding officer. He had to keep reminding himself that Jackson wasn’t military.
O’Neill rose. “I’d just as soon we get in line. We don’t expect special treatment, Colonel Spencer. We’re just another team as long as we’re here.”
“Just keep telling yourself that, Jack.” Spencer snorted as he followed them through the line. He wasn’t going to share with O’Neill the SG-1 gossip that was already running rampant across the base. He doubted that Major Carter could blow the whole base up with the contents of her pack; that Dr. Jackson was likely to either fall dead at any moment or get snatched by aliens; that Teal’c could lift a Jeep with one hand. And Spencer knew enough about O’Neill to know that most of the truth about his service would never be known.
Spencer just hoped his staff got past the hero worship phase quickly. The gate techs had flocked to help Major Carter analyze the data from the SGC and his aide hadn’t been able to articulate multi-syllable words as she handed SG-1 their visitor passes although he couldn’t fault her for the rooms she had assigned them. The barracks at C1 were the best visitor accommodations available, with several semi-private sleeping rooms and a designated officer’s quarters.
“So, David, is there anything specific we can do for you while we’re here? I can tell you that Teal’c and I are gonna be completely useless in fixing the SGC’s problems. Daniel might be able to fetch coffee or something.”
Spencer took his time perusing the night’s offering as a cover for the thoughts churning through his mind. “Let me think about that, Jack, and I’ll get back to you. I’m sure we can think of something to occupy your time.”
“I can tell you, Colonel Spencer, that Jack’s already scoped out your water source to determine if there are, in fact, any fish in that river.” Jackson pointed to the fajitas.
“Uh, Dr. Jackson, just so you know, the cook goes pretty heavy on the spices.” Spencer pointed out.
“Daniel has asbestos intestines, so he can probably handle it. Now, me, I think that baked chicken and stuffing looks pretty good.”
“The dish does appear most appetizing, O’Neill.” Spencer believed it was the first words he’d heard Teal’c speak. Major Carter and Jackson were quietly bickering about something as they selected desserts and drinks.
“Give it a rest, Carter.” O’Neill trailed them back to the table. “When have I ever treated you like ‘the girl’?” He took the seat beside Jackson. “Carter’s got her knickers in a twist because I assigned her the officers’ quarters. And it has nothing to do with her sex; it has everything to do with her tapping on that laptop the whole damned night and keeping me awake. That way, Daniel can sneak in and argue with her and Teal’c and I can finally get a full night’s sleep. Five days in a real bed without the two of them yammering at me all the time? I’m treating this as a vacation.”
“I’ll yammer at you every night before bedtime.” Jackson promised.
“Indeed you will not, Daniel Jackson, as my sleeping accommodation is adjacent to that of Colonel O’Neill.”
Both Carter and Jackson grinned unrepentantly.
*
Spencer made a point of getting to the mess extra early the next morning; therefore, he was more than a little disconcerted to find SG-1 already seated and plowing through breakfast.
“It doesn’t make sense for the wormhole to ‘know’ the difference in outgoing or incoming.” Carter waved a fork at Jackson.
“How many times have I heard you say ‘something-something-intuitive’?” Jackson rose to refill his coffee. Then, with a shrug, he just brought a carafe to the table.
“The wormhole isn’t capable of intuitive, independent thinking.” She countered at his return.
“So it’s like Jack?”
“Hey,” Jack frowned. “I was just minding my business here, eating my eggs. I didn’t ask to be insulted. By the way, Spencer, these eggs are really good.”
“That’s because they’re fresh eggs.”
“What?” O’Neill pushed the eggs around his plate.
“We’ve got an agricultural co-op going here. We raise chickens, cows, and pigs.”
“Are you growing crops?” Jackson asked excitedly.
“We are, Dr. Jackson. Would you like to take a look at the operations?” Please say yes, Spencer was thinking.
“I’d love it.”
“Me, too.” Carter flushed. “I mean, I’d love it if Daniel went out to look at the corn and beans, sirs.”
“And left you the hell alone?” O’Neill drawled.
“I would never say that, sir.” Carter replied primly.
“No, because I said it for you. Okay, Daniel, you get to tour the farm. Carter, back to the wormhole problem. Teal’c…”
“I will accompany Daniel Jackson on this farm tour.”
“Okay, keep in touch, kids. Spencer, why don’t you brief me on your security procedure? And you can let me know if you need anything.”
*
Spencer glanced behind him as Jackson and Teal’c followed Dr. Martinez toward the farm. “So, is there a reason Teal’c decided to go with Dr. Jackson?”
O’Neill shot him a quick glance. “No offense intended but until Teal’c has assured himself of your base security, he’s liable to bird-dog both Daniel and Carter.”
“So that’s why one of the guards reported they observed him walking a perimeter several times last night?”
“Just get used to it, I have.” O’Neill shrugged. “Teal’c’s got some kind of a Jaffa life bond thing going…don’t ask. So what’s your procedure for incoming wormholes?”
Spencer led him into the control room. “We don’t expect regular incoming like the SGC so….”
*
Spencer, O’Neill and Carter had already selected their dinners and were eating when Daniel and Teal’c finally made it. “You kids missed curfew again; your mother and I were worried.”
“Jack, they have the most amazing growing season here! They can get three full crops in a calendar year.” Jackson was slightly flushed under his boonie.
“Daniel, what have I told you about sunscreen?” O’Neill used his fork to tap the end of Jackson’s nose.
“I should have warned you about the sun,” Spencer apologized.
“Medical after dinner, Daniel.”
“Oh, but, Jack, Dr. Peyton was going to show me how they graft fruit trees.”
“Teal’c?”
“I will escort Daniel Jackson to seek the proper medical care. Let us obtain a meal, Daniel Jackson.”
“Dr. Peyton and her trees will still be there tomorrow, Daniel.”
*
Spencer and O’Neill weren’t running when they entered the infirmary but both men were definitely moving fast.
Teal’c greeted them at the door. “Daniel Jackson was uninjured, Colonel O’Neill. Dr. Peyton suffered a serious cut while demonstrating a procedure. We immediately transported her to this facility and the medical staff is assessing her condition.”
“Jack.” Daniel pushed through the doors; O’Neill drew a sharp breath at the splashes of red splattering the khaki T-shirt. “Not my blood, Jack. Connie was showing me how they graft and they use really, really sharp knives and maybe I was talking too much and her hand slipped….”
Jack rested his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “She’s in good hands, Daniel. Sounds like you and Teal’c did everything right.”
“They did, Colonel O’Neill.” A scrub-clad woman had followed Daniel into the room. “She’s got eighteen stitches in her hand, Colonel Spencer, and she’ll be on medical leave for a week or so but she’s damned lucky. If she’d been alone, she likely would have bled out before anyone found her. Dr. Jackson held pressure on the wound while Teal’c carried Dr. Peyton to the Jeep and then drove her right here.” She smiled at the two men. “And they both need to get cleaned up and maybe have some quiet time. I know that had to have been very traumatic.”
“On the contrary, Dr. Men, Daniel Jackson and I encounter many unexpected situations off-world; emergency medical aid is not unknown to any member of an SG team. However, I would welcome a shower and clean clothing. Daniel Jackson expressed a desire for a cup of coffee several hours ago. We should seek to fulfill that desire in all due haste.”
“Okay, shower, change of clothes, coffee. In that order.” O’Neill steered Jackson toward the exit.
“I’ll catch you over at the commissary,” Spencer said. “I want to check on Dr. Peyton first, and then I’ll be right over.”
“I wasn’t exaggerating, Colonel.” Dr. Men beckoned Spencer to follow her. “That injury could have easily been fatal.”
“Do we need to revisit medical procedures for the farm?”
“It wouldn’t hurt, Colonel Spencer.”
“Write up a proposal, Dr. Men. And I’ll talk to General Hammond; maybe we can get Dr. Fraiser out here for a few days and have her give us an assessment of what we can do better.”
“Thank you, sir. Dr. Peyton is right through here.”
*
There were cheers on both sides of the wormhole when a MALP lumbered through, carrying a cage of live mice. Carter turned toward O’Neill. “That looks like a successful outgoing wormhole, sir. All subjects arrived alive and unharmed.”
“Alright! With your permission, General Hammond, SG-1 will arrive in approximately one hour.”
