#bridge crew on comms

[paluimbel]

Plural Term Coining Post

Mistra (Abbrev. Ma.) Plural, gender neutral variation of Mr. or Ms., used to address a system as a whole or when more than one person (or an unknown number of people) is fronting.

Related Terms: Mistrum (coined by someone on tiktok idk who but we saw a repost of the vid on tumblr), Gender neutral variant of Mr. or Ms., derived from the Latin suffix "-trum," the neuter equivalent of "-tor" or "-trix," the roots used to form "Mister" and "Miss" respectively.

Derived from: The plural form of the Latin suffix "-trum," "-tra."

Pronunciation: MIST-ruh, /ˈmɪstɹə/

Examples:

"You can call us Mistra Paluimbel."

"Ma. Cat System, can I ask who's fronting right now?"

"Excuse me, Mistra, what was your system name again?"

"Ma. Jones, it has come to my attention that your child has been skipping class."

[paluimbel]

Personally, plurality being talked about in fandom spaces is super important to us because it played a pretty major role in us figuring out we were a system. Fanfiction, in particular, was super important because it was our first introduction to the idea that systems don't necessarily always know who's in front, as well as showing us what that could feel like from a system's perspective.

Fanfiction can be super important because it's one of the few media where systems can write plural characters from their own experience openly, providing a view into what that actually looks and feels like. More popular media could theoretically have the same role, but given current societal views on plurality, most plural rep, even good plural rep, seems aimed towards singlets, and like, trying to explain things in terms they understand. It has its place in terms of destigmatization, but it doesn’t really feel the same as stuff written by systems for systems.

This is a huge reason why we write plural centric fanfic and headcanons, aside from just self expression. It's our way of paying that positive impact foreward.

as a DID system, personally I love seeing people talk about pearl being plural :p. people who get that angry just don't like seeing plural people exist in a normal matter. (but thats just a theory, a plural (game) theory/j)

Since you mention it, acting personally offended when someone headcanons or theorizes about a character being plural does come off as internalized pluralphobia.

Or maybe they're just an anti-endo looking at my blog for reasons to be offended... 🤷‍♀️

I suspect frame of reference plays a part too.

Like, if you've been plural your whole life and hear singlets talking about parts of themselves, you might just come to the erroneous conclusion that everybody just has full people in their head like Pearl does.

Of course, I think this is why it's actually super important for us to normalize plural head-canoning within fandom spaces.

Aside from just being a fun conversation to have, there's always a chance someone sees your headcanon about a plural character and thinks "oh, that's what that is?"

[ecrivainsolitaire]

Humans have the capability of perceiving when they're being stared at, even if they can't see it.

Dr. T'Chem was staring at Lieutenant /θkɡɾɑːˈŋæ/ (or as his current fling affectionately nicknamed her, "Tucker-Annie"), whose dorsal spikes were still rattling after the incident at the holodeck. It was his first time at the witness stand, and he didn't want to ruin a young star sailor's life.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie was the combat specialist in charge of the training dojo of Federation Vessel TSN457, named after the Terra-Saturn-Ceres coalition where Dr. T'Chem currently served as the xenoanthropologist charged with facilitating human integration to the local Federation of Fraternal Planets and Satellites. The FFPS had the goal of finding planets with intelligent life to trade resources and technology, and due to their recent incorporation, local research vessels were fitted with diverse crews to acclimate everyone to each other's cultures and biological needs. Dr. T'Chem was the human expert in the ship, and was tasked with helping smooth over interpersonal relations among the crew.

The relations were, at that moment, as bumpy as Lt. Tucker-Annie's dorsal spike line.

An incident had occurred during a training exercise. The squad consisted of a Venusian, two Saturnians, three Ceresians, two monks from the Transcorporeal Temple of Robotic Ascension, and five Terrans (two humans, two dogs and a cybernetically enhanced cat). The exercise consisted of getting through a generic jungle scenario and, unbeknownst to the squad, avoiding a team of ninjas lead by Lt. Tucker-Annie trying to take them out one by one. It was supposed to test the way they would react to a surprise attack.

It was not supposed to reveal that humans could sense when they were being stalked.

Of course, any trained sailor would have an ingrained knowledge of potential threats and how to spot them. Look for the shadows that are too dark, listen for the spot air isn't blowing from, things like that. Basic things most people don't think about but that can be identified if you think about them.

This was not that.

"Something's watching us," said Crew Johnson, in that sloppy way only creatures with lips spoke.

"What do you mean? There's cameras everywhere, of course they're watching us," responded Crew Hessikh, slithering over the vines on a tree branch to cross a river. She grabbed the axe in Crew Johnson's belt with her telekinesis and took down a small tree to serve as a bridge.

"Crew Flufflepaws, could you please take a look?" Asked Crew Johnson, nervously looking around. Crew Flufflepaws got on the tree as well and scanned the terrain from above.

"I can't see anything, or smell anything. And my hearing isn't what it used to be. I'll stay on the lookout for—" a horrendous hiss interrupted the automatic translator's feed. Crew Flufflepaws' comm line cut off.

Hessikh and Johnson looked at each other. That was the strongest fighter of their team, gone. They knew it was a simulation, but it still gave them chills.

The rest of their crew mates were split into two different teams further along the path. Crew Fanning's voice came from the comm line.

"Johnson, Hessikh, are you okay? What happened to Flufflepaws?"

"We don't know, Johnson said something was watching us and it went to check, then we lost comms."

"I felt it too. I know this isn't that kind of exercise but I think— AAAHHH!"

Two blaster shots were heard, then a thud.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie, who was watching Hessikh and Johnson from the mud pit behind the latter, had her tranquilizer dart ready. She got ready to shoot down Hessikh, but then heard a voice over the comm line.

"Code Lithium, we have a Code Lithium, we have to end the simulation, I just took down- I can't-" the breathing was sounding heavier and faster, too fast for a human.

"Fanning, calm down, remember your sutras. We need you focused, what happened?"

"I felt like I was being watched, so I turned around and saw this thing and it scared me and I jumped and I thought it was on stun mode and-"

"It's alright, we're calling it off. Captain, we have a Code Lithium! End the simulation now or- fuck, there it is again. Hessikh, do you see any heat sources?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary- why haven't they shot it down alre-"

The next thing Lieutenant Tucker-Annie remembered was the sound of a heel turn over the mud, followed by darkness.

Lt. Tucker-Annie woke up in the hospital bay, getting her tail regenerated by a robot nurse. She looked over and found her underling on the next bed, with a huge bandage on the side of his neck and a wing in a cast. Thankfully, he would be alright as soon as the stem cell bank was reprogrammed after her treatment.

The disciplinary board was called, an investigation was open, and both Crew Fanning and their captain were put on paid leave while the investigation was ongoing. Dr. T'Chem was called in as an expert after a review of the holodeck footage revealed there was no way Crew Fanning could have heard, seen or smelled the hidden sailor.

It was the first time in a while he hadn't helped himself to a glass of Venusian whiskey for breakfast. He really didn't want to mess this up.

"And would you care to explain how this is possible, Doctor?" Asked the prosecution, staring him down with an unnerving amount of eyes.

"I am as astounded as this court; our firm has been looking into Terran medical literature and we're still trying to figure out how it works; they don't even know, but they know it does happen, it's been documented for thousands of years. I have a hypothesis, but I don't know if it's even testable."

There was a murmur in the court. The judge asked him to elaborate.

"The way eyesight works is the light bounces off of opaque bodies and in its way it collides with the lenses in our corneas, which send it to the brain as electrical signals to be interpreted. The light that doesn't go into our eyes just bounces off our bodies and other opaque objects as well, the photons go everywhere and anywhere. This is the same for most species in this constellation, including humans. But even other Terran species don't have these abilities, as Crew Flufflepaws has testified."

A begrudging meow was heard from the audience.

"Order in the court, please. Dr. T'Chem, what do you suggest is the origin of this mysterious sense?"

The camera drones all hoovered around him. Dr. T'Chem straightened his fins and got close to the microphone.

"I believe it's possible that humans have a sense of touch so sensitive that they can feel the photons that don't bounce back. The ones that go into an eye instead of an opaque body. I think humans can actually feel in their skin when they are being watched."

There was an uproar in the crowd. His paramour, a dark skinned young human from the human settlement known as "Colombia", grabbed the religious symbol on her necklace and made a gesture with it he hadn't quite figured out yet.

The trial had to go on recess.

The implications were incalculable. Three dozen biologists from six different planets, including Terra, had emailed him before the end of the day to ask him to justify himself. Multiple human religious leaders took the chance to link it to demonic possession or moral evils. By the end of the week, four different labs were trying to figure out a way to double blind test shooting a photon cannon on a human's back and trying to get them to sense it.

But most importantly, the news made it outside of the Federation. The rumours about this new species that couldn't be stalked got so far, it ended up affecting the outcome of a border conflict with the Betelgeuse Libertarian Army on the Federation's favour.

Humans were terrifying.

If this is what they evolved to be, what was their planet like?

[revelboo]

Invisible Monsters

Lost Light Megatron x Reader- therapy

• Megatron is just tired. And over it. It being Rodimus. The co-captain currently on the bridge singing off key to whatever Earth music Swerve had spliced into the ship wide comm as Megatron slowly vents and reminds himself that he’s a pacifist now. So he can’t strangle Rodimus. Or push him out an airlock. Rising from his seat, he heads deeper into the ship. Toward the most irritating part of his day.

• And if it’s not Rodimus slowly trying to drive him insane, there’s always the rest of the crew. Especially Whirl. That one he can push out an airlock and he suspects everyone might clap. It doesn’t matter that they’re on a mission. An important mission. Unfortunately, this crew of misfits and pure chaos is always one second from shenanigans. His Decepticons had never been this bad.

• The latest shenanigan being a human that is now just on the ship. No one knew where it came from. Or, more likely, no one wants to admit that they had smuggled it on board at some point along the way. Which only raises more questions. Questions he isn’t interested in dealing with.

• Like whatever this is. Swallowing a groan, his optics slide from Rung to the human. More specifically the bright yellow vest the human is now wearing that declares in Cybertronian ‘Therapy Human.’ “Why?”

• Little face tipping up toward him at his deep voice, the human’s legs swing, heels thumping on the shelf Rung has perched it on. “Humans use lesser mammals for therapy. The contact is soothing to patients,” Rung says in Cybertronian.

