flowers

we rise and we fall; we are who we are

(what's past is prologue, the story breaks free here.)

[THIS JOURNAL IS F-LOCKED]
Myrcella
simplyprologue
comment to be added.

[fic masterpost]
flowers
simplyprologue
Fics under the cut!Collapse )

fic: rough winds do shake (1/1)
flowers
simplyprologue
Title: Rough Winds Do Shake
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,890
Warnings: None
Summary: In the immediate aftermath of the destruction of Cloud Nine, Bill and Laura are together in his quarters.

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Love, another thing like a fragile, shattering flower. Collapse )

fic: one cannot begin it too soon (1/1)
shamrock
simplyprologue
Title: One Cannot Begin it Too Soon
Rating: T
Word Count: ~700
Warnings: None
Summary: “Aerilons have good poetry.” He pulled an earlier verse from his head, his lips around her earlobe proving a good conductor for the memory. An early morning on New Caprica, for citiesofcolor, who wanted AR + Yeats. All lines are taken from "Brown Penny."

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I am looped in the loops of her hair.Collapse )

Fic: tombs and other resting places (1/1)
flowers
simplyprologue
Title: tombs and other resting places
Rating: M
Word Count: ~3,100
Warnings: Character Death
Summary: Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. Life, and death, on Earth. (Post-series. Major thanks to my beta, headtriphoney. And to citiesofcolor, for letting me reduce her to Bill-Adama-Throwing-Paint levels of emotion.)

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He builds the cabin; she rests nearby, but she is as far from him as the east is from the west.Collapse )

Fic: Home and Hearth (1/1)
spaceparents aditl
simplyprologue
Title: Home and Hearth
Rating: MA
Word Count: ~3000
Warnings: None.
Summary: Bill began building his home in Laura far earlier than he had realized. It's morning on New Caprica, and the Admiral is grounded. This fic is 99% the fault of raquel2315.

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Bill had been awake for half an hour at most, his time spent in the study of the woman sleeping next to him.Collapse )

Fic: our altar to false gods (1/1)
shamrock
simplyprologue
Title: Our Altar to False Gods
Rating: T
Word Count: ~1100
Disclaimer: Just playing around in the sandbox... not making them any happier by doing so, but um let's not talk about that. Also one line belongs to Mumford & Sons... from the song I was listening to on repeat while writing.
Warnings: None.
Summary: Laura Roslin had meant to die alone. Takes place between Resurrection Ship II and Epiphanies. Thanks to headtriphoney for the beta.

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Dying was never going to be easy. But now, Laura realizes, as he breathes in the scent of her hair building the memory so that he construct the finest bones of her ghost, it has a cost.Collapse )

(no subject)
birdie dts
simplyprologue
This probably seems so ridiculously pretentious but I wanted to write a little piece on Birdie's characterization for my own reference before I get in too deep into Down the Sky and it's just easier to post it here than on tumblr. So here we go. (Spoilers for the entire fic, if you're actually reading it and care about staying unspoiled.)

We meet Birdie after she's been awoken from two hours of sleep on what is the most stressful day of the year. One that she believes, through inheritance, is partly her fault. The cylons on New Caprica have reinforced the idea that children are to be punished for the sins of their parents, and according to the cylons, Birdie has a lot to atone for. So Birdie has to reconcile these two notions--the image of her parents as god-like figures, and the image of her parents as hubris-filled tyrants, while not actually allowed to (legally) recognize them as her parents. Birdie wraps herself in a mantle of guilt (I wonder where she got that from) because it's an easy way to construct her identity and to rationalize her existence. She was born, the institution of bastardy was created so she wouldn't become a threat. It's much easier to blame herself than to pick apart the power structure the cylons have imposed, because she has no power to punish them. But she can punish herself--which is why her first display of big emotion is asking Nick how many slips he has in the ball. Because she feels responsible, and she has to know.

But this guilt has more implications. Birdie is a mirror, essentially. She becomes whatever she thinks the person in front of her wants her to be. To the point where her name is constantly changing in narration. She lost Laura, so she lost Ella--because that's who Laura wanted her to be, and Laura was dead. What was left was Birdie, which as the prologue states, was a name given to her by Saul. Even claiming 'Eleanor Aurora Adama' during the Reaping--it's the name her mother gave her. But then others ascribe more to her--Artemis (somewhat directly in conflict with her new identity, Aurora, as Laura points out), Baltar wonders why not Roslin-Adama, etc. But Eleanor Adama has never existed before, and Birdie has to decide whether or not to claim this identity for herself, even though Eleanor is already being shaped by her stylists and mentors. But Eleanor has also been given the mechanism to fight--for her identity, her right to exist. (That she shouldn't have to, of course, is a whole other thing, but like I mentioned... the power structure and the Games are something Birdie was susceptible to internalize, and did.)

But even beyond her name, her identity is very dependent on being the orphan, not only the child, of Bill and Laura. She's a scared child, and she has very few material possessions. Their god-like memories are her security blanket, and a mechanism of her guilt. She's a monument of their memories. She's also a walking testament to the people the cylons would like to erase or vilify, but are still very much hero-worshiped in District Twelve. She's child, and she's confused. The only part of herself she can truly claim as her own is "surgeon." That is something that is her own, that she is good at, which is why she is so thankful and affectionate (in their way) towards Cottle.

Her position as a burden and burden-bearer in society (first as she perceives herself, second as other people perceive her) is what puts her together with Nicky Tyrol, not Will Anders. Nick is the oldest son--our Gale stand-in. He feeds his family. He's the only one Birdie can express resentment towards her parents to, because there is open resentment between Nicky and Galen. But Nick is also a part of a burden, which he has internalized. But he pays it back through his work, which Birdie (as a surgeon constantly risking her neck to save people as repayment for her 'sins') can easily relate to. Will, while understanding why Birdie acts the way she does, cannot relate to her as Nick can.

It's going to be interesting how Birdie's identity is forced to deconstruct as the New Caprica power system is deconstructed... and Laura and Bill make their reappearances. Not even to mention the psychological trauma that the Games will impart onto her.

(And yes, that is Birdie in my icon. Her fc is Samantha Barks.) 

The Weight of Us (1/1)
Myrcella
simplyprologue
Title: The Weight of Us
Rating: M
Word Count: 4.2k
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing around in the sandbox for a bit.
Warnings: Graphic Violence, Torture
A/N: I understand that this is extremely sensitive material, and if you think that I wrote torture in a way that feels exploitative or problematic, please do not hesitate to let me know, either in the comments on my tumblr, or what have you. But that being said... this fic really made me grow as a writer, and was a hell of a thing to write, so I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to raquel2315 and headtriphoney for the beta!
Summary: Laura Roslin endured New Caprica, and Detention, and torture. Because she was Laura Roslin--that was what she did. She endured. And now this... was the after. With Bill. Companion fic to For the Weary.

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There was so little that Laura Roslin wanted, really--just only all of him, and to be outside of this moment.Collapse )

For the Weary (1/1)
shamrock
simplyprologue
Title: For the Weary
Rating: MA
Word Count: ~3k
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing around in the sandbox for a bit.
Summary: Bill and Laura reunite after the exodus from New Caprica and it's happy, a bit fragile, a little sad.
A/N: I figured I might as well throw my hat (quite belatedly) into the ring for post-New Caprica smut. Thanks to Rachel (citiesofcolor) for cheering me on!

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She didn’t want to talk, yet. If ever. He was old enough to know that loving someone didn’t mean learning all their secrets.Collapse )

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