“We’ll be expecting you. Good work, Alpha Site and Major Carter. SGC out.”
*
In the two weeks since SG1 had departed, Colonel Spencer had gotten a request for changes in medical procedure, a proposal to have Major Carter posted temporarily to Alpha for teaching purposes, three not-so-off-hand inquiries about how to apply for a position on a gate team and two people who had wondered about the possibility of stocking the lake with fish, indigenous to Earth and edible.
He realized that SG1, whether intentional or not, had left their mark on Alpha.
Gen
Summary: The SGC’s inability to create an outgoing wormhole results in SG1 spending a week visiting the folks at the Alpha Site.
Word count: 1951
Characters: Colonel Jack O’Neill, Major Samantha Carter, Teal’c, Dr. Daniel Jackson, Colonel David Spencer, assorted Alpha Site personnel
Era: Classic team
Categories: Team interaction/interaction with Alpha site personnel
Author's notes: Stranded off-world but no danger. For the Off-world Alphabet Soup
A is for Alpha Site
Colonel David Spencer allowed himself two minutes of self-pity as he strode toward the mess for the evening meal. Life on Alpha usually chugged along quietly, like the well-oiled machine upon which the military insisted. However, this morning a wormhole malfunction threw a monkey wrench squarely in the midst of that machine, leaving it squeaky and laboring toward an uncertain future. Well, technically, that would be four monkey wrenches.
He took a deep breath before entering the mess hall and facing his biggest problem head on. SG-1 was seated at his designated table and as far as he could calculate, would be his honored guests for at least a week.
“Colonel O’Neill, Major Carter, Dr. Jackson, Teal’c,” he greeted his guests. “Sorry I’m late.”
O’Neill waved his hand languidly. “That’s okay; we’ve already been greeted by both the waiter and the sommelier.” Dr. Jackson choked. “Something funny, Daniel?”
“There’s no such thing as a beer sommelier, Jack.” Spencer thought he detected a noticeable twitch to Dr. Jackson’s lips. He knew that SG-1 was the most unusually manned team at the SGC but he was surprised at the casual attitude Jackson had toward his commanding officer. He had to keep reminding himself that Jackson wasn’t military.
O’Neill rose. “I’d just as soon we get in line. We don’t expect special treatment, Colonel Spencer. We’re just another team as long as we’re here.”
“Just keep telling yourself that, Jack.” Spencer snorted as he followed them through the line. He wasn’t going to share with O’Neill the SG-1 gossip that was already running rampant across the base. He doubted that Major Carter could blow the whole base up with the contents of her pack; that Dr. Jackson was likely to either fall dead at any moment or get snatched by aliens; that Teal’c could lift a Jeep with one hand. And Spencer knew enough about O’Neill to know that most of the truth about his service would never be known.
Spencer just hoped his staff got past the hero worship phase quickly. The gate techs had flocked to help Major Carter analyze the data from the SGC and his aide hadn’t been able to articulate multi-syllable words as she handed SG-1 their visitor passes although he couldn’t fault her for the rooms she had assigned them. The barracks at C1 were the best visitor accommodations available, with several semi-private sleeping rooms and a designated officer’s quarters.
“So, David, is there anything specific we can do for you while we’re here? I can tell you that Teal’c and I are gonna be completely useless in fixing the SGC’s problems. Daniel might be able to fetch coffee or something.”
Spencer took his time perusing the night’s offering as a cover for the thoughts churning through his mind. “Let me think about that, Jack, and I’ll get back to you. I’m sure we can think of something to occupy your time.”
“I can tell you, Colonel Spencer, that Jack’s already scoped out your water source to determine if there are, in fact, any fish in that river.” Jackson pointed to the fajitas.
“Uh, Dr. Jackson, just so you know, the cook goes pretty heavy on the spices.” Spencer pointed out.
“Daniel has asbestos intestines, so he can probably handle it. Now, me, I think that baked chicken and stuffing looks pretty good.”
“The dish does appear most appetizing, O’Neill.” Spencer believed it was the first words he’d heard Teal’c speak. Major Carter and Jackson were quietly bickering about something as they selected desserts and drinks.
“Give it a rest, Carter.” O’Neill trailed them back to the table. “When have I ever treated you like ‘the girl’?” He took the seat beside Jackson. “Carter’s got her knickers in a twist because I assigned her the officers’ quarters. And it has nothing to do with her sex; it has everything to do with her tapping on that laptop the whole damned night and keeping me awake. That way, Daniel can sneak in and argue with her and Teal’c and I can finally get a full night’s sleep. Five days in a real bed without the two of them yammering at me all the time? I’m treating this as a vacation.”
“I’ll yammer at you every night before bedtime.” Jackson promised.
“Indeed you will not, Daniel Jackson, as my sleeping accommodation is adjacent to that of Colonel O’Neill.”
Both Carter and Jackson grinned unrepentantly.
*
Spencer made a point of getting to the mess extra early the next morning; therefore, he was more than a little disconcerted to find SG-1 already seated and plowing through breakfast.
“It doesn’t make sense for the wormhole to ‘know’ the difference in outgoing or incoming.” Carter waved a fork at Jackson.
“How many times have I heard you say ‘something-something-intuitive’?” Jackson rose to refill his coffee. Then, with a shrug, he just brought a carafe to the table.
“The wormhole isn’t capable of intuitive, independent thinking.” She countered at his return.
“So it’s like Jack?”
“Hey,” Jack frowned. “I was just minding my business here, eating my eggs. I didn’t ask to be insulted. By the way, Spencer, these eggs are really good.”
“That’s because they’re fresh eggs.”
“What?” O’Neill pushed the eggs around his plate.
“We’ve got an agricultural co-op going here. We raise chickens, cows, and pigs.”
“Are you growing crops?” Jackson asked excitedly.
“We are, Dr. Jackson. Would you like to take a look at the operations?” Please say yes, Spencer was thinking.
“I’d love it.”
“Me, too.” Carter flushed. “I mean, I’d love it if Daniel went out to look at the corn and beans, sirs.”
“And left you the hell alone?” O’Neill drawled.
“I would never say that, sir.” Carter replied primly.
“No, because I said it for you. Okay, Daniel, you get to tour the farm. Carter, back to the wormhole problem. Teal’c…”
“I will accompany Daniel Jackson on this farm tour.”
“Okay, keep in touch, kids. Spencer, why don’t you brief me on your security procedure? And you can let me know if you need anything.”
*
Spencer glanced behind him as Jackson and Teal’c followed Dr. Martinez toward the farm. “So, is there a reason Teal’c decided to go with Dr. Jackson?”
O’Neill shot him a quick glance. “No offense intended but until Teal’c has assured himself of your base security, he’s liable to bird-dog both Daniel and Carter.”
“So that’s why one of the guards reported they observed him walking a perimeter several times last night?”
“Just get used to it, I have.” O’Neill shrugged. “Teal’c’s got some kind of a Jaffa life bond thing going…don’t ask. So what’s your procedure for incoming wormholes?”
Spencer led him into the control room. “We don’t expect regular incoming like the SGC so….”
*
Spencer, O’Neill and Carter had already selected their dinners and were eating when Daniel and Teal’c finally made it. “You kids missed curfew again; your mother and I were worried.”
“Jack, they have the most amazing growing season here! They can get three full crops in a calendar year.” Jackson was slightly flushed under his boonie.
“Daniel, what have I told you about sunscreen?” O’Neill used his fork to tap the end of Jackson’s nose.
“I should have warned you about the sun,” Spencer apologized.
“Medical after dinner, Daniel.”
“Oh, but, Jack, Dr. Peyton was going to show me how they graft fruit trees.”
“Teal’c?”
“I will escort Daniel Jackson to seek the proper medical care. Let us obtain a meal, Daniel Jackson.”
“Dr. Peyton and her trees will still be there tomorrow, Daniel.”
*
Spencer and O’Neill weren’t running when they entered the infirmary but both men were definitely moving fast.
Teal’c greeted them at the door. “Daniel Jackson was uninjured, Colonel O’Neill. Dr. Peyton suffered a serious cut while demonstrating a procedure. We immediately transported her to this facility and the medical staff is assessing her condition.”
