LET THE BATTLE BEGIN!!

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

OKAY FOLKS, HERE WE GO!

Get your Kara Thrace Gen Fic Battle Gear On (helmets and flight suits optional) and Let's Get this Party Started!


This is a prompt-driven GENERAL fanfiction battle (much in the vein of the porn battles, but hold the smut).

General fanfiction may include allusions to romantic relationships, maybe even employ romance as an element to illustrate a larger theme, but, romance, or the lack of it, should not be the point of focus for the story.

Action-Adventure, Friendship, Humor, Angst, Comfort, all of these are good categories to explore. Kara could lead a mission, make a sacrifice, exact revenge, solve a mystery, confess a secret, come to a decision, teach a student, go on a quest, reflect on a mistake, celebrate a victory, learn a lesson, question an order, save a life, or roll the hard six (just to name a few options). The possibilities are endless.

The Fic Battle closes July 31 at 11:59 PM EST.

Please title your entries as such: Title, Prompt(s). (i.e. Shining from the Ashes, Dogtags, Regrets)

Fic can be posted in the comments in their entirety up to about 850 words (LJ’s limit is 4300 characters) or can link back to your own journal for longer fics.

Please be sure to “reply to this” for each ficlet when leaving feedback. Do not comment with anything but entries and feedback please.

A masterlist will be posted on or around August 1.


A night out in Caprica City (w/ Lee or Zak)
"Agathon's just slow, sir"
air force
alcohol and bad choices
all the time in the world
ambrosia with a chaser
art classes
bad cover band
barefoot
battlestars I have known
becoming a flight instructor
being the CAG
best friend
bet me
birthday
birthday blues
bloodsucking fiends
blue skies
born a lion
borrowing clothes
boss
bounty hunter
breaking down the wall
buildings and bridges
bum knee
by the book
Cadet Zak Adama
canvas
careful planner
Catullus
caught singing on film during "Final Cut"
chasing the sun
cigar
circle of light
clenched jaw
coffee
coffee deficit
cold shower
compartments
cookie cutters
cooking for the old man (bonus points if Dee gets jealous)
Cool Aunt Kara
cornflakes
counting pushups
cradle and all
crossing the line
"Death becomes a learning experience"
destiny is overrated
detention
devout
"Did you just say 'please'?"
disorderly conduct/drunk and disorderly
divorce
"Do you always get what you want?"
"Do they call you 'Helo' 'cause that's all you're good enough to fly?"
doomed to repeat
dreams
dress uniform
drummed out of how many schools?
drunken stupor
escalation of trouble-making
eternal life
every action has an equal and opposite reaction
everything's grey here
faith in things unseen
falling into the deep blue ocean
falling slowly
falsely accused
fast cars
fate and free will
father figures
father's day
fear of the gods
festival of Aphrodite
fierce flawless
fighter
finding her faith
finding the arrow
fingers and thumbs
firecracker
first day on the Galactica
first flight
first frak, first fight (but not with the same person)
first kiss
first love
first tattoo
first time drinking
first time in a viper
first week on Galactica
fists
five careers Kara thought about besides the military
five times Kara's apologized and the one time she really meant it
five times Kara landed in the brig
fleet's magic luck charm
flight training
flying
foodfight
freezie pops
girls night out
girly bonding
giving up Kacey
going to the rifle range
going to the temple (either by choice or because she was made to go by a parent)
good at math
good bad ugly
good with people
goodbye
graphic novels
gun camera footage
halfway 'round the world
hands clasped 'til midnight
happy
Helo
her 1000th landing
hide and seek
hiding from the truth
high heels
"holding on when you need to let go"
hollowed out
home
honor thy mother
household pets
how she got her call-sign
how she got the idols
how to disarm (literally or figuratively) the hall monitor
"I can hear you, you know"
"I don't need directions"
"I don't want to be forgotten"
"I need a whole Cylon armada!"
Icarus
"I'd like to have a copy, just so I can watch me kick your ass."
identity crisis
if he tries anything
"If I'd known you were comin', I'd've baked a cake"
I'm no heroine
in pieces
in spite of it all
jackboots
jealous of someone else's mother
jealous of the moon
joyful girl
Kara inadvertently discovers silly putty
Kara takes ballet as part of her Pyramid training (bonus points if she likes it, EXTRA bonus points if the
pictures/film end up on Galactica)
Kara Thrace and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day
Kara's one and only experience babysitting
kicked out of the bar
"kicking ass and taking numerical designations"
killing
knuckle down
landing gear
last meal
laughing so hard
laughing when you want to cry
laundry day
Laura Palmer
learning to ride a bike
Leoben
let the warm rain wash the blood away
let's be war buddies
letters never sent
linger
liquid latex
listen up
listening to her father's music
"Live Together, Die Alone"
living with other pilots
long day
losing faith
losing hope/faith
lost in space
lost in the woods
lost woman song
loudmouth
loyalty
lucky charm
lying to herself
Madame President
"Maybe I'll get one of those talking bird things. Teach it to tell you off for me. Save my voice that way."
medal of valor (how did she get it?)
mentor
minerva
mobster
"Momma always said…"
monotony
morning routine
most embarassing moment ever
most popular
motorcycle
murder of crows
my IQ
names and dates and times
near-death experiences
needful things
never felt more alive
nightmare
"No fate but what we make"
Not a morning person
not a pretty girl
not ready to make nice
not supposed to like it
nothing but the rain
nuggets
numbing the pain
ocean
oil paints
old photographs
oneupmanship
Ophelia's flowers
orders she doesn't follow
painting the mandala
peace
people she wants to hate but can't
personal bubble
personal possessions
plaster/metal gods versus real ones
Playing the piano with Dad
playing with asteroids
PMS
prayer
prayers that never got answered
promised land
pulled the covers back up over her head and prayed to the gods that no one noticed her there
punch-happy
pyramid
pyramid cards/triad cards
rage
rank
razor
reading poetry
realizing Tigh is a Cylon
reasons to stay
reckoning
recycled air
red to black
rejoice
remembering the dead
risk v. reward
rockstar
role models
rotgut
rules are meant to be bent (not broken)
running
safe
salty sweat
scars and souveniers
scars, outside and in
second time around
shaky hands
Sharon Valerii
Sharon's bachelorette party
she never could stand a psychic
she refused to touch the piano, but she couldn't keep her hands off the paintbrush
she'd be damned if anyone was going to outshoot her
"She's in command."
shot glasses
showoff
sibling rivalry
silk sheets
sins of the father
sirens
situational ethics
skinnydipping
smell my feet
so much shouting, so much laughter
"So what'd I miss while I was gone?"
sometimes in the middle of the night
somewhere a clock is ticking
space between life and death
spies among the ruins
sports bra
star matter
stars
staying sane on New Caprica
stealing glances
streak of blonde
superhero
superior assholes
survivors
sweat, blood and tears
sympathy for the devil
tactics
"Tag, you're it!"
talking to myself
teacher's pet
temple
temple of faith
"That's not what your wife said."
the color black
the first time she tried to give herself a haircut in the ship's head was right before the worlds ended
the good points of…
the hills are alive
the lies she doesn't tell
the next life
the one night w/ the Major from (?)
the one time Kara lost her voice
the other tattoos
the tears she won't let fall
the true story of what was
the walls are coming down
things she doesn't regret
thinking outside the box
this feels like home
"This is me walking away"
thunder and lightening
to the teeth
top gun
train wreck
trying not to screw up too badly in class
two bottles down, one to go
two little girls
under her bird
unusual
up for the pros
up, up, up, up, up, up
vaulted over the low wall
veins in the back of her hand
washed away
watching Kacey sleep
wearing sunglasses indoors
what if she never came back
what ifs
what is and what never should be
what other postings did Kara have?
what really happened on the day when the Adama boys picture(in her locker)was taken and/or how/why Dee got it
"What the frak are you staring at, Adama?"
wheels
when Kara met Helo
when she's on the ground
whoops
"Why can't I keep my mouth shut?"
why she prays to Artemis and Aphrodite
why she sometimes wishes she were more girly
why she thinks the Picon Panthers are a bad team
willing to fight
winning Baltar's cash
wish upon a star
wishing for a sibling (or NOT wishing for one)
work your way out
wrestle
writing and illustrating a novel or comic book/strip to entertain the Fleet
"Your father's idea of pressure is nothing like my mother's."
zero G

BUNDLES...or feel free to use the words separately
(watercolors, slippery, nuance, leather jacket)
(waiting, umbrella, sunshower, pity)
(bruised knuckles, the great outdoors, compass, peace)

Comments

[rdave1.livejournal.com]

Absolutely beautiful! Heartbreaking and heartwrenching and fulfilling all at the same time. Great work!