• Ah. So the human has no idea what the vest says or what Rung has roped it into. Optics narrowing, he shakes his head and wonders what exactly Rung had told it. The mech was honest to a fault, so he wouldn’t have lied to it. Not exactly, anyway.

• “I believe we were discussing the gladiator pits of Kaon last time?” Rung adds in that infuriatingly soothing tone, crooking a servo at the human who obediently slides down from its seat to approach.

• And it’s accept the human as Rung scoops it up and thrusts it at him or let it fall and probably break all its tiny bones. So he cups his hands around it, hearing its sharp intake of breath and the strange feel of those tiny, soft hands touching his. “This is ridiculous.”

• “Humor me this one time. Now. Kaon?” Rung’s staring at him, his lips faintly curling into an almost smile. Waiting patiently.

• Heart racing, you settle yourself against the palm under you, neck craning to peek through the gaps in the servos caged over her. The first time you’d been handed to Whirl, he’d grasped you around the waist in those pinchers and amused himself by tipping you back and forth as he’d talked. It’d been a miracle you hadn’t hurled on him. The former warlord is at least being gentle.

• And his deep voice rolls over you, painting a grim picture of a brutal world you’ll never know. Of fighting for his life, heart-wrenching pain, and hard won victory. He sounds almost wistful as he reminisces, letting Rung’s questions steer the story. The first slide of a servo across your shoulders makes you stiffen for a heartbeat before you relax into the absent minded touch. You’re not under any delusions about your role. Playing therapy doggie for giant, alien robots wasn’t exactly dignified, but you didn’t mind.

Next

[paluimbel]

For us it mostly tends to make internal communication easier. Mostly because we can actually focus on shit.

Systems on Adderal or other meds for ADHD did it affect your system in any way ?

[stra-tek]

Random spoilerific reasons to read Star Trek novels, with little to no context:

Ro/Quark is a thing

A Jem'Hadar joins DS9, tries to fit in but eventually snaps and tries to kill everybody

You learn the origins and final fate of the Borg

A thinly-veiled Dr. House clone joins the Voyager crew

Geordi briefly has 2 girlfriends at once (due to different writers not co-ordinating enough, but still)

There's a TOS book that's a musical

There are YA stories about Jake and Nog making mischief on DS9

YA stories about Worf, Geordi, Picard, Beverly, Kirk, Spock and McCoy at SFA

YA series about the Kelvinverse gang (including Gaila!) as cadets, taking on a drug problem at SFA and a very unique Borg scout in San Francisco

We very briefly meet the people who are to Q what the Q are to humanity

Janeway/Chakotay is a thing

Kirk's first mission in command of the Enterprise! Erm, at least twice.

Kirk was married between TOS and TMP

Her name was Lori

In the future, you have yearly marriage contracts that you either update or you don't and I think that's amazing

Trip didn't die! He faked his death to join Section 31 and go undercover as a Romulan

It's not great, tbh

The ENT books get better after the Romulan wars though, it's proper founding of the Federation stuff

We meet Jack Crusher (erm, the OG) when 4 timelines start overlapping and he's a bit unhinged

Teenage Kirk stole a car and his choice was go to jail or join Starfleet

What happened when Voyager got home? Seven broke up with Chakotay like 30 pages in

Kirk gets cloned, and his clone becomes the sub of an evil invincible super genius and its all very gay

George Kirk was Robert April's first officer on the first ever mission of the unnamed starship with the Naval Construction Contract 1701

Robert is a hard-core pacifist and has to turn command over to George whenever it's time to fire weapons

Data becomes fully human for a couple of days and it's really sweet

They never say "wristwatch" or "phone", it's always "wrist chrono" or "personal comm"

There are gays but they don't say that word because it's the 1990's and Rick Berman runs the franchise

Spock has a son in the past with Zarabeth

Everyone in the post-Nemesis era does spy missions all the time non stop, as if Starfleet has abandoned exploring the cosmos for doing Space Mission: Impossible

Bashir does it better than anyone else, he takes on Section 31 from the inside

Remember Control? It's from the novels, except the novels do it SO MUCH BETTER.

Remember how we never found out who Future Guy was? We do.

It's very underwhelming, nobody we know

We find out how the Romulans and Vulcans split

Surak was a Vulcan internet blogger

A Borg Cube eats Pluto

Janeway dies

Janeway gets better

At least one TOS book features a wizard

There's a Star Trek TOS/Here Come the Brides crossover novel

It had cameos from The Doctor (as in, Who), Han Solo, Starbuck and others

Whole book series about Section 31

Whole book series about the Department of Temporal Investigations

One time they do the Bill and Ted thing to escape confinement and it works

Wanna know how Riker and Troi met?

Wanna know what Picard got up to on the Stargazer?

Andorians have 4 sexes and it's very complicated

Data comes back from the dead as Data 2.0, and it was fresh and exciting because it happened long before ST: Picard did it twice.

Lal comes back too and we get father/daughter android stuff! They have a home and everything but keep having to save the universe

One time Mirror Seven is led around on a leash naked on Terok Nor

Geordi becomes captain of the USS Challenger, decides it's not for him because plot, and goes back to engineering on the Enterprise

Kirk is shot on the bridge and dies

Kirk gets better

They watch 3D holos of old Doctor Who episodes in the Enterprise rec room

The Enterprise also has an AI named Moira, which was Zora long before Zora

The TOS crew get together for one last mission. About three times.

There's a Perry Mason book except it's about Kirk's lawyer from that TOS episode

Data 2.0 owns and runs a massive gambling empire on Orion

Spock keeps randomly showing up everywhere in the TNG era

Scotty keeps randomly showing up everywhere in the TNG era

Bones keeps randomly showing up everywhere in the TNG era

You're on Tumblr so you already know about Killing Time

There's a guy named McKenzie Calhoun and he's a total badass and captains a ship of weirdos and misfits

Kirk comes back from the dead, saves the galaxy repeatedly, has an intersex child (who identifies as male) with a Romulan/Klingon hybrid

Kirk beats up Worf

Kirk's child has superpowers

Kirk's child saves the galaxy at age 6

The Kirk stuff is 100% ignored in the other novels

About 50% of the novels are ignored in the other 50%, and the ones that are meant to be in direct continuity with each other aren't always quite

Just like the TV shows and movies, then

Lwaxana Troi meets Q, and it goes as well as you'd expect

Someone tells Data, yes you idiot you had emotions all along and he's like, oh shit you're right

McCoy is left in command of the Enterprise as a joke by Kirk, who is then immediately kidnapped

Ro Laren is captain of Deep Space Nine

Picard/Beverly is a thing, they get married and have a child named Rene. No running away and raising your kid in secret here

Riker and Troi are married, serve on the Titan together with a bunch of adorable weirdos and have a daughter named Tasha

You get to watch all the 24th century characters die horribly in the end along with their entire universe. Holy fuck it's a bleak horror show. Personally, I love it. But if that's not your cup of tea I'd skip the Coda trilogy

[buccellato]

Going a little insane thinking about how from Knives' perspective, his olive branch for Rem was rejected by his childhood perception of her loyalty to humanity, but Rem was assessing the situation as both a ship official and a parent and definitely making the choice she thought would maximize his and Vash's survival chances...like, if she was following duty as a crew member first and foremost, she'd head immediately to the bridge and tell the boys to head to the escape pods via comms or something. But instead she spent valuable minutes ensuring that Vash and Knives were safely strapped in and ready to escape, and then turned around to minimize the ship damage. Plus she had no actual way of knowing whether the plant ships were on a crash course, either—and while tristamp Nai can survive completely without food and water, no version of Vash has been shown to be able to do so completely (plus all other versions of Knives are shown at least drinking lol). So from her perspective she didn't just need to save both her kids and the humans on board, she also would've needed to save as many dependents as possible just so the boys had a way to stay alive.

She did the best she could do as a parent in that scenario, and Knives forever locked himself into a traumatized child's reasoning for her actions and blamed her to cope with it and then never reassessed from the perspective of an adult due to his, well, issues with everything. That's rough buddy.

[paluimbel]

Some of us are better at it than others, and we're definitely not anywhere near it being fully immersive, but one thing we've found helps for us is to do some basic grounding stuff (like the 5 things you can feel, 4 things you can hear, 3 things you can see, etc. one. At least I think that's how it goes.) but with the headspace instead of the real world. Like, I feel my hooves on the wooden floor of our fronting room, I smell the lilacs growing... uh... all over our headspace, actually. That sort of thing. For those that are bad at doing stuff in the headspace from front, we find that another headmate sticking close by can help keep them grounded. That's actually why I formed!

We are trying to build a headspace! If you have any tips or tricks for the immersion part, please tell us! We can visualise it pretty well, but have no idea how to even start with immersing.

[spirkme915]

spirk fics i've read in the last two-ish months and loved

I will have you (if you let me) by ros3bud009 @roseymoseyberry (TOS) - starting out this list with a ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ fic. i loved everything about this fic - the premise (k&s know they're t'hy'la from the second they meet), the yearning, the journey, the love. i could live in this fic

Spock 🖖 by vaksur, WerewolvesAreReal (TOS) - need a laugh? this one is it. spock decides to use emojis in his comms. shenanigans ensue

A Friend Like You by kierawrites (TAS, yes you read that right an animated series fic!) - pre-slash, a glimpse into their lives after the episode "mudd's passion." this one is short and yet is packed with *them*

A Different Perspective by Maeko (AOS, SNW) - transporter malfunction fic, and this time it brings AOS Spirk to SNW verse. loved this one for the AOS Spirk dynamics, but mostly the SNW Spock and AOS Spock interactions and Maeko's perspective of Vulcan telepathy. it's a fascinating character study!

in the dying of the light by scar_a_mouche (zanni_scaramouche) @zanniscaramouche (AOS) - i'm not sure how to categorize this one, other than to say that i had this *ache* in my chest through every sentence and it just felt so AOS Spirk that i wanted to drown in it. one of my faves over the last few months

Personal Personnel Protocol by dothedeux (TOS) - another comedy entry for the list. this time it's not just the bridge crew that knows what's up, it's the computer. such a fun read and so sweet too

Professor Kirk by TonightNoPoetryWillServe (AOS) - cadet spock, professor kirk, and all kinds of fluff with only a touch of angst. perfect bedtime reading

Let Forever Be by gunstreet @gunstreet (TOS) - listen. i need everyone to drop what they're doing and read this fic. it's a city on the edge of forever fic that is mostly a jim character study but pulls in queer history. it breathes compassion and humanity, and is stocked with OCs you'll fall in love with. another ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ read

Shall We? by Jenna Hilary Sinclair (JennaHilary) (TOS) - yet another comedy entry? what has the world come to? i love my angst just as much as the next spirk truther, but when comedic spirk is done right it hits perfectly and this one is definitely done right

And When the Bond Breaks by LadyRa (TOS) - finishing this spirk list with a final ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ read. this became easily one of my favorite TOS fics of all time. it's from 2003 and deserves WAY MORE hits, kudos, and comments than it has!

for the non-spirk entries this time around:

StarDate.org by Exxact (TOS/AOS fusion) - christine/t'pring and online dating. fluff and friendship. perfect

The Time of Neither by gunstreet (SNW) - spoimler nation rise! your definitive fic has arrived!

