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Archivist's Note: DT Maxwell is the author of the Stargate Official Fanfiction University, and creator of the mini-Mastadge, currently the mini of the Stargate film. The story originally appeared here, but was deleted from the Pit not once, but twice in 2005. The archivist was able to get in contact with DT Maxwell, who had fortunately saved the original copies of the story, and was gracious enough to share them for posterity. The LiveJournal account mentioned in chapter five's author note is still available.

Very minor technical edits have been made. The original story had paragraphs beginning with indents; for ease of reading, these were not recreated here. The story is roughly PG, owing to the usual learning through pain present at any OFU.

The following story was written by DT Maxwell. Stargate belongs to Dean Devlin and Roland Emmerich. Mentions of the Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth and mini-Balrogs belong to Miss Cam, while the Balrog concept belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien.

chapter one

The Stargate Official Fanfiction University

Yes, it's ANOTHER spin-off of the famous Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth (OFUM) by Camilla Sandman (better known as Miss Cam). Cam-sensei-sama herself gave permission for this spin-off, so yes, it's definitely official.

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate SG-1 or anything associated with it. That all belongs to MGM and SciFi Channel and everything else. The mini-Mastadge are mine, though. I do not own the mini-Balrogs, but the mini Elassar is mine by adoption, so get your own! The UnCanon Staff are copyrighted to themselves, except for Miss Kiana and the Mastadge Caretakers, as are the students, save for Diana and Joyce.

Notes: If you catch a misspelling of any character, planet, technology, et al in any fic you come across, send an e-mail my way about it.

Enjoy the show!


Diana Spencer was quietly typing up a Jack/Sam fanfic to be posted on FanFiction.Net, gleefully reveling in the holy ‘shipper-goodness, when something hit her on top the top of her head. Looking up, the brunette blinked in surprise.

What looked like half a fishing line hung from a wormhole—a wormhole?—in midair, and hanging from the hook was a plushie of what looked a lot like Jonas Quinn, holding a large packet of what eerily reminded her of those damn college applications. A note pinned to the plushie's jacket read, "Please thoroughly fill out and read these forms. When finished, hang the forms from the plushie's foot and tug the line twice."

The author blinked. "I've been staying up too late," she muttered under her breath. Shrugging, Diana took the forms and raised one eyebrow as she read the first page.

The Stargate Official Fanfiction University

Congratulations, Diana Spencer! You have been accepted at the Stargate Official Fanfiction University. You will attend classes that will help you write better fanfiction for the SG fandom, including correct characterization, the probability and improbability of pairings, and more.

At the completion of the year, if you have passed all your classes, and of course managed to remain alive, you will receive a license to write
Stargate fanfiction. If you do not pass, however, you will not receive your license and will be prohibited from writing Stargate fanfics for eternity or until the Apocalypse, which ever comes last.

Please fully fill out the application below and read and sign the attached documents.

Thank you,

Miss D
SGOFU Course Coordinator and Dean of Students

And as promised, there was a form just below, and it was one of the strangest applications Diana had ever seen. She blinked. And blinked again. With another shrug, Diana began to fill them out, thinking this was one of the most realistic hallucinations she’d ever had.

Name: Diana Spencer
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Human
If Goa’uld or Tok’ra, please specify if you are the host or the symbiote, and the name of your host/symbiote: Not applicable
Planet of Origin (please do not use planets not mentioned in the series): Earth
What are you familiar with?
_ Stargate the movie    X Stargate SG-1    _ Both    _ Neither
Lust Object, if any: Jack O’Neill
Hate Object, if any: None.
Preferred Pairing: Jack/Sam
Have you ever written slash?: No.

Done with that, the author flipped the pages of the forms, signing where necessary and not a little undisturbed. These were the oddest questions she’d ever had… Next of kin? Cremation or internment? If the latter, what type of coffin? What kind of flowers preferred at the funeral? Lawyer to contact about reading the will? Oh, this had better be a dream…

Shaking her head, Diana hung the large packet from the Jonas-plushie’s foot, reached up, and tugged the fishing line twice. However, before she could let go, she and the plushie, forms and everything, were tugged through the shimmering blue wormhole.

And then she was flying through the air, and freezing. She heard a very familiar voice call out, “Got another one!” before passing out.

Diana was thrown onto an ever-growing pile of knocked out would-be authors on some type of sled. And next to said pile, sitting in front of the mini-wormhole—now closed and revealed to be something like a small Stargate—and in full fishing gear, was Colonel Jack O’Neill, grinning smugly. “Now this is payback,” he crowed.

“Just wait until classes start next week,” Samantha Carter said, taking the registration forms still attached to the Jonas plushie. She made a face as she read it over. “Another author who wants to see us together.” With a sigh, the major put the mass of forms in a plastic bag and placed it in a pack on what looked like a shrunken version of a Mastadge, except more… vicious looking. The mini-Mastadge grunted before trotting off in the direction of a large building.

Jack looked over his shoulder and grinned at his second-in-command. “But I bet you’re happy that she isn’t one of the folks who like to see me with Daniel.” Sam didn’t even bother to answer that—it was the safest thing to do in this case.

And in speaking of everyone’s favorite archaeologist, Daniel walked up to the Air Force officers with a clipboard in hand. “How many did you catch?” he asked once he was close enough to be heard.

The colonel turned and did a quick count. “We’ve got twenty-eight.”

“That’s probably enough,” Jackson said as he wrote something on his clipboard. “Miss D wants you and your catches at the main building. It’s almost time for orientation.”

Before either O’Neill or Carter could ask how they would get the new ‘students’ to the university’s main building, four mini-Mastadge trotted up and somehow managed to get themselves into the sled’s harnesses. As soon as that was done, the minis trotted off in the direction of SGOFU’s main building.

Rolling his eyes, Jack gathered up his gear while Sam and Daniel lugged the mini-Stargate and its equally small DHD into their cases and put them on another sled. Another pair of mini-Mastadge came up and wiggled into the traces, trotting off at a brisk pace, followed closely by the three humans.

School is in session.


As mentioned, here is the application (again) for SGOFU.

If Goa’uld or Tok’ra, please specify if you are the host or the symbiote, and the name of your host/symbiote:
Planet of Origin (please do not use planets not mentioned in the series):
What are you familiar with?
_ Stargate the movie    _ Stargate SG-1    _ Both    _ Neither
Lust Object, if any:
Hate Object, if any:
Preferred Pairing:
Have you ever written slash?:

Please e-mail this form to me (address can be found on my profile page). Do NOT leave your application in a review! It is a violation of ff.net’s rule of interaction fics. I’m not reposting this sucker again after someone’s reported it for “rule breaking.”

And again, if you see any misspelled names for anything (characters, planets, technology, etc.) contact me!

chapter two

The Stargate Official Fanfiction University

I do not own Stargate SG-1 or anything associated with it. That all belongs to MGM and SciFi Channel and everything else. The mini-Mastadge are mine, though. I do not own the mini-Balrogs, but the mini Elassar is mine by adoption, so get your own! The UnCanon Staff are copyrighted to themselves, except for Miss Kiana and the Mastadge Caretakers, as are the students, save for Diana and Joyce.

