Woe!
There's this one scene in the SG-1 fic that just won't come together for me. (Sorry, aella_irene. I really am going to have something for you to beta soon.) It just underscores for me that I can't write action. Not even minor, sneaking off the crazy religious zealot-occupied planet in the dead of night, mini-action. Bah.
Anyway, I'm continuing to work on it. And, in the meantime, here's
From Mysteries...
They go back to Camelot after their searches on Castiana and Vagonbrei turn up nothing. Well, Vagonbrei turned up fire-breathing dragons, and lots of them, but not the Holy Grail or anything else that might help them fight the Ori.
It’s midsummer on both Earth and Camelot, a coincidence Mitchell probably wouldn’t have noticed if Jackson hadn’t pointed it out.
“In medieval England, there were bonfire festivals on Midsummer’s Eve…” Jackson is babbling vaguely, but Mitchell isn’t in much of a mood to shut him up.
“Uh huh.”
“I wonder if they observe it similarly here-“ Jackson trails off.
It’s near sunset and the hills above the village are on fire.
“Wicked,” says Lieutenant O’Malley, from behind them, stopping to admire the view. “Looks like Kegger Flats after a football game back home.”
“I doubt it’s quite the same thing,” Jackson says, and Sam shakes her head at him.
It’s exactly the same thing.
Mitchell has to stifle a laugh when they reach the foot of the first hill. He can hear loud music and drunken laughter, and the scent of stale beer and smoke is on the air.
“I’m with O’Malley on this one, Jackson. This is a kegger.”
Teal’c gives them all an inscrutable look, like he wants to ask what a ‘kegger’ is but thinks it’s something he ought to know after all this time.
“Don’t worry, Teal’c.” Mitchells slaps him on one broad shoulder. “When we get back, I’ll take you to a Vols game and show you how a real kegger is done.”
“I would appreciate that, Colonel Mitchell,” he says seriously, but there’s the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “However, I am more a follower of the Oregon team myself.”
“Any particular reason?”
He considers moment, then says, “I find their uniforms especially pleasing.”
“Well, we’ll just have to hit both Knoxville and Eugene come September, then.”
“Agreed.”
“Why don’t you guys just go to a game at the Academy?” Sam pipes up.
“Maybe because we want to go see a team that will actually win?”
She smacks in him in the back of the head.
“Ow!” he says, even though it doesn’t hurt in the slightest.
Anyway, I'm continuing to work on it. And, in the meantime, here's
From Mysteries...
They go back to Camelot after their searches on Castiana and Vagonbrei turn up nothing. Well, Vagonbrei turned up fire-breathing dragons, and lots of them, but not the Holy Grail or anything else that might help them fight the Ori.
It’s midsummer on both Earth and Camelot, a coincidence Mitchell probably wouldn’t have noticed if Jackson hadn’t pointed it out.
“In medieval England, there were bonfire festivals on Midsummer’s Eve…” Jackson is babbling vaguely, but Mitchell isn’t in much of a mood to shut him up.
“Uh huh.”
“I wonder if they observe it similarly here-“ Jackson trails off.
It’s near sunset and the hills above the village are on fire.
“Wicked,” says Lieutenant O’Malley, from behind them, stopping to admire the view. “Looks like Kegger Flats after a football game back home.”
“I doubt it’s quite the same thing,” Jackson says, and Sam shakes her head at him.
It’s exactly the same thing.
Mitchell has to stifle a laugh when they reach the foot of the first hill. He can hear loud music and drunken laughter, and the scent of stale beer and smoke is on the air.
“I’m with O’Malley on this one, Jackson. This is a kegger.”
Teal’c gives them all an inscrutable look, like he wants to ask what a ‘kegger’ is but thinks it’s something he ought to know after all this time.
“Don’t worry, Teal’c.” Mitchells slaps him on one broad shoulder. “When we get back, I’ll take you to a Vols game and show you how a real kegger is done.”
“I would appreciate that, Colonel Mitchell,” he says seriously, but there’s the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “However, I am more a follower of the Oregon team myself.”
“Any particular reason?”
He considers moment, then says, “I find their uniforms especially pleasing.”
“Well, we’ll just have to hit both Knoxville and Eugene come September, then.”
“Agreed.”
“Why don’t you guys just go to a game at the Academy?” Sam pipes up.
“Maybe because we want to go see a team that will actually win?”
She smacks in him in the back of the head.
“Ow!” he says, even though it doesn’t hurt in the slightest.