My World Is No Longer Hollow by existentialcrisistime @existentialcrisistime (TOS) - a mcspirk fic about finding where you belong. so beautiful

and two recs for WIPs for you to read and subscribe to:

Place Your Hand In Mine by remylebae @twinkboimler (AOS) - a super sweet mckirk fic about leonard having a secret admirer (who could it possibly be??)

It's Not An Illusion by Borealisblue @thetimetostrikeislater (AOS) - gorgeous story about healing and gorgeous artwork? i'm sold!

please do send me recs, and don't be afraid to self-promo! you can find all my recs here

[paluimbel]

Came out as plural at church camp in front of literally everyone there (councelors included) and it went great! It was super nice to be open about things.

At least one friend came up to us afterwards and said they were already sorta questioning plurality because they "frequently have arguments in their head and the other voices say things that surprise them sometimes." We informed them that that definitely did not sound very singlet.

We also got lots of genuine, well-meaning questions from curious singlets, which was nice. The councelors were very chill about it and immediately started using our collective name and pronouns. Everyone was very validating and it was great.

Unfortunately, we are home now and therefore back in the closet, which sucks. :(

[magicalgirlmindcrank]

Hey you should read my story Dog of War!

It's a slowburn kinkfic in the Human Domestication Guide setting- a future sci-fi setting where a benevolent plant based progenitor species crushes the Terran government to eliminate capitalism, ensure safety and happiness- and to take a few adorable Terrans as pets, of course! It's got a lot of hypnosis, medfet and of course TPE, D/S and Petplay. Click the link for the wiki if you wanna know more!

As for the set up of Dog of War- 'Beckett' is a freelance mercenary shrouded in secrecy that's suffering from severe emotional disconnection. Growing tired after hiding on a now-rebel ship after the official fall of the Terran Accord, he kills the bridge crew and commandeers the Valiant, bringing it, himself, and it's crew to the Affini in the hopes that co-operation will let him keep his independence. Camila Verdun is young, inexperienced and unsure Affini. She spends most of her time working at the helm of the Vervarium, where she works the comms and daydreams about adopting an adorable pet.

as for what kinks are present- I got a smorgasbord! The main focuses are Total power exchange, Ownership, Hypnosis and Feminization, but it's also got medfet, conditioning and a house special I like to call Princessification. Plus a few other things in passing~

The fetishes and kinks are great, but that doesn't tell you what it's about! Dog of War is about two people helping each other grow into themselves. The focus is the development of the main pair's relationship and personal growth. It takes a couple ten thousand words to really get heated, but once it does, the dial only goes up~

and if ALL THAT doesn't help, here are some reviews below the cut!

[randofics]

Silent running

The pirates never stood a chance when they attacked our ship.

We were one of the first to have humans on our crew. They were such a new species to the galaxy that just the basics were known about them. They were omnivores, which wasn't totally unheard of in the galaxy. It was just that most hunted small prey similar to earth fish and birds when they wanted meat. Hunting large game was unheard of. It was simply too risky.

The human female Nadia and her mate Jacob were friendly and always lent a helping hand when needed. It took some time for the herbivores to get used to them with their forward facing eyes and predatory ticks, so to speak.

We learned of their constantly aware body and mind that would snap to attention at the slightest off noise. An engine making a slightly different tone than normal? The humans would set to fixing the problem as soon as they heard it.

A piece of equipment set precariously on a bench, making an ever so small noise as it falls? One of them slides across the floor to catch it, just inches from breaking.

When the pirates attacked, we witnessed their predatory nature take hold.

-------

As soon as the captains voice sounded over the shipwide comms, the two humans tensed. The security personnel got to work readying for boarding. The ship didn't have much in the way of weaponry, so boarding was inevitable.

The alarms sounded when the pirate ship latched onto ours. The main power was cut shortly after, leaving the rooms and halls bathed in the dim eery light of the emergency lamps. When I looked to the humans, they were gone. I ran to the bridge but was stopped by pirates who grabbed me.

They took me to an emptied room where several of the other crew members were. Some of the more defiant ones had been badly beaten and tied up. A few security personnel were here, too. The humans were nowhere amongst this group.

A pirate tired of my standing in the doorway kicked me in the back, making me fall hard onto a few of my crewmates. The door shut with a hiss, and it's lock clicked into place. One of my friends helped me sit up and asked me quietly if I knew where the humans were. "No, as soon as the alarm sounded, they were gone. I have no idea where they whent."

My crewmates and I hoped there would be help soon.

-------

The dark halls were filled with the eery red glow from the emergency lights. A pair of reptilian Hissa walked down a particularly creepy corridor plasma launchers in claw. "This place seems different than those other halls, don't you think?"

"Yeah, something feels off about this place." Suddenly, the lights behind them all go out at once. They spin around weapons drawn, but they can't see anything through the darkness. One shoots in an attempt to light up the hall. The flash of a tall silhouette and the shine of something metal is all they can make out before the plasma fizzles out.

Their eyes widen, and they suck in a scared breath. "Did you just see that?" The other nods in response. A flash of a being is seen in the red light as it charges towards them. The gleaming metal of a kitchen knife attached to a pole disappears into the gut of the first. The second attempts to fire upon this terrifying beast as it turns on him, but it's too quick. It pushes his plasma launcher away, slashing at him with a smaller knife.

The seconds throat is slit and they grab at the gushing wound as they lay on the floor. The first attempts to crawl away with the spear still in their gut, but the creature silences their cries with a knife through the skull.

-------

In another room, three pirates are looting drawers and flinging objects around for fun. The room's lights go out, and they all tense. They don't see the shadow slip out of the ceiling vent landing with a quiet tap of feet on the floor behind them.

A sickening crack and their comrades body falling limp to the floor grabs their attention. One takes out a light and flicks it on. A bipedal creature in the ships uniform stands in front of them with their comrades' body limp on the floor, his head turned on his neck in an impossible position. The beings' predatory eyes glare back at them, and it bares its teeth.

Terrified the two pirates aim at the creature, and before they can pull their triggers, it lunges at them.

-------

"Captain! The boarding party seems to be under attack!"

"I'm sure they can handle a few stragglers."

"No sir somethings taken several of our men out!"

"How many is several?" The captain narrows his four eyes. "We've lost fifteen so far, sir."

His eyes widen, and he yells at another alien in the room. "I want groups six and seven on board that ship NOW!" They rush out of the room presumably towards the control room. "Get Veshkorn up here!"

"Yes, sir!" The other alien runs out, leaving the captain alone.

-------

Hannah shook with adrenaline and fear as she hid in the vent. Below, there were two pirates standing gaurd in front of the door to her shipmates. She had to time this perfectly and make sure she aimed her makeshift spear true to her target. Knife, in her other hand she aimed for the aliens' chest cavity. "Hshk." The spear sinks into the aliens body, and she leaps down onto the other startled alien, sinking her knife into its throat.

She pulls the spear free and opens the door. Half of the ships crew meet her eyes as it slides open. To most, she looks like a full-blown predator. Blood splattered on her uniform and any exposed skin. More blood coating her knife and spear. Her eyes are wild and blown from the adrenaline. Her hair is an absolute mess from moving through the dusty vents, and she's breathing quickly.

"Everyone, alright?" Her voice seems to startle the herbivores as they flinch in response. One omnivore speaks up. "Some have wounds but nothing too serious."

She nods her head, turning her gaze to glance down either side of the hallway. "Anyone willing, I need you to protect the others. You all need to stay here for now until we've cleared all these scumbags out. If you don't hear from one of us in a few hours, assume we're too badly injured to come back here or were dead."

With that, she sprints off down the hall, disappearing around the corner. Most of them don't even hear her footsteps as she leaves.

-------

"What is happening!?" The captain now on the bridge slams his fist into the arm of his seat. "Sir, it's difficult to tell. Our men aren't surviving long enough to give us much information."

"What information do we have then!?"

"There seems to be some kind of bipedal creatures almost surgically eliminating our men pair by pair. Who or whatever they are, they're experts at stealth and by the looks of it crude bladed weaponry."

"Has anyone gotten a shot off on one?"

"Not that we know of, sir." Another alien chimes in. "Sir, if I may?"

"What is it, Veshkorn?"

"We seem to be taking more casualties than this ship is worth. Shouldn't we leave while we still have some of our men?" The captain sighs, pinching his brow.

"I suppose you're correct, Veshkorn. Tell the remaining boarding parties to come back. We're leaving."

"Should they gather anything valuable on their way?"

"No, but that won't stop them from trying."

-------

Kevin watches from behind a transport crate as the pirates get a message over their comms. They rush out of the room, and in mild confusion, he steps out of his hiding spot. "Hey, you guys, seeing what I'm seeing?"

"The pirates running away? Yes."

"Let's make some terror, shall we?" Following behind them, they stay hidden, knocking things over to make loud sounds. Loud shrieks and growls help up the anti as they silently run from room to room, staying just out of sight. Just a few rooms before the open hatch into the pirate ship, they go completely silent. They wait till the last alien starts to walk through and grab him, taking him into the shadows as he screams and thrashes in their grip.

The hatch is promptly sealed shut, and immediately, the pirate ship disconnects its anchoring lines drifting away from the other vessel as fast as it can.

-------

As the alien fights against their grip, they tie him to a chair in a darkened room. At first, he thinks they all leave. An hour or so later, he hears someone talking to him through a speaker somewhere above. He thinks it's probably the ships captain going to question him. And he's right for the most part. The voice asks a question which he spits out a curse to.

The voice goes silent, and he hears something behind him. He's not alone. There's something in this small dark room with him, and it's been here the entire time! Hot air brushes the back of his head as he now hears the almost silent breaths of this something.