And again, this is a Miss Cam-authorized spin-off of The Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth.

If you see any misspelled or otherwise butchered names of canon characters anywhere, do let me know.

Enjoy the show!


Diana woke up with a groan. "What the hell happened?" she muttered, clutching her aching head. She took note she was sitting up in a chair—one of those really uncomfortable ones you find in auditoriums and the like—and looked around her.

She was in a very large hall with rows of seats gradually slanting downwards to the main floor, on which a stage was located. Her mouth dropped open in shock – the chairs placed on the stage were full of the people from Stargate! There was the colonel, General Hammond, various members of countless races and other planets, but there were a few people Diana was sure hadn't been in the show—who was that brown-haired lady in the black trench coat chatting with Daniel? And what the hell was going on?

Shaking her head, Diana also noticed that other people of varying ages—mostly females—were also in the hall, and most were waking up like they had been knocked out themselves. It finally hit her—she had been stupid enough to sign up for one of those official fanfiction universities she'd heard rumors about. Damn…

The assembled students suddenly quieted when Major General Jacob Carter approached the podium in the very center of the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "let me be the first to welcome you to the Stargate Official Fanfiction University. Hopefully you enjoyed your 'trip.'" Many of the students grumbled and rubbed their heads, while Jack O'Neill grinned.

"As you will have read in your application, this university was founded on the basis of creating believable, well-written fanfiction. Upon your graduation you will receive a license for writing SG-based fanfics, and you will be free to return for another year, of course.

"In the mean time, your course coordinator will be making a few announcements and laying out the rules. Miss D?"

The young woman in the black trench coat stood up and strolled toward the podium, her eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. She nodded to Jacob when he resumed his seat, then turned to the crowd.

The smile she gave to them was so full of malice that a demon would have run away screaming. The assembled students gulped.

"Welcome to SGOFU," she said. "I am Miss D, your course coordinator and the Dean of Students." She pointedly ignored the whimpers that elicited. "Any complaints about your schedules or the university itself shall be given to me. The university's headmaster is General Carter; assistant headmaster is General Hammond; and head of staff is Colonel O'Neill, believe it or not.

"I would like to point out that the university is not in Cheyenne Mountain." Many groaned, but were silenced by the glare Miss D gave the crowd over her glasses. "I wouldn't trust any of you near a military facility even my life depended on it. And as a matter of fact, we aren't even on Earth. The Asgard graciously transported many of the supplies and yourselves here by ship—this planet does not have a Stargate, so don't even think about trying to get away.

"Second, like all fanfiction universities, we have minis. In this case, the mini-Mastadge. No, they do not smell as bad as their real-sized counterparts. Yes, they will hurt anyone who tries to stampede and/or tackle any of the Canon Staff Members. No, they cannot be bribed—their favorite meal is the flesh of still-screaming fangirls and fanboys. And yes, you will be punished if you create a new mini.

"Third, no stampeding. This will lead to pain—in more ways than one. The mini-Mastadge can be very creative if they want to be.

"Fourth, no trying to sneak into the staff section. We have a Goa'uld force shield in the only entrance to the wing. Running into it will cause yet more pain. Not that we care; we'll probably end up arguing over who had the most interesting splatter patterns.” The rest of the Staff snickered.

"Fifth, some of you will notice that you have on a Tollan device. Yes, it is the one that specifies if the Goa'uld or the host is in control of the body. We call them Goa'uld-Host Body Control Identifiers, or GHBCI's for short. Just a reminder—blue is the host talking, red is the Goa'uld. And no, the Enrollment Office does not care if you put down Goa'uld for your race as a joke. Your first lesson is that the EO does not have a sense of humor.

"Finally, don't piss off any of the Canon or UnCanon Staff. We've learned quite a few things from the System Lords," Miss D finished, smirking all the while. Everyone with half a brain gulped. Smirking staff members meant very bad things, either physical or mental pain on the students' parts.

"Now for announcements. The library will not be complete for about two weeks, since many of the staff is busy translating far too many of the records we've received into English. In the mean time, our Head of Archives says that students may do their work in the library, so long as you keep your mouths shut and not get into fights over which character is best.

"Dr. Fraiser wanted me to let you know that over the course of the next month or so, each of you will be given physical exams. And for you males, get your minds out of the gutter before I remove them for you." The guys in the crowd all cowered down in their seats.

"Housing says the dorms aren't quite completed just yet. Until next Thursday, you'll be living without heat, running water, or even electricity. Have fun.

"Speaking of dorms, they're co-ed. Deal with it.

"The mini-Mastadge caretakers are planning a Mini-Mastadge Kickball Tournament come spring. The first person to get charged by a mini gets to be the ball for the championship game. Students will be chosen at random to be balls for the other games."

Miss D glanced down at her notes before looking back up. "That will be all for now. Announcements are posted on the bulletin board in the entrance hall of the main dormitory and on the one in the dining hall. Classes will begin next Monday, but you will receive your books tomorrow. Lunch will be served in about forty-five minutes—you can find the dining hall by referring to the map of the university campus outside the auditorium. Now scram!"

The students scrambled out of their seats and made a beeline for the exit, chattering all the while. "Why do I get the feeling we're all very doomed?" Diana said aloud to nobody in particular.

"Because we are," someone replied. Another girl, about her own age turned and held out her hand to Diana. "I'm Joyce. My sister attended OFUM. Trust me, we are in for hell."

Diana shook Joyce's hand. "I'm Diana. And what's OFUM?"

"It stands for the Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth, for The Lord of the Rings fandom," Joyce replied. "Most of the other OFUs are aligned with OFUM, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was a mini-Balrog running around…"


"Something like the mini-Mastadge here at SGOFU. Very scary. They like bacon, raw eggs and fangirls, or so Nina told me."

Diana shuddered. "Can’t be as bad as enjoying fresh human meat."

"I doubt that," her new friend said grimly. "Now come on, let's see if we can find the dining hall."

On the stage, the student's course coordinator was grinning wickedly. “Ah, the plans I have for the students,” she said, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “I’ve got a whole list of what to do for kids in detention.”

Ra looked faintly amused. "You should have been a Goa'uld," the Supreme System Lord said.

Miss D actually adopted a thoughtful look. “Hm, galactic domination… Sounds promising, but I’ll stay small for the time being. Now, I think we have some last minute details to go over concerning the booklists...”

And as the last of the students left the auditorium, they could have sworn a very large snicker had come from the gathered staff members as they went out a back exit.

Let the fun begin.


And so ends chapter two. Applications should be e-mailed to me.

Again, if you see any misspelled or otherwise butchered names of canon characters anywhere, do let me know.

chapter three

The Stargate Official Fanfiction University

I do not own Stargate SG-1 or anything associated with it. That all belongs to MGM and SciFi Channel and everything else. The mini-Mastadge are mine, though. I do not own the mini-Balrogs, but the mini Elassar is mine by adoption, so get your own! The UnCanon Staff are copyrighted to themselves, except for Miss Kiana and the Mastadge Caretakers, as are the students, save for Diana and Joyce.