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

Hey girl--you need to reply individually to the fic you want to comment on, not the whole thread. (Don't click "Post a new comment" click "reply to this") or we don't know who you're talking to.

[rdave1.livejournal.com]

Poor Kara! So heartbreaking. She had such a hard childhood and all we wanted was for her to be happy. Great work!

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

See above about replying to the individual comments, friend. Thanks!

The Cost-Benefit Analysis of Being Lucky, Fleet's Magic Luck Charm

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

Starbuck has a reputation. You’ve heard the rumors. Most of them are true. But one couldn’t be further from it.

You’re not nearly as lucky as they all think.
___

After your first real combat flight, after the chief strips another piece off you by telling you about Lee and you take a piece back by asking about Sharon, after you pray to the gods in a bunkroom that will never be full again. After. You take a pen and make the list, writing more carefully than you have in a long time. It fills the front of one whole page and half of the back. You read it carefully, twice. Then you rip it up.

Days after the last cycle of 33 minutes ticks down, after the Olympic Carrier, people keep telling you how lucky you were to be in hack. Lucky.

Sure. Because all it cost you was six hours in the brig and a list of names carved more permanently than ink and pulp could ever manage.
___

There are lots of ways you should’ve died on Caprica:

1) Fighting that toaster for the arrow
2) Trying to kill Sharon Valerii v. 2.0
3) Radiation poisoning
4) Bleeding out with a gunshot to the gut in a forest
5) Getting sliced and diced and plugged into a frakking baby factory in that hospital

But against all odds, you make it out and through and the next thing you know you’re saying goodbye to Sammy as he presses that damned arrow into your hands and you watch the hope die in his eyes even as you make your promises. Six hours later you’re back with the fleet (or part of it anyway) and regretting you ever left in the first place.

But the president thanks you and you just nod. Wasn’t any trouble m’am, you think as the stitches pull at your abdomen. All it cost you was an a piece of yourself and a chance at happiness.
___

Six months later and Sammy’s still dogging you whenever you close your eyes. And Kat’s dogging you whenever you open them. It’s like she’s holding a chisel to you, banging incessantly, chipping away all the pieces that make you up. The nugget pep talks, the top gun slot, the punching a superior asshole bullshit, and you let it all slide because you might be off your game on the ground but no one can catch you in the air.

But then you’ve got Scar in your sights and you could take the shot, you could, but…you don’t. For once, you roll out of the line of fire.

After, you raise your bottle and reach for that old list. You stumble and try not to see the pride in the admiral’s eyes or the sympathy in Helo’s or worse, the understanding in Lee’s. You bite your tongue till you taste blood so you don’t cry out that you let her have the shot. She just got lucky.

Luck that you gave her.

And all it cost you was your pride.
___

It takes a while, longer than you thought it would to be honest, but you finally get clearance for the mission. You make good on your promise and drag Sammy’s ass off Caprica. A bunch of others too. Better than that, the cylons turn tail and run.

You’re grinning and laughing and the Admiral tells you you’ve done good. Hell, even Tigh looks proud. You’ve never felt luckier.

A few months pass and your luck holds. It’s quiet in the sky now and you’re tired. Tired of being Starbuck. There’s a new planet, a new world down below. Second chances and new beginnings.

But you’re the fleet’s good luck charm and you’re not sure you’re ready to give that up for civilian life. You mull it over for weeks, even as you visit Sammy and think about cabins. All the while, you do the sums in your head, adding and subtracting, weighing what you gave against what you gained.

And in the end (as you tell yourself it doesn’t really matter why), you do it. Muster out. You trade your wings for feet of clay.

You have no idea what it will cost you when your luck runs out.

Re: The Cost-Benefit Analysis of Being Lucky, Fleet's Magic Luck Charm

[workerbee73.livejournal.com]

OT, I really really love this. Beautifully crafted. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Home, Flying

[innibis.livejournal.com]

Kara watched in helpless frustration as the shaky viper that had strayed from her side got clipped, another green pilot nearly dead by his own stupidity. "Frak!" she swore over coms. "Keep it together! Stay in formation. Stay tight. Fly smart and for gods' sake stop chasing raiders out of our established zone. I can't cover you when you zoom around like morons."

She broke into a sharp 180, following a raider hurtling by. She locked in and fired a few sharp bursts from her guns – no need to waste missiles or bullets. Judging from her nuggets' wild shots, they would need all the ammo conservation she and the other veteran pilots could afford.

"Nice shot, Starbuck," Lee's voice floated over the other congratulations as his viper did a tight loop around hers, engaging a raider underneath her.

"Naturally," she said, flipping upside down briefly to see Apollo dispatch the raider before rolling up. "Fleet's gone but they haven't called us back yet," she observed.

"Only four raiders left," Chuckles chimed in, "Any one of us could handle that on our own."

"Hell yeah!" Hotdog shouted.

"I meant real pilots," Chuckles clarified.

Fleet was safe, ten fighters to four raiders. No baseship in sight. Just a little target practice. Kara grinned and threw on her reverse thrusters to flip end over end and engaged the raider behind her. Piece of cake. The shrapnel dispersed – flying quickly through the vacuum of space.

"One on your tail, Lee," she said, catching sight of Apollo easily, nearly gleefully, weaving around debris, making it impossible for the raider to get a clean shot.

"I see it," Apollo said. "You want him?"

"You don't?" Kara asked as Lee arced toward her.

"Nah, you're already in position," Lee said.

"You are one lazy CAG, Apollo," Kara said as Lee spun past with a wing waggle but she dispatched his pursuer with enthusiasm.

Lee and Chuckles took out the two remaining raiders. Kara rated them on a scale of 1 to 10, giving Chuckles a 9 and Apollo an 8.9, just to hear her squadron laugh.

"Galactica, Viper 236, request combat landing."

"Galactica, Starbuck, belay that. Nuggets, we've got time and you are lacking. Let's see some instrument flying. Request vectors to final."

"I can see the ship, Starbuck," Kat said.

"Opportunity to learn," Kara said cheerfully, hoping that it'd be enough to keep her pain in the ass rooks from whining. "I'm assuming that you would like to be able to find your way home if someday you stray too far."

Apollo broke into nugget groans. "Everyone request vectors to final, key into the ILS frequency and stop bitching."

She dialed up a secure channel as Kat's resentful tone requested vectors. "We're not going to be good examples of proper IFR technique are we?" she asked.

"Frak no," Lee said. "Let Chuckles be a good example. Form landing for old time's sake?"

"WILCO," Kara grinned and formed up on his wing. "Are we using hand signals," she asked hopefully.

Lee snorted, "Yeah right. I know what hand signal you'd use on me." He switched frequencies, "Galactica, Viper 202 and 147 request formation landing."

"Viper 202 and 147, clear for approach, check three down and locked, call the ball."

Kara flipped a lever down and listened to the landing gear grind out below her, watching as the vipers returned home one by one. She saw Lee glance out his wing, checked her HUD for the lights indicating that her skids were out and locked in place and waved to him. It wasn't text book signaling, but he knew what she meant. "Roger," Lee responded, "Three down and locked, I have the ball."

She kept her eyes fixed on her form points, Lee's wing and tail, maintaining distance, and following him down to the deck. She missed good old fashioned flying sometimes, and Lee was one of the few pilots she trusted to fly lead without feeling the need to cheat by watching the approaching deck. Sure enough, the touchdown was spot on.

"Starbuck and Apollo" the Commander's wry voice filled her ear. "Are you done? The rest of the fleet has jumped you know."

"Yes, sir," Kara said cheerfully. "Feel free to jump."

"I appreciate your permission," he said, but Kara could hear the smile in his voice.

The 1MC crackled to life "All hands, prepare for jump."

Re: Home, Flying

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

FLYING! And so technical and legit as only Dark Cloud can bring it.
Awesome.

Misdirection, "What the frak are you staring at, Adama?", reading poetry, numbing the pain

[crazedcrusader.livejournal.com]

A/N: Written to celebrate my laptop's safe return from the repair place. There will probably be a pilot-shippy version of it at some point, knowing me.


The minute she realizes she's being stared at, she knows who's responsible; she doesn't even have to look up from her book. "What the frak are you staring at, Adama?" Her tone is mild, for all that the words are sharp; she knows what Lee's thinking, and why he's staring at her.

