⸻ LIVE LONG & PROSPER.

Ok, but what an utterly perfect reply Valentine. THIS IS AS PRECIOUS TO ME AS @brooklynislandgirl ♥️🩵♥️🩵♥️

if looks could kill, it would have been us instead of him. - Pike

The transmission had been broken, but playing back the recording what felt like a loop of times that had the message laser burned into her memory; and after conferencing with her reporting officer and eventually Captain Pike – determining this a grave enough matter that further investigation proved warranted. The deep, subspace transmission Nyota had received while in the middle of her Gamma shift just the night prior, was the gathering of Klingon ships on a fourth and distant moon of a baron gas giant located on the most remote edges of Federation space.

What Nyota had not anticipated was assignment to Captain Pike’s covert away mission. Uhura’s Klingon was widely unmatched by most save for Klingons themselves, and she had also trained in several forms of martial arts and combat, because she found this a more useful application of her time at Starfleet Academy than aimless running and toning on machines and programs in a gym; however she has never had to exhibit the practical application of either.

Though she was Starfleet to her core and she believed in their ideals and she believed in her Captain; what she did not believe of herself to be true until this fateful mission was that she could take the life of another being. Naive was something she never was nor had she ever believed the possibility unrealistic, but given her chosen field and how fresh from the academy she’d been - never would she have guessed herself primed for such a task.

The Lieutenant’s Captain clearly felt otherwise.

This had given her both a sense of pride, and even more importantly a keen and staunch sense of duty, because she did not want to give Captain Pike a reason to think he may have misjudged the assessment of his comms officer.

The away team was small, only four, and had shuttled to the small outer moon while the Enterprise lay hidden on the other side of the planet, hidden from Klingon sensors by the large magnetic field surrounding the planet as a result of ongoing electrical and ion storms throughout the planet’s atmosphere. Conversely, it meant the away team would be temporarily cut from communications with the ship.

This had been functional, right up until it wasn’t.

What they had come to realize the Klingons had discovered, on this miniscule moon, was uncovered dilithium veins in ancient and entirely frost covered mountains and were covertly mining the crystals while taking advantage of the planet’s magnetic field distorting sensors on long range scans. Their mission parameters were clear; assessing Klingon operations, obtaining evidence to present to Starfleet high command, abscond back to the shuttle to rendezvous with the Enterprise. What no one’s knowledge allotted for was the Klingons having set black market Romulan traps armed with trilithium resin based explosives taking out the two other ensigns assigned to the away team. The Captain was able to dispatch three of the four Klingon patrolmen, but the fourth had gotten the drop on Pike, and a strange sense of both calm and urgency gripped her as tightly as Uhura gripped her phaser rifle; Nyota began to open fire with an adrenaline-fueled-accuracy that she did not yield from until the only one of the two moving was Captain Pike.

There was a suffocating quiet as she looked down at a now lifeless Klingon. Sorrow wasn’t the sensation she felt, but hollowness followed by an abstract sense of satisfaction knowing that feeling was an indicator to her that killing and death were not something she aligned with outside of the most extreme circumstances; and now Uhura saw clearly what those circumstances entailed. Nyota came unfroze from her existential reverie at the sound of Pike’s voice, and she knew the gallows-quip was to meant exactly for that.

The Lieutenant’s attention was back and honed, she repressed the preceding moments to be in the present one, duty sidestepped her Captain’s words and assessed him up and down in search of fatal injury;

“Captain,” her voice steady as she could manage, “ – are you alright? The shuttle is just over this hill, but we have to go now … they won’t let us leave alive, not when they know we’re with Starfleet.”

HOW BORG IS YOUR BORG WHEN YOU BORG?

What is your Borg name?: The Borg Ultimatum

Do you appear in the dreams of the Borg Queen?: I hope so, that bitch is sure in mine. Yowza

What is the best thing about the Borg?: All the shit we stole from y’all

What is your dream planet to assimilate?: The Moon

How many of your character arch’s tie into Captains Picard and Janeway?: Too many

Are you that fucking traitor Hugh?: Fuck no

What y’all did to Guinan was messed tf up: Yeah? Well do sumn about it, Chief

Have you ever met Q?: No, and I hope I never do. That weird, theatrical, attention seeking cooze

If you could assimilate anyone - who would it be?: Jay

Do you mind the constant clammy flesh?: Not at all, I’m 97 and have no wrinkles

Have you ever quietly not added someone biological distinctiveness to your own?: All the time. It happens more than you think

Did you kind of hate Locutus?: Only because he just showed up and suddenly he’s the favorite? Nah, fuck that

Easiest assimilation?: Your Mom

tagged by: god & destiny

tagging: @fasciinating , @ahtlus , @hiippocrates , @spokh , @pointyxearedbastard-a , @antiivenom

DIVIDING THE SELF INTO CONTRARY PARTS can very easily tempt the elasticity of the mind into snapping; only those with the right mental dexterity and constitution can withstand conditions of such deep social and behavioral shock. In the methodology of a daily routine that consisted of combing through her procedural and implicit memories, Nyota, as best she could, established some kind of inward touchstone - a method on which to rely that would remain even amongst the tumult of their situation. In doing so it allowed her to also suss out the underlying emotions that would betray their identities, risk their lives. To take those memories and carefully place them in the sacred and secret places of the mind and heart. The memories shaped like people she longed for, that she dreamt of in the night - only to wake with that familiar feeling of a weight sitting on her chest, compressing the air from her lungs; reaching out across the bed for someone who was light years and light years away.

