Best Features
Weird little unbeta'd ficlet that popped into my head earlier today when I was reading this, and came back later when it pointed out how appropriate it was for father's day and would NOT go away and let me get back to Moya until I wrote it down.
~~~
Title: Best Features
Fandom: Voyager
Rating: G
Warnings: AU, Futurefic, Non-canon Sprog.
~~~
Ensign Janeway stared into the mirror and let loose a sigh of frustration and threw up her hands. "That's it! I give up! I can't do anything with this mess! I'm going to shave it off, I swear!" She flopped down on her bed in annoyance.
"I can't imagine where you get your sense of melodrama from, Hope." A wry voice pronounced from somewhere to Hope's left, though she seemed to be alone in her quarters.
"Gee, I wonder" she muttered, utterly unfazed by the disembodied voice. "If I had gotten any say in the matter, I would have gotten your hair and mom's eyes, instead of the other way around."
There was a blinding flash - to which the ensign didn't even blink - and a tall, middle aged man in a Starfleet Admiral's uniform lay gracefully sprawled across her couch. His blue eyes - which were indeed identical to Hope's own - twinkled as he said "Yes, well, you didn't have any say in the matter and I did, and I happen to think my eyes are my best feature." He sniffed thoughtfully as Hope rolled her eyes and went back to attempting to braid her hair. "Besides, I also rather like your mother's hair. Especially the way it smells."
"Doesn't fiddling with the embryo at the genetic level take some of the spontaneity out of reproduction?" Hope tossed over her shoulder. "Isn't it missing the point?"
A particularly wicked smirk spread itself over her father's face. "Why Hope dear," he purred, "if it weren't for 'fiddling' you never could have happened in the first place. You see..."
"No!" Hope said in alarm, standing up. "Thank you, no! I do not need to hear about all the gory details of my conception again! I'm still sorry I asked the first time."
Her father put his hand to his chest in a mockery of offence. "I am wounded, Hope! Here I am, just trying to spend some quality time with my favourite daughter..."
"I'm your only daughter," Hope interrupted. She tuned her chair around to face him, slightly desperate. "Can't you go pester Q for a change?"
He rolled his eyes. "That's where I was before here. He's in some utterly disreputable bar with Icheb and I'm giving him enough time to get into something worth lecturing him about."
"So instead you come here, how thoughtful!" Hope gushed with utter lack of sincerity. "I'm flattered, dad. I'll be sure to add that to my report."
He sat up slightly on the couch and blinked. "Report?"
It was Hope's turn to grin. "Why, didn't you know? Every time you come here, I have to write a report, and file it with Continuum Affairs back at Starfleet HQ."
Her father scowled. "That's an invasion of privacy!"
"Why, not at all, father dear!" Hope said brightly. "I volunteered!"
"I never said it was your privacy I was worried about," he replied darkly. He stood up and gave a sharp tug on his uniform top, a gesture which never failed to cause Hope to smile. "Well, I can't lollygag about here all day," he said archly, "I have important things to do. Don't spend so much time on your hair that you miss the start of shift - again. Tah!" And with a small wave and a burst of light, he left Hope alone in her quarters.
She immediately breathed a sigh of relief and put her head down on the dresser top in front of her. "I wonder if mom ever had days like - wait, that's a silly question, if she hadn't I wouldn't be here, complaining about my hair."
She turned to face the mirror again, and grabbed her hair into a bunch at the back of her head. "Now, up? Or down?"
~~~
A (not so) few words about the character in this fic: Ensign Hope Janeway was born when I was 16 or so, after having seen half of the episode "The Q and the Grey", thus sparking my (continued to this day) love for the idea of J/Q. When I saw the rest of the episode I was naturally disappointed, but went around inventing a terribly angsty was she could come into existence anyway, involving death on Suzie Q's part, a coma on Q's part, and quoting Shakespeare and self sacrifice on the part of little q (who I in a fit of the cutes christened "Quinn") who very much resembled Greg Cox's version of him when he wrote the Q continuum trilogy a few years later. I'd pretty much given up on her by the time I was 19, although after having seen "Q Too" (or whatever the episode with the teenaged Q was called) I saw distinct possibilities for her being possible again, and with a cool elder brother to boot. Thankfully none of this ever actually got down on paper beyond the brainstorming stage.