And again, this is a Miss Cam-authorized spin-off of The Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth.

If you see any misspelled or otherwise butchered names of canon characters anywhere, do let me know.

I am still accepting applications for SGOFU.

Enjoy the show!


Orientation Week at SGOFU had been the singular most terrifying experience she had ever gone through, Diana thought sourly as she entered the dining hall for breakfast.

The rest of the student body would no doubt whole-heartedly agree.

The only good thing going for them was the food. Every morning, noon, and night steaming hot meals awaited the poor students. Not only was there stuff from Earth (the hot dogs and pizza vanished quickly), but from around the galaxy as well—the staff called it “cultural immersion.” The students called it “cruel and unusual punishment.” The stuff from Tollana was brimming with vitamins and, by the laws of the natural world, tasted horrible.

But there’s a downside to everything, and the food servers and cooks were just that. Not only where they the University cooks, they were security as well: the Java Enforcers. Sca-a-a-ry, especially in their variations of the Jaffa guards of the System Lords. (Diana personally thought they looked cool, with their ram-headed helmet-masks representing Khnum, an Egyptian god of agriculture. The Tok’ra Khnum simply found it all hysterically amusing.) The only thing everyone could agree about on the cooks/guards: they put the employees at Starbucks to shame when it came to making drinks with a liberal amount of caffeine.

Diana grabbed a cup of the JE’s home-grown-and-grounded vanilla-bean coffee and added some cream. Taking a tray with a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast with strawberry jam (the Enforcers really caught onto what the many students liked to eat, and quickly, too), the young woman headed to a vacant table. She passed a girl with cat ears and a cat tail who looked miserable on her way.

She did not feel sorry for the cat-girl, Goldberry Took by name. She had been the first to be bunted into the air by a mini-Mastadge because she had been caught behind Daniel in mid-pounce. Diana snorted as she remembered that one of the mini caretakers, Kylie, had also given Goldberry clean-up duty of the mini-Mastadge pens for a week, followed up by Miss D assigning her a 500-page essay on all the known sentient and non-sentient beings from Stargate.

Apparently the chief mini-Mastadge caretaker was a big fan of Tolkien, and non-canon characters made Miss D act like a complete demon (some said she probably was one).

As Diana sat down, she unconsciously shifted away from the direction of the staff table—Apophis and Heru’ur had deigned to show their presence this morning, surrounded by their Serpent and Horus guards. They were already terrifying the students who had had the pleasure of being stuck in their first “Conquering the Galaxy: A How-To Guide” class, co-lectured by other System Lords (which, a few of the students had overheard Colonel O’Neill say to Dr. Jackson, “will have that lecture hall blown to bits in no time.”).

Taking a large bite of toast, the would-be fanfiction author thought about the classes she had. She rather liked the one General Hammond taught, “History of the United States Air Force: From 1912 to the Present,” but that was really because it was like an actual college course. Hopefully her two classes that day, “Diplomacy 101: What You Should and Shouldn’t Say and Do” and “Respect the Natives!: Peoples and Cultures of the Galaxy,” the first taught by General Carter and Jonas Quinn and the second by SG-1, wouldn’t be too bad.

Hey, she could ogle Jack while she was pretending to take notes.

Hm, on second thought, that didn’t sound very smart. Rumor had it that a “pet” of Miss D’s would be watching over that class and could smell lusty thoughts from a mile away.

And Diana rather liked her head where it was, thanks-very-much.

Most of the other staff had arrived for breakfast by now, including the two co-Heads of Security, Miss Rebecca and Miss Zariel. They glared icily at any students who so much as glanced at the staff table. Diana hunkered down in her seat and shivered. Forget the Goa’uld, those two were beyond scary.


The staff table was quiet. Apophis and Daniel were glaring at each other over Sha’re/Amonet’s head. Teal’c and Bra’tac were quietly talking about the weapons class they taught with Jack and another member of the UnCanon Staff, Miss Kiana (whom so far no one had even seen in passing). Sam and Jacob were comparing schedules. The other System Lords were obviously writing down plots on how to gain control of the university, if not the whole planet. Most everyone else was calmly eating breakfast.

Everyone except a certain colonel. He was busy poking at his scrambled eggs suspiciously. He could have sworn they just wiggled a few moments ago…

“Stop doing that,” Miss D said irritably, not looking up from her imported copy of the Boston Herald. “The Java Enforcers do know how to cook.”

O’Neill glanced at the course coordinator out of the corner of his eye. “But that doesn’t mean the food knows how to be cooked. I remember when I was in college. The damn toast bounced.”

“Didn’t know you attended college, Sir,” Carter murmured jokingly under her breath, causing her father to stifle a chuckle. Jack muttered something under his breath before pushing his plate of eggs away from him.

Everyone looked up as Sgt. Walter Harriman suddenly burst into the dining hall, running for the staff table as if his life depended on it. All the students stopped to stare at his dash past and audibly winced as he skidded to a halt so hard the floor smoked.

The Master Sergeant leaned on the table between General Hammond and Dr. Fraiser, panting. “Bad news,” he gasped out.

The entire dining hall was looking at the man in charge of dialing Earth’s Stargate, including the Java Enforcers, waiting patiently (or impatiently in some cases) for him to just say it.

Taking a deep breath, Sgt. Harriman looked around at the other people at the staff table and took a deep breath. “The first two episodes, back-to-back, of season eight have aired.”

Dead silence.

Then all Hell broke loose.


The faculty had gathered in the rec room of the Staff Section for an emergency meeting. “I’m probably going to be brought back from the dead again,” Apophis grumbled. “Can’t get any peace…” A few of the other back-from-the-dead characters (brought back for the sole purpose of teaching) muttered agreement.

Sam was looking down at her new lieutenant colonel rank insignia. “This was certainly unexpected,” she said dazedly.

Jack had a silly grin. “I’m a general,” he said, and had been saying for the past five minutes. The new head of the SGC was probably planning his next escapade—and this time he could get away with it.

“And then Stargate Atlantis premieres next week,” General Hammond said. “Better get to work building a few new wings to add onto the Staff Section…”

Miss D was pacing angrily. “Wonderful. Just bloody wonderful,” she growled. “All that stuff we have to add on to the current curriculum. Luckily the third semester is mostly free, we can include some follow-up courses to include Atlantis in.”

She blinked when she didn’t get an answer, and looked around. Everyone was staring at something.

Turning to look in the same direction as the other staff, that something turned out to be someone. Newly promoted Brigadier General Jack O’Neill had The Look on his face.

The dean covered her eyes and groaned. This was going to be a long, long day.


And so ends chapter three. Yes, I am still accepting applications, so please e-mail them to me.

If you’re curious what happened to the students in the dining hall after the news was broken to them, you’ll have to wait until next chapter.