Frozen in fear, he almost doesn't hear the question being asked again. Shaky, he blurts out an answer. The voice doesn't seem satisfied, though, and they go silent again. A deep growling sound in his ear makes him squeak in fear. He answers again, and this time, he's rewarded by the being behind him backing off.

As this process repeats, he slowly thinks that maybe they're just bluffing its probably just another normal alien behind him with a voice distorter. But when he speaks on his revelation, something new happens. Something lands on his shoulder and stays there long enough for him to feel its rough shape. It's not like any other xenos extremities that he can remember. Five fingers on a roughly circular shape, each extremity being too thin to be something he recognized.

Then, an unrecognizable voice deep and sinister speaks in an unknown language. "You need to start talking, or this is gonna get ugly." The appendage on his shoulder moves around his throat, threatening to crush it with a slight but firm tightening of their grip. Over the next few minutes, he spills everything he knows. The creature eventually backing off behind him again.

Once they've got all the information they want to know, the creature shuffles out of the room. The dim light of the hall only revealing the black silhouette of the tall creature. Another familiar silhouette steps just inside, turning on the light before stepping back out and locking the door behind them.

-------

A few years later, he's on a prison moon conversing with some of his fellow pirates. "Those creatures... I've never been so terrified in my life! They were so quiet it's like they were silent running!"

[i-mean-technically]

Funniest and also most terrifying order of events I think is BA kidnapping them to the Nemesis and then stalking them while they're all on the ship together leading to some Tom and Jerry/Scooby Doo type shit.

But also some Existential Dread bc they're being hunted by something on the ship of the literal Boogeyman (to them)

@transingthoseformers yep yep yep they're all different flavors of Fucked Up, like going to a cook out and there's different kinds of chili.

And they're all spicy, its just the kind of spicy that differs, if its immediately hot, sneaks up on you later, or burns your ass later. And the dofferent beans used.

I almost want to say that Senti and Oppy make a name for themselves after they ditch the Autobots, and BA knows about them. So maybe she has some time to marinate in everything, decide how she wants to play it.

She could pretend she doesn't know them, but she's lived with Material Gurl Megatron and Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Starscream for the past fee millennia. So that's out the window immediately.

Which leaves a few other options. Stalk them from afar. Kidnap them. Actually talk to them.

Its probably going to be a mix of all three tbh.

[cozzzynook]

A little idea

Megatron gave a grumble as he rubbed one servo along his tanks as he turned his gaze back down at his data pad. Rodimus who was watching from the side of the bridge quietly walked over before leaning over. "You okay? You're not looking well" The red gave a small sheepish smile when red optics met his own.

"Hmm...I just need to step out for a while" Megatron gave a another grumble as another wave of light pain washed over him. "I think I had some bad fuel."

Rodimus frowned a little stepping allowing the grey mech to stand up from his seat. "Oh, well do take your time. I don't think anyone would want to see you purge your tanks while on the bridge." The red mech smirked a little when he heard a soft chuckle come from Megatron as he slowly walked away and towards the public wash-racks.

An hour passed and Ultra Magnus was looking around the bridge with a frown. He then suddenly stopped next to Rodimus who was humming a tune as he read over a data pad. The blue mech cleared his intake making Rodimus suddenly snap his gaze upwards, with a smile he greeted his SIC. "Oh hey Mags, what's up?"

"Sorry to bother you Captain, but have you seen Megatron anywhere?" He did a double take scanning the crew again before returning his gaze back to Rodimus. "I wanted to return those reports I helped proof-read yesterday, but he isn't in his office"

Rodimus flicked his spoiler thinking for a moment before perking up. "Oh! I saw him leave to go to the wash-racks an hour ago...I'd thought he'd be back by now" With his own glance at the crew confirmed he didn't see his Co-Captain anywhere. "He did say he wasn't feeling well..."

Ultra Magnus gave a hum as he shook his helm a little. "Why don't you go see if he is still there. If not I'll call Ratchet to see if he checked himself into the med-bay" The blue mech was already pulling up his comm link not noticing the awkward shuffle of Rodimus.

"Okay, I'll be back in a klick" Dipping his helm down slightly Rodimus quickly got up from his chair and trotted across the bridge and into the main hallway. After a short walk it didn't take long to find the wash-racks, taking a sort breath he stepped inside heading down the short hall and poking his helm around the wall that separated the showers and stalls. "Megs, you still in here?"

Rodimus felt his spark drop when he spotted a small trail of energon leading towards the showers. Flaring his plating a little Rodimus slowly stalked towards the showers while keeping one servo near his sub-space in case he needed to pull out his knife. He then gasped quietly when he heard someone groaning a little followed a moving shadow on the wall, poking his helm around the corner Rodimus's spoiler flatten itself on his back when he saw Megatron leaning with his back against a wall while carefully holding a small newly-emerged sparkling in his arms.

"Scrap!" Rodimus cursed as he rushed to the larger mech's side. "Are you both alright? You're not feeling woozy are you?" The red mech quickly snatched a clean towel from one cubby before handing it to Megatron who used to wrap the sparkling up. The larger mech then shook his helm giving Rodimus a flabbergasted look.

"I didn't even know I was sparked in the first place" He winced a little as he shuffled a little before gazing down at his sleepy bitty. "But I think we are alright. I manged to feed them before they fell into recharge, then you showed up" Megatron smiled a little when he saw Rodimus's spoiler flutter likely from shock.

"Right, cool um..." Rodimus then dragged one servo down his face trying to clear his helm. He then opened his comm link already scrolling through the many contract list. "I'll let Ratchet and Magnus know...Primus this wasn't on my list of things I needed to do today" He heard Megatron snort a little that made his spark spin lightly while he waited for Ratchet to pick up comm.

It was a long next few hours between Ratchet scolding both the captains audials off while he asked Megatron question after question while he tended to the new Carrier and sparkling. Now Rodimus was sitting outside the waiting room with his arms wrapped tightly around his chest as he nervously watched the doors. Letting out a sigh the red mech lowered his helm only to nearly jump out of his plating when he heard the door slam and spotting a very angry Ratchet storming right towards him. Rodimus didn't fight when the medic suddenly grabbed his arm yanking the red mech upwards from his seat and dragging him towards his office.

When the office door slammed shut Ratchet then turned glaring daggers at Rodimus while his plating flared and bristled. "Out of all the mech's on this ship it has to be you!" The medic hissed as he jabbed a digit on the red mech's chest. "How didn't the both of you not notice all this time?! I get that Megatron is a large mech but there must have been clues!"

Rodimus just lowered his helm in embarrassment. "So, he told you about us huh?" He gave a pained yelp when he felt a wrench whack him on his helm. He raised his optics a little seeing the angry glare of Ratchet. "We did use protection, honest!"

"What kind of protection? Because it clearly didn't work and now you're a Sire." Ratchet gave a tired sigh turning away slightly. "I always assumed it would be you who ended up sparked kid, but then again I'm proven wrong on this ship" The medic turned again to gaze at the captain.

"Mostly dampeners and baffles. It was a lot easier to use a quick dampener patch when he couldn't find any spike wraps" Rodimus cringed a little when he heard the long sigh of the medic. He shuffled a little before raising his helm to fully look at Ratchet. "But are they...both alright?"

Ratchet gave a little nod before sitting down in his office chair. "Yes they are fine kid. A little tired but they will be just fine" The medic leaned back a little before crossing his arms as he softened his glare on the red mech. "About those dampeners, it seemed they weren't strong enough but when used correctly they can be fairly effective preventing sparklings. Next time you decided to canoodle come to me I'll hand you the right strength dampeners and not one of those cheap ones you can buy at any store"

Rodimus gave a small smile before flicking his spoiler in a nervous manner. "Thank Ratchet" He then turned gazing away ready to leave. "I-um own you one...I'll buy you and Drift something as a thank you gift" Just as he was about to leave Rodimus heard Ratchet clear his intake sharply, turning he spotted the now softer and worried look on the medic's face.

"Where are you going kid?" Ratchet got up from his chair and wandered over before placing a gentle servo on Rodimus's shoulder. "You better not be thinking about running off now" Rodimus just lowered his helm before suddenly hugging Ratchet sightly sniffling. The medic gave a surprised gasped only to smile softly as he patted the red mech's back. "Aw kid, I know this all sudden and scary but you'll be fine"

"I know...I'm just so happy, terrified and so so lost!" Rodimus would bury his face deeper into Ratchet's shoulder as he softly wheeped. "What if I frag up Ratchet? What if I mess up my sparkling and ruin the last good thing that happened to me?!" His frame shook and rattled with each sob while Ratchet just quietly listened holding the mech tightly.

"I know kid, being a Sire is scary but you have Megatron, me, Drift and the crew to help you out" The medic gave a soft smile as he slowly pulled away. "No one said being a creator was easy work, but you have to be strong for both yourself and your new family, alright?"

With a quick nod Rodimus quickly wiped away his tears with the back of his servo while Ratchet gave a soft smile. Quietly opening the door Ratchet lead the not so weepy Rodimus down the hall and towards one of the recovery rooms. There Megatron was quietly was lying on a berth holding holding their bitty who was now wide awake and gently snuggling against their carrier's chest. With a soft smile Rodimus quietly entered the room before walking up to join their side.

"Primus, they so small" Rodimus beamed as he allowed the sparkling to wrap their small servo his digit. His spoiler happily fluttered when the bitty cooed before trying to gnaw their toothless gums on his digit. He gave a warm smile as he turned to gaze at Megatron who was also smiling wide before leaning up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Are you okay?"

Megatron chuckled softly before leaning down to nuzzle against Rodimus's helm with his own. "I'm fine but they are clearly your sparkling" He smiled again as he had to re-adjust the wiggly bitty in his arms for the 4th time in a row. "They don't want to sit still unless they are hungry or tired" That made Rodimus laugh a little as he leaned in closer to tickle the sparkling's tanks with his digit, that made them giggle while their creators just smiled proudly. Megatron suddenly leaned backwards having something dawn on him suddenly. "We need names...and buy everything they will need" He gave a low groan letting his tired frame sag.

Rodimus gave a sheepish smile placing another soft kiss on his larger partner's cheek. "We'll figure this out Megs, we both weren't prepared for this" He then flashed a cheeky smile as he gazed down at the sparkling "Besides we could always name them Rodimus Jr if we can't think of anything" He then felt Megatron gave a deep glare as he gave a low grumble. "Absolutely not"

Giving a little chuckle Rodimus returned to gaze proudly down at their sparkling while wrapping one arm around Megatron's as he leaned in to snuggle as close as he could. For the next few hours they just sat in silence watching and bonding with their little surprise sparkling.