“Jack.” Daniel pushed through the doors; O’Neill drew a sharp breath at the splashes of red splattering the khaki T-shirt. “Not my blood, Jack. Connie was showing me how they graft and they use really, really sharp knives and maybe I was talking too much and her hand slipped….”
Jack rested his hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “She’s in good hands, Daniel. Sounds like you and Teal’c did everything right.”
“They did, Colonel O’Neill.” A scrub-clad woman had followed Daniel into the room. “She’s got eighteen stitches in her hand, Colonel Spencer, and she’ll be on medical leave for a week or so but she’s damned lucky. If she’d been alone, she likely would have bled out before anyone found her. Dr. Jackson held pressure on the wound while Teal’c carried Dr. Peyton to the Jeep and then drove her right here.” She smiled at the two men. “And they both need to get cleaned up and maybe have some quiet time. I know that had to have been very traumatic.”
“On the contrary, Dr. Men, Daniel Jackson and I encounter many unexpected situations off-world; emergency medical aid is not unknown to any member of an SG team. However, I would welcome a shower and clean clothing. Daniel Jackson expressed a desire for a cup of coffee several hours ago. We should seek to fulfill that desire in all due haste.”
“Okay, shower, change of clothes, coffee. In that order.” O’Neill steered Jackson toward the exit.
“I’ll catch you over at the commissary,” Spencer said. “I want to check on Dr. Peyton first, and then I’ll be right over.”
“I wasn’t exaggerating, Colonel.” Dr. Men beckoned Spencer to follow her. “That injury could have easily been fatal.”
“Do we need to revisit medical procedures for the farm?”
“It wouldn’t hurt, Colonel Spencer.”
“Write up a proposal, Dr. Men. And I’ll talk to General Hammond; maybe we can get Dr. Fraiser out here for a few days and have her give us an assessment of what we can do better.”
“Thank you, sir. Dr. Peyton is right through here.”
*
There were cheers on both sides of the wormhole when a MALP lumbered through, carrying a cage of live mice. Carter turned toward O’Neill. “That looks like a successful outgoing wormhole, sir. All subjects arrived alive and unharmed.”
“Alright! With your permission, General Hammond, SG-1 will arrive in approximately one hour.”
“We’ll be expecting you. Good work, Alpha Site and Major Carter. SGC out.”
*
In the two weeks since SG1 had departed, Colonel Spencer had gotten a request for changes in medical procedure, a proposal to have Major Carter posted temporarily to Alpha for teaching purposes, three not-so-off-hand inquiries about how to apply for a position on a gate team and two people who had wondered about the possibility of stocking the lake with fish, indigenous to Earth and edible.
He realized that SG1, whether intentional or not, had left their mark on Alpha.
All kinds of hot
Jul. 27th, 2015 11:24 amSo one of the local channels, for unfathomable reasons, airs two episodes of Stargate SG1. And there's really no rhyme and reason for the episode order. Last night, the first was Prototype. Daniel is smart and smokin' hot and you could write a bunch about how he is standing in for Jack O'Neill by suggesting Khalek is too dangerous to live.
The Daniel/Khalek scene is full of sexual innuendo and, if he'd lived, there could have been some nasty, dirty, smutty slash fiction. That pairing just begs for it. If I could just figure out how to make it work.
The Daniel/Khalek scene is full of sexual innuendo and, if he'd lived, there could have been some nasty, dirty, smutty slash fiction. That pairing just begs for it. If I could just figure out how to make it work.
Happy birthday, Dr. Jackson
Jul. 9th, 2015 10:06 amSummary: Yet another Daniel Jackson birthday
Jack/Daniel slash fic
“I hate the IOC.” Daniel declared as he slumped on their bed.
Jack peered over his reading glasses. “You do? There’s a news flash.”
“Four hours. Four hours, Jack, to discuss a minor alteration to the original treaty.”
Jack tucked a marker in his book, set it aside and leaned over, sliding his arm around Daniel’s chest, bringing him down across the bed so that Daniel’s head was nestled in Jack’s hip. “Hi,” he swooped down for a quick kiss.
“I wrote my resignation while I was there.” Jack’s eyebrows rose. “In thirty-seven different languages.”
Jack’s fingers tousled Daniel’s already disheveled hair. “Did you hand it in?”
“I wanted to, I really wanted to!”
“But you didn’t?”
“You know what I promised the President. But they could have picked a better day for this.” Daniel knew he was whining and frankly, didn’t care.
“Hey, the cake will still be good tomorrow.” Jack glanced at the clock. “Well, later today.”
“Yeah, but I’m used to a certain amount of personal attention on my birthday. The highlight of my day shouldn’t be getting propositioned by a foreign ambassador!” Even as Jack silently promised to discover the name of the ambassador, he couldn’t fault him (or her) for his taste. At fifty, Daniel might be even more attractive than he had been at twenty-five. His hair had the subtle sheen of a sprinkling of grey hair, the lines only brought attention to his expressive eyes, the suits he was now required to wear flattered the well-toned body.
“Well, tomorrow, I mean today, you can have the day off. Sleep in, pig out, do whatever you want to do.”
Daniel groaned. “I wish I could. I have a meeting with the disclosure committee at…” his brain stalled, “some time in the morning.”
Jack grinned wickedly as he rolled over until he had Daniel pinned beneath him. “I’ll get you out of it.”
Daniel smiled back at him. “Yeah?”
Jack shrugged. “I know a guy. So you wanna get naked or you gonna sleep in your clothes?”
Daniel’s eyes were already reacting to his prone position. “I’m going…” He faded off.
Jack sighed as he deftly undressed his sleeping partner, eased the covers out from under him before turning out the light. “Happy birthday, Dr. Jackson.”
Jack/Daniel slash fic
“I hate the IOC.” Daniel declared as he slumped on their bed.
Jack peered over his reading glasses. “You do? There’s a news flash.”
“Four hours. Four hours, Jack, to discuss a minor alteration to the original treaty.”
Jack tucked a marker in his book, set it aside and leaned over, sliding his arm around Daniel’s chest, bringing him down across the bed so that Daniel’s head was nestled in Jack’s hip. “Hi,” he swooped down for a quick kiss.
“I wrote my resignation while I was there.” Jack’s eyebrows rose. “In thirty-seven different languages.”
Jack’s fingers tousled Daniel’s already disheveled hair. “Did you hand it in?”
“I wanted to, I really wanted to!”
“But you didn’t?”
“You know what I promised the President. But they could have picked a better day for this.” Daniel knew he was whining and frankly, didn’t care.
“Hey, the cake will still be good tomorrow.” Jack glanced at the clock. “Well, later today.”
“Yeah, but I’m used to a certain amount of personal attention on my birthday. The highlight of my day shouldn’t be getting propositioned by a foreign ambassador!” Even as Jack silently promised to discover the name of the ambassador, he couldn’t fault him (or her) for his taste. At fifty, Daniel might be even more attractive than he had been at twenty-five. His hair had the subtle sheen of a sprinkling of grey hair, the lines only brought attention to his expressive eyes, the suits he was now required to wear flattered the well-toned body.
“Well, tomorrow, I mean today, you can have the day off. Sleep in, pig out, do whatever you want to do.”
Daniel groaned. “I wish I could. I have a meeting with the disclosure committee at…” his brain stalled, “some time in the morning.”
Jack grinned wickedly as he rolled over until he had Daniel pinned beneath him. “I’ll get you out of it.”
Daniel smiled back at him. “Yeah?”
Jack shrugged. “I know a guy. So you wanna get naked or you gonna sleep in your clothes?”
Daniel’s eyes were already reacting to his prone position. “I’m going…” He faded off.
Jack sighed as he deftly undressed his sleeping partner, eased the covers out from under him before turning out the light. “Happy birthday, Dr. Jackson.”
An Irish Country Honeymoon
May. 23rd, 2015 08:16 amBecause today is Magnavox's birthday and she demanded this after Ireland's historic fic. And because her wish is always my command......
An Irish Country Honeymoon
“Okay,” Daniel groused. “I am here, on time and have brought my passport. Who in the hell needs me so badly that I have to get up at oh-dark-thirty?”
Jack waited as Daniel fastened his seatbelt. “The who would be me.”
“You?” Daniel quirked an eyebrow as he felt the jet engines accelerate.
“I always need you. You know that.” Jack suddenly turned serious.
“I know that.” Daniel squeezed his hand back. “But where are we going?”
