Battlestar Galatica
I did enjoy BSG - a lot. We didn’t get it televised on my side of the Pond for a good long while. But during one long school summer holiday, the film (aka TV movie) was shown at a wee, local cinema for pennies during a Sci-Fi festival. As I had been thoroughly brainwashed as a young child to be a sci-fi fan, being weaned on Star Trek and Star Wars, I might have possibly (likely) lost count of the number of times I watched that movie over the festival. I managed to get my grubby little mitts on the TV adaptation books, and I do have a photobook of the TV movie, and I do recall, getting a Sci-Fi TV Encyclopaedia out of the local library, and I might have cut a picture out of one of the pages… might have….
I still hadn’t seen any of the episodes, but boy did I like Apollo. Gosh, did I like Apollo. I wrote fanfic, albeit I didn’t know the term, but indeedy did I write fanfic, longhand and bashing on my dad’s old typewriter. Whilst I’m fairly sure my first long opus was a Star Trek: TNG ode to Riker, which is another story, I did learn a lot of the art of whumping by whumping Apollo. I recall a fic whereby I put the poor sod in a coma, head injury. After some space shenanigans, he and Starbuck crashed on a jungle-type plant, and poor old Starbuck ended up dragging Apollo on a travois over hill and dale. Poor old Starbuck because he had actually been wounded by some kind of disintergrating projectile laser weapon that refused to heal and wouldn’t stop bleeding. This story went on ad infinitum as our intrepid heroes were chased - tow, tow, tow, Apollo gently through the jungle!
I recall thinking that it was bloody boring having your favourite hero lying inertly on a stretcher, thoroughly hurt but just whumped, that it was more interesting when people were interacting - the comfort part of our favourite equation. I pretty much stopped writing the fic at that point. But I had learned an important thing, for me, about my favourite genre - hurt/Comfort, which I have carried forwards since.
So thank you, Apollo -- you were awesome.
I still hadn’t seen any of the episodes, but boy did I like Apollo. Gosh, did I like Apollo. I wrote fanfic, albeit I didn’t know the term, but indeedy did I write fanfic, longhand and bashing on my dad’s old typewriter. Whilst I’m fairly sure my first long opus was a Star Trek: TNG ode to Riker, which is another story, I did learn a lot of the art of whumping by whumping Apollo. I recall a fic whereby I put the poor sod in a coma, head injury. After some space shenanigans, he and Starbuck crashed on a jungle-type plant, and poor old Starbuck ended up dragging Apollo on a travois over hill and dale. Poor old Starbuck because he had actually been wounded by some kind of disintergrating projectile laser weapon that refused to heal and wouldn’t stop bleeding. This story went on ad infinitum as our intrepid heroes were chased - tow, tow, tow, Apollo gently through the jungle!
I recall thinking that it was bloody boring having your favourite hero lying inertly on a stretcher, thoroughly hurt but just whumped, that it was more interesting when people were interacting - the comfort part of our favourite equation. I pretty much stopped writing the fic at that point. But I had learned an important thing, for me, about my favourite genre - hurt/Comfort, which I have carried forwards since.
So thank you, Apollo -- you were awesome.