The hollow aches of home filled by further retention of data, schematics, all things that would have to be recorded down to be deliberated with the Federation after the fact. All a part of a stringent order and application so as not to be discovered while gleaning the necessary intelligence they were sent for; operating like the spies of old fallen regimes like the Soviet Union and United States.

And through it all she had Pavel - her comrade, her brother in arms. Her dearest of friends.

Her last hope at this seeming edge of darkness.

[ Or so it had the bitter way of feeling like. ]

Uhura had been sitting on the edge of her bunk, wide legged, forearms on her knees, while she inspected her hands. They were chartreuse, as they had been for these long months, posing as Orion Arms Dealers. Though the color, on this dreary and aimless night in space, struck a different chord - one that plucked a bittersweet note from the stretched out sinew of her heart.

The thought that was lending itself to the painful sting of welling emotion in her throat was mercifully cut short and snuffed out by Pav’s harried return, but before her questions could be asked, her friend was already answering them and swiftly pulling out a cloth - on it all Pavel could scribe. Uhura and Chekov knew better than to recite aloud their intel while still aboard the Chonnaq; leaving them often to simply scribe things down, speak in code, or simple vagaries. So the clever Lieutenant naturally made use of anything and everything available to him; she often considered herself immeasurably lucky to have had Pavel Chekov with her on this mission. For reasons that seemed beyond counting, but presently he was demonstrating one of those many brilliant points of why right then.

This information was invaluable.

“You know what this means though? When we dock at the next outpost - we can make our way back, finally. This pattern proves what you’ve been saying, Pav,” Nyota, fully in agreement with her cohort that even in what was supposed to be their sleeping quarters, they couldn’t be entirely direct in what they said. “One of the moons of XurXur is the next Outpost,” her voice was low, rushed “ – this isn’t just all that the captain needs, but … ” Uhura lowered her voice even further, “Pav, this is what the Federation needs to try the The Orphan for – everything.”

@ensnchekov

While each day onboard the Chonnaq grinds away at his already fraying nerves, Pavel is still mildly surprised to find that every day he wakes up, the interior of the ship has not morphed around them into the abysmal dungeon he'd always imagined a Klingon Bird-of-Prey to look like on the inside.

It doesn't make their mission any easier, but he will take whatever small comforts where he can find them when surrounded by enemies who would not bat an eyelash at stringing them up and using them as leverage.

The reports about the Orphan have not been exaggerated.

Pavel waits until the door is fully shut behind him, double-checking for good measure, before walking up to Nyota, voice conspiratorially low. He still does not trust the Orphan is not yet on to them, that he does not have eyes and ears in the walls even he couldn't find.

"Normally I am not the one to say this, but I think the captain is wrong. You know as well as I do that for someone to change, they have to want to, and the Orphan does not. I've been digging through some of the ship's files, and—" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded up scrap of cloth which has been repurposed as paper.

"I was not going to risk the chance he finds out I downloaded information. But look at this."

@haiiling, sc.

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 & 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

intended for mature audiences, minors dni. specify muse if interacting with a multimuse.

what is their sexuality/sexual preference?

what is their romantic preference or inclination?

what are some features of others that attract them from the outset?

what are some features of others that arouse them, or they find arousing in a sexual situation?

what are their most common turn-ons?

what are some more situational or contextual turn-ons?

what attire do they feel most attractive in?

what attire do they find others most attractive in?

what is their favourite sexual act?

do they indulge in masturbation or personal fantasies?

how do they feel about foreplay?

how do they feel about one-night stands?

are they openly flirtatious/sexual, or are they quite private?

how open are they, or how do they feel about sexual experimentation? elaborate if needed.

what is something they consider a kink of their own?

have they engaged in sexual acts beyond themselves and a single partner (group sex, swinging, polyamory, etc.)?

how satisfactory has their sex life been thus far?

what is something they wish to try? why haven't they tried this yet?

are they dominant, submissive, switch, partner/context-dependent, or unsure?

do they prefer to give or receive sexually?

+ established ship question. in any/all verses, with any/all ships, have your character/s speak about that ship's intimate & sexual dynamic, and how they feel about it.

In Search of Crumbs

acrylic paint & color pencil on paper, 29x29cm

us, amongst the stars

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EDIT OF H. SULU. MUTUALS CAN REBLOG.

"I don't think the badger is actually rabid; I think he's just kind of a dick."

@he1msman