“Dublin.”
“You just got an urge to weekend in Ireland?”
“Not a weekend. Got us both a week.”
“A week?” Daniel realized his questions weren’t getting him the answers he required.
“Thought you might like a honeymoon. You know, after the ceremony.” With a big smile, Jack handed him a sheet of folded paper.
Daniel unfolded the paper, his mind frozen. “They did it?”
“They did indeed. And where else would a good Irish boy want to be married but on the Old Sod?” Jack’s Irish accent had not improved over the years. “Just waiting for, you know, you to say yes.”
Daniel’s eyes sparkled. “That was never in question. So, a week in Dublin?”
“Ceremony in Dublin. A week in our own secluded country cottage. Just the two of us and a field of cows. Or maybe sheep. So, what do you say?”
“I say that I love you very, very much and I would love to spend the rest of my life with you.” Daniel leaned over to meet Jack’s kiss. “And the rest of our lives start today.”
“Today.” Jack agreed.
An Irish Country Honeymoon
“Okay,” Daniel groused. “I am here, on time and have brought my passport. Who in the hell needs me so badly that I have to get up at oh-dark-thirty?”
Jack waited as Daniel fastened his seatbelt. “The who would be me.”
“You?” Daniel quirked an eyebrow as he felt the jet engines accelerate.
“I always need you. You know that.” Jack suddenly turned serious.
“I know that.” Daniel squeezed his hand back. “But where are we going?”
“Dublin.”
“You just got an urge to weekend in Ireland?”
“Not a weekend. Got us both a week.”
“A week?” Daniel realized his questions weren’t getting him the answers he required.
“Thought you might like a honeymoon. You know, after the ceremony.” With a big smile, Jack handed him a sheet of folded paper.
Daniel unfolded the paper, his mind frozen. “They did it?”
“They did indeed. And where else would a good Irish boy want to be married but on the Old Sod?” Jack’s Irish accent had not improved over the years. “Just waiting for, you know, you to say yes.”
Daniel’s eyes sparkled. “That was never in question. So, a week in Dublin?”
“Ceremony in Dublin. A week in our own secluded country cottage. Just the two of us and a field of cows. Or maybe sheep. So, what do you say?”
“I say that I love you very, very much and I would love to spend the rest of my life with you.” Daniel leaned over to meet Jack’s kiss. “And the rest of our lives start today.”
“Today.” Jack agreed.
Stolen fics
Apr. 14th, 2015 09:26 amPlease be aware that there is a site, ebook-tree, that has stolen numerous fics without author permission and are selling them for profit. I'm only one of the many people who have been f**ked over by these people.
So let me set the record straight. I didn't authorize this, I get no money for this and you NEVER HAVE TO PAY TO READ MY FICS! I post on my Dreamwidth, my LiveJournal and Archive of Our Own.
I'm not making any money out of this. I write because I love the fandom, the characters, the shows and mostly, for my own satisfaction. It gives me pleasure to create and I share that freely.
Don't pay to read my fics! Ever. There are people who publish ezines and charge for them. That's totally their right to do so but certainly make sure that the creator of the work is the one who is getting paid.
As further proof of their audacity, they have stolen published works of Stephen King and Anne Rice, to name a couple.
Edit: my fics have now been removed. I suppose the backlash was getting a bit too hot!
So let me set the record straight. I didn't authorize this, I get no money for this and you NEVER HAVE TO PAY TO READ MY FICS! I post on my Dreamwidth, my LiveJournal and Archive of Our Own.
I'm not making any money out of this. I write because I love the fandom, the characters, the shows and mostly, for my own satisfaction. It gives me pleasure to create and I share that freely.
Don't pay to read my fics! Ever. There are people who publish ezines and charge for them. That's totally their right to do so but certainly make sure that the creator of the work is the one who is getting paid.
As further proof of their audacity, they have stolen published works of Stephen King and Anne Rice, to name a couple.
Edit: my fics have now been removed. I suppose the backlash was getting a bit too hot!
One hundred
Mar. 22nd, 2015 10:33 amOne Hundred
“Gotta delivery for ya, Dr. J.” The corporal wheeled the dolly into Daniel’s office.
“Ok, th…whoa, what is that?” He eyed the garishly decorated box.
“Don’t open ‘em,” he slid the box onto the desk. “Just deliver ‘em.”
“Thank you,” Daniel grabbed a knife and cut the packing tape and ripped into the box. “Huh.” The box, the entire box, was full of Snicker bars. And not the mini ones or even the regular size. No, it was the really big, satisfy-your-hunger size.
With a grin, he grabbed the phone and dialed. “Hey, you.”
“Happy anniversary, my baby.”
“Gotta delivery for ya, Dr. J.” The corporal wheeled the dolly into Daniel’s office.
“Ok, th…whoa, what is that?” He eyed the garishly decorated box.
“Don’t open ‘em,” he slid the box onto the desk. “Just deliver ‘em.”
“Thank you,” Daniel grabbed a knife and cut the packing tape and ripped into the box. “Huh.” The box, the entire box, was full of Snicker bars. And not the mini ones or even the regular size. No, it was the really big, satisfy-your-hunger size.
With a grin, he grabbed the phone and dialed. “Hey, you.”
“Happy anniversary, my baby.”
D is for Don't Look Back
Mar. 2nd, 2015 08:28 amD is for Don’t Look Back
Time Travel Alphabet Soup
Author: Sg-wonderland
“So,” Jack nestled another log into the dying fire. “1969. What a year.”
Daniel clasped the tin cup holding his coffee; Jack fervently hoped he wasn’t preparing an oral dissertation about the differences of 1969 coffee and the current offering. They’d all been subjected to babblings about any number of things, none of which were about the really important stuff like the moon landing, the Mets and Woodstock.
“Actually, sir, I’ve been thinking,” Sam piped up while Daniel was drawing breath, “I wonder if we haven’t already inadvertently shifted the time line.”
“Because?” Jack stretched out his legs.
“Because Project Blue Book’s official end date was December of 1969 and was officially closed in January of 1970.”
“You think our being here may have caused it?” Daniel frowned.
“It makes a certain kind of sense.”
“It does. But who have we interacted with that has that kind of power?”
“That’s probably out of our scope of reasoning although I suppose it is possible….”
“So, 1969,” Jack drawled. “What were you guys doing?”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly. “We were in Greece. My parents and I. My mother was sick that whole summer. She seemed to be really sick but I’m relying on the memories of a four-year-old.”
“I thought you were four and a half?”
Daniel grinned. “When Mama said no, I would always tell her I was four and a half or five and a half or whatever. Even if it was the day after my birthday, I would add that ‘and a half!’”.
“You had to be the worst brat in the world.” Jack shook his head.
“I sometimes, mostly, well, almost always got my way. The advantage of being an only child, I suppose.” Daniel blinked innocently.
“You were a brat.”
“Anyway, we spent the whole summer on an island off the coast of Greece. There was a neighbor, Eleni, who brought food and cleaned. After a couple of weeks, Mama got better and Papa and I would go to the market every day and shop.” Daniel leaned back and his eyes grew wistful. “It was wonderful. We would swim in the early mornings. In the afternoon, it would get hot and we would sit and read the newspaper or listen to music or just take a nap. Then in the evening, we would eat dinner on the terrace while the sun went down or even take another swim. I think it was the most time, you know, real time, I ever spent with my parents.” He sighed loudly. “So, Jack,” he said too brightly, “what about you?”
“I was almost seventeen and wanted my own car so bad I could taste it. So my grandfather said if I worked on the farm with him, he’d help me buy it.” Sam choked back a laugh. “Something funny, Carter?”
“Absolutely not, sir.” She grinned unabashedly.
“I presume Captain Carter is displaying her disbelief that you would be well suited to the life of a farmer, O’Neill. I understand they are required to rise at an extremely early hour and should be prepared to provide a full day’s work.” Teal’c paused. “With a minimum of complaints.”
“I’ll have you know I was an excellent farmer! I drove the tractor, milked the cows, and pitched hay. Whatever needed done, I did.”
“And you got your car?” Sam shook her sleeve down to grasp the coffee pot off the fire and poured herself a refill.
“Oh, yeah,” Jack smiled dreamily. “It was a ’57 Bel Air hardtop. Man, that car would fly!” Before Teal’c could speak, Jack said, “I don’t mean fly as in ‘leave the ground.’ I mean fly, as in ‘go real fast.’”
