mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,

The Preventers

Friday: There was no Stargate at all this weekend, sniff. Sat up chatting about trivia and deep shit with Bro, watched Silent Witness, went to bed.

Saturday. Slept in very late - guess I was overtired. Found abode deserted. Decided oh goody, vid fest. Had not even made it to the "Mrs Peel, we're needed" tag before I was no longer alone. Not that I minded. Seriously busy Bro abandoned projects to indulge in The Avengers, The Champions, Captain Scarlet and, not really fitting in but he'd not seen it yet, Firefly, while we finished off our Xmas choccies - it being cool enough to actually risk dragging them from the fridge. Funnily enough we rarely do this as sitting down to watch tv together usually entails one or both of us being dragged off to turn on taps, get tins down from the top shelf, open jars, change light bulbs, etc etc. Not today, though, so it was rather special.

Special is what I'd describe my viewing, too. Winged Avenger was a treat and we followed it up with a Champions were some government had invented supermen who spent the whole episode poncing about in white tights that left nothing to the imagination. Much squeals for the gay DoP to tilt the camera up for the love of all that was decent. Note to self: must show this to Best Friend. The episode also featured a cameo by the Brig, to many cheers. Ah, my Nicholas Courtney collection is coming along splendidly.

Watched a few Scarlets with the Mysterons, all powerful beings that they are, engaging in a series of minor acts of sabotage. All rather passe really. Love the pilot episode where the unfortunately named Capt. Brown starts smoking inside a government building (horrors! and nice security check, btw) and does anyone else find it creepy that the real Capt. Scarlet is mouldering away under a bush somewhere. I mean I know Blue is glad to have his buddy back n all, but it's only a copy. Seriously creepy. We loved the evil models episode. They're evil supermodels, and oh yeah, they're Mysterons too. We started giggling and wondered if alleged terrorists, who seem to be using CS as a primer, had infiltrated the fashion world like the Mysterons had, because it would certainly explain a few things. Giggle.

Sunday also featured an almost noon rising, guess I really was tired, and as I felt all grumpy, clumsy, puffy and tender, I decided to stay put on the couch and read the papers with endless cups of good coffee and the remainder of the biscotti we'd ripped into the day before, only shifting when it was absolutely necessary. Lovely, and as usual I picked up quite a few ideas and inspiration from some of the articles. Ended up watching a dreadful movie because it has a few favoured familiar faces in supporting spots, but even it gave me a few ideas to kick one story along, yay. For a weekend spend rather indolently it was quite productive in a way. Guess I do need a quiet moment to myself to write afterall.

The following bit of SNAFU fic is not suitable for children or persons of a nervous disposition:

    "Whatcha doin'?" Jack asked, settling beside Daniel outside their little daub hut, under the makeshift shade Jack had built, having tied a stretched skin from the top of the hunt and tent-pegging it to the ground, just to give them somewhere cool to sit outside the oftentimes cloying confines of their tiny adobe abode.

    Daniel was lying back, using his pack for a pillow, just gazing out into the darkness above them.

    "Watching the stars," Daniel answered quietly, indicating the patch of sky from where their cover ended and the tops of the enclosure and the trees beyond blocked his view.

    "Think they might send a ship to come get us?"

    Daniel turned his head slightly and gave Jack the look of a child that does not yet wish to be told the truth about Santa Claus.

    "Yeah, they might," Jack reassured. "They have before."

    He settled down beside Daniel, scouting the skies for the evidence of something bigger and meaner coming in, because sometimes, most times, the Goa'uld had a better idea of where they were and what they were up to than their own people did. Jack knew he should really have that talk with Hammond again about seeding the skies with their own spy network. Jack was never happy with having to make decisions based on second hand intelligence from alleged allies with their own agendas to push. He'd rather have his own people out there. It made good strategic sense. Maybe, in time, they could help sow the seeds of their own, human, resistance. It was a grand plan, a workable plan. Too bad it looked like he was never going to be able to get back to put it into action.