(Hope you enjoyed :>)

Awww, this is so cute 🥰

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Chapter 24

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set immediately following Chapter 13: The Jedi.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, dual POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, angst, bittersweet vibes, just a lot of love

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Note: This is the last full chapter of this story. There will be an epilogue tying up any remaining strings (posted this month, promise), but for now, this is where we leave our engineer and our bounty hunter. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. It means more to me than I can say.

---

Never had you been more grateful for the competence and steadfastness of your friends than in the hours following Grogu’s departure. There were no maudlin displays of emotion, no awkward questions or condolences offered, and not a single comment about the absence of Din’s helmet. Instead, everyone simply got to work, and you were certain that it was only the hustle and bustle of activity around you that kept you and Din both from breaking down right where you stood.

As the first order of business, Cara Dune used her secure comm link access to hail the nearest New Republic outpost and request support for prisoner collection and transport. The officer on the other end of the connection was eager to agree as soon as he heard Moff Gideon’s name, and after some logistical back-and-forth, he was able to schedule an escort of two X-wings and a prisoner transport vessel for rendezvous in 12 standard hours.

This was, of course, too long to rely on the stunning effects of your blasters to keep the cruiser’s crew incapacitated, so the marshal then recruited Fennec to help her comb through the ship to check for Imperial survivors. Anyone found alive was quickly disarmed, bound, and gathered in one of the cargo bays for collection by the authorities.

The bodies of the dead, meanwhile, were flagged and identified using the crew manifest. Cara took it upon herself to personally verify and record the deaths of each one of them before hauling their corpses onto a repulsorlift sled and transporting them to the medical bay for disposal.

It was grim work, you thought, but the two of them did it without complaint; by the time they returned to the bridge, both a bit winded and glowing with sweat, the marshal was proud to report that an additional 25 Imperials would be added to the New Republic’s prison rosters.

Koska and Bo-Katan, on the other hand, remained on the bridge. As soon as the mysterious Jedi’s X-wing was out of sight of the front viewport, the former was at her injured lady’s side draping her arm around her shoulders, supporting her weight as she bore her into a chair. The redhead protested, insisting she was fine, but even from the other side of the bridge, you could hear the hiss of a smothered wince as Koska peeled back the fabric of her flight suit. Two angry blaster wounds oozed there, twin scores in the meat of Bo-Katan’s pale thigh, both of them bloody and deep. It was a wonder that she had ever managed to get to her feet again, let again alone stand with both pistols drawn, ready to take on a platoon of Dark Troopers.

It sounded like something Din would do, and your regard for the prickly princess grew as she eventually relented and allowed her vassal to treat her wounds.

You did your best to keep your attention otherwise occupied, to give the two Mandalorians their privacy as much as you could, but even so, Bo-Katan’s bitterness was a tangible thing, rolling off of her in waves and choking the bridge with tension. From the stiffness in his shoulders, from the way a muscle in his jaw clenched and feathered beneath his stubbly beard, you knew Din could feel it, too, and you rested a casual hand on his forearm in support. He hadn’t intended to usurp the Darksaber from his ally – no one could have witnessed the almost-desperate way he had attempted over and over to give it to her and questioned that. You resolved to ask him later, when you were alone, what he planned to do with the sword now that it was in his possession. For now, you hoped that he would not take her black mood too personally.

Once you were certain that all of the loose ends on the cruiser had been tied up, you volunteered to send a subspace transmission to Boba Fett on the Firespray. “Mission complete. No casualties. Wait another 14 standard hours for rendezvous to avoid New Republic prisoner transport.”

You admittedly didn’t know much about Boba’s past, but you had gathered enough to know that having him here at the same time as the New Republic authorities would be asking for trouble. The last thing you needed was for your friend (and your ride off this ship) to be detained for questioning.

As the hour grew later and your boarding party began to tire, you collectively agreed upon a guard schedule for the cargo bay before commandeering a block of now-abandoned crew quarters. Cara had slotted Din into the last shift before he could volunteer otherwise, giving him a hard look when he attempted to protest, and you were grateful to her for it. Without the anonymity of his helmet to hide behind, the heavy weight of exhaustion was clearly visible in his eyes. Dark, dull, and listless, present but only barely, with deep creases in the corners. The man needed rest, whether he was willing to admit it or not.

When he selected a room for himself, you did not question whether you should join him; you followed him in wordlessly. You needed to be close to him, and you refused to allow him to grieve alone again.

The room was small, spartan, and completely spotless, bearing little evidence of the Imperial officer who just this morning would have called this place home. A double bed with sleek gray sheets and a matching blanket took up most of the space, its surface flawlessly smooth, its corners neat and squared in a fashion that screamed military conditioning. A long, six-drawered, black dresser spanned the far wall, and on its surface, the only personal effects visible were a tidy stack of datapads, a small vanity mirror on a sleek, white mount, and a well-loved pack of sabacc cards. A lone chair sat in the corner, a pair of black leather boots tucked neatly under it, and another door along the starboard wall stood open to reveal a dark, unlit refresher.

“A double bed,” you remarked, a forced lightness coloring your tone as you offered Din a tight smile. “What are we going to do with all that space?”

You thought you might have seen a muscle twitch at the corner of his mouth at that, but it failed to stretch into a full grin. Instead, the silence returned, thick and oppressive. The weight of the day – the battle, the victory, the loss – pressed in closely all around you, leaving a bone-deep kind of weariness in its wake. You felt wrung out, raw and depleted in a way you had never experienced, and you knew that if you were feeling it this deeply, the man before you had to be nearly dead on his feet.

And yet his face – his excruciatingly handsome face, already so precious to you despite seeing it for the first time today – remained nearly impassive, as it had for the last several hours. If you had not had so many months of experience reading his body language, you might have thought him detached, indifferent, but you knew him better than that by now. The heaviness in his limbs, the tension in his shoulders, the struggle to look anywhere other than the deck in front of him, the way he could not seem to hold your gaze for more than a few seconds without wrenching himself away…

Din Djarin was exhausted, and he was very, very sad.

Slowly, cautiously, you closed the distance between you, brought both of your hands up to rest on the cool surface of his breastplate, and murmured, “It’s just you and me now.”

The bounty hunter sighed, the sound tremulous and deep, but still he did not look at you. His gaze instead remained on the floor between you, his heavy brow casting his dark eyes in shadow.

“What do you need, ner kar’ta?” you asked him. Your thumbs traced the folds of his cape, the high collar of his flight suit. “What can I do?”

He shook his head and brought one of his gloved hands to cover both of yours. “There is nothing to be done,” he rasped, voice hoarse and low from disuse. He had hardly spoken in hours, and you couldn’t help but feel that his words sounded a bit broken, a bit hollow inside. They made your heart clench in your chest. “Though… I would keep you close. If…that’s all right.”

The pressure around your heart increased, the pain of his words a physical thing, and you felt tears spring unbidden to the corners of your eyes. You had not thought you had any more to give, but apparently, you were wrong.

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere,” you replied wetly.

After what felt like several minutes of simply standing there, providing taciturn support through the touch of your hands, Din finally flicked his gaze up to meet yours. His eyes shone in the dim lighting, deep and nearly black with grief. “And what about you, cyare? What do you need?”

The faintest smile lifted the corner of your lips, knowing it wouldn’t reach your eyes. “A shower.”

That startled a breath of a laugh out him, and he shook his head at you with fondness. “I think we can make that happen. Anything else?”

Slipping your hands out from under his, you slid them up to his cheeks and cradled his face in your palms. “Just you, Din. I just need you.”

“You have me.” He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, and though the move was familiar, you would be lying if you said the absence of cold, uncompromising beskar against your skin wasn’t a little jarring. “Ratiin. Always.”

With a bit of convincing, you managed to coax Din into the attached refresher with you, the two of you crowding close under the vibrations of the sonic shower in a way that achingly reminded you of that night on the Razor Crest. It may only have been a handful of weeks ago, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since that moment. So much had happened in the intervening days, and although the memory of that night would glow warm and bright in your heart for the rest of your life, you couldn’t help but mourn that it had been tainted a bit, colored bittersweet with the knowledge that your life would never again look as it had that night.

Unlike then, however, as you ran your fingers over each other’s bodies or threaded them through each other’s hair, there was no heat to your touch. There was only care. And when you crawled into bed and tucked yourself against his side, the warmth of his bare skin against yours did not inflame but rather soothed. Almost instantly, your eyelids began to droop, the comfort of his closeness and the weight of the blankets tucked securely around you making your exhaustion impossible to ignore.

“Sleep now,” Din murmured into the top of your head. His breath was warm against your hairline, his nose buried your hair, and you smiled weakly at the feeling of his stubbly beard catching against the strands.

“Mm. Love you.”

The soft, warm pressure of a tender kiss against your forehead was the last thing you registered before drifting off, and the sleep that claimed you was deep and dreamless.

---

When you finally woke, you were alone in a rapidly cooling bed, the sheets beside you just barely clinging to the heat of your bounty hunter’s body. Half-conscious and bleary-eyed, you drew yourself up onto your elbows and blinked into the dimness.

“Din?” you called softly. Your voice scratched and grated against your own ears, your throat painfully dry from sleep.

The room beyond your bed remained mostly dark with only the faintest glow of cool white baseboard lighting outlining the edges of the cabin, but it was enough to see him there – sitting in that corner chair, fastening his boots. He was fully dressed again, the flawless beskar of his armor gleaming in the low light.

“‘S all right, cyar’ika,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “It’s my guard shift. Go back to sleep.”

Something about his voice sounded off – a mechanical quality to it that had you frowning at him as your sleep-fogged mind struggled to keep up.

Rubbing your eyes roughly with the heel of your hand, you asked, “You sleep at all?”

The broad outline of his pauldroned shoulders shrugged, the movement only barely visible in the dark. “A bit. More than I expected.”

“That’s good.” You melted back against the pillows then, drawing the blankets up to your chin. “Be safe, okay? Meet you on the bridge later?”

“Yes, I’ll be there.” Again, that odd, mechanical timbre colored his words, but sleep was tugging at the edges of your consciousness once again, the lure of the mattress and body-warm covers too powerful to fight against, and so you did not question it. Your eyes were closed again before the door into the corridor hissed open, before Din stepped through it and it shut behind him.