“And you did?” Daniel asked.
“If my folks had known how many drag races I got into, I’d still be grounded.” Jack finished off his coffee. “So Daniel was skinny-dipping in the Mediterranean.” Ignoring the squawk from Daniel, he continued on, “I was shoveling,” Jack paused, a wicked gleam in his eyes, “manure in rural Minnesota. What were you doing, Carter?”
Sam rose slowly. “As I was all of one year old, sir, I suppose I was perfecting my already impressive walking skills. Good night.” She toasted them with her coffee before she strode toward the vehicle.
There was a long silence before Jack asked, “So. 1969. What a year!”
Time Travel Alphabet Soup
Author: Sg-wonderland
“So,” Jack nestled another log into the dying fire. “1969. What a year.”
Daniel clasped the tin cup holding his coffee; Jack fervently hoped he wasn’t preparing an oral dissertation about the differences of 1969 coffee and the current offering. They’d all been subjected to babblings about any number of things, none of which were about the really important stuff like the moon landing, the Mets and Woodstock.
“Actually, sir, I’ve been thinking,” Sam piped up while Daniel was drawing breath, “I wonder if we haven’t already inadvertently shifted the time line.”
“Because?” Jack stretched out his legs.
“Because Project Blue Book’s official end date was December of 1969 and was officially closed in January of 1970.”
“You think our being here may have caused it?” Daniel frowned.
“It makes a certain kind of sense.”
“It does. But who have we interacted with that has that kind of power?”
“That’s probably out of our scope of reasoning although I suppose it is possible….”
“So, 1969,” Jack drawled. “What were you guys doing?”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly. “We were in Greece. My parents and I. My mother was sick that whole summer. She seemed to be really sick but I’m relying on the memories of a four-year-old.”
“I thought you were four and a half?”
Daniel grinned. “When Mama said no, I would always tell her I was four and a half or five and a half or whatever. Even if it was the day after my birthday, I would add that ‘and a half!’”.
“You had to be the worst brat in the world.” Jack shook his head.
“I sometimes, mostly, well, almost always got my way. The advantage of being an only child, I suppose.” Daniel blinked innocently.
“You were a brat.”
“Anyway, we spent the whole summer on an island off the coast of Greece. There was a neighbor, Eleni, who brought food and cleaned. After a couple of weeks, Mama got better and Papa and I would go to the market every day and shop.” Daniel leaned back and his eyes grew wistful. “It was wonderful. We would swim in the early mornings. In the afternoon, it would get hot and we would sit and read the newspaper or listen to music or just take a nap. Then in the evening, we would eat dinner on the terrace while the sun went down or even take another swim. I think it was the most time, you know, real time, I ever spent with my parents.” He sighed loudly. “So, Jack,” he said too brightly, “what about you?”
“I was almost seventeen and wanted my own car so bad I could taste it. So my grandfather said if I worked on the farm with him, he’d help me buy it.” Sam choked back a laugh. “Something funny, Carter?”
“Absolutely not, sir.” She grinned unabashedly.
“I presume Captain Carter is displaying her disbelief that you would be well suited to the life of a farmer, O’Neill. I understand they are required to rise at an extremely early hour and should be prepared to provide a full day’s work.” Teal’c paused. “With a minimum of complaints.”
“I’ll have you know I was an excellent farmer! I drove the tractor, milked the cows, and pitched hay. Whatever needed done, I did.”
“And you got your car?” Sam shook her sleeve down to grasp the coffee pot off the fire and poured herself a refill.
“Oh, yeah,” Jack smiled dreamily. “It was a ’57 Bel Air hardtop. Man, that car would fly!” Before Teal’c could speak, Jack said, “I don’t mean fly as in ‘leave the ground.’ I mean fly, as in ‘go real fast.’”
“And you did?” Daniel asked.
“If my folks had known how many drag races I got into, I’d still be grounded.” Jack finished off his coffee. “So Daniel was skinny-dipping in the Mediterranean.” Ignoring the squawk from Daniel, he continued on, “I was shoveling,” Jack paused, a wicked gleam in his eyes, “manure in rural Minnesota. What were you doing, Carter?”
Sam rose slowly. “As I was all of one year old, sir, I suppose I was perfecting my already impressive walking skills. Good night.” She toasted them with her coffee before she strode toward the vehicle.
There was a long silence before Jack asked, “So. 1969. What a year!”
Lazy writing?
Feb. 12th, 2015 09:33 am*****WARNING! CRIMINAL MINDS SPOILERS!*******
No, I'm not talking about me and my entry for alphabet soup! Although I did fall into the hellish abyss of Fig's Fanon vs. Canon whilst researching just how old is Sam in 1969. (Believe me when I tell you the answers to that questions are frustratingly varied.)
No, of what I speak are those alleged professionals, those who are paid to write for that vast wasteland that is television. Why must these writers return again and again to the well of that-worked-for-us-in-the-past? (And yes, Downton Abbey I'm talking about you!)
Last night's Criminal Minds was literally the straw that broke my muse's back when we are dramatically treated to Kate's niece falling prey to an online stalker/predator/you pick the crime. She narrowly escapes without anyone but the unsub being any the wiser.
Why this bothers me is that this is the fourth (I will explain number 3) child of one of the BAU to be victimized.
Jack Hotchner was held by the villainously wicked unsub who slaughtered Haley Hotchner while Jack ran and hid at Hotch's orders. This is a kid who badly needs some serious counseling; I just wish the show would at least mention this, even if it's an offhand, "Jack and I have an afternoon appointment with Dr. Whatsit." Spencer could, I'm sure, recommend one of his therapists......I'm just saying.......
Henry was held by murderous bank robbers. This is one of the episodes I refuse to rewatch. Trust me, there are plot holes through which you could fly a Goa'uld mother ship.
I argue that three was Dylan, the child to which Prentiss may not have given birth, but certainly sacrificed everything to save. Up to and including dying, only to show up alive and well in Paris, skulking around and secretly meeting Daniel Jackson to swan through Parisian museums and coffeehouses. (At least in my little corner of the world....) Dylan was ping-ponged between Irish mercenaries, his murderous mother and father; the office of that FBI approved therapist grows distressingly more crowded.
(You might also include Spencer Reid being forced to endure the brutal slaying of his mentor and father figure Gideon. We didn't have to be hit over the head with the writers' decision to have Reid drive his vintage Volvo to the cabin to convince us young Dr. Reid was desperately trying to recreate the past. Discuss amongst yourselves....)
Why subject Kate's traumatized, orphaned niece (did I mention she was left parentless after 9/11?) to being the potential victim of a predator?
My theory is that the writers are trying to shoehorn Jennifer Love Hewitt's character into a place where she is struggling to fit? To make the team rally round her to save her niece when the inevitable kidnapping happens.
To JLove's credit, she is in an almost impossible position: she is being asked to fill a void that Criminal Minds has struggled to fill. Which begs the question, why do they keep trying? Maybe they should just quit and admit they don't really need another agent on the team.
But perhaps that's a rant for another day....
No, I'm not talking about me and my entry for alphabet soup! Although I did fall into the hellish abyss of Fig's Fanon vs. Canon whilst researching just how old is Sam in 1969. (Believe me when I tell you the answers to that questions are frustratingly varied.)
No, of what I speak are those alleged professionals, those who are paid to write for that vast wasteland that is television. Why must these writers return again and again to the well of that-worked-for-us-in-the-past? (And yes, Downton Abbey I'm talking about you!)
Last night's Criminal Minds was literally the straw that broke my muse's back when we are dramatically treated to Kate's niece falling prey to an online stalker/predator/you pick the crime. She narrowly escapes without anyone but the unsub being any the wiser.
Why this bothers me is that this is the fourth (I will explain number 3) child of one of the BAU to be victimized.
Jack Hotchner was held by the villainously wicked unsub who slaughtered Haley Hotchner while Jack ran and hid at Hotch's orders. This is a kid who badly needs some serious counseling; I just wish the show would at least mention this, even if it's an offhand, "Jack and I have an afternoon appointment with Dr. Whatsit." Spencer could, I'm sure, recommend one of his therapists......I'm just saying.......