Once again, if you see any misspelled or otherwise butchered names of canon characters anywhere, do let me know.

chapter four

The Stargate Official Fanfiction University

I do not own Stargate SG-1 or anything associated with it. That all belongs to MGM and SciFi Channel and everything else. The mini-Mastadge are mine, though. I do not own the mini-Balrogs, but the mini Elassar is mine by adoption, so get your own! The UnCanon Staff are copyrighted to themselves, except for Miss Kiana and the Mastadge Caretakers, as are the students, save for Diana and Joyce.

And again, this is a Miss Cam-authorized spin-off of The Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth.

If you see any misspelled or otherwise butchered names of canon characters anywhere, do let me know. Also, as looking for clichés is very painful, do let me know about any overdone plot lines and the like.

I am still accepting applications for SGOFU.

Enjoy the show!


Joyce and Diana trudged into their “Respect the Natives!” class, nursing new bruises. In the chaos caused by the news of season eight and Atlantis premiering, someone had let the mini-Mastadge out of their pens. The two authoresses were luckier than some – others were in the infirmary with broken ribs and fractured legs.

It hadn’t even been a full day and already there were people in the Atlantis base uniform wandering around! And those creepy Wraith, too. Diana was praying to whatever Power That Is that was listening at the moment to not let her run into one in the dark. The dorms still didn’t have the electrical systems working, and she had a sinking suspicion that her flashlight’s battery would die just seconds before she ran into one of those creepy things.

Diplomacy 101 hadn’t been all that bad, as General Carter was the primary lecturer. He had a way to make politics seems... well, interesting! Diana was actually looking forward to the next time she attended—and considering Foreign Policy had been her least-favorite subject in high school, that was saying something.

As the pair hurried to their seats, other students began stumbling in themselves, most with some form of bandages on their bodies. Daniel and Sam were in the front of the room, quietly discussing something, as Teal’c surveyed the class with just a hint of suspicion. Some of the students still hadn’t learned that stampeding and glomping equaled pain.

“Where’s Jack?” Sam hissed to Daniel as the students for “Respect the Natives!” began taking their seats.

“I have no idea,” the archaeologist whispered back. “But I saw him talking to Miss D about something, and from the way she was grinning, I don’t think it had a thing to do with classes.”

They both sighed simultaneously, glancing at the door warily. Teal’c raised his eyebrow at them, and Sam shook her head in a subtle, “Tell you later.” Apophis’s former First Prime nodded in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the class. Already a few students were eyeing Daniel like a piece of meat, and even Teal’c was starting to wonder why Miss D hadn’t suggested they didn’t bring a few of the university minis with them.

With another sigh, Sam focused on the assembled class and gave them her best no-miss-reporter-I-don’t-know-anything-about-a-government-conspiracy smile. “Hello, everyone, and welcome to ‘Respect the Natives.’ This is a pretty straight forward course, as we’ll be going into further detail of some of the galaxy’s more well-known cul-”

The double-doors at the top of the lecture hall suddenly burst upon, followed by fanfare given by—as the students sitting close to the door would later claim—a ferret.

As one, every sentient-being within the room turned to see whom the hell this person was. Jaws dropped, eyes bulged, and gasps of astonishment—even Teal’c’s eyebrows had shot up in surprise at the sight.

None were as shocked as Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter and Dr. Daniel Jackson.


Sauntering down the central staircase to the lecture floor came Brigadier General Jonathon “Jack” O’Neill himself, flanked by two mini-Mastadge—the leather collars they wore proclaimed them to be ‘O’Niel’ and ‘Jak.’ That wasn’t why everyone was nearing cardiac arrest, however.

You see, it’s not very often that someone you respect (or lust, in the case of some, if not many, students) comes walking into a room wearing a ridiculous leopard-spotted floppy hat made of purple velvet with a huge white feather, a matching floor-length coat tripped in faux ermine fur, diamond-studded sunglasses, and the pièce de résistance, a gold-inlaid mahogany cane capped with a fist-sized crystal.

Let’s all welcome everyone’s favorite colonel—excuse me, general – trying to pull off the pimp act.

Somewhere, Miss D is laughing.

Daniel was trying to get his jaw working as Jack finally gained the floor; Sam wasn’t sure if she should start crying or laughing or both; and Teal’c had simply settled for amused surprise. The students were either having fits of hysterics or just having fits.

Turning smartly on his heel, the new Brigadier General gave the class his most brilliant smile. “Well,” he began, “at least I know I’ve got your attention.” Still grinning, he took off coat and tossed it and the cane into a corner—but kept the hat on. He inclined his head to Sam, who blinked in confusion before realization hit her.

“Ah, yes, thank you, sir,” she said and fixed her attention back on the students. “‘Respect the Natives,’ while straight forward, will not be an easy class. You’ll be doing in-depth studying of various galactic cultures encountered by the S.G.C., and there’ll be a follow-up course third term to cover the peoples found by the Atlantis team.

“Further more, the final exam will be a practical one—each one of you will be put in a situation with a random race or culture of our choosing where you’ll be forced to take on that culture’s aspects, from dress to speech patterns to etiquette.” Col. Carter pointedly ignored the groans of dismay. “You’re also warned against any inappropriate behavior in this class.” She jerked her thumb in the direction of one of the windows looking in on the lecture hall.

As one, the students turned to see what she was pointing at. “Oh God, I knew it,” Joyce groaned as some of the other girls in the class shrieked in terror.

Sitting on the ledge was a small, shadowy creature, with fire emitting from its eyes and mouth. It was caught between darkness and flame, with a strange mist on either side that could have been wings. It hissed down on the students, clutching a sword in one clawed ‘hand.’

“That,” Sam continued in a pleasant tone of voice, “is Elassar, the university’s resident mini-Balrog.”

More shrieks and whimpers emitted from the students—at least the females, anyway. Apparently the rumor mill was good enough to spread word about OFUM’s minis, and quickly, too.

“Now,” Daniel said, drawing the class’s attention back to the lecture floor, “for the next few times we meet we’ll be going over Goa’uld social structures, physiology and psychology...”


And so ends chapter four. God, my house may have gas problems, but my brain can’t have deteriorated this far for me to come up with this chapter. Oye. My apologies, loyal readers, if I have either offended you or you are now suffering from cracked ribs and/or aching sides.

In other news, I’d love to see fanart of Pimp!Jack. That would seriously make my day.

chapter five

The Stargate Official Fanfiction University

I do not own Stargate SG-1 or anything associated with it. That all belongs to MGM and SciFi Channel and everything else. The mini-Mastadge are mine, though. I do not own the mini-Balrogs, but the mini Elassar is mine by adoption, so get your own! The UnCanon Staff are copyrighted to themselves, except for Miss Kiana and the Mastadge Caretakers, as are the students, save for Diana and Joyce.

And again, this is a Miss Cam-authorized spin-off of The Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth.

Note: All right, technically this isn’t a real chapter (time frame could be anytime in the school year). I’m having surgery on June 30 (and yes, that is this coming Thursday), and I wanted to whip up something fun for you guys before I’m stuck on my stomach for two weeks. And seriously, you folks are the best readers a girl could have. Love you all!