It wasn’t until you woke again some time later and recalled the brief conversation that you were able to put the pieces together. His voice, the strange, cool, staticky tone that had confused you in the darkness. It was his vocoder.  

Din had put his helmet back on.

---

The promised escort arrived right on time around midmorning that day, the two X-wings landing in the launch bay while the prisoner transport docked against the cruiser’s airlock. As the only member of the party who was explicitly friendly with the New Republic, Marshal Dune took point in coordinating the transfer of the Imperials, all of whom had returned to consciousness overnight only to find themselves bound at the hands and feet. Once all of the formalities were taken care of, there was little for Din to do other than observe as the prisoners’ identities were logged one-by-one in the New Republic register, their injuries were catalogued, and they were escorted onto the transport vessel either by a guard or by a field medic.

He didn’t even really need to be there, he knew; Cara was more than capable of managing such a task on her own. He could have taken his leave after this guard shift ended, could have blown off some steam in the ship’s armory with a little target practice or sought out the mess hall to see what he could scavenge for your breakfast. However, he could not seem to shake the feeling that he needed to be present for this. Or, more accurately, for one prisoner transfer in particular.

Moff Gideon had been kept away from the rest of his crew overnight, Cara choosing to house him in isolation in the same brig where Din had found Grogu the day before. She had stayed awake all night guarding his door, unwilling to trust his keeping to anyone but herself, and although he could tell from the dark smudges under her eyes that the fatigue was starting to get to her, the Mandalorian was immensely grateful for her diligence. Had such a capture happened on another day, he would have insisted on watching over the moff himself.

As it was, he had been in no fit state to be trusted with such a responsibility. How could he? Grogu was gone once again, this time likely for good. And once again, Din had defied his Creed in the name of a boy who was not truly his ad, who now never would be.

The first time – during his infiltration of the Imperial base on Morak with Mayfeld – had been out of necessity. Or at least, it had been easy to tell himself that he didn’t have a choice; his options had been either to allow his face to be scanned by the terminal or to give up, to retreat back to Fett’s Firespray empty-handed with no other way of locating Gideon’s light cruiser. That had been an unacceptable alternative. If pressed, Din might even have made the argument that allowing Grogu to be taken into the hands of the Empire without exhausting every possible avenue of rescuing him would have been a more egregious violation of the Creed, as it would have involved the harm of a foundling child in his care.

To a Mandalorian, there was nothing more important than the well-being of a child. Not even a buy’ce.

But this time… This time, he had had a choice, and still he had chosen to remove his helmet. Try as he might, the bounty hunter could not refuse Grogu’s soft, vulnerable, earnest eyes as he had peered up into his visor. The plea in those eyes could not have been any more apparent had he spoken the words aloud in perfect Basic. And when he had reached out his tiny hand and patted Din’s beskar cheek…

Well.

The Mandalorian felt the backs of his eyes begin to sting at the memory, and he blinked rapidly to banish the swell of emotion. What was done was done. It would not serve him or the child to dwell on it any longer than he already had, and the number of tears he had already shed was more than enough. Any more, and he did not think he could bear the shame. What was most important was that he had completed the quest set upon him by the naur’alor – he had cared for Grogu like he was his own, and he had found a Jedi to train him. He had done the right thing.

And that, perhaps, was the root of it all. Even in his guilt and his shame, even in his grief and his longing, he could not help but feel – to the very core of his being – that he had done the right thing in agreeing to remove his helmet. The joy and the recognition on the boy’s face, the warmth of his little three-clawed hand on his skin, the opportunity to look the mysterious Jedi stranger in the eye with his own eyes before he had handed his son over to him. All of these things had been priceless experiences, things he couldn’t regret even if he knew he should.

And you! Your sweet face when you had seen him for the first time, the hungry, urgent way your gaze had traced over his features, cataloguing each and every detail even as you offered him back his helmet. It had been uncomfortable to be observed so closely, to be studied so intently, and yet nothing about it had felt wrong or immoral. On the contrary, he had wanted you to see him, to know him in that way. It had felt right.

How could it have been, though, if it was in direct contradiction to the Creed? The Creed was his life, his moral center, the principle around which he had structured his entire existence. Breaking it ought to have been painful, not…satisfying.

Before he could spend any more time contemplating it, however, two of the New Republic prison guards appeared at the end of the corridor, a bruised and limping Moff Gideon between them. Shoving the riot of thoughts and emotions to the back of his mind for the moment, Din drew himself up to his full height and dropped his hand to hover over the grip of his blaster.

The older man looked a bit worse for the wear after his night spent in the brig, his normally flawless uniform rumpled, his sleek hair disheveled. He had a great black bruise forming across his jaw from the butt of Marshal Dune’s blaster rifle, and dried blood clung to corners of his lips. However, in spite of his haggard appearance, there was no pain or weariness or look of defeat in his dark eyes. Rather, he seemed almost eerily calm, as though the night in solitary confinement had centered him. Had Din not been able to see the binder cuffs glowing around his wrists so clearly, he would have questioned whether the man understood that he was being taken into custody. He looked entirely too…unbothered for a man who was bound for a war tribunal that would almost assuredly find him guilty.

Not that it mattered, Din supposed. Still, something about his nonchalance rankled. The man would be lucky to ever see the light of day again; what right did he have to feel so…confident?

---

By the time you managed to drag yourself out of bed and make your way to the bridge, the prisoner transfer had concluded, and the New Republic forces had departed with the surviving Imperials in tow. You were surprised to find a bundle of credits in a sleek, black bag waiting for you there – more than you had ever seen in your life, to the point where you felt a bit faint at the idea of counting them all. Apparently, because you had been part of the crew responsible for the capture of Moff Gideon and his crew, you were due a cut of the reward money from the New Republic government. This was news to you, as you certainly hadn’t gone into this task with the expectation of any payment, but given that all of your meager possessions had been destroyed with the Razor Crest, you weren’t in any position to decline.

Tossing the bag playfully into the air, you quipped, “Does this make me a bounty hunter now?” You waggled your eyebrows at Din, who offered you a light, crackling scoff through his vocoder.

“Think you have to complete at least one more job before you could be called a professional, cyar’ika,” he replied easily. “Though Moff Gideon is quite the notch in your belt should you decide to take it on full time.”

Cara Dune, as it turned out, had received a field commendation from the prison transport vessel’s captain for the victory, which she took out of a pouch on her utility belt to show you at your request. A small, gold pin featuring the sigil of the New Republic gleamed back at you from her black leather palm.

“The captain said he’d be in touch again,” she admitted, her voice soft and thoughtful. “Said they could use more people like me on the front lines. Hunting down Imperial remnants. Rooting them out.”

You raised your eyebrows at that. “That sounds like a big deal. You had said you were starting to feel a little…well, bored on Nevarro. If they called you up, do you think you would go?”

“I don’t know.” She rolled the little pin around in her grasp as you watched, her dark brows cinched in thought. “Nevarro’s great. And Karga’s been good to me.”  

“True, but you said it yourself. You’ve never been one to stay in one place for too long.”

Cara glanced up at you through thick lashes, cracking a wry smile. “You’re not wrong.”

The Firespray arrived precisely when you had instructed, the worn exterior of the vessel a sight for sore eyes after the events of the prior day. You told Boba Fett so when he hailed the cruiser, to which he chuckled gruffly and replied, “It’s good to hear everyone is still in one piece. I take it you have retrieved the child?”

You swallowed heavily and spared a glance toward Din, who met your gaze only briefly before looking out the viewport instead. “…we did,” you confessed after a beat of hesitation. “But he won’t be leaving with us. It’s a long story. We can catch you up once we’re back on board.”

For a moment, dull, hollow silence echoed across the connection – the sound of an open comm line with no voices to fill the space. Thankfully, however, it did not take long for Boba to recover from your revelation. “Understood. I’ll save my questions for the return journey to Nevarro then. If you all are ready to depart, I will prepare for docking.”

“Ready on our end,” you confirmed. “Feel free to proceed.”

As the distant thud of connecting airlocks rumbled through the deck plating, all but Bo-Katan and Koska prepared to disembark. Weapons were gathered, stolen foodstuffs from the mess hall were packed away in bags Fennec had liberated from the ship’s stores, and goodbyes were said. The two Mandalorian women would be keeping custody of the light cruiser, as had been your agreement, though as each of them offered you a cool, formal nod, you could not help but wonder how long the two of them would continue to travel together after this.

The dynamic between them had been openly strained since the moment the Jedi took his leave, taking their already stiff and stoic way of interacting and ratcheting it up to a degree that you could only call frigid. Bo-Katan had become almost unrecognizably surly and standoffish in the face of the loss of the Darksaber, while every offer of service and support from her vassal appeared reluctantly, resentfully given. It was difficult for you to discern which of them was the true source of the brittle tension – whether Bo-Katan was driving Koska away in her resentment of her circumstances, or if Koska was already beginning to detach herself from the princess now that it seemed certain that she would never be Mand’alor.

Either way, you supposed it was none of your business for now. Perhaps your paths would cross again one day, but until then, they had held up their end of the bargain, as had you and Din. Until he said otherwise, the complexities of Mandalorian politics were not your concern.

Your departure was quick after that, the four of you making your way onto the Firespray as efficiently as you could manage through the narrow airlock. The scent of the familiar ship filled your senses – durasteel, dust, and caf with an undertone of something distinctly masculine, and you could not help but sigh in relief as you felt the tense muscles in your shoulders loosen almost immediately. You weren’t certain at what point over the last few weeks Boba’s ship had begun to feel like a safe haven, but it had, and after spending the last standard rotation “behind enemy lines,” as it were, your relief at being back was palpable.

Of course, you hadn’t expected you would return without Grogu. His absence was like a physical thing, a hole in your heart and an emptiness in your arms that you knew would not fade for a long while.

“Feel free to settle in,” Fennec said. “I’ll be in the cockpit catching Boba up while we get into hyperspace. Should be a pretty short jump – no more than a day or two.”

You, Din, and Cara all nodded your acknowledgement before making your way over to the ship’s central ladder. You dropped off the bags of supplies you had taken from the light cruiser in the common area on your way down, and without needing to say anything, you and Din ducked into the bounty cell you had claimed as your own the last time you were on the Firespray, while Cara continued down the ladder to her own cell.

It was the first time you had been alone with the bounty hunter since the night before, you realized. Vague, sleep-clouded memories of his departure from your shared quarters this morning hung in the back of your mind, but the last time the two of you had truly spoken, you both had been raw and wrung out, and Din…

Well. Din had been helmetless.