Henry was held by murderous bank robbers. This is one of the episodes I refuse to rewatch. Trust me, there are plot holes through which you could fly a Goa'uld mother ship.
I argue that three was Dylan, the child to which Prentiss may not have given birth, but certainly sacrificed everything to save. Up to and including dying, only to show up alive and well in Paris, skulking around and secretly meeting Daniel Jackson to swan through Parisian museums and coffeehouses. (At least in my little corner of the world....) Dylan was ping-ponged between Irish mercenaries, his murderous mother and father; the office of that FBI approved therapist grows distressingly more crowded.
(You might also include Spencer Reid being forced to endure the brutal slaying of his mentor and father figure Gideon. We didn't have to be hit over the head with the writers' decision to have Reid drive his vintage Volvo to the cabin to convince us young Dr. Reid was desperately trying to recreate the past. Discuss amongst yourselves....)
Why subject Kate's traumatized, orphaned niece (did I mention she was left parentless after 9/11?) to being the potential victim of a predator?
My theory is that the writers are trying to shoehorn Jennifer Love Hewitt's character into a place where she is struggling to fit? To make the team rally round her to save her niece when the inevitable kidnapping happens.
To JLove's credit, she is in an almost impossible position: she is being asked to fill a void that Criminal Minds has struggled to fill. Which begs the question, why do they keep trying? Maybe they should just quit and admit they don't really need another agent on the team.
But perhaps that's a rant for another day....
Jack's age
Jan. 15th, 2015 09:18 amSo I'm doing a time travel fic for the latest alphabet soup. I cannot think SG! and time travel without strolling through 1969. Which begs the question.
How old would Jack have been in 1969? There are two differing camps on his birthdate. Both 1952 and 1957 are presented as his year of birth. One is spoken canon, the other from ID screencaps.
I confess that I am favoring 1952 simply because I think a 13-year-old Jack would be more interesting to present than a 8-year-old.
That's how I feel, what do you think?
How old would Jack have been in 1969? There are two differing camps on his birthdate. Both 1952 and 1957 are presented as his year of birth. One is spoken canon, the other from ID screencaps.
I confess that I am favoring 1952 simply because I think a 13-year-old Jack would be more interesting to present than a 8-year-old.
That's how I feel, what do you think?
B is for Battle Ready
Nov. 4th, 2014 07:02 amSummary: Catherine Langford and Janet Fraiser, an unlikely friendship
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Catherine Langford, Ernest Littlefield
Spoiler: Torment of Tantalus, Legacy, Rite of Passage, Heroes II
Rating: General
Word Count: 1136
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, wish I did, you know who does, yadda, yadda, yadda
Be is for Battle Ready
“General Hammond, I have to repeat that I firmly believe this is a mistake.” Dr. Janet Fraiser jammed her hands in her lab coat, clearly frustrated.
“Dr. Langford passed her physical?” General Hammond flipped through the file on his desk.
“Yes, sir, she did. However, her age notwithstanding, SG-1 could be gating into a hostile environment. Dr. Langford is…”
“An old broad?” They both turned to face the woman climbing the stairs and coming into the briefing room. “I appreciate your concern, Dr. Fraiser. But my mind’s made up. I am going to the planet. I have to go.”
“I would be lax in my duties at a doctor if I didn’t object…”
“I realize you have no idea how healthy I am, you just have my word for the fact that I’m tough as boot leather. Very old boot leather.” Her dark eyes gleamed mischievously.
“Catherine!” Daniel protested behind her. “You’re not old!”
Catherine patted his arm. “Oh, Daniel, only someone as naïve as you would say that. I am old.” She turned back to face Dr. Fraiser. “Please try to understand. Ernest could be out there. I have to see for myself, with my own eyes, what happened to him. Besides, I suspect this is my only shot of going through the gate. I can’t see General Hammond agreeing to let me join an SG team.”
Frustrated, Fraiser curtly asked for permission to return to the infirmary.
*
Dr. Fraiser had to admit, reluctantly, that Catherine Langford had suffered no ill effects of her trip through the Stargate. No physical effects, anyway. However, the older woman was currently sitting on a gurney looking down at the hands she was constantly twisting.
Reaching out, the doctor stilled those restless hands. “I believe Dr. Littlefield will be fine, in time. He needs to gain some weight and I can’t even begin to imagine how to introduce him to this world…”
“When can he go home?”
“Home?”
“I won’t have him staying here any longer than necessary,” Catherine snapped. “When the Air Force releases him, I’m taking him home with me.”
“That…medically, I’d like to keep him at least a week. As to when he can leave…”
Surprisingly, Catherine smiled. “Young lady, you don’t have to tell me anything about the Air Force; I’ve been battering against this wall longer than you’ve been alive.” Her voice softened. “He should be able to see the sky and smell the grass and know that there’s a whole world out there.”
Fraiser smiled back at her. “Yes, he deserves that much.”
“I have to…there are so many things I need to see to. He…he didn’t recognize me at first.”
Dr. Fraiser clutched the file to her chest. “As far as we know, he hasn’t seen or spoken to another human being in fifty years. He’s holding up remarkably well, given the circumstances.”
Catherine ran a trembling hand through her hair. “This morning, I woke up, thinking it was going to be an ordinary day and I ended up on another planet. This has been…Ernest is back from the dead and all I can think about is whether my hair looks alright.”
The two women shared a smile before Catherine hopped down from the gurney. “Dr. Fraiser, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an Air Force to bully.”
Fraiser wasn’t about to bet against the white-haired steamroller who sailed purposefully from the infirmary. She handed off the file in her hands and went to check on Dr. Littlefield.
*
Catherine was standing at the bottom of the stairs, hands worrying her necklace when Janet appeared. “Relax, Dr. Langford, he’s fine. He won’t even need stitches.”
“Thank heavens! When I saw the blood, I just…”
Janet led the older woman into the sitting room. “Head wounds always bleed profusely.”
“I’m sorry for calling you at home, Dr. Fraiser, but I didn’t know what to do. And I knew I’d never get him to the emergency room.” She looked up as the maid wheeled in a gleaming cart. “Thank you, Martha.”
“Shall I pour?” Janet chose not to mention the trembling hands, She fussed over the tea, the scones, commented on the tea service, giving Catherine time to catch her breath.
“This was my grandmother’s service.”
“It’s beautiful. I’m glad you’re not afraid to use it.”
The twinkle was returning to Catherine’s eye. “If there’s anyone who should appreciate old things still being useful, it would be me.”
*
“Janet. Come in, my, it’s cold out there!” Catherine kissed her cheek as she handed the heavy wool coat to Martha. “I’ve a fire in the sitting room.”
“Oh, that’s lovely!” Janet warmed her hands before she sank onto the sofa and accepted a cup.
“Would you like a stiffener?” Catherine’s hand hovered over the crystal decanter.
“Oh, no, thanks. I’ve got to pick up Cassie in an hour.”
“And where is your young lady this afternoon?”
“Colonel O’Neill is afraid that Dr. Jackson is filling her head with nonsense so he’s taken her to a hockey game.”
Catherine laughed. “What type of nonsense does he think Daniel is teaching her?”
“Head in the clouds stuff, I think is how the colonel described it. Not enough ‘useful skills’, in his opinion.”
“I shudder to think what Colonel O’Neill deems useful.”
*
Catherine took one look at Janet’s frozen expression before pouring a stiff dollop of whiskey in the teacup before handing it over. “I don’t have to tell you that Daniel knows you were only doing what you thought best.”
“As long as I live, I am never going to forget him crying, begging me to help him. And I know he’s never going to forget that I didn’t help him.”
There was nothing Catherine could do but nod her head and listen.
*
“So General Hammond put a reprimand in your file? I suppose he had no other choice.”
“I guess holding a gun on an alien prisoner is against some sort of regulation.”
Catherine had to smile at the image of the petite doctor holding a very big gun. “I can’t imagine a mother who wouldn’t do everything to save her child.” She couldn’t help but think about the children who were only ever a dream and a wish.
*
Martha met her at the door, silently took Catherine’s coat and hat. “Shall I bring you anything else, ma’am?”
“No, thank you, Martha.” She watched as her employer walked slowly into the sitting room.
With a long sigh, Catherine poured tea for one.