She's taken him by surprise. Good. Everyone needs a swift, hard kick in the complacency then, even him. Especially him.

"I never would have figured you for the poetry type," he says at length.

Kara glances up from the book of poetry she's reading, then back down at its pages. "Yeah, well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Captain."

"I'm starting to get that impression, yeah." Lee perches, uninvited, at the end of her bunk; Kara, accustomed to this behavior from him, ignores it. "So....do you write it too?"

Kara falls silent, thinking of Caprica, and of the canvases now strewn around the apartment. She thinks about the days after the funeral, before she started her posting on Galactica; she'd coped with her grief and guilt by destroying their neat, orderly home, as surely as she'd destroyed the life she and Zak should have had there. "Yes," she says eventually, closing her book and looking up at him. "Sometimes I do. Do you want to hear some of it?"

Lee blinks at her, taken by surprise. "Sure," he says carefully. "I mean, if you're sure..."

"I am." Kara leans in, smirking slightly when he does the same. "There once was a CAG named Apollo....who liked for his girlfriends to swal...."

"Thank you, Kara." Lee, predictably red, stands up, shaking his head. "I'll just...leave you alone."

"Thanks." Kara goes back to her book, knowing that Lee didn't really fall for the misdirection but appreciating his willingness to pretend.

One of these days, she thinks she might have to finish that poem.

Re: Misdirection, "What the frak are you staring at, Adama?", reading poetry, numbing the pain

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

HA HA HA HA HA HA!!

THAT POEM IS FOR THE WIN!!!

Seriously, that was a fantastic execution of the misdirection prompt. Taking off my gen hat to say: Love your last line too. ;)

DUI, most embarassing moment ever, joyful girl, laughing so hard, the hills are alive

[crazedcrusader.livejournal.com]

I know it's not a Kara POV, but it's about her, and the image was too cute to resist. I needed to write something more cheerful, anyway.

DUI, btw, in this case stands for 'Dancing Under the Influence,' but I ran afoul of LJ's subject heading limits and couldn't get it all in there.


"She's going to kill us for this later, you realize."

"I know." Lee Adama glances sideways at Karl Agathon, then back through the lens of the video camera, smiling. "But it'll be worth it."

They've found a planet that supports life, but they won't be staying; in addition to the lush flowers and fruit trees, there are way too many volcanoes for anybody's peace of mind, and no animal life at all (probably as a result of the volcanoes). The air's breathable, though, and they think the food might be edible, so they're collecting samples.

Or, at least, the men are.

The planet's flowers have an oddly euphoric effect on women; Kara, who first found them, has been hit harder than any of the other women in the survey team. She's been alternating between singing (which she does surprisingly well) and bursts of semi-hysterical laughter. The sudden fits of giggles are very sweet, and Lee is very glad he has a camera with him.

He'll just have to remember to hide that camera later, before Kara realizes she filmed him; the last thing he wants is for Kara to get her hands on it, because he has the feeling she'd end up wedging it into an orifice from which he'll be unable to remove it.

"Definitely worth it," Karl agrees, and the two of them watch, smiling fondly, as the girl they both love plops a crown of flowers on her golden hair, raises her hands to the sky and starts spinning around, smiling up into the sun.

Re: DUI, most embarassing moment ever, joyful girl, laughing so hard, the hills are alive

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

Aw...so adorable. I <3 Happy Kara so much.

Wan Nao (Troublemaker), two little girls, Madame President, good at math

[rayruz.livejournal.com]

(Part of ootbverse, BSG/Firefly AU. Technically set at a point in the future of the story I haven't gotten to yet, but whatever.)

Kara pushed open the hatch to her bunkroom, unceremoniously dropping her sweat drenched towel onto the floor. She’d just finished a friendly sparring match with Caprica—the cylon (though she rarely thought of her as that) always kept her on her toes—and all she wanted right now was a hot shower… if the water heater was working, that one was a tossup on any given day. As she started to peel off her shirt, a tiny giggle jerked Kara’s attention towards the desk.

Raising an eyebrow, she crossed over to the desk, pulled the chair back, and squatted down to come face to face with the tiny blonde child who was sitting on her knees and looking thoroughly irritated that her hiding spot had been revealed. (Apparently she hadn’t quite grasped the concept that if you make noise, the grown ups can hear you.) “What are you doing down here, Kace? I thought you had a lesson today.”

Kacey pressed her tiny hand to Kara’s mouth. “Shh!” she demanded in a hushed voice, eyes darting around; then, confident that it was safe she whispered, “Hide and seek.”

“Well, I found you.” Kara smirked as she ruffled the girl’s hair. “Go play with Hera for a while; I need a shower.”

Kacey rocked back onto her heels, giggling like it was the funniest joke she’d ever heard. “You’re not it!”

“Oh yeah? Who’s it?”

As if on cue, Kara heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs that stopped once they reached the room. Kara came out of her crouch, looking up to see the former Madame President standing in the doorway with a bit of a flush to her cheeks, like she’d been around the ship three times over. “Alright,” she demanded with a sigh of exasperation. “Where are they?”

Kara flicked her gaze towards the desk before turning back to Laura. “And what was today’s lesson on?”

“Math.”

“I think the girls know their math. Two of them. One of you. They win.” Kara was trying hard not to break out laughing. In a way, she was sort of proud of the girls getting the best of their teacher. It was like something she would’ve done. On the other hand, she also knew that you never, ever cross Laura Roslin, even when she has no control over the airlock. “Have you tried bribing them? I think we have enough supplies to make cookies… or something resembling cookies. There’s sugar.”

Laura folded her arms over her chest with the kind of calm that would’ve been absolutely terrifying if they weren’t talking about Kacey and Hera. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Kara broke out into a wide grin. “Alright, Kace. Come on out.” There was a groan of protest but the little girl crawled out from under the desk and rose up on her feet. “Okay. As captain of this ship, I declare today Hide and Seek Day. No math lessons. Kacey here is going to be it. Ms. Roslin you better hid before she counts to 1,000 and… yes Kace?” She looked down as the girl tugged at her pants leg.

“I don’t know how to count to 1,000.” She glanced up at Kara sheepishly.

“You don’t?”

Kacey shook her head. “Do you?”

Kara knelt down so that she was at eye level with the little girl. “Yes, I know how to count to 1,000. Do you know why?” Kacey shook her head again. “Because I’m good at math. You want to be good at math?” Kacey nodded. “Then you and Ms. Roslin, go find Hera and have your math lesson. Okay?”

Kacey’s face brightened. “Okay!” She turned towards Laura. “Hera’s hiding in the upstairs head,” she announced and quickly skittered from the room. Kara watched as the child left and turned to Laura with a triumphant smile.

Laura gave a relieved nod. “Xie xie, Kara.”

“Cai bu shi. Now go, you have hellions to teach.” When Roslin left, Kara shut the hatch behind her. She walked into the private head, stripping off her sticky workout clothing. She turned on the shower and felt the heat of steam hit her face just before she stepped under the spray grinning.

Good day, she concluded. Kept the kids out of trouble, no supply shortages, no Alliance, no equipment failures. Kara sighed contently, just as the pipes started to rattle, the rush of warm water quickly changing over to an icy blast.

"Frak!"

---

Translation Notes
Xie xie- Thank you
Cai bu shi- No problem

Re: Wan Nao (Troublemaker), two little girls, Madame President, good at math

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

AW!! THAT WAS ADORABLE!! Hee. And clever Kara. (I love the Good at Math prompt, that was one of mine.)

I feel like I've heard Laura use that line before about the kids. Did you do it in one of the earlier OOTB parts? So familiar, I got deja vu.

[kellychameleon3.livejournal.com]

That was very beautiful and awfully hard to read. As much as I hate the poof, I love the idea of Zak waiting for her on the other side.

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

Hey Kelly, Be sure to "reply to this" rather than "Leave a comment". Somewhereapart won't see your answer if not. :)

Power Play, she’d be damned if anyone was going to outshoot her, bum knee, pyramid, showoff

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

Pro pyramid player or not, she’d be damned if anyone was going to outshoot her.

Kara feinted left and pivoted hard coming up against Anders’s back. She wasn’t above playing dirty, so when he grabbed for her waist, he got an elbow to the solar plexus. That gave her enough time to launch up and fire one into the goal. She smirked. Nothing but net. Well, wire netting anyway.