“Please explain to me again why we’re doing this,” Joyce hissed as she and her roommate crept down the empty university halls.

“Because you just had to play a version of truth or dare that involved alcohol,” Diana muttered out of the corner of her mouth. She really, really wished she’d thought to bring a flashlight; it was not in a student’s best interests to wander around at night with mini-Mastadges and the Wraith on patrol.

Joyce gulped. “Smack me if I ever get the urge to drink again.”

“You betcha.”

The two would-be fanfiction authors tiptoed up to a padlocked door, glancing around furtively. A shiny brass plague on the door read ‘Records Room – Staff Only.’

“All right, let’s hurry up and get this over with,” Diana whispered. Nodding faintly, a pale Joyce took a set of lock picks from her jacket pocket and began fiddling with the padlock. A few moments later, a grinding click echoed up and down the hallway, causing the two girls to wince. Joyce gingerly removed the lock and stuck it and the picks back in her pocket, before slowly swinging the door open.

They both stared.

There had to be some kind of Ancient dimensional pocket device in the room, because there were far too many shelves, stretching as far as the eye could see, for a place four feet down the hall from the Enrollment Department offices to fit into.

“How are we ever going to find what we need in all that?” Joyce whimpered as the two stepped into the dark room.

Her partner in crime looked as desperate as she did. “I have no idea,” Diana murmured, glancing around. Suddenly perking up, she tapped Joyce on the shoulder. “Computer terminals,” she said, pointing to their left.

Her roommate clapped and hurried over, slipping into a chair and calling up a search engine. “You’d think they’d have this password protected or something,” she said as she typed in five letters.

Diana peered over her shoulder as only one result turned up. “Yeah, well, they probably weren’t expecting students to be stupid enough to break in,” the brunette replied. Joyce glared at her friend half-heartedly before turning her attention back to the monitor, clicking on the link.

Neither of them could prevent their jaws from sagging.


“All righty, Joyce, truth or dare?” Cyn Bottomley asked, clutching a plushie of Daniel to her chest with one hand and a cup of spiked Kool-Aid in the other.

Giggling and nursing her own cup, Joyce replied, “Dare!”

“Okie dokie, I dare you to... Break into the Records Room.”

“Sure, that’s eaaasy,” the blonde slurred, proceeding to take a sip from her drink.

“And find all the information you can about Miss D.”

Joyce choked.


They’d found information on the course coordinator, all right.

For one thing, the picture included looked almost nothing like Miss D. The facial features were the same, and those eerie tinted glasses she wore indoors were still in place, but no one could get their hair to be that long and that healthy before it could become thin and straggly. And that just had to be the Dean of Students during an odd stage in life, because no human had periwinkle hair unless it was a really good dye job.

Diana tore her gaze away from the picture to skim through the information listed in the file. “This is incredibly weird,” she said.

Joyce too began reading through Miss D’s record, scrolling down the page as she went. “You’re telling me. No full name listed, no date of birth, no place of birth, no medical records, no nothing. She’s a living enigma.”

Nodding absently, Diana watched as her friend kept scrolling. “Hey, stop for a sec. I think I saw something...”

Quirking an eyebrow, Joyce scrolled back up, her eyebrows rising even further as she saw a new link. “Warnings for staff and things to keep in mind,” she read aloud. “Well, that sounds helpful. Wonder why it didn’t turn up in the search engine...” With a shrug, she clinked the link.

Both Diana and Joyce leaned closer to the screen.

“Licensed Mary Sue hunter not affiliated with the Protectors of the Plot Continuum. Crap, I think that means she doesn’t have to answer to anyone or worry about rules to break.”

“Formerly employed by the Interdimensional Council of Inquiry, whatever the hell that is, as a Constructive Criticizer of Plausible and Implausible Crossovers. Was fired due to explosions of temper because of one too many poorly written Yu-Gi-Oh!/Stargate SG-1 crossovers. Ew, I’d heard those things existed, but having to read them? Ouch.”

“Occasionally goes on slash-fangirl rampages? Dear Lord, no wonder Jack and Daniel looked twitchy during her seminar on friendship pairings versus romantic pairings.”

“Considered mentally unstable after a forced stint as an MSTer of Gundam Wing lemons early in her career. Well isn’t that just a bunch of sunshine and roses.”

The lights suddenly came on. “Having fun?”

Joyce and Diana yelped and jumped, turning to see the lady in question leaning against the wall, her mini-Balrog Elassar perched on her shoulder, with one eyebrow raised above her dark glasses. The two students gulped.

Miss D sauntered over to the pair, hands shoved into her trench coat’s pockets, and stopped about a foot away from the computer terminals. “Out. Now,” she said quietly, rocking back on her heels as Elassar growled.

Squeaking in fear, the two students hurried to obey, walking carefully around the course coordinator before bolting for the exit.

The Dean smirked and turned to look at the computer screen. “Well, it seems they didn’t get to the really juicy tidbits, did they, my dear?” she asked Elassar. The mini-Balrog thrummed in agreement.

Laughing, she shut down the computer and nonchalantly left the Records Room, flicking off the lights and shutting the door quietly. Three taps on the doorknob, and a click was heard—then the door vanished.

“I just adore secrets,” she murmured aloud, walking down the hallway.


So, the intermission is done. Hopefully once I’m back on my feet I can get chapter six up.

In other news, I’m thinking of starting a LiveJournal community for SGOFU. Opinions?

chapter six

The Stargate Official Fanfiction University

I do not own Stargate SG-1 or anything associated with it. That all belongs to MGM and SciFi Channel and everything else. The mini-Mastadge are mine, though. I do not own the mini-Balrogs, but the mini Elassar is mine by adoption, so get your own! The UnCanon Staff are copyrighted to themselves, except for Miss Kiana and the Mastadge Caretakers, as are the students, save for Diana and Joyce.

This is a Miss Cam-authorized spin-off of The Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth. We are here only because of her good will.

If you spot any misspelled names or places or whatever in any fics, drop me a line. E-mail in my profile.

Still accepting applications, yesyes! Do, however, include if you've seen Stargate Atlantis.

And now, on with the show!


Daniel's classes were student favorites. Especially the "Ancient Civilizations and Their Mythologies"—one could stare as much as they wanted and listen to that gorgeous voice of his, even if they didn't understand half of what he was saying.

The thing was, Miss D co-taught the class. Well, more like sat in the background, glaring at the assembled class and occasionally sicking Elassar on whoever she thought wasn't paying attention to the subject matter; that usually translated into an average of sixteen tackles a lesson. She was not adverse, however, to sharing her vast collection of nightmare-inducing myths and legends, most of which she described with far too much relish.

Today was interesting, though. Miss D was slightly distracted, Elassar was trying to hide behind Mary Christmas (who had been the subject of way too many jokes in the Staff Section), and Daniel looked distinctly uncomfortable. One really couldn't blame the latter, though—this particular lesson was covering a portion of Judaic mythology, and with both Ba'al and Sokar in the lecture hall serving as 'What NOT to aspire to,' anyone would have been uneasy.