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Catherine Langford, Ernest Littlefield
Spoiler: Torment of Tantalus, Legacy, Rite of Passage, Heroes II
Rating: General
Word Count: 1136
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, wish I did, you know who does, yadda, yadda, yadda
Be is for Battle Ready
“General Hammond, I have to repeat that I firmly believe this is a mistake.” Dr. Janet Fraiser jammed her hands in her lab coat, clearly frustrated.
“Dr. Langford passed her physical?” General Hammond flipped through the file on his desk.
“Yes, sir, she did. However, her age notwithstanding, SG-1 could be gating into a hostile environment. Dr. Langford is…”
“An old broad?” They both turned to face the woman climbing the stairs and coming into the briefing room. “I appreciate your concern, Dr. Fraiser. But my mind’s made up. I am going to the planet. I have to go.”
“I would be lax in my duties at a doctor if I didn’t object…”
“I realize you have no idea how healthy I am, you just have my word for the fact that I’m tough as boot leather. Very old boot leather.” Her dark eyes gleamed mischievously.
“Catherine!” Daniel protested behind her. “You’re not old!”
Catherine patted his arm. “Oh, Daniel, only someone as naïve as you would say that. I am old.” She turned back to face Dr. Fraiser. “Please try to understand. Ernest could be out there. I have to see for myself, with my own eyes, what happened to him. Besides, I suspect this is my only shot of going through the gate. I can’t see General Hammond agreeing to let me join an SG team.”
Frustrated, Fraiser curtly asked for permission to return to the infirmary.
*
Dr. Fraiser had to admit, reluctantly, that Catherine Langford had suffered no ill effects of her trip through the Stargate. No physical effects, anyway. However, the older woman was currently sitting on a gurney looking down at the hands she was constantly twisting.
Reaching out, the doctor stilled those restless hands. “I believe Dr. Littlefield will be fine, in time. He needs to gain some weight and I can’t even begin to imagine how to introduce him to this world…”
“When can he go home?”
“Home?”
“I won’t have him staying here any longer than necessary,” Catherine snapped. “When the Air Force releases him, I’m taking him home with me.”
“That…medically, I’d like to keep him at least a week. As to when he can leave…”
Surprisingly, Catherine smiled. “Young lady, you don’t have to tell me anything about the Air Force; I’ve been battering against this wall longer than you’ve been alive.” Her voice softened. “He should be able to see the sky and smell the grass and know that there’s a whole world out there.”
Fraiser smiled back at her. “Yes, he deserves that much.”
“I have to…there are so many things I need to see to. He…he didn’t recognize me at first.”
Dr. Fraiser clutched the file to her chest. “As far as we know, he hasn’t seen or spoken to another human being in fifty years. He’s holding up remarkably well, given the circumstances.”
Catherine ran a trembling hand through her hair. “This morning, I woke up, thinking it was going to be an ordinary day and I ended up on another planet. This has been…Ernest is back from the dead and all I can think about is whether my hair looks alright.”
The two women shared a smile before Catherine hopped down from the gurney. “Dr. Fraiser, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an Air Force to bully.”
Fraiser wasn’t about to bet against the white-haired steamroller who sailed purposefully from the infirmary. She handed off the file in her hands and went to check on Dr. Littlefield.
*
Catherine was standing at the bottom of the stairs, hands worrying her necklace when Janet appeared. “Relax, Dr. Langford, he’s fine. He won’t even need stitches.”
“Thank heavens! When I saw the blood, I just…”
Janet led the older woman into the sitting room. “Head wounds always bleed profusely.”
“I’m sorry for calling you at home, Dr. Fraiser, but I didn’t know what to do. And I knew I’d never get him to the emergency room.” She looked up as the maid wheeled in a gleaming cart. “Thank you, Martha.”
“Shall I pour?” Janet chose not to mention the trembling hands, She fussed over the tea, the scones, commented on the tea service, giving Catherine time to catch her breath.
“This was my grandmother’s service.”
“It’s beautiful. I’m glad you’re not afraid to use it.”
The twinkle was returning to Catherine’s eye. “If there’s anyone who should appreciate old things still being useful, it would be me.”
*
“Janet. Come in, my, it’s cold out there!” Catherine kissed her cheek as she handed the heavy wool coat to Martha. “I’ve a fire in the sitting room.”
“Oh, that’s lovely!” Janet warmed her hands before she sank onto the sofa and accepted a cup.
“Would you like a stiffener?” Catherine’s hand hovered over the crystal decanter.
“Oh, no, thanks. I’ve got to pick up Cassie in an hour.”
“And where is your young lady this afternoon?”
“Colonel O’Neill is afraid that Dr. Jackson is filling her head with nonsense so he’s taken her to a hockey game.”
Catherine laughed. “What type of nonsense does he think Daniel is teaching her?”
“Head in the clouds stuff, I think is how the colonel described it. Not enough ‘useful skills’, in his opinion.”
“I shudder to think what Colonel O’Neill deems useful.”
*
Catherine took one look at Janet’s frozen expression before pouring a stiff dollop of whiskey in the teacup before handing it over. “I don’t have to tell you that Daniel knows you were only doing what you thought best.”
“As long as I live, I am never going to forget him crying, begging me to help him. And I know he’s never going to forget that I didn’t help him.”
There was nothing Catherine could do but nod her head and listen.
*
“So General Hammond put a reprimand in your file? I suppose he had no other choice.”
“I guess holding a gun on an alien prisoner is against some sort of regulation.”
Catherine had to smile at the image of the petite doctor holding a very big gun. “I can’t imagine a mother who wouldn’t do everything to save her child.” She couldn’t help but think about the children who were only ever a dream and a wish.
*
Martha met her at the door, silently took Catherine’s coat and hat. “Shall I bring you anything else, ma’am?”
“No, thank you, Martha.” She watched as her employer walked slowly into the sitting room.
With a long sigh, Catherine poured tea for one.
Now Under New Management
Sep. 7th, 2014 01:27 pmDedicated to Campylobacter, the new Owner
Now Under New Management
“Well?” Daniel glared through the prison bars.
“Good news and bad news.” Vala sank gracefully to her knees in front of the cell. “Which would you like?” She asked cheerfully.
“Good news, I suppose.” Daniel stretched his legs; obviously his incarceration wasn’t ending any time soon.
“The good news is that Teal’c persuaded the Owner not to claim the rest of the team.”
“Do I want to know how?”
“Well, Muscles persuaded the nice lady that he was pair-bonded with dear Colonel Mitchell and that both were property of the House of Carter. He even went so far as to volunteer a demonstration of their bonding but The Owner tabled that as a delightful maybe. So since they were already claimed, she was forced to relinquish her ownership of their persons. But because you were so adamant in protesting that you and I were not bonded in any way, she says that we are unclaimed so she exercised her right as the All Mighty Owner and Administrator of Daniel/Vala.” She smiled broadly. “We already have a name and everything!”
Daniel banged his head against the bars. “How do we get out of this?”
“That’s the bad news; I don’t know how we can possibly escape. No, I believe our only hope is to prove to The Owner that we are claimed is by bonding.” She paused. “As often as necessary, with as many various scenarios and accoutrements as she deems necessary. She’s really quite a charming lady, very charismatic. Perhaps she will tire of us and send us home. Or…”
“Or?”
“There is the slightest, really teeny, tiny, chance that she will sell us to a new owner.”
“Great.” Daniel groaned.
“Teal’c had a terrible time persuading her not to sell them to someone called Hot Alien Threesomes.”
“Just shoot me now.”
Now Under New Management
“Well?” Daniel glared through the prison bars.
“Good news and bad news.” Vala sank gracefully to her knees in front of the cell. “Which would you like?” She asked cheerfully.
“Good news, I suppose.” Daniel stretched his legs; obviously his incarceration wasn’t ending any time soon.
“The good news is that Teal’c persuaded the Owner not to claim the rest of the team.”
“Do I want to know how?”
“Well, Muscles persuaded the nice lady that he was pair-bonded with dear Colonel Mitchell and that both were property of the House of Carter. He even went so far as to volunteer a demonstration of their bonding but The Owner tabled that as a delightful maybe. So since they were already claimed, she was forced to relinquish her ownership of their persons. But because you were so adamant in protesting that you and I were not bonded in any way, she says that we are unclaimed so she exercised her right as the All Mighty Owner and Administrator of Daniel/Vala.” She smiled broadly. “We already have a name and everything!”