She turned, beaming, breathing hard. The relatively fresher air of the mountains was still a novelty. It’d been ages since she’d played pyramid, even longer since it was on an actual regulation court, and the urges to grab and shove and jump, to feel concrete scraping her knees and the stiff leather of the gloves fitting roughly over her fingers, were overwhelming. On Galactica she worked out and she ran laps but it wasn’t like this. There was a dangerous giddy rush flooding her now and Kara couldn’t get enough. It was sort of like that mixture of relief and pleasure and plain you got when you ripped a scab off a healing scar to make it bleed again -- times a thousand.

Anders looked up, bent over still, hands on his knees breathing hard, but his tone wasn’t annoyed. “What’s that you were saying about a bum knee before?”

He had a quick grin and bright eyes and she found her wary regard easing as she surveyed the rest of him. Sam Anders, Caprica Buccaneer. Tall, good arms, great hands. She smirked again, envisioning a completely different contact sport he’d probably be good at. “Busted it in college.”

Sam straightened, shaking his head, and when he looked at her, he was grinning. It was open and unreserved and Kara felt her smirk turn into a real smile. “Well, it’s looking pretty good now.”

She flinched at the words, gut churning at the other voice that immediately echoed in her head, and thought, That’s what you get for letting your guard slip. Just as quickly she shook it off. No time for regrets. (Too late for that anyway.) She had a game to win. Kara threw the ball back to Sam only a little bit harder than was strictly necessary.

“You done wheezing yet, Mr. Pro Player? No wonder the 'buccs got the worst record in the Colonial League." She crossed her arms, leaning against the goal in a lazy slump. "You just let me know when you're ready to go again.”

“I’m always ready.” Impossibly white teeth flashed at her and the smile was just a shade wolfish this time. She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah? ’Cause I get another ten points on you,” she shrugged, “you’re gonna have a tough time finding your dignity in the morning.”

He didn’t answer, just grinned some more, letting his eyes rake down her body in a slow once over. Kara let him look for a minute then turned away, rolling her eyes even as she grinned a little. Good. Let him get distracted. She shifted, took a deep breath and pivoted fast, charging hard and grabbing the ball right out of his hand, and dropping into a forward roll to evade his clutching arms. She shot up in one smooth motion and her muscles burned as she reared back and fired into the net across the court. She didn’t need to look to know it went in clean.

Sam's eyes widened and then he huffed a laugh. “Now you’re just showing off.”

Heart pounding hard, face tilted to the sun, Kara laughed too. It flashed in her head suddenly, the life she could have lived once. No CAPs, no commanding officers. No prophecies or lies. No expectations. Just the ground solid under her and nothing but net.

She thinks she could have liked that life.

Re: Power Play, she’d be damned if anyone was going to outshoot her, bum knee, pyramid, showoff

[rayruz.livejournal.com]

I really liked this! :)

"you’re gonna have a tough time finding your dignity in the morning."
This line gave me a giggle fit. :)

Great job, hon!

Lefty Loosey, "I don't need directions"

[shinyfab.livejournal.com]

“Left here!” he hissed from behind her.

“Shut up Lee,” she hissed back. Feet pounded past the hallway entrance and she carefully edged the nose of her gun past the opening's edge. When nothing happened she peeked around the edge, quick glances to the right and left.

“Kara, we have to go left here! My dad & Tigh are - ”

“Frak Lee! I don't need directions. I found your sorry ass didn't I? Godsdamn.”

The frantic edge in his voice began to make her fingers itch around the trigger.

“Yeah Starbuck, you found me. You also shot a lot of people.”

Without turning around she could imagine the annoyed look on his face.

“So?” she grunted.

“Oh sure,” he bit out. “Why do you get to shoot everyone and I just get to be the back up?”

Exasperated, and having already made sure the hall was clear, she turned to give him a patronizing look.

“Well, oh great and mighty god of war, I'm sure we'll find someone you can shoot soon. This IS a mutiny. Now will you shut up. I'm trying to get us out of here.”

He scowled at her.

“Frakkin' baby,” she muttered and turned back to the doorway.

They stand still for a few moments. She could feel his breath on her neck, impatience vibrated from him.

“We need to go left,” he repeated and leaned back against the wall. Her jaw clenched shut, teeth snapping together and muscles aching.

“I should of brought a map,” he said softly to himself.

She turned back to him with a mutinous look on his face. Lee rolled his head toward her. Seeing the look on her face his eyebrows knit together.

“What?” he asked nonplussed.

“A map? A map?” she spluttered.

“Well, um. You know.” He looked at the floor, a hand coming up to nervously rub his neck.

“You have gotten us lost before,” he started out hesitantly, momentarily re-thinking his insinuation about her inability to tell direction.

Taking a breath he stopped talking to look up at her. Her mouth dropped open.

“That was years ago! And we were drunk!” she nearly screamed when she found her voice again.

Gun under his arm he still managed to put his hands on his hips with a thoroughly Lee look on his face.

“All it means Kara is that just because it's the Galactica doesn't mean you can't get lost.”

It's like he's talking to a five year old and she would have punched him if she hadn't needed him conscious.

“When we get out of this, I'm going to beat the crap out of you.”

“Looking forward to it,” he snapped back. “Maybe we should get out of here then.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Nostrils flared and breathing heavy, they stared each other down until they both blinked loosening the tension.

“So which way?” he finally whispered.

She shrugged.

“I think we should go left.”

Re: Lefty Loosey, "I don't need directions"

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

Hee! So fun. Especially the ending. And this: "I'm sure we'll find someone you can shoot soon. This IS a mutiny."

Special Kind of Tactics, Helo

[ivanolix.livejournal.com]

"Walk, Karl." She heard his groan behind her. "Get that leg up and hop."

"Nope." She looked back and saw Karl leaned against the wall and one leg favored, arms crossed and eyes closed.

"If you give up, I'm killing you now," Kara warned.

"You need to dig around in that smart head of yours for a better plan than walking right in," Karl added, jaw set.

"Don't need better than that," Kara scorned. "They'll have blocked off borders, sure, but minimal security past that. At least, this far back." She didn't move back to join him.

"I did not agree to climb over the wall just to hop back in, and not after this ankle was so kindly snapped, thank you Kara Thrace." Karl's arms crossed tighter.

"Sprained, idiot." Kara rolled her eyes, but not meanly. "Come on, I'll lower you there and you can just lean on me."

"Lower me over the—" Karl looked at his overlong frame compared to her more compact one, and Kara could see the calculations for pulleys and leverage running through his head. "Look, you're not even tall enough to support me for a few steps."

"If I know anything, Karl, I am the perfect height," Kara said lightly. She walked over and slapped her right shoulder. "Hand here. Now."

"Kara, our team lost," Karl protested even as he lay his arm across her shoulders. "It's 2 against 10."

"Crappy leadership lessened our odds, yes," Kara acknowledged. He hopped a little, his weight bearing down on her, but she held with a grimace.

"If you've got such great plans, how come you didn't try for captain?"

She snorted a laugh through tensed jaw as they moved along the wall. "Popularity contests are fodder for fools. It's not about who has the title in the beginning, it's about who lasts to achieve the end results."

"Such as illegally leaving school grounds?"

"All's fair in love and war." Kara cocked her head. "Well, war, definitely. Besides, battle school encourages out of the box thinking, so they say."

"And you're taking it literally," Karl sighed.

"Someone's got to do it the first time," Kara said with a grin.

They'd gone a hundred yards and a nice dent sat in the wall in front of them, a tree sitting a few feet off.

"Kara and Karl, infamously bold, but failures."

"Shut up, Karl, I don't fail." Kara tucked her foot in a cap in the wall, pushed up a couple steps to look over shortly, and then set about arranging the rope over a tree branch.

They had to keep voices low now, with the enemy territory on the other side. Karl just gave her pointed looks when she indicated that he sit on her shoulder so she could lift him up to the branch. His leg might be shot, but his pull-ups were just as good as hers. They scooted along the branch, and Kara pulled up and lowered the rope over the wall. Grinning, she tipped her head, holding out the fat knot in the rope.

Karl's eyes widened, but there was no use now. Using the trunk to loosen the strain, Kara had Karl lowered, falling a little too fast for him given the sharp intake of his breath on the way down. He scooted behind a protective bush and leaned against it, drawing his gun as Kara hopped down.

Kara took hers in hand, tossed a couple hand directions to him about rear cover and good aim, then slipped off into the school grounds that were their battlefield for this day's practice.

After the first two shots hit straight, lasers ordering light shocks to be sent into the complacent enemy's chests, the rest of the them came for her. She laughed aloud as she ran back, not even shooting again. The game was up. Karl got the other four border guards from behind the bush as they went past, and Kara had no problem getting the next guard down and snatching his gun all in a few seconds.