You weren’t certain whether you had expected him to remain helmetless, but the fact that he had turned down your offer to put it back on right after Grogu left had made you wonder…

Choosing to take advantage of your momentary solitude, you closed the cell door behind you. If he was ever going to start giving you some insight into the innerworkings of his mind, you supposed now was as good a time as any.

---

Hours later found the Firespray deep in hyperspace and you wide awake in your bunk, rolled up onto your side with Din tucked in close behind you. A heavy arm draped around your waist kept your back pressed firmly against his chest, his grip preventing you from rolling off the edge of the narrow bed onto the unforgiving deck below you. You didn’t know how the two of you had spent so many nights sleeping like this on your journey to find Moff Gideon’s vessel; even after one night in a two-person bed, you felt as though you had been spoiled for space. Now, you felt more like a tightly-packed tin of rations; one wrong move, and you would burst from the edge of the mattress and never be able to pack yourself away again in the same way.

Your attempt at discussing the reappearance of his helmet had gone nowhere, the Mandalorian brushing off your inquiries with gentle but firm rebuttals. Removing his helmet had been in defiance of his Creed, he had insisted. Mandalorians kept their helmets on at all times in front of others. Yesterday had been an exception, an anomaly. That was all there was to it.

Never mind the points you brought up about Bo-Katan and Koska. Never mind your reminders of how every person aboard this ship had now seen his face other than Boba Fett, and not for a brief moment, but for hours and hours. Never mind your insistence that he had done nothing wrong, that he didn’t need to make up for allowing himself a few seconds of connection with the boy who had become like a son to him. All of it had fallen on deaf ears, and although he had been kind and patient with you throughout the discussion, his stubbornness hadn’t abated. He hadn’t budged an inch.

You weren’t sure how long this would be the case, but one thing was clear; the helmet was back, and the chances of you catching a glimpse of the bounty hunter’s handsome face again any time soon were slim.

Releasing a soft sigh, you twisted a bit in Din’s grip, looking back over your shoulder to trace the impassive beskar surface with your gaze. He was handsome even with the helmet, you knew; it was how you had fallen in love with him and how he would always appear in your mind when you closed your eyes and thought of him. Only days ago, you had expected to go the rest of your life having never seen his true face. You could go back to that, you thought. Or at least, you could try.

What you couldn’t do was sit idly by while Din compromised his needs and his desires for the sake of some ambiguous religious statute that you could tell he was already beginning to question. You had always respected his beliefs, but never at the expense of his own happiness.

Your mind abuzz with your thoughts, you felt – perhaps for the first time – restless in your Mandalorian’s arms. You wouldn’t be getting any sleep any time soon; that much was certain. Gently, with all the stealth you could muster in the darkness, you wrapped your fingers around Din’s wrist and lifted his arm from around your body. He stirred as you slipped out of bed, a heavy sigh rasping through his vocoder, but thankfully, he settled again quickly, and you were able to sneak out of the bounty cell without waking him.

You made your way up the ship’s central ladder as quietly as you could manage, your way lit only by dim runner lights that dotted the edge of the shaft. When you arrived in the common area, you almost didn’t notice the shadowed outline of Boba Fett’s broad form sitting at the little mess table.

“Ah, welcome,” he murmured gruffly, offering you a nod of acknowledgement. “Sleep eluding you, little one?”

He wore no armor, you realized as you approached, his black linen nightshirt and loose, billowy pants a sharp contrast to his usual sage green beskar. The light of a single lamp illuminated his scarred face, the golden sheen of it reflecting warmly off the smooth skin of his bald head, and he had a steaming durasteel mug cradled in both hands.

“You could say that, yeah,” you replied, the corner of your mouth tugging into a small smile. “You?”

He nodded. “Mm. You’re welcome to a cup of tea, if you would like.” Gesturing toward the kettle keeping warm on the cooktop burner behind him, he continued, “I find it helps settle the nerves.”

“Thank you.” With practiced familiarity, you retrieved yourself a mug that matched Boba’s and proceeded to pour yourself a measure of the fragrant, bitter liquid. “So what’s got you up this time of night?”

The older man shrugged a shoulder and took a sip of his drink. “Even a well-disciplined mind is vulnerable in sleep. Old memories one might prefer to leave in the past can make themselves…difficult to ignore.”

Your smile widened, the expression taking on a wry tinge as you slipped into the rusty, well-worn chair opposite him and settled your cup on the table before you. “I can relate to that,” you mused.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each of you absorbed in your own thoughts. The tea he had brewed was a strong one, bracing and soothing in equal measure as you let it float over your tongue, and absently you wondered whether he might share with you its varietal and planet of origin before you reached Nevarro so you might seek some out for yourself. Primarily, however, you found yourself studying him in the low light. This was another Mandalorian who chose to remove his helmet, who chose to allow others to see his face. He seemed more comfortable with it on, perhaps, but he did not shy away from taking it off when it made sense to do so.

You could not help but wonder why that was, and the question was out of your mouth before you could think better of it. “Could I ask you a…personal question?”

Boba arched his eyebrow at you curiously. “You may try. Though I make no promises that I will answer.”

“Fair enough,” you agreed with a grin. “It’s just that… I was curious about your helmet.”

“What of my helmet?”

“You take it off. Regularly.”

He inclined his head at you in agreement. “I do, indeed. Speak plainly with me, little one. What is your question?”

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you voiced the thing you had been itching to ask him since the day you met, since the moment you saw him dressed in the weathered green armor that had once lived in armaments storage on the Razor Crest. “Do you consider yourself Mandalorian?”

Your words hung in the air for a beat, then another, and you swallowed nervously against the pressure of the growing silence between you.

“Ah,” he finally sighed, voice low and rasping. “That is a complicated question.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. You see, my father was Mandalorian – he, like your companion, was a foundling, taken in as a child and raised among them,” he explained thoughtfully.

You heard the words he did not say just as clearly as the words he did. “But not you?” you pressed.

Boba seemed to hesitate at that, shifting in his seat and weighing his words carefully. “The circumstances of my birth were…unique,” he eventually confessed. “I was raised by my father on a planet called Kamino. The teachings and values of the Mandalorian culture were certainly a part of my upbringing, but I was still a boy when my father’s life was cut short. I made my own way in the galaxy after that.”

You felt your eyebrows raise in sympathy at the revelation. “That sounds lonely.”

Cocking his head, the man across the table took a moment to study you, his flint-dark eyes narrowing ever-so slightly as though puzzled by your response. “It’s no easy thing, to forge a path for yourself without a tribe.”

You nodded. Again, his sentiments felt familiar to you. As a child, you had had a tribe of sorts. Your father, your mother, the other children in your little community on Chardaan.

Before the shipyards. Before Orron Halcard.

“What is it that troubles you?”

You glanced up at Boba, your fingers twisting anxiously around your mug as you took another thoughtful sip of tea. “I’m worried about my…companion,” you admitted after a heavy swallow. “He’s struggling. With being Mandalorian, with what that means. I hoped maybe understanding you a bit better might…help me help him.”

Dark eyes softening at that, you watched as a rare smile quirked the corners of his lips. “You have a kind heart, little one, but I fear my story may create more questions than answers.”

You nodded, returning your gaze to the dark liquid in your cup, watching the whisps of steam twist and rise into the air. You had feared as much.

“What I can tell you,” he continued abruptly, pulling you back out of your thoughts, “is that from the day I drew my first breath, there were people who believed they had a right to tell me who I was. The genetic engineers on Kamino told me that I was a product – payment in exchange for the services of my father. The other children who shared my face told me I was an aberration, an abomination with a faulty genetic code and no true purpose in the universe. The bounty hunters who took me in after the death of my father could not seem to make up their minds about me – to some, I was a prodigy, to others a burden.”

You listened with rapt attention, watching as Boba’s strong, wise face morphed into something fiery, something fierce.

“The Republic, the Separatists, even the Empire all believed that they had the measure of me. But no one has that right,” he hissed emphatically. “I had to decide for myself who I was. What do I believe? What do I value? What do I want? I must be the one to make those choices if I wish to control my own destiny. Perhaps the time has come for your companion to ask himself those questions, to choose for himself who he is and what that means to him.”

Slowly, softly, you smiled at the older man and nodded your agreement. “I want that for him. Very much.”

“Then you have already given him all the support he needs.”

With those words, so confidently and simply spoken, a wave of calm washed over you the likes of which you hadn’t felt since your last night on Nevarro – Din tucked in by your side, Grogu between you, the chattering of an old holovid serial rattling in the background as you dozed together. It was a confidence, a sense of rightness that you had thought had abandoned you the day you landed on Tython, and the relief you felt at its return was staggering.

Boba was right. All you had to do was be there for Din – allow him to ask the questions he needed to ask, encourage him to seek his own answers, and support him whatever his choice. Because as long as it was his choice, it would be the right one. You loved him enough to want that for him. You loved him enough to be his anchor while he worked it out on his own.

Swallowing the final dregs of tea from the bottom of your mug, you rose to your feet and – before you could question it – allowed one of your hands to rest on the older man’s shoulder, giving him an affectionate squeeze through his linen nightshirt. “Thank you for the tea,” you murmured quietly. “I hope you’re able to get some sleep.”

Through the dimness, he bowed his head to you, eyes flashing with something warm and almost fond. “The same to you, little one. I’ll see you in the morning.”

---

Your retreat back to your bunk was a quick one, your heart and mind feeling lighter than they had in weeks. The absence of Grogu still ached, but it felt somehow more manageable; not necessarily easier to bear in that moment, but there was the promise of a day when the loss of him would feel less sharp, when the good memories and the love of him would be greater than the pain of his departure. And as for Din, you were confident that he would find his way. He was the strongest person you knew, cunning and resilient and stubborn to a fault. If anyone could work his way through the mess that he had found himself in over the last several weeks, you knew it would be him. Like Boba had said, all you needed to do was be there for him while he did it. Everything else would fall into place as it was meant to.

You were silent and cautious as you slipped back into your bounty cell. The heavy durasteel door proved easier than you expected to close gently, and with a hand braced against the wall, you shuffled out of your boots and crossed the floor in stocking feet. Din’s beskar armor gleamed in the darkness, and you smiled to find him precisely where you had left him – back pressed against the bulkhead, arm outstretched as though to embrace you, helmet carving a deep indent in the single, thin pillow you shared between you.

