Шикарный стеб на сам сериал и на зрителей, шикарный кракфик, вообще гениальная вещь
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mercurial-wit.livejournal.com/31848.htmlО том, как сайлонам нефиг делать, поэтому они установили на Галактике кучу камер и теперь по вечерам смотрят эту мыльную оперу про отношения пилотов. И пишут фики. И являются шипперами. Выносите
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отрывкиSix was making something that looked like a giant web of names, gnawing thoughtfully on the end of her pencil and occasionally adding a wobbly arrow labeled with things like ‘frakked once or twice’, ‘not speaking to each other’, or ‘friendly rivals’.
Six turned and called over her shoulder. “Hey, Sharon, did Seelix and Flicker ever sleep together again?”
“Nope. That was strictly a one night stand.”
“Damn.” She started patting her pockets. “Anybody got an eraser?”
---
“Days of Our Battlestar.”
“Why do we even need to give it a name?”
“I’m more interested in the nights, personally.”
“Technically it’s their battlestar…”
“God, Doral, could you be any more pedantic?”
“I like the fact that we’re watching over them,” Sharon said dreamily. “Like a kindly force of nature, or a parent.”
“Perhaps last time we were the parents, and they the children.”
Nobody paid much attention to that; but then, nobody ever really paid much attention to anything Leoben said.
“A beloved cousin, maybe,” Sharon continued. “Or, I don’t know –”
“A benevolent sibling?”
“Yes!”
“That’s a stupid name.”
“It’s better than Days of Our Battlestar.”
“Adama’s Creek,” said Leoben.
“Nobody cares about your water fetish, Leoben.”
“The BG.”
“What?”
“It’s snappy!”
“It sounds like something out of rap music.”
“You’re such a snob, Simon.”
“I would have destroyed the human race just for rap music.”
“We know, Simon.”
Eventually Benevolent Sibling won the unofficial vote, mostly because Six threatened to pout or scream or both if she had to watch something called Days of Our Battlestar.
---
“Leoben writes poetry?”
“I write poetry,” Simon declared.
“We know, Simon.”
“Your poetry makes no sense, anyway.”
“It’s art. It doesn’t have to make sense. I bet Leoben’s doesn’t make sense either.”
“Nobody expects me to make sense,” Leoben said with maddening calm.
“Very true.”
“It’s about Starbuck!” Sharon waved the paper some more. “And the eternal frakking cosmic stream, of course, but. Starbuck!”
Leoben looked at her and smiled, not losing a fraction of his cryptic serenity. “Please. Every time anyone has a conversation that doesn’t end in kissing, you go away and write a version that does.”
Sharon’s mouth opened. Closed. “Not for everyone,” she said.
---
“You’re going to have to let something happen between Starbuck and Apollo sooner or later,” Leoben murmured, “or Sharon will get mutinous.”
“But it’s so much fun to watch them panic.” D’Anna tapped the remote fondly and lowered her voice. “Besides, where’s the suspense if they get together now? All that lovely UST will just become RST, and that’s not nearly as satisfying.”
---
“It is important that you remember these things.” Adama paused and adjusted his glasses, looking back down at the podium. “That you hold to the people around you – trust in the people around you. It is this that sets us apart from the Cylons.”
“Shot!” Sharon crowed, raising her glass of ambrosia.
“Are we counting that for ‘trust’ or ‘reminding them of their humanity’?”
“Both, I suppose. Two shots!”
“This is a ridiculous game,” said Simon, but he drank just as readily as the others.
“It’s more fun than CIC Bingo.”
Adama was looking thunderous and determined. “We’ve all lost someone. We’ve all had our families broken, and we’ve all had to mourn. Start to rebuild. Find new families in your shipmates.”
“He mentioned. Family. Family there.” Doral frowned, his glass wobbling unsteadily in his hand. “Is that one or two shots?”
“Just one.” D’Anna took a long sip.
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