Another Commission For Nonymos, For Their Fic Even The Nameless! Tyty!!

another commission for Nonymos, for their fic Even The Nameless!  tyty!!

Bashir would absolutely love playing a Ranger and Kira and Ivanova would get along so well. 

But think - Kira and G’Kar.  Depending at what point in their character development they are at they would either be exchanging Molotov Cocktail recipes or having an incredible deep, spiritual and personal conversation about working with their oppressors against a greater threat, channeling anger in productive ways, the nature of forgiveness and that a person or a people do not necessarily need to forgive or give up their anger to find peace and healing and a new way forward. 

Oh my god. So I’m writing dialogue for Bashir, and I’m trying the lines out in my head in his accent, and goddammit if he isn’t morphing into Marcus Cole because, to this American’s ears, they have basically the same accent.

And then I had the thought–what if Babylon 5 were somehow historical in the Trek verse, and they had holoprograms of it? And Julian plays a Ranger, because OF COURSE HE DOES?

I’m trying to figure out if Jadzia would be a Minbari or a Centauri. Maybe a Minbari who sleeps with a Centauri. You know, for the appendages.

(Garak would ABSOLUTELY play Delenn, though. And I feel like Kira and Ivanova would ditch the plotline of the program and have a long, satisfying, coffee-fueled bitch session together.)

The Bridge Builder.

Despite today being an indoor work day, I was asked to head into the gardens and take measurements of graveyard pins.

Some important context:

1) "indoor work day" means that instead of my grounds crew uniform I was wearing a black dress that wouldn't look out of place in a Ghibli film.

2) graveyard pins like to sink under the surface of the ground with time. If you're lucky, you can whack the spot where they should be with a shovel and find it in seconds. If you're smart, you go get a metal detector.

3) after twenty minutes of attacking the ground by hand, I will admit I was too stubborn to get the metal detector.

Which is why some poor woman slowly drove up to me and very tentatively asked, "do you... Uh... work here?"

"Yeah. Do you need help finding something?"

And she gave a nice long up-and-down look to the person of indeterminate gender dressed like a witch frantically digging right by a gravestone.

"...No, actually. I was just checking."

Title: West of the Moon and East of the Sun Fandom: Babylon 5 Song: "A Good Day (Morning Song)," Priscilla Ahn Summary: John Sheridan was an optimist to the very end. Based largely around "Sleeping in Light," with the angst that entails. Sheridan/Delenn, but mostly focused on Sheridan. Note: Given how many similarities B5 bears to LOTR, I felt it only right that I get the title from Return of the King. The full quotation is "A day will come at last when I / Shall take the hidden paths that run / West of the Moon, East of the Sun."

Originally created in 2010. Reuploaded to a new/working streaming site.

So my family has a Gay Pirate Plate.

Stay with me.

We do not know how the hell the Gay Pirate Plate was first acquired. This being a point of contention is actually pretty plot-relevant; the saga of the Gay Pirate Plate began with my grandmother and her sister, who, for some ungodly reason, both BADLY wanted the Gay Pirate Plate and believed it to be rightfully theirs.

I should back up, firstly, to establish: The Gay Pirate Plate is the cheapest, tackiest, ugliest plate in existence.

It is in no way a collector’s item. It is physically impossible for it to complement anyone’s decor, because the colors in it are garish. It’s just a ceramic plate with a gay pirate painted on it, and the painting is, this cannot be emphasized enough, extremely bad.

(How do we know the pirate is gay if he’s just posing on a plate? Listen. Fully 100% to stereotype, but he is. He is gay. There’s an energy. That pirate is a flaming homosexual. That pirate has sex with men and does it frequently. That pirate is fucking gay, all right, he just is.)

Anyway. The point is that this is an extremely cheap and ugly plate with a poorly-executed painting of pirate on it who is like a nine on the Kinsey scale.

My grandmother and her sister fought a blood feud over this plate for their entire lives. It would be on the wall in my grandma’s house, and then her sister would visit, and then it would be gone. She’d visit her sister and the plate would be on the wall and her sister would pretend it had always been there. She would steal it back, hang it up, and, when her sister visited, pretend it had always been there. This continued for DECADES.

When the sister died, the Gay Pirate Plate lived triumphantly in my grandmother’s house. And then my grandmother died. And my aunt, who had lived with her and been her carer throughout her life, rightfully inherited their house.

We visit my aunt after the funeral and stay with her for a week or two.

Me, my sister, and our dad. Her brother.

The three of us look at each other. We don’t say anything. We studiously avoid making eye contact with the Gay Pirate Plate mounted proud and ugly on the wall. We notice one another studiously avoiding looking at it. We notice one another noticing. We say nothing. We come to a silent consensus. We pack up to leave. We get in the van. Our aunt comes out to say goodbye. I loudly announce I need to use the restroom before we leave. She obviously stays outside to continue talking to my dad.

I take down the Gay Pirate Plate, stuff it under my oversized sweatshirt, go outside, and get in the van. She happily waves goodbye as we drive off.

Two days later my dad gets a phone call that opens with hysterical laughter and “You FUCKING ASSHOLE did you seriously STEAL THE PLATE–”

Anyway. The gay pirate plate lives in my dad’s house currently.

But he’s trying to get me and my sister out to visit him. And plate mounts are cheap.