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jennickelsSo, our last challenge for phase 7 at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
stargateland (*sniffles*) is to write a Mary Sue story. Funny, but I put this challenge on my list of things to do at writerverse way back in December, I think. Great minds think alike.
Of course all we needed was 100 words. But this is me so I ended up with 1000 words. The story just kind of took off and I went with it. Actually I wanted to keep writing more but cut myself off. It's a "younger" version of me, before kids and all the crazy that is my current life. But it's me under there somewhere. Although I'm not very Mary Sue-ish. But whatever.
This was fun to write.
Not What I Planned
by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
Stargate SG-1
marysue!me
1007 words
rating: PG
WARNINGS: purposefully Mary Sue
Last thing I remember is standing in line at the grocery store. And then I wasn't. Instead I found myself staring out a window looking down on Earth surrounded by a bunch of strangers.
don't own... wish I did, but I don't. No infringement intended.
I'm not sure why I'm here. It's not like I have any fantastic skill or talent. I'm just... me. But I'm here now. Last thing I remember is standing in line at the grocery store. And then I wasn't. Instead I found myself staring out a window looking down on Earth surrounded by a bunch of strangers.
That was a few months ago. Earth's gone now. I'm still kind of surprised I'm not more effected by that. But the things I've seen, the things I've done, since then kind of eclipse it.
They're called the Asgard. These little gray aliens right out of the tabloids. They are the ones that saved us, beamed us up just like a sci-fi movie. They got as many people off the planet as they could before...
I try not to think about that. What happened to Earth. Damn asteroids. But we're here now, on another planet somewhere across the galaxy. It looks so much like Earth I sometimes forget it's not. But we're not alone. The survivors are bunched together in loose communities along with native people. Native to an alien planet. Or does that make us the aliens?
They look human, too. In fact, I think they are human, taken from Earth millennia ago. At least that's what I heard.
Besides us and the natives there is the military. Our military. I mean from the US. Air Force and Marines. And they seem to know what they're doing which calms everyone most of the time. The leader is a colonel. He's an older guy, in his 40s with these soulful brown eyes and a sarcastic wit. I try not to giggle when he's around but the things he says... I just can't help it. I always get a raised eyebrow and then his eyes slide over to his second in command, a major with a blond bob and pretty smile. She does her best to bite back a grin but I can tell she wants to giggle just as much as me whenever the colonel opens his mouth.
The "public relations liaison" is an archeologist named Daniel. He's this really sweet guy who goes around making sure us survivors have what we need and takes our complaints to the colonel. Apparently he's been working for the military for awhile because the few times we've needed back-up he's been right in the thick of things. He even saved my life once.
That was the first time I went through the Stargate. Travel to other planets via wormholes—who would have thought. I try to avoid it if I can. It's an off-putting feeling, makes you queasy and disoriented. And the planets we go to... well, they aren't all as welcoming as the one we're living on. But sometimes I have to go help gather supplies or food or whatever. That's when Daniel saved my life. Which was probably entirely my fault since I wasn't looking where I was going. But he saved me and never blinked an eye, told me to forget about it. Like I could.
Life isn't always easy. And there's always the background sadness of having lost our entire planet, our family and friends but we've started to make a life for ourselves here. A community bonded together by our loss.
It's warm on this planet, apparently summer time, so after dinner I like to wander around camp. Of course, I sometimes catch glimpses of things I probably shouldn't. Like a bunch of Marines playing cards in the woods. The still built back behind some of the storage buildings that I think a couple scientists run. The sort of black market that's sprung up in the kitchen of the mess hall, exchanging goods for the few precious treats we have—mostly reminders of home like chocolate chips and Oreo cookies.
And I definitely shouldn't have seen what I came upon last night. Out by the lake, under the stars and the full moon. At first I didn't realize who I was looking at. And then I heard the laugh and a snarky remark and I knew. There sitting on a rock looking over the placid water—Colonel O'Neill and his second, Major Carter. And they looked... happy. They looked at ease in each other's arms, whispering nothings to each other.
I stood and watched for a long time before I slipped back into the darkness of the forest. I only have an inkling of military protocol and I'm pretty sure fraternization is against the rules but the way they held each other brings such a feeling of warmth and contentment that I wouldn't think of snitching on them.
Besides, who would I tell. O'Neill is in charge here. If he wants to kiss his second in command in the moonlight who am I to argue.
I giggle when I think of that. Then sigh because it's so romantic. I head back to my bunk and pull the tattered notebook from under my bed. It was in my backpack when I was beamed up. Back then it held notes from a history class I was taking. Now I just write. About things that have happened to me, things I've seen and heard. Stories about space travel and what I remember from Earth's history.
Someone needs to remember this stuff, I think. And maybe that's why I'm here. I can't do much—I'm not a natural leader, astrophysics is so far over my head it makes me dizzy, I don't know the first thing about farming and have always lacked a green thumb. But I can write. I can tell a story—our story. One to pass down to the next generation.
Which will come. If O'Neill and Carter have any say about it.
This isn't how any of us planned to live our lives but it's what we have now so we all do the best we can.