They didn't have time to surrender when she shot the last two at the key point, the lights on their vests flashing as they fell. Karl took down the one she'd missed, clearly able to hop now.

Kara put her hand to her hip, hair slipped out of the ponytail it was really too short to fit into, and surveyed the scene with pride. "Capture the flag my ass. This was a proper military takeover."

"They are going to remember your name," Karl sighed, hopping to her side.

"You and me both," she answered. Victory was too sweet not to break the rules for. Not when they didn't even try for realism.

Re: Special Kind of Tactics, Helo

[shah-of-blah.livejournal.com]

I love this! Thanks for making me smile.

Chasing Icarus, (my prompt list is at the end, 'cause it's kinda looooong)

[sabaceanbabe.livejournal.com]

deep breath and the tang of paint, the grit of sandpaper becomes the fine dust of plaster, drifting like snow

She dips the rounded knife into a blob of blue –

deep blue sky above a Caprican sunset as you fly up, up, up, up, up, up, higher than you’ve ever flown before, higher than the gods

– paint and reaches up to describe an arc –

like Icarus, chasing the sun and its circle of light, only to fall, slowly spiraling

– across the satin-smooth wall as her father’s music swirls around her and through her. She’s not even truly aware of her physical surroundings, only the recorded comfort of her father’s fingers on the piano’s keys and the –

scrape of metal across plaster, susurrus of brush across cymbal, swirl of red cloud in your mind’s eye

– feel of the canvas she’s made of the wall before her. A crescendo builds in the music and she takes a step back and then another. Lightning flashes outside the window behind her and rain spatters against the glass as thunder rumbles, rattling the window in its frame.

The wall of her apartment is gone, its place taken by an image –

bloom of yellow and red and blue mingles before your eyes, morphs into the space between life and death

– that haunts her dreams. She stares into the center as her fingers, suddenly nerveless, relax their grip on her brush and it drops, lands with sticky blue bristles on her bare foot. Bending to retrieve it, she stops, stares at the veins on the back of her paint-smeared hand. Like a bruise, the –

mandala

– swirling image on her wall rises on the back of her hand. Thunder crashes outside in time to the percussive beat of the music and she shivers.

“Frak this shit,” she says to the back of her hand, to the paint drying on her wall. Standing, she wipes the paint from her hand with the tail of her shirt, grabs the paint-stained leather jacket from a hook at the base of the stairs.


The prompts: barefoot; blue skies; canvas; chasing the sun; circle of light; dreams; falling slowly; fear of the gods; flying; Icarus; leather jacket; listening to her father’s music; oil paints; painting the mandala; space between life and death; thunder and lightning; up, up, up, up, up, up; veins in the back of her hand

Re: Chasing Icarus, (my prompt list is at the end, 'cause it's kinda looooong)

[rebelliousrose.livejournal.com]

And you said you didn't have a style. I think I duped it better than I even knew.

This is cool stuff.

Give peace a chance... (AU), prompts: born a lion, painting the mandala, the true story of what was

[lyssie.livejournal.com]

She's got a story like everyone else on the strip: left home at too young an age for freedom and open skies. They called them runaways and orphans, juvenile delinquents, whores and worse. But Kara wasn't an easy target, living by her wits and fists until there was the prospect of something more.

A place to run to, a place to travel.

She liked seeing new sights and hearing new sounds, making a buck off the unlikeliest of idiots. Sometimes going legit and grabbing the odd job using her skills for more than abstract smears on canvas.

Spending a summer in Newark painting house, and in autumn moving to the Carolinas, fixing cars in off-the-track garages for the clothing on her back and a bite to eat. Winter was mild months in Louisiana, where she worked for a charter service. In her spare time, she filled cheap notebooks with pencil sketches. Sometimes, she prowled the streets of New Orleans, sketching for tourists, street kids, anyone who'd toss her a dollar or two.

Didn't matter that it wasn't high art, a girl had to eat.

The routine was varied, and the years passed, but she always ended up gravitating back to the strip, the dirt and sand of L.A. under her nails and in her blood. Like a disease she couldn't quite shake.

Like a drug that left her on a rooftop, thirsting for more even as she had to climb back down a drainpipe.

She was no longer an innocent waif at twenty, her eyes catching what others didn't want to see, her paint-stained hands sure even when she hadn't had a hit in days.

Finding a cause was almost accidental, in its way. But the peace crowd were so earnest and their enthusiasm swept her up.

Stop the war! Give peace a chance!, slogans which swirled around her and pulled her along through marches and protests. Stood at her back in cold jail cells with aching bruises and cuts on her hands.

When they weren't protesting, they were high--anything they could get their hands on, anything to enhance the experience.

She painted, then, sometimes in strokes of red, blue and orange, a symbol she used to draw as a child. Circles and circles and circles that rolled through her mind until she was punching the canvas, ripping it free and starting fresh, this time with greens and golds, skyscapes and clouds of a planet that looked like something out of Star Trek.

It was good, her paintings sold, like any other handmade wares; sometimes to others on the strip (usually for food or a new shirt), sometimes to the tourists. Sometimes, she hawked them past the clubs and shops, where they didn't quite acknowledge her even as they handed over bills that smelled like laundry soap. They were the same people who sometimes slum further along the strip, hunching their shoulders and looking like cops as they traded cash for a good drug hook-up.

Rent was rarely a problem, half a dozen places and people taking her in when she didn't have the cash for it. Sometimes, she slept in doorways, her knuckles white around the handles of her bag. She never slept heavily anymore, and she'd learned early to always watch her shit in case there was someone willing to walk off with it.

Falling in with Karl and Sharon felt oddly right and Kara began spending less time high and more time marching, if only so they didn't get so uptight about her shooting up around their daughter. After she proved to be trust-worthy, she found herself watching Hera more often than she'd expected. Karl had a legitimate job for a contractor and Sharon sold jewelry along the strip. Some days, she took Kara's smaller paintings with her. Other days, it went the other way round.

Kara teaches Hera to paint with her fingers, bold swathes of yellow and blue, sometimes circles. Other times, they are stick figures, people that no one recognizes, but that make Hera more wistful, leaning in against Kara's knees while Kara works on her own canvas.

The symbiosis works, for a time. And since time is all Kara has, she's good with that. Maybe next year, she'll be in Florida, picking oranges, or the plains with crops of some sort. For now, she has this.

Re: Give peace a chance... (AU), prompts: born a lion, painting the mandala, the true story of what

[prozacpark.livejournal.com]

Kara marching for peace is amusing, and you made it work. I like this a lot...there's a lovely wistfulness to it, and an odd rightness to the setting. <3

Blue Skies, In Pieces

[gwassh0ppa.livejournal.com]

You’re teaching a brand-spanking new class of nuggets when an Ensign sticks her head in the classroom, requesting your presence in the CO’s office. You frown, because the last time you got sent to the principle, you were in secondary school and just relocated your pyramid coach’s car to the roof of the gymnasium.

He’s been gone for a week, running viper exercises off a battlestar to qualify for combat landings. You’ve already received two letters, one frantic with shaky writing, was that a tear?, and the other was clipped, asking if maybe he shouldn’t have passed.

When your CO gives you that damn look, the one where he feels like he ran over your dog, you don’t even wait for the news. Just blurt:

Zak?

He nods.

How bad?

He frowns and your tongue pokes out from your mouth gliding to the top of your lips as you frown. You leave his office without asking permission because suddenly, it’s too damn hard to breathe.

It comes as a shock, but not quite. You always hoped beyond hope that the gods would have mercy on you just this once, and extend some of support and safety on to him.

They didn’t.

They didn’t and now you’re stand out in the middle of the quad, drills being run at one end, cadets scattered in careless disarray on the other. It’s blue skies and bright and beautiful and completely inappropriate for the loss of the man you loved. All you can summon is this awkward disbelieving chortle and a slow, sorry shake of the head.

It figures, you whisper to yourself. The one time I fall in love and I had to go and kill the man.

You don’t break down then. You return to your class, only to find another instructor has dismissed them. No one comes when they hear the echo of The Mechanics of Flight 9th Edition hurtling across the room. Your favorite because of the particularly satisfying thwomp it makes is The Art of Combat: Landings to Diversionary Tactics . Sad thing is, he had that whole book memorized backwards, forwards and upside down.

When you get to your apartment later that day, you find three ticket stubs on the counter from the movie you both saw a day before he shipped out. His brother even tagged along and he actually seemed to loosen up after you got him to talk about what he wanted to do once his time was up.

