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WIP Wednesday

I can't believe I've been watching For All Mankind and into space stuff generally for this long and have only just discovered that the real life Thomas Paine designed a flag for Mars. I had to work it into a fic especially since him telling Ellen about his love of the stars is one of my favourite moments in s2.

‘What was that you were working on?’ 

‘Oh that’s, it’s nothing really, a flight of fancy,’ Tom tried to pass it off casually, but secretly he was a little pleased when Ellen said, ‘Go on.’ 

‘It’s a flag for Mars, a proper flag. A true symbol for exploration, something for the whole world to rally around.’ 

Ellen was taken aback a little; she had always assumed he had been the one who demanded NASA use the Stars and Stripes back in ’69.

Tom retrieved the legal pad from where he had haphazardly hidden it. Ellen furrowed her eyebrows in an attempt to decipher the scribblings but Tom handily narrated.

‘If you notice, it goes diagonally upwards to represent progress, from the sliver of Earth, where we’re came to where we’re going. Mars is in the middle but the arrow to the star in the far corner is to show that it’s part of the journey not the final destination. I’m not much of an artist…’

‘I like it, it’s a beautiful vision. So how is the Mars program coming along?’

‘I’ve got time to daydream up flag ideas, I’ll let you figure it out.’

This illustration was inspired by For All Mankind, an Apple TV+ series which explores what might have happened if the space race had continued and where humanity would be now.

© Zara Picken 2024 www.zarapicken.com

Sergei + being a smug bastard (complimentary)

Can you tell me that you could pass up on this gorgeous man reclined on a sofa? Pshaw!

As @historysquib calls them, a Palate Cleanser fic:

Margo entered her office and shut the door softly behind her. Turning, she slumped against the door briefly and released a sigh. It had been the most tiresome of evenings. Three hours building support for a new proposal by the recently defected Sergei had been needlessly tedious. Margo was well practiced at moving political levers, but new Russian defectors had a break-in period for trust building in the wider political sphere that could not be abridged.

She turned to her drinks cabinet and turned on the lamp above it. She considered how many fingers of brandy that loss of time was worth, before finally settling on a light pour–any more would turn her out like a light as tired as she was. Margo pondered what she would ideally need to relax: a stiff drink or… Her thoughts trailed away and found their home on her sofa.

On her sofa Sergei reclined with a hand thrown back behind his head. The other hand was draped across his chest and trapped a creased report that threatened to slide to the floor. His relaxed countenance flooded her heart with warmth as she crossed the room towards him. She flicked on the lamp at the side table behind his head and observed his slumber. He looked markedly improved from his Lefortovo stay. His hair had grown back in, disheveled from his repose on what she knew wasn’t the most comfortable of couches. He seemed to be managing his traumatic stint in jail by leaving his frail self behind with wild hair, wilder beard and a filling out of his frame. It was an improvement of his physical health and image that she made no secret of liking.

Taking a seat near him on the coffee table, she set aside her brandy and removed the report from his grasp. Briefly scanning the report, she replaced it with her hand, she called to him softly, “Sergei.”

Sergei mumbled some indiscernible Russian in response and shifted slightly. Margo shook his hand lightly and called to him again. He blinked awake and smiled at her.

“Did you need your Soviet expert?” Sergei groggily asked.

Margo leant forward, “Something like that,” she drawled before placing a soft kiss on his smirking lips. Sergei responded slowly, kissing her softly in return. His hand came up to caress her face before sliding into her hair. Margo pressed a light kiss to his lips before she eased back to her seat beside him. She glanced at the time on her wrist and looked at him shrewdly.

“Were you waiting for me or for the resolution on your proposal?”

He grinned at her and levered himself up, leaning towards her to plant a kiss on her cheek before whispering into her ear, “Both, naturally.”

He drifted more kisses down her neck before she halted him, both hands clasping his head and redirecting him up to face her.

“Sergei,” she chided, eyes semi-serious. She was tired and needed to go to bed. The sooner she could maneuver him out of her office the better. She would get no rest otherwise. “I need to go to bed and you need to go home.”

“Ah, but home is where you are, Margo,” he replied quickly. “I cannot sleep without you.” He made to continue his onslaught of her neck, but was forestalled by Margo’s halfhearted evasion.

She snorted and shook her head, “And just now?” She gestured to the sofa.