  • Deleted Scene from "Waiting in the Wings"
  • Cyc fic

  • KET fic

  • Cold Feet
  • Ioan Gruffudd: Sunday Magazine, Sunday Telegraph 12 Jan 2003 Australia
  • Blonde Power: Its Siren Call

  • Stars pay tribute to Adam Faith

  • The great-escapism: Spring movies take audiences anywhere but here

  • Ready to Bloom
  • Orlando Bloom: Sunday Metro, Sun Herald, 9 March 2003 Australia
  • Orlando Bloom: Sunday Magazine, Sunday Telegraph, 16 December 2002 Australia

  • Stop clapping, this is serious

  • Masochism Tango (music by Tom Lehrer) 6 MB

  • Farscape
  • The following bit of fic is not suitable for children or persons of a nervous disposition:

      They were nearly back to their own village, rival tribesmen, killer plants and giant spiders left well behind, when the jungle crashed aside with a sudden terrible tearing and snorting. It sounded like a dozen enormous wild board gearing up to charge and Jack didn't want to know what was louder, heavier and more vicious than a wild boar, but he knew he was about to find out. His guides had taken off in terror, rabbit running through the twisted undergrowth and Jack wasn't about to argue, breaking into a sprint behind them, as the terrible thing behind him put its head down and started charging.

      Jack would remember the heavy thump, thump, thump of the thing hitting the ground like a giant heartbeat behind him in his nightmares for the rest of his life as it tried to run him down. His merry little band had bolted down holes like Alice or fled up trees, leaving Jack running for his life out in the open, with that thing pounding and crashing behind him, closer and closer until one of the older boys had reached down like an acrobat on the trapeze and hooked Jack back up into the tree tops. Both of them scrambled up, the boy forcing Jack up higher and faster with desperate and insistent pushes until they clung in the thin swaying topmost branches just above the canopy and that's when Jack saw what had made those terrible footfalls. It trotted right up to their tree, looked up at them and glared, gave a sniff and snort in derision then sloped off again in a huff, giving them up as too difficult when there were easier, smaller prey about.

      Now Jack knew what those big wooden gates were all about. They weren't for King Kong, they were for Godzilla. As his arm dripped bright red blood down onto the oily green leaves beneath them Jack knew exactly how the creature had picked up their trail, too. Only Jack hadn't been as injured as it had hoped. As much as Jack felt like his heart was about to burst there was still no coming down from the trees for at least an hour or two until they were sure it had passed. Jack's legs were like jelly as he tried to climb down, and he was annoyed with himself and his own weakness before he decided to allow himself the excuse that he'd never been nearly eaten by a dinosaur before.

      Daniel had always wondered why some of the mega fauna and flora extinct on earth hadn't shown up on planets with less agrarian populations, as the Goa'uld had imported the plants and beasts as well as the people in their terraforming efforts.

      Guess Daniel had his answer now, though Jack suspected maybe this wildlife was indigenous, aside from the whole they've been extinct on earth for millions of years argument. Really, who in their right mind, even a Goa'uld, would want a couple of those running about. It explained at least why the attempt to civilise this place by whatever Aztec/Olmec/whatever styled god had been abandoned. It's no fun building monuments to your greatness when your workers keep getting eaten. It puts back schedules, the little guys start demanding danger pay, it's just no good.

      Guess the Goa'uld's initial survey of the planet had been as crap as the SGC's ones. Though how you could miss a fucker like that, it was beyond Jack.

    Apologies to the gang at j_d who thought I meant them when I was talking about gatekeepers in general, you know, people who are real strict on what can and can't be written according to their law, readers who post nasty feedback, those sort of people (obviously not you). Your discussion just raised all those issues in me because I've had very bad experiences with people like that and quite a few of my friends have never publicly posted again and you have lost some of the most clever, funny, moving and professionally written fic it'd ever be your pleasure to read because of bad behaviour from arbiters of taste like that. So any discussion that starts off with "Slash is..." just sets me right off. I'm sorry, it's bad behaviour on my part but it's just one of my buttons, big time. I won't take back a word I said, but it wasn't meant about you guys, rather your discussion triggered issues I've long been seething over (with other people). Hope that's all cleared up now.



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    • My tweets

      Mon, 16:37: Corella. Turns out I'm having a server day. Mon, 17:11: Corella. Turns out I'm having a server day.…

    • My tweets

      Sun, 17:24: RT @ MoviesSilently: If this hallway doesn't give you the urge to blow up the Earth because it obstructs your view of Venus, I have…

    • My tweets

      Sat, 17:56: RT @ MrTimDunn: Tonight's travel poster: “Service by Night" By David Shepherd for British Railways. A 1955 scene back down King’s…