FRAK!

You yell this repeatedly until it doesn’t sound like a word, throwing anything that can break and stomping around your apartment until you end up in your bedroom. You spot his sweatshirt half on the bed, the one you’ve been wearing every night to sleep because it smells like him. You’d never, ever admit that.

On shaky legs, you crumble to the floor and lean against the bed with your head pillowed in the dark blue fabric. It’s lost most of his scent, but you like to think the further you burrow your head, the closer you are to him. After a while, you slide to the floor and curl up around the sweatshirt, clutching it close to your face.

When you wake up, the sky is overcast and thunder rumbles so loudly that the thin windowpanes vibrate. Your confusion quickly evaporates when everything rushes back to you in painful flashes of memory and you find yourself gulping for air.

Finally as the skies break and the rain begins to fall, the tears start to streak down your face, mixing with snot and making a wet, salty mess all over his sweatshirt. That alone makes you cry harder.

It rains long into the night and you think you’d like to climb into a Viper and chase after the particles and dust of his left behind in the sky. You’d also like to explode into a million tiny pieces of infinitesimal nothingness. Dust that gets sucked into a star, sounds like a fitting resting place for a pilot.

You don’t think the gods will listen to that prayer either.

Re: Blue Skies, In Pieces

[bonita-chica71.livejournal.com]

So sad, but beautiful! :)

Like No One's Watching, Kara takes ballet as part of her Pyramid training

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

Gods, Kara thinks in frustration, there are so many better things I could be doing right now.

She stares into the mirror, surveying the whole room and its occupants. The reflective walls of the dance studio reveal seven other 16-year-old girls (none of whom she recognizes from school thankfully), bedecked in a pastel rainbow of leotards and tights. Some even have little floaty skirts made of some kinda see-through material tied around their waists. All of them have on shiny satin pink toe shoes with blunted ends.

Kara's reflection shows her tank top with the tiny hole on the stomach and track shorts that have seen better days. She's wearing flat elastic slippers on her feet that the dance teacher loaned her, explaining patiently but adamantly that Kara couldn't do ballet in high top sneakers. Her hair is short and choppy, cut by her mother, unlike the long, gently curling ponytails the other students wear.

Two of the girls are glancing at her sideways now and whispering, their faces curious yet closed, clearly judging her and finding her wanting. Kara tamps down the urge to gnaw at her already bitten-to-the-quick fingernails as they scrutinize her. She scowls at them instead, giving her best frak off look and they quickly turn away. She feels a bit better.

Normally she wouldn't be caught dead in a joint like this, but her pyramid coach had insisted Kara take the class, promising it would help her balance and agility and make her faster and more fluid on the court. Kara doesn't take a lot seriously, but she always listens to Coach Taylor. Pyramid is her ticket out, away from this stinking town, her mother, everything, and she's not about to frak that up. So if Coach wants her to learn how to pirouette like a spinning top, then she'll learn it.

The instructor sweeps into the room and leads them through stretching exercises, then a boring repetition of steps at this long bannister that she calls a barre. Point and flex, shuffle and kick, first position, second position. Kara keeps an eye on the feet of the girl in front of her and she's a quick learner mostly. She steps on the girl's heel a few times, but Kara meets the nasty look she flashes over her shoulder with just a raised eyebrow and makes a show of clenching the fist not clutching the barre real slow. The girl's head snaps back around pretty quickly and Kara grins.

She's wondering how long this is gonna last and if the guys will still be at the court on Mountain View after she's done here, when the music starts. It's a classical piece--the teacher calls it an adagio--but Kara only knows that it's beautiful.

Notes, low and resonant then sharp and keening, slowly unfold in a simple but haunting melody. It's being played on some sort of string instrument, violins perhaps, but it reminds her of the music her father played on their piano when she was a child. Kara has almost forgotten the sound of it. Her mother never plays any music in the house and this is a far cry from the fast, driving beats she heard on the radio.

The instructor calls them to the center of the floor and begins walking through the steps of a routine. Kara tries to pay attention but the music is echoing more loudly in her head now. The melancholy, plaintive tones steal under her skin, thrum in her blood. Swaying, she closes her eyes, and the world recedes. Kara forgets about having the wrong clothes and the wrong hair. She forgets about her mother and her coach. For once, she even forgets about pyramid.

Instead, she dances.

Re: Like No One's Watching, Kara takes ballet as part of her Pyramid training

[workerbee73.livejournal.com]

Awww, this is lovely. Great idea and very well executed. : )

Mood Swing, PMS

[crazedcrusader.livejournal.com]

Apollo is about halfway through the morning briefing, and Starbuck is nowhere to be seen. Even for Kara, that's unusual, but Apollo hasn't commented on it - probably knows something the pilots don't - so the rest of them keep their mouths shut.

When the smell of freshly-baked cookies wafts through the door of the Pilots' Briefing Room, every head turns, including the CAG's. The smell is accompanied by Kara Thrace walking through it holding a basket and looking shifty; Apollo is the only one not surprised. "Starbuck. Thanks for joining us," he says, with none of the sarcasm the watching pilots expect from him. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Fine." Starbuck pauses, then hands him the basket and goes to her seat without another word; Apollo opens the top of the basket and raises an eyebrow, then smiles at Starbuck and continues with the briefing like nothing had happened.

Afterward, when he dismisses the pilots, Starbuck stays; the others file out the door obediently, then crowd around it once it's closed, straining to hear the conversation inside.

"Feeling better, Kara?" The CAG's voice, warm with concern, probably moving to sit with her, judging by where the sound's coming from.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks. For, you know..."

"Yeah. It's fine, Kara. I know it's harder on you since Caprica...thanks for the cookies."

"Sure. You know how I get, this time of month." Starbuck sounds a little embarrassed, and the other pilots wince slightly; Starbuck with PMS is a terrifying creature usually neutralized by the IUD, but rumor has it that the Cylons removed hers on Caprica, and now the pilots are wondering what the frak she did to the CAG to make her feel like she has to bake things for him in apology.

Apollo's voice, when he speaks, sounds slightly amused, and leaves the pilots gaping at the closed door in disbelief. "Yeah....you know, Kara, I swear to the Gods, you're the only woman I've ever known who gets nicer when she's PMSing."

Re: Mood Swing, PMS

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

Heh. I am pretty sure this counts as crack!fic. Cookie-baking Kara.

A Touch of Grace, Kara takes ballet as part of her pyramid training

[shah-of-blah.livejournal.com]

(The ficlet's too long, so I'm posting the beginning here and then linking to the full thing)

Frak that.

Kara respected her coach, she really did. After all, he seemed to be the only person in the school—hell, the city—who was willing to put up with all her shit. But in all honesty, she liked him best when he was tossing a ball in her direction and blowing the whistle.

That whole ‘team’ thing had been going pretty well for her too, considering. She didn’t have much (read: anything) to compare it to. But when she couldn’t find anything familiar in her teammates, she realized that they all shared one thing: a common sense of physicality and love for this leather ball that fits in one hand.

So things had been going well. Until Kara found herself in her coach’s office, throwing every dirty look in her vast arsenal at him. She ripped the brochure in half.

The trouble started when he pulled her aside after practice and told her a scout was coming to the championship game. Said the scout was coming for her. And asked her if she wanted this. Kara had wanted a lot of things in her life, but she wasn’t used to them being packaged this way—with a steady gaze and a helping hand.

“A ticket out of this shithole?” she said as soon as she recovered from the shock. “Count me in.”

She had a lot of work to do, he said. Couldn’t win everything by flying by the seat of her pants.

She was fine with that. Didn’t exactly expect a pyramid scholarship to be handed to her free of charge. Of course, he neglected to mention what all this work would actually entail. Just told her he wanted to show her something from the tape of their last game. He froze the screen on an image of her shouldering past a defender, ball firmly tucked against her body. And then he handed her the brochure.

“Frak that,” she said when she read the title and saw the cover with its half a dozen smiling, brainless-looking girls in tutus.

“I’m serious,” her coach said.

“But come on,” she said, waving at the screen, “I won the ball!”

“You did, against that idiot of a defender. You’re better than him. But if you want to play—really play—you’ve got to be better than better. A defender worth his weight would have caught you here,” he rewound a few seconds, “when your step was too short and you nearly stumbled.”

Kara stared at the image of herself, then her coach’s face. And she ripped those stupid girls with their stupid tutus right down the middle. She found it very satisfying and thought it communicated her feelings very well.