I had an entire history laid out for Ms Janeway, from Voyager reaching earth and her being introduced to her Aunt and Grandmother at age six, to being admitted to Starfleet academy at age 12, to falling in love with a certain red-haired boy named Rene Howard Picard at 16, to being assigned to the Enterprise F under the command of Captain Thomas Paris, to getting kicked out of Starfleet for causing the death of many, many civilians (including poor Rene) at 20, to ending up on DS9 table dancing at Quarks, before being begged at 26 by (now) Admiral Paris to perform a heroic mission that got her re-instated, and eventually reaching the respectable age of 136, in command of DSSomething-or-other. I'm still not sure if she counts as a Mary Sue or not, given that while she DID have access to Q powers (in addition to being the sprogiest sprog who ever sprog'd), said powers took one hell of a toll on her metabolism, and she would usually push herself until collapsing, at which point she ended up in sickbay, being lectured by the local Doctor who was (depending on the current point in her career) either the Holodoc, Beverly, Bashir, or - another one of my inventions - an Andorian fellow named Akaelbar Ek'Noor (virtual chocolate and shags for life if you recognize where I got his last name). I've decided to not write her entire saga down just to be on the safe side. Besides, I've invented two more sagas since then, and they have their own sets of Sue-y - or in most cases Stu-y - sprogs. However, since they are equal characters in ensembles rather than the stars of their respective sagas, I think I'm much more likely to get away with it.
And now you know far more than you ever cared to about my shameful past.
I will now go back to writing about an entirely different sprog altogether.
Speaking of which:
7,879 / 12,000
(65.0%)
Onward and upward. Happy Father's Day, everyone!
~~~
Title: Best Features
Fandom: Voyager
Rating: G
Warnings: AU, Futurefic, Non-canon Sprog.
~~~
Ensign Janeway stared into the mirror and let loose a sigh of frustration and threw up her hands. "That's it! I give up! I can't do anything with this mess! I'm going to shave it off, I swear!" She flopped down on her bed in annoyance.
"I can't imagine where you get your sense of melodrama from, Hope." A wry voice pronounced from somewhere to Hope's left, though she seemed to be alone in her quarters.
"Gee, I wonder" she muttered, utterly unfazed by the disembodied voice. "If I had gotten any say in the matter, I would have gotten your hair and mom's eyes, instead of the other way around."
There was a blinding flash - to which the ensign didn't even blink - and a tall, middle aged man in a Starfleet Admiral's uniform lay gracefully sprawled across her couch. His blue eyes - which were indeed identical to Hope's own - twinkled as he said "Yes, well, you didn't have any say in the matter and I did, and I happen to think my eyes are my best feature." He sniffed thoughtfully as Hope rolled her eyes and went back to attempting to braid her hair. "Besides, I also rather like your mother's hair. Especially the way it smells."
"Doesn't fiddling with the embryo at the genetic level take some of the spontaneity out of reproduction?" Hope tossed over her shoulder. "Isn't it missing the point?"
A particularly wicked smirk spread itself over her father's face. "Why Hope dear," he purred, "if it weren't for 'fiddling' you never could have happened in the first place. You see..."
"No!" Hope said in alarm, standing up. "Thank you, no! I do not need to hear about all the gory details of my conception again! I'm still sorry I asked the first time."
Her father put his hand to his chest in a mockery of offence. "I am wounded, Hope! Here I am, just trying to spend some quality time with my favourite daughter..."