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you eagerly slipped back under his arm, this time pressing chest-to-chest along the front of his body. His grip on you tightened reflexively, drawing you even closer as you tucked your head under his chin and buried your face in the folds of his cape. The chill of his breastplate nipped at your skin, but you paid it no heed. Instead, you simply dropped a tender kiss to the little geometric pattern right in the center and allowed your eyes to drift closed.

Your parents were gone. The Razor Crest was gone. Grogu was gone. But Din remained. And as long as you were together, you did not need to have all of the answers. It was enough to know that you had each other and that together, there was no obstacle you could not overcome. He was your home now, and you were his.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” you whispered. Your breath fogged up the surface of his armor, that bit at the center shining with moisture. It felt significant somehow, as though you were speaking directly to his heart even as he slept. “I will know you forever, Din Djarin. I love you.”

---

Mando'a Translations:

ner kar'ta - my heart ratiin - always cyar'ika - sweetheart, darling buy'ce - helmet naur'alor - smith, craftsman, specifically a metalsmith that works with beskar. It's a title that's called out in the Kyr'tsad Mando'ad, a manifesto of the Death Watch and is later recognized in the book The Bounty Hunter's Code by Boba Fett. Given the Children of the Watch's connection to Death Watch, this felt like an appropriate formal title for the Armorer. ad - child, gender neutral Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum - I love you, literally "I will know you forever"

[worldcatlas]

Star Trek: The Motion Picture (part 2)

We’re back to the big screen to finish up Star Trek: The Motion Picture, and discover even more exciting shades of beige.

In part one, I skipped over a brief appearance by the Klingons because you can barely see them, but with a bit of photo editing, we can take a closer look.

Why are their bridges so dark? Do targs have sensitive eyes?

Interestingly, they wear a style of uniform we would later see in TNG and beyond – all grey leather and metal studs – rather than the “sparkly sweater vest” uniforms Klingons usually wore in the original series. Although it’s a significant and unexplained departure from their small-screen appearance, I have to say, it’s a lot easier to take these Klingons seriously.

Remember these guys? Star Trek wants you to forget.

I also skipped over a brief appearance by a lil’ guy in a space suit, but we’ll get back to this costume later.

You just float there for now.

Picking up where we left off, Kirk steps off a shuttle sporting a handsome new uniform in slimming charcoal grey and white. It maintains the gold rank braids on the cuffs from the original series uniforms, but adds a futuristic belt, military-style shoulder marks, and a solid metal Starfleet badge. A stiff, quilted collar adds a touch of “space suit,” as well. All in all, a very sleek space-age outfit that feels like a solid upgrade to the brightly-coloured sweaters of TOS.

I can’t wait to see how everyone else looks in this cool new uniform! 

We also get a momentary, blurry glimpse of some excellent-looking Vulcan robes in black and gold, but once again, this beautiful costume barely gets a moment of screentime before being whisked away.

He had to hurry off to fix his eyebrows, I get it.

So… as it turns out, only admirals get the cool new penguin uniform, and everyone else is stuck with space scrubs. They don’t even get a metal badge (not even hard-working Scotty!), just an embroidered patch with a silver Starfleet delta against a coloured circle indicating the wearer’s department.

At least he gets the cool belt.

Up on the bridge of the Enterprise, It’s a full-on Situation Beige. Crewmen buzz around the bridge in every imaginable shade of white, off-white, tan, taupe, and ecru, blending in nicely with the bulkheads.

Fashion crimes notwithstanding, I think there’s also an OSHA violation or two going on here…

Not even Uhura is immune to unflattering shades of khaki, although she does give us a quick glimpse at the Apple Watch-like wrist communicator worn throughout the film. It’s a great accessory that would unfortunately be rendered obsolete by the comm badge as the franchise moved on.

This woman deserves fashion, dammit!

Chekov, Sulu, and other crewmen model a few interesting variations on the theme, including a tight-fitting polo, a standard crew neck, and an awkwardly-tailored sport coat that can’t possibly be regulation.

You know, for uniforms, they’re not very… uniform.

While others, like Commander Decker, enjoy tight-fitting jumpsuits in the beige-est possible shade of blue. Somehow, I just don’t get a sense of authority from a man who looks like he’s been vacuum-sealed inside his footie pajamas.

Oh boy, you can see Commander Decker’s whole entire Commander Decker.

Next, we are treated to a great crowd shot that really shows off the scope of the costume department’s efforts, with dozens of varied uniforms packed into the scene. It makes me feel a little bad for going after the colour palette so hard, considering the difficulty of coordinating so many pieces.

Then again, it really is giving “thermal underwear in space.”

There are a few noteworthy variations in the crowd, including the guy with an uncovered electrical socket in the front row, but my favourite is probably this Native American officer with cool beaded accessories.

Chakotay could learn a thing or two.

The next character to make their big screen debut is the ship’s doctor, Leisure Suit Larry Dr. McCoy, in a fly as hell, disco-ready outfit, complete with gold chain, oversized belt buckle, and a frankly criminal amount of chest hair. And let’s not even talk about the beard. Thankfully, the good doctor soon cleans up and changes into uniform.

Still too much chest hair.

Next, we pay a visit to engineering to see Scotty, who has gotten a significant costume upgrade. Along with his fellow warp core enthusiasts, Mr. Scott sports a heavy-duty, protective-looking white suit with a strange socket (or antennae?) on the chest, surrounded by concentric circles of padded fabric that really make you wanna plug something in there. Oddly, the costumes also feature black rubber collars that presumably attach to their matching helmets, but do not appear at all sealed to the body of the suit.

They’re air-tight…ish.

Fortunately, the suits also include a handy, built-in to-do list.

Memory aids can be helpful for a… mature crew.

Last but not least, the old gang is finally back together as Spock joins the crew, feeling absolutely no emotion about how slick he looks in these long-sleeved Vulcan robes. I love the matching grey tones between the high-collared shirt underneath and the embroidered Vulcan script on the outer garment (though I’m sure this was a purely logical choice).

It says “zip up here.”

Sadly, Spock is quick to follow protocol and changes into a Starfleet uniform as well. However, he does keep the collared undershirt, creating an ensemble that – in a nice nod to TOS – closely resembles his old uniform.

Spock appreciates consistency.

Uhura has also gotten a costume change, and although they still won’t let her out of Beige Hell, she has at least gotten a smart two-piece pant suit that looks a little more comfortable. In addition to being more flattering, this uniform also includes the gold rank braids at the wrists.

Maybe the replicators in the 2270s only have one colour of ink.

Some plot happens, and the ship’s navigator, Ilia, gets hijacked by an alien entity. After briefly experimenting with no costume, she manifests this wild sci-fi bath robe with a huge Dracula collar. The asymmetrical hemline is super cute, but the belt at the waist could be a bit higher and more fitted. I do like how the pink lining inside the collar complements the robo-transmitter implanted in her collarbone.

The bad news: an alien has taken over your body. The good news: they put on a cute fit~

The back of the collar is a nice touch as well, tapering into a heart shape that flatters the actress’ perfectly-shaped head.

So smooth.

On the other hand, I cannot agree with V’ger’s choice of psychically-manifested footwear for this outfit. Clear plastic high heels might look futuristic, but they’re completely impractical for walking through a ship with perforated deck plating, running through sandy-floored caves, or standing near a warp core without melting.

At the other end of practicality, we are introduced to some members of the ship’s security team, who are inexplicably dressed like old-timey football players. They sport shiny helmets, phaser holsters, and crotch-protecting armour in a lovely chocolate brown. While it does break up the beige, it feels a bit silly to see combat guys ready to rumble on a Starfleet vessel.

I think they saw what the Klingons were wearing and got jealous.

Deciding to accessorize, V’ger tries on a headband belonging to her host. It’s a lovely beaded and sequined piece, with a gold charm dangling at one side, and very nearly reminds the navigator who she used to be.

Does this accessory clash with my parasitic control of another sentient being?

Things are getting intense story-wise, and Spock suits up in a shiny red “thruster suit” to take care of business – that is, an EV suit painted safety orange and strapped onto a rocket that looks like it was built with spare kitchen utensils. The whole ensemble is incredibly bulky, but believably looks like a rocket-belt-type contraption that might’ve existed in the 1970s.

Do what you have to do, Spock, but I’ll need my colander back before dinner.

We’re treated to a close-up on the suit’s gloves as Spock pilots the contraption, revealing plenty of details, including more structural quilting. I like the raised details along each finger on the gloves, implying some kind of built-in system, perhaps heating or robotic assistance. The frame of the thruster suit (painted beige) contains a control panel, with buttons on every surface. This segment detaches from the suit itself, so there are also buttons built into the left sleeve.

One for lemonade, one for ice, and one for diet Romulan ale.

We also get a good look at the back of the suit without the rocket attachment when Spock mind melds with V’ger, revealing more quilted details, including some hilarious concentric squares on the butt. From this angle, the suit is mostly the work of the prop department, who have done an excellent job making the hardware look both hi-tech and capable of playing Betamax tapes.

I think my Grandma had one of those on top the TV.

Kirk comes thrusting to the rescue in his own suit, and soon Spock is whisked away to Sick Bay for another costume change. I think this is meant to be a futuristic hospital gown, but it really looks like they’ve just wrapped the sheets around his legs and pinned them in place with binder clips.

In case the doctors need quick access to his thighs.

On the other hand, the sleeveless top is a whole look, and I love the hood with contrasting orange lining.

Not gonna lie, I’d wear it.

As a bonus, Doctors McCoy and Chapel have evolved into their final form: an all-white medical uniform with an oddly rounded collar, shoulder marks, and – notably – a rod of Asclepius embroidered on the left breast, in lieu of a Starfleet delta.

Missing a couple buttons there, Doc?

In the climactic finale, our brave crew suits up for one last away mission in suede jackets, taking advantage of the material’s natural beige hue. Unusual for Trek, they appear to have several large, prominent pockets – but any unease is quickly dispelled by the reassuring presence of decorative quilting along the arms. Speaking of which, the left arm of each jacket bears a reflective stripe that, curiously, does not seem to indicate rank or department, as Spock alone has a red armband.

Fascinating.

With little to differentiate their outfits, Decker decides to accessorize with dramatic lighting and sparkles. Lots of sparkles. Met-Gala-rolled-in-a-Michaels level of sparkles, a.k.a. the correct amount for any outfit. And with that, the Earth is saved.

What was the point of the film again?