But her coach just pulled a second copy out of his desk drawer and said, “I’ve got plenty more where that came from so don’t waste your time.”

She crossed her arms and waited. He sighed.

“You’ve got power. You’ve got speed, and you’ve certainly got nerve. What you need is flexibility and,” he paused, “grace.”

Frak. That.

But he was persistent and a few days later she found herself in a ballet studio wondering how the frak she got there.

(Read the rest here (http://shah-of-blah.livejournal.com/29702.html#cutid3))

Haircuts, Lollipops and Letting Go

[mintenergy.livejournal.com]

At my LJ because it was a little too long:


The first time she tried to give herself a haircut in the ship's head was right before the worlds ended. (http://mintenergy.livejournal.com/11049.html)

Re: Haircuts, Lollipops and Letting Go

[amaliak.livejournal.com]

Because we're SOULMATES and I was writin this already, I present:
RE-MIX (http://amaliak.livejournal.com/51170.html).


(OMG OMG my first BSG fic!)
cheers.
--Lex

The Buddy System, Agathon's just slow, sir, vaulted over the low wall, alcohol and bad choices

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

"Remind me again why I let you talk me into that?" Helo groaned, squinting at the blazing sun overhead, one hand rubbing his forehead as they marched.

Kara smirked and hefted her weapon higher under her elbow. "Yeah, I really had to twist your arm. That was all me pouring those Picon Firewhisky shots down your gullet last night."

He glared at her and stepped down heavy on his left ankle, and Helo cursed softly, limping forward a step or two. Kara watched him and this time she did feel a twinge of guilt. The shots had been Karl's idea but staying out past curfew and sneaking back onto campus had been Kara's. As they'd vaulted over the low wall at the base perimeter where they'd be undetected by the guards, Karl had been more than a little drunk and had lost his balance, landing hard on his left foot. Kara'd had to prop him up and haul his ass back to their bunkroom and it had been hard work lugging around that tall motherfrakker.

Still, it was the least she could do. She wasn't quite sure she could've gotten through this first month of boot camp without him. Well, she could have, but it woulda been a lot less fun. Kara had known a lot of guys in her life, at high school, playing pyramid, but she'd never really had one who just wanted to be her friend before. Agathon was different.

The first day of boot camp she'd shown up to find she was the only girl in the unit and Kara had set her jaw, determined to ignore both the sneers and the leers for the next six weeks. But Helo had plunked himself down next to her at lunch that first day with an open, easy smile and had been dogging her heels ever since. Kara had been irritated at first, not sure what he wanted from her, but when she'd finally blown up and confronted him at the end of the second day, he hadn't backed down, just smiled that same frakking smile and said she'd looked like she could use a friend and he sure the hell could, so why not?

Why not? he'd said. Easy as that. And for the first time in her life, it really was. She watched him now as he reached down, sliding a hand into his jackboot to rub at the sore ankle, and neither one noticed their unit marching further ahead until a shadow fell over them. "ATTENTION!"

They shot up, spines straight, heels together, saluting the commanding officer who was snarling at them now. "Is there a problem here, cadets?

"No Sir!" they bit off in unison.

"THEN WHY THE FRAK ARE YOU TWO LUNKHEADS BACK HERE INSTEAD OF WITH YOUR FRAKKING UNIT?!" He roared, spittle gathering at the corner of his mouth.

There was an awkward silence, and out of the corner of her eye Kara could see Helo frown, then open his mouth, and she could just tell that the naive motherfrakker was about to spill all the details on last night. Quickly, she hefted her gun again, jabbing him sharply in the gut in the process and spoke, "Agathon's just slow, sir."

The CO's eyes narrowed. "And what the frak is your excuse, Starbuck?"

She thought quickly. "Buddy system, sir." she gulped, talking quickly. "You told us to never leave a man behind."

His lip curled but he certainly couldn't contradict himself, so Kara knew she'd beat him fair and square. She tried not to smirk. "ALRIGHT, MOVE IT, CADETS!! CATCH UP WITH YOUR UNIT RFN AND IF YOU LAG BEHIND AGAIN IT'S 20 DEMERITS AND 200 PUSHUPS FOR EACH OF YOU. MO-OOVE IT!!"

They snapped off quick salutes and jogged briskly to catch up with their squadron. Karl winced with every other step. When they'd caught up, Helo shot her a look, shaking his head, "You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?"

Kara just grinned, picturing them bickering and poking at each other in rockers some day when they were old and grey. "I hope so, Karl. I hope so."

Re: The Buddy System, Agathon's just slow, sir, vaulted over the low wall, alcohol and bad choices

[shah-of-blah.livejournal.com]

Yes, love it! Kara and Karl in boot camp. It had to be done.

For A Little of Your Light, all the time in the world, father figures, what if she never came back

[crazedcrusader.livejournal.com]

My last offering for this ficathon - I was going to wait and post it a little later, but we might be getting a thunderstorm so I figured I'd go ahead and do it before the weather made me miss the deadline. I hope you guys enjoy it, and that you don't decide to come after me for it. It's been an awesome ficathon - my first! - and I can't wait for the next one.

PS - if anyone can identify where I got the title, that'd be awesome.


"Hello, Sir."

Bill Adama smiles at the sound of that familiar voice, looking up to bestow that smile on the voice's owner. "Hello, Kara. I hoped I might be seeing you soon."

"What can I say, Sir? I can't get enough of the men in your family." Kara moves to sit next to the Admiral, smiling as he reaches up and strokes her hair back. "It's good to see you, Sir. Despite the circumstances."

"Likewise. I've missed you, Kara." Adama puts his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. "We could have used you around here."

"I know, Sir. I've been watching. I wanted to come back sooner...I'm sorry I couldn't prevent this."

"It was probably inevitable." Adama looks around the room, taking in the wreckage that was once Galactica's CIC. "No matter how much Athena's been rambling lately about treaties and cheated destinies...she hasn't been the same since Helo and Hera..."

"I know." Kara folds his hand in hers. "I was with them, too."

"Laura thought you might be." Adama glances over at Roslin, who's sprawled out on the floor of the CIC, next to his own body. It's strange to see her, knelt over him, stroking his hair and crying. It's strange to see himself lying unresponsive, to know that he used to be contained in that pile of skin, blood and bone. Stranger still is to watch his son, also grieving for him; Lee's hands are bound behind him, so he can't hold his father, but he's kneeling, pressing their temples together and whispering into an ear that can no longer hear him, and Adama feels a mild, dull pang at the sight of his son in pain. "It should hurt more than this."

"No, Sir. You've hurt enough. We all have. The hurting is over now." Kara stands up, taking his hand. "Come with me."

Adama looks at her, getting to his feet, then looks back. "Shouldn't we wait for them?"

"They'll be along." Kara looks at the door of CIC as a swarm of Centurions, led by Cavil, flood into the room. "Sooner than either of us would like. Please, Sir...Lee wouldn't want you to see this."

Adama turns with her, just in time; as Kara pulls him into an embrace, he can hear gunshots behind him, and he closes his eyes, accepting his daughter's presence, the comfort and peace she represents.

Kara's right. He doesn't have to stay here. The rest of his family will be along, and now he has all the time in the world to wait for them.

Re: For A Little of Your Light, all the time in the world, father figures, what if she never came ba

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

Aw. So bittersweet. Everyone dies! (And yet, I still prefer this to the ending we got! Funny, that!)

Love Kara as the guide, and their interaction feels so right and natural.

cooking for the old man

[amaliak.livejournal.com]

Let them eat cake (http://amaliak.livejournal.com/51455.html)


hee.
cheers.
--Lex

Back to Business, survivors, flight training, role models, what ifs

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

“Captain, got a minute?"

Kara stopped in her tracks, checking her watch quickly. She had 20 minutes to eat, shower and report to a briefing. "No, but I can give you about 40 seconds Chief. What's up?"

He nodded. “Diana Seelix wants to be a pilot." Tyrol looked at her questioningly. "Passed the written with flying colors, but I thought maybe I'd get your opinion, you being the flight instructor and all."

Kara tried not to look surprised. It had been a long time since anyone had asked for her opinion on anything. The chief was looking at her seriously, expectantly, actually waiting to hear what she had to say. It was a look she’d been used to once. From her nuggets, the other pilots, Lee, even the Old Man. Back before New Caprica, when Starbuck talked, people would listen. But that was then. And now, well, sometimes she wondered if Starbuck was still down there on that godsforsaken planet, trapped in that dollhouse, and if only Kara, with her broken, vulnerable, raw edges, had made it back to Galactica.