People were wondering about the Dean and her pet, though. Miss D, even with her ever-present sunglasses on, had a distinctly unfocused look about her (speculation was she was either plotting something incredibly evil and traumatic, sleeping, or daydreaming about a lust object the student betting pool still hadn't agreed on), and folks were getting just a little bit scared that Elassar was looking for a place to seemingly get out of a blast zone radius.

Nevertheless, the students, most of them anyway, were still taking notes. You just didn't try and test the Dean's Slacker/Luster Awareness.

"In various Middle Eastern cultures, Ba'al was regarded as a sun god or a fertility god," Daniel was saying. "In very early times, it was a common name for minor Syrian and Persian deities, although the so-called "Great" Ba'al was from Canaan and the son of El, the king of the Canaanite gods, and his cult spread to the Phoenicians. A version of this religion was actually practiced by the ancient Jews, and in many ceremonies throughout his area of influence there were human sacrifices and," here Daniel closed his eyes as if trying to block out a particularly horrific image, "temple prostitution."

Ba'al smirked as most of the wide-eyed class slid further down into their seats. If one listened closely, Miss D could be heard quietly laughing beneath the collective whimpering of the students.

"Certainly explains a lot," Daniel muttered under his breath as he hurriedly flipped the page of his notebook. "In the Bible he is known as Beelzebub, from the Hebrew ba'al zevuv which means... Anyone?"

Erika Vayne hesitantly raised her hand. The archaeologist nodded in her direction. "Lord of flies?" she asked.

"Correct," Daniel said cheerfully as Ba'al's jaw dropped and Sokar cackled. Finally, a student who had done some research of her own! Daniel thought. There was hope yet. "It was play on Ba'al Zebul, "Ba'al the Prince," which was a standard title of the Canaanite Ba'al. As Beelzebub, he was the chief of the demons and the prince of the devils (how fitting), and he was Satan's chief lieutenant in John Milton's Paradise Lost. And according to some sources, Beelzebub was a fallen angel of the order of cherubim."

As quiet snickers began to circulate the room, Miss D spoke up. "It should be noted, however," she drawled as she sat up in her chair, "that before their bastardization by Renaissance artists, they were seen as angels with four wings, four faces: that of a human, a lion, a bull, and an eagle. Typically, cherubim were depicted as bearing the throne and chariot of God, and wielding flaming swords as they guarded the entrance to Eden to prevent humans from reentering and reaching the Tree of Life. You did not piss off the cherubim. Are we clear on this, class?" Terrified nods and whimpered affirmatives. Satisfied, Miss D leaned back in her chair and kicked up her heels onto the desk.

Shaking his head, Daniel glanced down at his notes. "There's not a lot that can be said about Satan that you probably don't already know—although in theory the name should not be identified with Lucifer. Medieval Christian theology is what first linked the two, to the point that today they are one in the same being. What can be determined is that both were of the order of the seraphim, six-winged angels and the highest of all the angelic choirs. Lucifer was called either the angel of light, or the angel of pride; Satan, from the Aramaic satana, means 'adversary' and it denoted that Satan was the adversary of mankind, not God. The best way to think of it is to imagine Heaven as a courtroom, with humanity on trial and Satan as the prosecutor.

"Today, we'll be having two special guests to be talking about all these differences—and add their own perspective." Daniel sighed heavily. "Please do not be alarmed, and if you feel uncomfortable at any point during their lecture, don't hesitate to latch onto one of the holy books we’ve taped beneath each desk." The students looked troubled as a few ducked down to confirm that, yes, there were copies of the Qu’ran, Bible, Torah, and goodness knew what else, beneath each desk. Not good.

Miss D, grinning widely enough to put the Cheshire Cat to shame, tapped the desk with the heel of her boot three times. A sudden buzzing sound filled the lecture hall, and quite a few students screamed as a swarm of flies poured into the room from seemingly nowhere. Some of the class dove beneath their desks, but the four Staff members didn't move—though all of them save for Miss D looked just a tad too nervous for comfort.

The flies moved to the very center of the room before settling into one large mass—and vanishing into the form of a very handsome thirty-something-year old man. He surveyed the room with bored silver eyes before settling on Ba'al for a few moments. "The name-thief is not better-looking than me," the man said vehemently as he turned to Miss D.

The course coordinator threw her hands up into the air in exasperation. "I didn't pay you to whine, Bee, I paid to you to put the fear of bloody Hell in them," she said angrily, gesturing to the class. "And where's Lucy?"

"Right here," a voice announced dryly as a dark-haired woman in a blood-colored business suit simply appeared next to the man. Her eyes were the same silver as her companion, but with a decidedly more sinister look about them. "I don't believe in flamboyant entrances unless approaching a potential client." The man grumbled something under his breath, which earned him a smack upside the head from the lady.

Daniel pointedly cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the two guests. "Pardon the interruption, but the sooner we can finish the lecture, the sooner we all can leave." The visitors exchanged looks and shrugged, the woman nodding for the archaeologist to continue. Sighing quietly, he turned to the class. "Everyone, our guest lecturers for the day: Beelzebub Flylord, Duke of Hell, and Lucifer Morningstar, Queen of Hell."

The students all simultaneously reached for the books.


An hour later, Diana and Joyce hobbled out of the lecture hall, supporting a dazed Starra between them. The poor girl was babbling incoherently; Beelzebub had used her in a demonstration on warped angelic powers and the results had not been pleasant to either see or experience (though Sokar and Ba’al had perked up considerably). Other students stumbling into the hallway were either praying loudly to whatever Powers That Be they acknowledged or just whimpering.

"I don't think I can ever attend Church again when I get back home," Joyce moaned, adjusting her grip on Starra.

"You may not be able to, but I'm not going to be able to stop going," Diana managed to squeak out. "God knows it'd make my grandmother happy... Christ, what did Miss D have to do to get those two here? Sell her soul?"

"No, they owed me a favor," the course coordinator said as she breezed past, Elassar hanging off her shoulder (Diana and Joyce having adopted looks of pure, unadulterated terror). The mini-Balrog may have been considered a demon himself, but not even he would have dared crossed paths with the two Big Bads themselves. Daniel was trudging after the dean and her pet, books tucked under one arm while muttering something about coffee and needing lots of it.

'Bee' and 'Lucy' followed at a more sedate pace, giving the two System Lords pointers. "You guys first went wrong on setting yourselves up as gods; that's just asking to be overthrown," Beelzebub said sagely. “It’s a position to give either to your trusted lieutenant, or if you don’t have one of those, your second-in-command.”

"Ventilation ducts should be too small to even crawl through!" Lucifer added. "Shooting is never too good for your enemies, and whatever you do, never gloat over their predicaments before killing them."

"Don't ever use a device and/or bomb that included a digital countdown! If you have to, have the bomb go off at the five minute mark when the good guys are just about to put their plan into action."