"I'm your only daughter," Hope interrupted. She tuned her chair around to face him, slightly desperate. "Can't you go pester Q for a change?"
He rolled his eyes. "That's where I was before here. He's in some utterly disreputable bar with Icheb and I'm giving him enough time to get into something worth lecturing him about."
"So instead you come here, how thoughtful!" Hope gushed with utter lack of sincerity. "I'm flattered, dad. I'll be sure to add that to my report."
He sat up slightly on the couch and blinked. "Report?"
It was Hope's turn to grin. "Why, didn't you know? Every time you come here, I have to write a report, and file it with Continuum Affairs back at Starfleet HQ."
Her father scowled. "That's an invasion of privacy!"
"Why, not at all, father dear!" Hope said brightly. "I volunteered!"
"I never said it was your privacy I was worried about," he replied darkly. He stood up and gave a sharp tug on his uniform top, a gesture which never failed to cause Hope to smile. "Well, I can't lollygag about here all day," he said archly, "I have important things to do. Don't spend so much time on your hair that you miss the start of shift - again. Tah!" And with a small wave and a burst of light, he left Hope alone in her quarters.
She immediately breathed a sigh of relief and put her head down on the dresser top in front of her. "I wonder if mom ever had days like - wait, that's a silly question, if she hadn't I wouldn't be here, complaining about my hair."
She turned to face the mirror again, and grabbed her hair into a bunch at the back of her head. "Now, up? Or down?"
~~~
A (not so) few words about the character in this fic: Ensign Hope Janeway was born when I was 16 or so, after having seen half of the episode "The Q and the Grey", thus sparking my (continued to this day) love for the idea of J/Q. When I saw the rest of the episode I was naturally disappointed, but went around inventing a terribly angsty was she could come into existence anyway, involving death on Suzie Q's part, a coma on Q's part, and quoting Shakespeare and self sacrifice on the part of little q (who I in a fit of the cutes christened "Quinn") who very much resembled Greg Cox's version of him when he wrote the Q continuum trilogy a few years later. I'd pretty much given up on her by the time I was 19, although after having seen "Q Too" (or whatever the episode with the teenaged Q was called) I saw distinct possibilities for her being possible again, and with a cool elder brother to boot. Thankfully none of this ever actually got down on paper beyond the brainstorming stage.
I had an entire history laid out for Ms Janeway, from Voyager reaching earth and her being introduced to her Aunt and Grandmother at age six, to being admitted to Starfleet academy at age 12, to falling in love with a certain red-haired boy named Rene Howard Picard at 16, to being assigned to the Enterprise F under the command of Captain Thomas Paris, to getting kicked out of Starfleet for causing the death of many, many civilians (including poor Rene) at 20, to ending up on DS9 table dancing at Quarks, before being begged at 26 by (now) Admiral Paris to perform a heroic mission that got her re-instated, and eventually reaching the respectable age of 136, in command of DSSomething-or-other. I'm still not sure if she counts as a Mary Sue or not, given that while she DID have access to Q powers (in addition to being the sprogiest sprog who ever sprog'd), said powers took one hell of a toll on her metabolism, and she would usually push herself until collapsing, at which point she ended up in sickbay, being lectured by the local Doctor who was (depending on the current point in her career) either the Holodoc, Beverly, Bashir, or - another one of my inventions - an Andorian fellow named Akaelbar Ek'Noor (virtual chocolate and shags for life if you recognize where I got his last name). I've decided to not write her entire saga down just to be on the safe side. Besides, I've invented two more sagas since then, and they have their own sets of Sue-y - or in most cases Stu-y - sprogs. However, since they are equal characters in ensembles rather than the stars of their respective sagas, I think I'm much more likely to get away with it.
And now you know far more than you ever cared to about my shameful past.
I will now go back to writing about an entirely different sprog altogether.
Speaking of which:
7,879 / 12,000
(65.0%)
Onward and upward. Happy Father's Day, everyone!