But the Chief was still waiting for an answer and she doesn't have time for what ifs and might have beens. Seelix had been the one to recruit her for the circle. She’d been full of anger and wanting revenge. Kara knew a little about that. It wasn’t a bad attitude for a pilot whose job it was to blow toasters out of the sky. But she didn’t want any careless, trigger-happy freaks in her squadron either.

"How's her instincts? She hold up alright in a crisis?" Kara already knew the woman was tough and could roll the hard six, but you never knew how even the hardest cases could crack when their console started malfunctioning or they blew an engine. Panic was not a pilot's friend.

"She's steady. She helped us a lot on New Caprica with the resistance. Seelix got in some tight scrapes, but she always kept her head. Came up with a great plan to blow up a couple of those frakking detention centers too as a matter of fact." He grinned a little. "Actually, she kinda reminded me of this cocky pilot I used to know."

Kara didn't grin, just stared, and the Chief winced a little. "Hey, Captain, I'm-- I didn't meant to bring up--"

"It's fine," Kara cut him off, not wanting the pity that inevitably followed such reminiscing. But then she surprised herself, speaking again in a voice that was just the slightest bit hoarse. "I just wish I'd been there to see it firsthand."

"Me too, sir." He smiled tentatively and Kara smiled back this time. "If you’d been with us, those toasters wouldn't have known what hit 'em."

There was respect in the even gaze that met her own and that's not something she'd seen a lot of lately either. Touched more than she should be, Kara nodded and turned away before she could make an ass of herself on the hangar deck. Heading off towards the mess and called out. "I start flight training at 0800 sharp, Chief. Tell your new ensign not to be late."

As Kara strode down the hallway, she was surprised to find herself grinning. It'd been a long time since she had a new nugget to play with. She made a mental note to check her locker after lunch. Those old sunglasses had to be in there somewhere.

Re: Back to Business, survivors, flight training, role models, what ifs

[frolicndetour.livejournal.com]

Eeeee! This might be my favorite. It's so tough to write Kara in that time period - not cracking up anymore (or yet), not back to her old self either. I'm glad you remembered about Seelix recruiting Kara for the circle - because somehow I never connected that with her being her flight instructor - and that Kara's detached enough now that she can use that information to professionally evaluate her as a solder. You nailed the relationship between Kara and Chief too. Awe.some.

Five Bedtime Stories Told By Kara Thrace While Babysitting Hera Agathon, "stars"

[http://users.livejournal.com/wisteria_/]

(I hoped to do five of these, but I won't make it in before the deadline. I'll go ahead and post the first one here, then the rest on my own LJ once I'm done!)

1.

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named … Mera. She had a secret. And do you know what her secret was? She could fly! Nobody else knew about it, not even her parents. She never told anyone because they might get jealous and try to take it away from her.

Every night, she snuck out of bed and climbed through the window, very carefully so that nobody would hear her. She stood there on the grass and looked up at the stars, then she took a deep breath and moved her arms up and down – and suddenly she was flying! Just like that. Mera went up and up, until she was higher than even a bird could go. The fluffy clouds tickled her legs. When she looked down, the city lights were like little specks of sand. The only problem was that she couldn’t figure out how to punch through the atmo and fly among the stars. That made her very sad.

Then one night she landed on her front lawn, only to find a silver-and-black snake waiting for her. It hissed, “I know your secret, and I’m going to tell everyone.”

Mera was very scared. “No! Don’t tell them! I’ll do anything you want me to!”

The snake curled around one of her legs. “I won’t tell them if … you teach me how to fly.”

Even though she was scared, Mera laughed. “Snakes can’t fly!” But she couldn’t take the chance that he might tell, so she grabbed his slimy scales and shot up into the sky. When they reached the clouds, she let go of him, hoping that he would fall down to the planet and die. (Mera wasn’t a very good girl sometimes.) But instead of falling, he flew even higher than she did. Up – and up – and up – until the two of them pushed through the atmosphere and were surrounded by stars. They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen. The snake smiled at her, and they became friends.

After that, they flew together up in the stars every single night, chasing the sun. She realized that she couldn’t see those stars until she believed that the snake could fly too. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you can still hear the snake hissing as it flies, just like an engine. And that’s why those planes that I fly are called “Vipers”.

Re: Five Bedtime Stories Told By Kara Thrace While Babysitting Hera Agathon, "stars"

[artemis-90.livejournal.com]

AWWW.

(Mera wasn't a very good girl sometimes) I can see the heroines in these stories are gonna be original!

"Vipers" I can also see here the beginnings of some mythology-origins that the Earth-colonists probably created for their kids.

I can't wait for more Bedtime Stories.

No Regrets (The first time she gave herself a haircut...)

[frolicndetour.livejournal.com]

The first time she tried to give herself a haircut in the ship's head was right before the worlds ended, and right in the middle of a particularly unsuccessful round of triad. Not unsuccessful because she was losing, but because no one was especially interested in playing any triad. Galactica was being decommissioned in two days, and soon everyone onboard her would be reporting to base on Caprica to receive their new orders. Not that Kara would be sorry to see the last of this place. The walls had been closing in ever more tightly since the date of decommissioning was announced, 'till she might lose it if she didn't get out in the open air.

The game started out just Starbuck and Helo and Boomer, but then Chief showed up about half an hour in, wedging himself in between her and Karl and carefully acknowledging Sharon with a nod. It was all she could do not to mock them for how careful they were suddenly being, now that there would soon be no need. A few knuckledraggers flocked to their table once Chief was there, and eventually even some of the non-comms joined in, the normal divisions all but meaningless now. Even that tight-ass Lt. Gaeta was there; Kara had always imagined sat in his rack doing calculus to unwind. Or something. He was practically glowing tonight though; anyone could see he was thrilled to be getting off this bucket. Moving on to bigger and better things.

By her third hand of triad, and her lords knew how-manieth class of ambrosia, Kara relaxed, let herself enjoy razzing Chief and Boomer about how sad it was that neither of them could ever seem to find themselves a date, and laughed louder than anyone at the bad jokes about finding another battlestar big enough to house her and her ego.

Finally she stumbled off to the head, pausing on her way back to splash some cold water on her face. She grinned at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was flushed, eyes wild, more hair in her eyes than in what was left of her ponytail. What a frakking mess. She'd racked up more demerits in the last month than she had in the rest of the two years she'd served on Galactica. Pulling bone-headed - yet somehow always successful - maneuvers during drills, mouthing off, staying just-this-side of insubordination with that asshole Tigh, who had clamped down down ever harder as the day of decommission drew near.

The sound of a toilet flushing drew her out of her reverie, and she watched in the mirror as Petty Officer Dualla made her way unsteadily over to the sinks. Suddenly, she had an idea.

"Hey Dee," she said brightly, "you still got that old pocket-knife?"

Dee stared blankly for a moment, then burst into giggles when she twigged to what Kara had in mind.

"Oh Starbuck, you're gonna regret this in the morning."

"Won't be the first time," she informed her, as Dee reluctantly handed over the small blade.

Long hair worked better in the military. It was one of those counter-intuitive things, but anything longer than a buzz-cut but too short to pull back needed firm attention to keep from running afoul of regulation, especially when you were pulling a helmet on and off all day. Kara had gone to the same barber once a month when she was stationed on Caprica, her neat crew-cut an easy way of distinguishing herself from her students, a couple of whom were older than she was. Right now, she wanted to look that way again. How hard could a simple hair-cut be, anyway?

Too hard, as it turned out. Even in her half-drunken state, she could tell it was bad, even it weren't for Dee's shrieks of laughter. "Stop," she begged her, "stop trying to fix it." She pried the knife gently out of Kara's hands and tucked it back into her pocket.

"Tomorrow, when I sober up, I'll get some scissors and see what I can do, okay?"

"Frak this, anyway," Kara muttered as Dee tried to swallow another, when suddenly the absurdity of the situation turned her mood on a dime, and she collapsed against the sink, helpless with laughter.

"C'mon," she said, throwing an arm across the smaller woman's shoulders. "I think I look lovely."

It turned out there were advantages to sending a room full of people into hysterics every time they looked at you, Kara discovered, as she proceeded to win the next five hands.

Re: No Regrets (The first time she gave herself a haircut...)

[callmeonetrack.livejournal.com]

Aw cute! Kara and Dee bonding (ahem, and talking about things Starbuck regrets the next morning, heh).

Well done, and right under the wire too!

[rebelliousrose.livejournal.com]

Aww. You broke Helo. I love that he's whining and Kara's egging him on.