"A convenient rest of the eyes,” Sergei rejoined. Margo raised her eyebrows. “It may have gotten away from me,” he amended with a shrug. He pursed his lips before smiling that absolutely obnoxious, and in no-way devastating, grin at her.

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded in response. “I'm off to bed.” She took off her shoes and bent to retrieve them. Sighing gratefully at their removal.

"Do you need help finding your way there? Perhaps an expert on navigation could help?” Sergei murmured with no small amount of cheek. “Perhaps another Soviet first?”

Sergei stood up and took her shoes in one hand and her hand in the other, pulling her to her feet.

“A Soviet first?” Margo questioned, exasperated.

“Exploring the bedroom of the NASA director, a first for all man-”

Margo interrupted him with a slap to the back of the head.

“Ah, woman!” Sergei cried in mock pain.

Margo walked briskly forward, leaving Sergei behind. She hesitated at the office door while Sergei stood rubbing the back of his head. The smile on his face sent shivers up her spine. She couldn't and wouldn't send him away no matter what she threatened and he knew it.

“Perhaps you are right. A Soviet first,” she said with some emphasis. At that she turned the lock on her office door and briefly stopped at the threshold of her bedroom, “You coming?” She called behind her.

Sergei followed diligently, carrying her shoes.

Good news, he ran away from the KGB, he's fine now

Soft warm light filtered into their bedroom and illuminated Sergei stretched out in bed, reclined against the pillows with the weekend edition of the local paper.

Sergei contemplated their lazy Sunday morning with joy in his heart. As open and cloudless as the sky outside their window, he rejoiced in their time together. The woman he loved would be at his side in only a moment.

Margo interrupted his reverie when she entered the bedroom with two mugs of coffee. Sergei sat up smartly from the bed and lifted the blanket to allow Margo to slide back into the warmth under the covers with him.

Handing him his mug, Margo harrumphed when she saw the discarded section that featured news of the asteroid orbiting Mars. He set his mug aside and snatched the paper away from her, holding it out of her reach.

“Nyet, Margo,” he chided as Margo clicked her tongue, “Work can wait.” Sergei braced himself; Margo did not like to be handled.

Keep Reading on AO3!

excellent work. He's just so gorgeous. Such a nice portfolio to wake to. 🤣

Bill Adama: “You ever think about the times much on New Caprica?”

Laura Roslin: “I try to think about the good times, yes, I do.”

Bill Adama: “One in particular stands out in my mind.You were wearing your really bright red dress. Said you wanted to build a cabin.”

Laura Roslin: “It was Baltar’s ground breaking ceremony. I got a little silly that night.”

Bill Adama: “You ever wonder what would’ve happened if the Cylons hadn’t have come back?”

Laura Roslin: “I think given Baltar and the terrain we couldn’t have made a go of it. What about you? Do you think you would’ve stayed on Galactica, or do you think you would’ve settled?”

Bill Adama: “It’s pretty hypothetical, isn’t it?”

Laura Roslin: “It is. Until it isn’t.“ *laughs* “Did I just say that?”

Bill Adama: “It’s worth just seeing you laugh like that. We’ve been at war so long sometimes we forget what we’re fighting for: Raise our kids in peace. Enjoy one another’s company. Live life as people again.”

Laura Roslin: “Like that night on New Caprica. That’s really what we are talking about here now, isn’t it?”

Bill Adama: “That and other times.”

Laura Roslin: “So if the Cylons hadn’t come back…?”

Bill Adama: “But they did.” *pause* “We have certain responsibilities.”

Laura Roslin: “Yes, we do, Sir. And… I will be back in a few days, and if you’d like, we can talk more about that night. Bill? The answer’s yes. I absolutely would’ve built the cabin.”

That and I want to see how they fuck up the history of the Soviet space program. That shit is wild enough in reality.

OK here’s a really dumb kind of FAM shitpost but this thought just arrived in my mind. Based on the one canon line where he specifies the people who’ve been threatened, we’ve all fully run with the idea that Sergei’s family includes his mother, father, and two or more sisters, and he’s the only son in the family. But what if it’s actually like, “Oh, I do have a brother too but he’s an asshole, the KGB can have him.”

Gosh, we really have just been getting spoiled with great Margo x Sergei fic lately haven't we?