ficlet (bsg/24): crackship of crack!
_ila_ just made my day!
This was inspired first by Number Nine, and then more recently by this little ficlet I wrote for her,
It’s strange how being born is more painful than dying. Everything is stiff and unused, like a new doll. Something rigid, disjointed; a new machine that creaks with the discomfort of unfamiliar parts twisting and working together.
Each cell is distinct. In those moments between life and death, you can feel each one dividing, again and again and again, and it’s like you grow from a single cell to yourself in a matter of seconds. You can’t breathe in that silvery space, but now you can, and you do.
“Easy,” says a voice. Soothing. Trained for this. Each day someone dies, each day someone is reborn, and each day someone is sitting here beside this tub with soft hands and gentle words. “Deep breaths, Nina.” You obey.
You aren’t flailing anymore. Instead you lie limp in the sticky liquid that sustains you and your race. “What happened?” you ask.
“The President killed you,” Six says. “The eleven in the brig, the one they call Tory Foster, sold you out.” You close your eyes and remember Laura Roslin’s face, the steel in her eyes that you thought was from a long day and the determination to make it through another. She called you away for a word. You don’t remember anything else.
“It’s good to have you back,” comes Six’s voice. She is smiling, you can tell. “We’ve missed you around here.”
Sitting up, you peel a strand of hair from your forehead. Six takes your hand and helps you rise on shaky legs, helps you take your very first steps. She leads you from the room as a new body is placed in a new tub and a newborn’s cry fills the air.
I'm going to be so depressed when the actual Number 9 is revealed. This is a fun crackship!
If anyone wants to pass on any further fic ideas, go for it, because I want to write them but can't come up with anything that isn't ridiculously smutty. The 6/9 pairing was SO not intentional but it isn't helping.
Mmm, now I want a Six/Nine icon. (And I CAN'T TYPE NINE. I KEEP TYPING NINA. BOO.)
And while we're talking about Nina - Sarah Clarke is MY hero.
TM: Who are your heroes? Why?
Sarah: Anyone who is crusading to help the environment. Because even though it is getting more politically correct to care about the earth.there are still only a handful of people who are actually making a difference and changing the way we think about ourselves and our relationship to the planet.
This girl is GOLD.
This was inspired first by Number Nine, and then more recently by this little ficlet I wrote for her,
It’s strange how being born is more painful than dying. Everything is stiff and unused, like a new doll. Something rigid, disjointed; a new machine that creaks with the discomfort of unfamiliar parts twisting and working together.
Each cell is distinct. In those moments between life and death, you can feel each one dividing, again and again and again, and it’s like you grow from a single cell to yourself in a matter of seconds. You can’t breathe in that silvery space, but now you can, and you do.
“Easy,” says a voice. Soothing. Trained for this. Each day someone dies, each day someone is reborn, and each day someone is sitting here beside this tub with soft hands and gentle words. “Deep breaths, Nina.” You obey.
You aren’t flailing anymore. Instead you lie limp in the sticky liquid that sustains you and your race. “What happened?” you ask.
“The President killed you,” Six says. “The eleven in the brig, the one they call Tory Foster, sold you out.” You close your eyes and remember Laura Roslin’s face, the steel in her eyes that you thought was from a long day and the determination to make it through another. She called you away for a word. You don’t remember anything else.
“It’s good to have you back,” comes Six’s voice. She is smiling, you can tell. “We’ve missed you around here.”
Sitting up, you peel a strand of hair from your forehead. Six takes your hand and helps you rise on shaky legs, helps you take your very first steps. She leads you from the room as a new body is placed in a new tub and a newborn’s cry fills the air.
I'm going to be so depressed when the actual Number 9 is revealed. This is a fun crackship!
If anyone wants to pass on any further fic ideas, go for it, because I want to write them but can't come up with anything that isn't ridiculously smutty. The 6/9 pairing was SO not intentional but it isn't helping.
Mmm, now I want a Six/Nine icon. (And I CAN'T TYPE NINE. I KEEP TYPING NINA. BOO.)
And while we're talking about Nina - Sarah Clarke is MY hero.
TM: Who are your heroes? Why?
Sarah: Anyone who is crusading to help the environment. Because even though it is getting more politically correct to care about the earth.there are still only a handful of people who are actually making a difference and changing the way we think about ourselves and our relationship to the planet.
This girl is GOLD.