"The rules say you should never turn into a snake—due to the fact you are snakes, you screwed yourselves at day one."

“You’re one to talk, Lucy.”

“Shut up. Remember who signs your paychecks.”

Students pressed themselves up against the walls, trying to stay as far away as possible from the group. Fallen angels sharing trade tips with System Lords wasn't a good thing, even if the System Lords in question were highly unlikely to share their new-found information with their 'colleagues.'

And somewhere, Jack O'Neill was swearing loudly and questioning the sanity of a certain Dean of Students.


It's finally done! Definitely not my best work, I know, but I've wanted to get this over with for a while now. Plus, this scene has been stewing in my mind since I first decided to write SGOFU, and I needed to get it down before both the plot bunnies AND the muses drove me nuts.

Why did I include Ba'al and Sokar in this chapter? Well, they're my two favorite System Lords. Sokar was incredibly creepy-cool, and Ba'al is sexy as hell. Yeah, my inner fangirl went absolutely nuts after seeing "Ex Deus Machina" (although my inner Latin scholar just cringed at the title). And the SGOFU LJ community is up and running! Check my profile for a link.

And the tips Lucy and Bee are giving? From the Evil Overlord List. Muahahah.

Here's hoping I'll be able to churn out chapter 7 soon!

chapter seven

The Stargate Official Fanfiction University

I do not own Stargate SG-1 or anything associated with it. That all belongs to MGM and SciFi Channel and everything else. The mini-Mastadge are mine, though. I do not own the mini-Balrogs, but the mini Elassar is mine by adoption, so get your own! The UnCanon Staff are copyrighted to themselves, except for Miss Kiana and the Mastadge Caretakers, as are the students, save for Diana and Joyce.

This is a Miss Cam-authorized spin-off of The Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth. We are here only because of her good will.

If you spot any misspelled names or places or whatever in any fics, drop me a line. E-mail in my profile.

On with the show!


Saturday morning was… odd. For one, the cafeteria was oddly hushed – not even the System Lords dared to raise their voices above a murmur. Secondly, there was an influx of characters and one really creepy bunch of people Daniel had said were ‘Priors.’ Whatever that meant. Didn’t help that their leader was a chick who could put evangelical Christians to shame in the preaching department.

The reason for the relative silence could be heard beyond the cafeteria’s closed doors.

“What in the name of all that’s holy do you mean by that?!” came the familiar yell of the Course Coordinator.

There was a collective winch among the student body.

“Screw the bureaucracy you call a system! You guys should have called me! A temporal distortion is nothing to be taken lightly, and we were completely unprepared for all the new folks who showed up!”

Diana glanced over at Joyce, one eyebrow raised. Her partner in crime looked apprehensive, than blinked in surprise and scribbled something on the notebook between them – IDCI?

The pair exchanged looks of dawning, if barely understood, realization before hunching back over their breakfasts.

“When in Hell were you planning to tell me that? You tell that crazy woman you call an au—I DO NOT GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE FOURTH WALL. Fix this mess. Now.”

The doors to the cafeteria suddenly burst open, causing everyone to simultaneously jump in their seats. Miss D could be seen pocketing a cell phone as she stormed to the staff table, a look of pure fury etched on her features. Students sitting along the aisle the Dean walked down whimpered and sunk beneath the tables, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible.

Miss D unceremoniously dropped into her usual seat, grabbed her newspaper, and buried herself in the sports section.

Vala Mal Doran stared for a moment longer at the Course Coordinator before leaning toward Daniel and covertly snagging a piece of his toast. “Is she always like this?” she asked in a hushed tone.

The archaeologist didn’t look up from the papers he was grading. “No, direct anger isn’t her usual style,” he said in a more normal voice, grabbing back his toast from the con artist. “She prefers devious punishments, evil looks, and Cheshire Cat smiles.”

Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell, who had been listening in, glanced over at the Dean. She was staring blankly at the baseball league standings, a faint maniacal gleam evident in her eyes even behind her ever-present sunglasses. She was also muttering faintly beneath her breath; something about bringing in ‘Shae’ and ‘Lachesis’ to pay back a favor…

“Is obviously plotting the demise of someone who’s pissed her off count as her ‘usual’ thing?” Mitchell asked.

Daniel turned to look at Miss D, blinked, and then hurriedly went back to his papers. “No, definitely not,” he said quickly. “Luckily, it’s her turn to be in charge of Grammar Boot Camp today. She can take it out on the students instead of the staff.”

Miss D cackled.


I can’t hear you!” was the bellowed phrase that resonated around the campus.

I before e except after c or when sounding like a as in neighbor and weigh.”

Miss D sat in the bed of a modified Army jeep, megaphone at the ready as two lines of staggering students trailed after the accelerating vehicle. The Course Coordinator smirked and leaned backwards to talk to the driver. “Go to fifteen miles per hour,” she said before sitting up straight again. Major Lorne grinned and gleefully stepped down on the gas pedal.

The students groaned collectively, but obediently picked up the pace. They had pretty good incentive, too, with both Elassar and a pack of mini-Mastadge tackling (Elassar) or punting (the minis) any lagging wannabe authors into keeping up.

The Staff, ensconced in lawn chairs and sipping a variety of alcoholic beverages, watched the proceedings happily from the center of the track field.

“Now this,” General O’Neill said as he popped open a fresh can of beer, “is quality entertainment.” He grinned smugly as the O’Niell mini punted Nicole Reagan back into line.

“I’m still surprised you don’t have the largest fanbase, sir,” Col. Carter remarked, sipping her own beer.

Jack slouched down into his chair and visibly sulked. “Did you have to remind me, Carter?” he whined.

“Sorry, sir,” the Lieutenant Colonel replied, although her tone said otherwise.

“Who does have the most fangirls, anyway?” Daniel inquired.

“I believe it is you, Daniel Jackson,” said Teal’c. The archaeologist blinked in surprise.

“It’s because they like to see you get hurt,” Miss Kiana said from her spot on the arm of Jack’s lawn chair.

Daniel sighed. “I should have guessed that from all the whumping fics out there,” he muttered under his breath. Miss Kiana just gave him her most dazzling smile and returned to slurping happily on her Diet Coke® as Miss D began running through proper capitalization. The former Ascended sighed again but gave the ferret a scratch behind her ears.

Why, yes, Miss Kiana – one of the four co-instructors of “The Art of War: Tactics, Weapons, and Fighting Styles From Around the Galaxy and Beyond,” taught on Sundays – was a ferret. When asked why she had a talking ferret as a pet-daughter-thing, Miss D had muttered something about Kiana being the remnant of her days in the anime-continuums. The Staff had decided not to ask further for the sake of their sanity.

Still, despite being too small to ever wield anything bigger than a blowgun, Miss Kiana had the biggest collection of strategic military history books anyone had ever seen in one place. And the Patton-worshipping ferret also had killer puppy eyes from her anime days – perfect for blackmailing students into doing their homework. And it freaked the students out to see something so small and cute ramble on with obvious relish about Field Marshal Erwin Rommel’s tactics in North Africa.