Daniel banged his head against the bars. “How do we get out of this?”
“That’s the bad news; I don’t know how we can possibly escape. No, I believe our only hope is to prove to The Owner that we are claimed is by bonding.” She paused. “As often as necessary, with as many various scenarios and accoutrements as she deems necessary. She’s really quite a charming lady, very charismatic. Perhaps she will tire of us and send us home. Or…”
“Or?”
“There is the slightest, really teeny, tiny, chance that she will sell us to a new owner.”
“Great.” Daniel groaned.
“Teal’c had a terrible time persuading her not to sell them to someone called Hot Alien Threesomes.”
“Just shoot me now.”
Aliens and Astronauts
Aug. 16th, 2014 08:37 pmAliens and Astronauts
“Ah, my first trick or treater of the night,” Jack rose to answer the doorbell. He gazed down at the little astronaut standing on his porch. She was attired, he realized, in a frighteningly accurate space suit…if one didn’t count the glittery tiara glued firmly to the top of her helmet.
“Trick of treat,” she whispered.
“I think that’s supposed to be ‘trick or treat’, Dr. Jackson.” He grinned.
The astronaut whirled around, “ Daddy, Uncle Jack thinks I’m you! I told you I’d fool him!”
Daniel stepped out from behind the post. “You certainly did.”
Jack opened the door wider. “Come in.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Does this mean I don’t get free candy?”
Jack swooped her up in his arms. “Absolutely not! In fact, I think there’s a special bag in here labeled for one Miss Plum Jackson.” She bounced out of his grasp, catching his chin with her tiara. “How about we take that off, at least until you head back out?” As Jack eased the helmet off a cascade of black curls sprang free.
She darted toward the living room. “Where’s that candy?”
“I can’t imagine where she got that greedy streak,” Jack closed the door behind Daniel. “Want a beer?”
Daniel flopped on the couch. “Like I want my next breath but not while I’m on Daddy-duty.”
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” she launched herself on Daniel. “There’s a whole bag just for me. See, it says P L U M. And that’s me.”
Jack rolled his eyes as he handed Daniel a Pepsi in lieu of the beer. “No one but you would name a kid ‘Plum’.”
“Not me, that was all Vala. It was either that or Daniel.” He winced at the thought.
“Didn’t think she was paying attention when you lectured about those gender neutral labels?”
Daniel sputtered into his drink. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”
“I wasn’t,” Jack lied. “Where’s Vala?”
“She’s pissed because I wouldn’t let her take Plum to the Mountain.”
“What, she planning to take her to all the deparments?”
“She claimed the kid would have cleaned up in the candy department.”
Jack watched Daniel’s hand smooth Plum’s shiny black curls back from her face, a miniature Vala except for Daniel’s bright blue eyes . “You’d have to have a truck to get it all home.”
Plum twisted on her father’s lap. “Daddy…”
“No, we are not taking my truck to the mountain for candy.” He glared at Jack who shrugged an apology. “You are such a liar, you’re not a bit sorry.”
Jack got up to answer the doorbell. “You’re right about that. Hey, kiddo, how about helping me pass out candy?”
Plum frowned. “I don’t have to give them mine, do I?”
“No, that’s yours.”
Plum handed her bag to her father before taking Jack’s hand. Daniel heard her voice from the entry, “What are you supposed to be?”
“Ah, my first trick or treater of the night,” Jack rose to answer the doorbell. He gazed down at the little astronaut standing on his porch. She was attired, he realized, in a frighteningly accurate space suit…if one didn’t count the glittery tiara glued firmly to the top of her helmet.
“Trick of treat,” she whispered.
“I think that’s supposed to be ‘trick or treat’, Dr. Jackson.” He grinned.
The astronaut whirled around, “ Daddy, Uncle Jack thinks I’m you! I told you I’d fool him!”
Daniel stepped out from behind the post. “You certainly did.”
Jack opened the door wider. “Come in.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Does this mean I don’t get free candy?”
Jack swooped her up in his arms. “Absolutely not! In fact, I think there’s a special bag in here labeled for one Miss Plum Jackson.” She bounced out of his grasp, catching his chin with her tiara. “How about we take that off, at least until you head back out?” As Jack eased the helmet off a cascade of black curls sprang free.
She darted toward the living room. “Where’s that candy?”
“I can’t imagine where she got that greedy streak,” Jack closed the door behind Daniel. “Want a beer?”
Daniel flopped on the couch. “Like I want my next breath but not while I’m on Daddy-duty.”
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” she launched herself on Daniel. “There’s a whole bag just for me. See, it says P L U M. And that’s me.”
Jack rolled his eyes as he handed Daniel a Pepsi in lieu of the beer. “No one but you would name a kid ‘Plum’.”
“Not me, that was all Vala. It was either that or Daniel.” He winced at the thought.
“Didn’t think she was paying attention when you lectured about those gender neutral labels?”
Daniel sputtered into his drink. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”
“I wasn’t,” Jack lied. “Where’s Vala?”
“She’s pissed because I wouldn’t let her take Plum to the Mountain.”
“What, she planning to take her to all the deparments?”
“She claimed the kid would have cleaned up in the candy department.”
Jack watched Daniel’s hand smooth Plum’s shiny black curls back from her face, a miniature Vala except for Daniel’s bright blue eyes . “You’d have to have a truck to get it all home.”
Plum twisted on her father’s lap. “Daddy…”
“No, we are not taking my truck to the mountain for candy.” He glared at Jack who shrugged an apology. “You are such a liar, you’re not a bit sorry.”
Jack got up to answer the doorbell. “You’re right about that. Hey, kiddo, how about helping me pass out candy?”
Plum frowned. “I don’t have to give them mine, do I?”
“No, that’s yours.”
Plum handed her bag to her father before taking Jack’s hand. Daniel heard her voice from the entry, “What are you supposed to be?”
The Birthday Conundrum
Jul. 10th, 2014 08:31 amBecause Paian posted a copy of Daniel's Colorado driver's license that revealed a surprise.
"Daniel, you forget something?" Jack draped himself in the doorway of the office.
"Hmm?" Daniel answered without taking his eyes off his computer screen.
"Dinner? Team? Birthday?" He walked into the room.
"Oh," Daniel finally looked up. "But it isn't. My birthday, I mean."
Jack looked at his watch. "July 8th. Pretty sure it is."
Daniel began shuffling through the files on his desk. "I had to go....somewhere to fill out....something and this woman gave me this. To help me fill out the papers." He finally found what he was looking for. "See," he waved a piece of paper in Jack's face.
Jack finally grasped the fluttering paper. "What's this?"
"A copy of some stuff from my old file. This says my birthday is July 28, not today."
Jack frowned. "Oh for...they got it all wrong. Even the year is wrong!"
"But it's an official document. How could they get that wrong?" Daniel seemed clearly puzzled.
"Come on," Jack snagged his jacket sleeve. "On the way to dinner, I'll let Carter explain the mysteries of government bureaucracy. Or try to."
"Okay," Daniel let Jack tow him out the door. "Hey, does this mean we can celebrate twice?"
"Twice the cake! I like the way you think."
"Daniel, you forget something?" Jack draped himself in the doorway of the office.
"Hmm?" Daniel answered without taking his eyes off his computer screen.
"Dinner? Team? Birthday?" He walked into the room.
"Oh," Daniel finally looked up. "But it isn't. My birthday, I mean."
Jack looked at his watch. "July 8th. Pretty sure it is."
Daniel began shuffling through the files on his desk. "I had to go....somewhere to fill out....something and this woman gave me this. To help me fill out the papers." He finally found what he was looking for. "See," he waved a piece of paper in Jack's face.
Jack finally grasped the fluttering paper. "What's this?"
"A copy of some stuff from my old file. This says my birthday is July 28, not today."
Jack frowned. "Oh for...they got it all wrong. Even the year is wrong!"
"But it's an official document. How could they get that wrong?" Daniel seemed clearly puzzled.
"Come on," Jack snagged his jacket sleeve. "On the way to dinner, I'll let Carter explain the mysteries of government bureaucracy. Or try to."
"Okay," Daniel let Jack tow him out the door. "Hey, does this mean we can celebrate twice?"
"Twice the cake! I like the way you think."