And so I write. Everything. So it's not forgotten. So we're not forgotten. So Earth is not forgotten.
stargateland (*sniffles*) is to write a Mary Sue story. Funny, but I put this challenge on my list of things to do at writerverse way back in December, I think. Great minds think alike.Of course all we needed was 100 words. But this is me so I ended up with 1000 words. The story just kind of took off and I went with it. Actually I wanted to keep writing more but cut myself off. It's a "younger" version of me, before kids and all the crazy that is my current life. But it's me under there somewhere. Although I'm not very Mary Sue-ish. But whatever.
This was fun to write.
Not What I Planned
by jennickels (aka Jen Connelly)
Stargate SG-1
marysue!me
1007 words
rating: PG
WARNINGS: purposefully Mary Sue
Last thing I remember is standing in line at the grocery store. And then I wasn't. Instead I found myself staring out a window looking down on Earth surrounded by a bunch of strangers.
don't own... wish I did, but I don't. No infringement intended.
I'm not sure why I'm here. It's not like I have any fantastic skill or talent. I'm just... me. But I'm here now. Last thing I remember is standing in line at the grocery store. And then I wasn't. Instead I found myself staring out a window looking down on Earth surrounded by a bunch of strangers.
That was a few months ago. Earth's gone now. I'm still kind of surprised I'm not more effected by that. But the things I've seen, the things I've done, since then kind of eclipse it.
They're called the Asgard. These little gray aliens right out of the tabloids. They are the ones that saved us, beamed us up just like a sci-fi movie. They got as many people off the planet as they could before...
I try not to think about that. What happened to Earth. Damn asteroids. But we're here now, on another planet somewhere across the galaxy. It looks so much like Earth I sometimes forget it's not. But we're not alone. The survivors are bunched together in loose communities along with native people. Native to an alien planet. Or does that make us the aliens?
They look human, too. In fact, I think they are human, taken from Earth millennia ago. At least that's what I heard.
Besides us and the natives there is the military. Our military. I mean from the US. Air Force and Marines. And they seem to know what they're doing which calms everyone most of the time. The leader is a colonel. He's an older guy, in his 40s with these soulful brown eyes and a sarcastic wit. I try not to giggle when he's around but the things he says... I just can't help it. I always get a raised eyebrow and then his eyes slide over to his second in command, a major with a blond bob and pretty smile. She does her best to bite back a grin but I can tell she wants to giggle just as much as me whenever the colonel opens his mouth.
The "public relations liaison" is an archeologist named Daniel. He's this really sweet guy who goes around making sure us survivors have what we need and takes our complaints to the colonel. Apparently he's been working for the military for awhile because the few times we've needed back-up he's been right in the thick of things. He even saved my life once.
That was the first time I went through the Stargate. Travel to other planets via wormholes—who would have thought. I try to avoid it if I can. It's an off-putting feeling, makes you queasy and disoriented. And the planets we go to... well, they aren't all as welcoming as the one we're living on. But sometimes I have to go help gather supplies or food or whatever. That's when Daniel saved my life. Which was probably entirely my fault since I wasn't looking where I was going. But he saved me and never blinked an eye, told me to forget about it. Like I could.
Life isn't always easy. And there's always the background sadness of having lost our entire planet, our family and friends but we've started to make a life for ourselves here. A community bonded together by our loss.
It's warm on this planet, apparently summer time, so after dinner I like to wander around camp. Of course, I sometimes catch glimpses of things I probably shouldn't. Like a bunch of Marines playing cards in the woods. The still built back behind some of the storage buildings that I think a couple scientists run. The sort of black market that's sprung up in the kitchen of the mess hall, exchanging goods for the few precious treats we have—mostly reminders of home like chocolate chips and Oreo cookies.
And I definitely shouldn't have seen what I came upon last night. Out by the lake, under the stars and the full moon. At first I didn't realize who I was looking at. And then I heard the laugh and a snarky remark and I knew. There sitting on a rock looking over the placid water—Colonel O'Neill and his second, Major Carter. And they looked... happy. They looked at ease in each other's arms, whispering nothings to each other.
I stood and watched for a long time before I slipped back into the darkness of the forest. I only have an inkling of military protocol and I'm pretty sure fraternization is against the rules but the way they held each other brings such a feeling of warmth and contentment that I wouldn't think of snitching on them.
Besides, who would I tell. O'Neill is in charge here. If he wants to kiss his second in command in the moonlight who am I to argue.
I giggle when I think of that. Then sigh because it's so romantic. I head back to my bunk and pull the tattered notebook from under my bed. It was in my backpack when I was beamed up. Back then it held notes from a history class I was taking. Now I just write. About things that have happened to me, things I've seen and heard. Stories about space travel and what I remember from Earth's history.
Someone needs to remember this stuff, I think. And maybe that's why I'm here. I can't do much—I'm not a natural leader, astrophysics is so far over my head it makes me dizzy, I don't know the first thing about farming and have always lacked a green thumb. But I can write. I can tell a story—our story. One to pass down to the next generation.
Which will come. If O'Neill and Carter have any say about it.
This isn't how any of us planned to live our lives but it's what we have now so we all do the best we can.
And so I write. Everything. So it's not forgotten. So we're not forgotten. So Earth is not forgotten.