To return to the subject at hand – torturing students – said students were obviously and thoroughly miserable. Major Lorne now had the jeep at close to twenty miles per hour, and people were dropping like flies, although they were still required to belt out the rules of grammar. Those that still managed to straggle after the vehicle were obviously the ones who had enjoyed gym class back in high school.

“You know,” Joyce panted out during a lull, flat on her back, “it’s times like this that make me wish I had never heard of fanfiction.”

“I hear you,” Diana wheezed, head between her knees as she struggled to catch her breath.

And the chorus of, “To indicate possession, end a singular noun with an apostrophe followed by an "s". Otherwise, the noun's form seems plural,” washed over the field. The Staff sighed in contentment.

Music to the ears.


Well, hot damn. Guess who’s back in business? My apologies for the overly long wait, my faithful readers, but my life has been an absolute mess for the past year and I will not go into details. Your patience has been most appreciated, and for that I adore you with all my heart and soul.

I had to insert Miss Kiana—who made a previous appearance way back in chapter four. She’s been the familiar of my online persona ever since I began to make my first tentative steps on the World Wide Web, and not including her within my latest exploit just didn’t seem right. Plus, it keeps the students off balance. Muahaha.

The last of the Grammar Boot Camp drill lines is from the “11 Rules of Writing.” Google it and be enlightened, my children.

chapter eight

The Stargate Official Fanfiction University

I do not own Stargate SG-1 or anything associated with it. That all belongs to MGM and SciFi Channel and everything else. The mini-Mastadge are mine, though. I do not own the mini-Balrogs, but the mini Elassar is mine by adoption, so get your own! The UnCanon Staff are copyrighted to themselves, except for Miss Kiana and the Mastadge Caretakers, as are the students, save for Diana and Joyce.

This is a Miss Cam-authorized spin-off of The Official Fanfiction University of Middle-earth. We are here only because of her good will.

If you spot any misspelled names or places or whatever in any fics, drop me a line. E-mail in my profile.

On with the show!


The students didn’t know it, but there was a spy in their midst.

Surprisingly enough, it had been General O’Neill’s idea—and considering that their candidate had aged enough to no longer be fully recognizable, it was a pretty damn good idea.

The spy was now on reconnaissance in the university library. To all intents and purposes, he was just a student intently studying his Air Force history textbook and taking detailed notes—most of which actually weren’t from the textbook. In actuality, he was covertly listening to the plans of a group of real students two tables down to break into the Staff Section.

“All right, knock out the minis with poisoned meat, check,” Aaliyah hissed, checking off something on the paper before her.

Her companion Akasha peered over her shoulder. “And you propose to get by the force field that prevents access to the Staff Section how?” she asked.

“Push one of the minis toward the field—it deactivates when someone with authorization is near; saw it happen just a few days ago,” Marina Blackhawk whispered.

“Okay then, who’s bringing the shaving cream and silly string for the Bitch’s room?” Seanait inquired.

Akasha raised her hand—actually, paw—slightly. “That’d be me.”

The spy fought down a smirk. One, Miss D probably wouldn’t be angry at being referred to do as a bitch—in fact, she’d preen and say she was doing her job right. And the Furlings, Akasha and Aaliyah, had been livid ever since the 200th episode caused them to be turned into poorly configured Ewoks from their formerly gorgeous visages. (Student Relations got a lot of sympathy from the Staff for willing diving into the bowels of fanfiction sites.) Although why anyone would want to trash Miss D’s room for something that outrageous when it was the Enrollment Department that handled those technicalities was beyond him.

Eh, it wouldn’t do him any good to get into the minds of fic authors. He’d lose precious brain cells.

In any event, the group of students was breaking up. He heard one of them—Krystal, he mentally noted—say to meet up outside lecture hall twenty-seven tomorrow night for “Operation Break-In.”

The spy nearly burst out laughing. Oh, God, they couldn’t even come up with a decent codename for their little stunt. Pathetic and hysterical all at once. Everyone was going to get a hoot out of this news.

Shaking his head, he gathered up his books and headed for the library exit. It was time to report in.


Oblivious to the plotting of some of their fellow students, Diana and Joyce were in their dorm room and furiously typing up essays for their “Pairings: Their Probabilities and Improbabilities” class.

Diana took a short break to rub her aching knuckles and indulge in some righteous venting. “Miss D is insane!” she yelled. It was a sentiment shared by nearly everyone in the school—including most of the Staff. “Two hundred pages on how one particular pairing could work and could not work? The hell is with that?”

“It’s designed to break our spirits,” Joyce replied grimly, without looking up from her computer.

And it probably was. Everyone had been assigned one pairing to discuss—and they ranged from the commonly accepted ‘ships to the infamous “crack pairings.” There were stories of students already wailing for the mythical brain bleach circulating around campus.

Diana had gotten lucky. She only had to write about the Teal’c/Ishta pairing—tame in comparison to some of the rumors of other assigned paper topics.

The would-be-author leaned forward to get a peek at her friend’s screen. “You know, you haven’t told me which pairing—” She stopped when she caught site of the file name and turned white. “Oh my God.”


“... And you are still sane, how?”

Joyce continued typing resolutely. “For my English final product in my sophomore year of high school, I had to write a research paper on psychology in Frank Herbert’s books,” she stated. “I learned quickly to become numb to my topic; otherwise I would have gone on a homicidal rampage for my English teacher’s blood.”

Diana thought about that for a moment and decided there just wasn’t any conceivable way to respond to such a statement. She settled for patting Joyce on the back and completely changing the topic. “It’s still a while until dinner, so I’ll go get us a snack from the dining hall.”

Her blonde friend, still not looking up from the screen of her monitor, idly made a shooing motion. “I want a honey ham sandwich with lettuce and tomato, no mayo,” was all she said in reply.

Rolling her eyes, Diana stood up and hurriedly exited the dorm room. Joyce developed a single-minded intensity when it came to writing papers, and she was lucky she’d gotten an answer at all, so she wouldn’t complain at the blatant order. This time, anyway.

As she was walking down the hall, idly thinking of what she’d like to eat—possibly either mac ‘n’ cheese or some of the Java Enforcers’ delectable sweet rolls—Diana accidentally bumped into another student. “Whoops, sorry,” she said.

The other student simply grunted in reply and continued on his way.

Diana stared after him for a moment. How rude, she thought testily, but shook her head before starting down the hall again. Eh, probably just distracted by that pairing assignment.

Still, Diana mused, he did seem awfully familiar…

If she had paid him a bit more attention, she would have seen him turn down the hallway that eventually lead to the entrance to the Staff Section.


I believe I left enough clues. If you haven’t figured out who the spy is yet, you do not deserve to be called a Stargate fan.

Seriously, people, it should be obvious. And if isn’t, well, you’ll find out next chapter. Tough cookies.

As for the pairing that Joyce needs to write about… I’ll leave that to your imagination. There is nothing I could have come up with that would be as horrifying as an individual fan doing it for me. Heh.