Star Trek AU

Sports and Ithro are both Trills, and both are on their tenth hosts who happened to be twins. 

Ithro is stationed at the space station Latabæ and is often bothered by the Ferengi con artist Glanni “Glæpur”. They have a bit of a love/hate relationship, and Ithro lets Glanni get away with probably more than he should.

Stephanie Meanswell is the Captain of USS Lazytown with Trixie, a Bajoran, as her trusted Number One. Sportacus is a Medical Officer.

Ensign Robbie Rotten is a very very tired Betazoid who has a hard time coping with all the emotions and feelings he’s bombarded with 24/7 and can often be found hiding away and working at night when it is more silent. 

Stephanie is a Betazoid too, but she deals with her abilities a lot better, which makes her a great Captain and negotiator. 

@flukeoffate Finished!! :D 

Summary: Eli wonders if Thrawn believes him a fool, considering he plays on his ineptitude during every single field mission.

Unable to work with a man who takes him for an idiot, he decides to confront his commanding officer on the issue.

The response is…unexpected.
a/n: I’m so sorry it took forever, I’ve been so busy. Summer  just came around the corner and I’m trying to fill in every request (Both Tolkien and Star Wars) I was given. So if you’ve requested something from me, hold tight 😃

Okay I’m not too, too good with Star Wars terminology, such as ranks and all. All I know that Eli is still an Ensign, Thrawn is his superior, and Thrawn has an office in this fic.

If you like it, please like and reblog

Enjoy! Btw I proofread this on my own, so beware of the mistakes.


Eli Vanto felt exhausted. In both the body and in the mind.

Today had been like any other day working for Empire, which meant that Eli had returned to his quarters mildly injured and aching all over, courtesy of a rather tedious mission planet side. However, the physical injuries had been the least of Eli’s worries.

With time, they would heal.  

The mental ones, however, were sure to stay. His embarrassing mistakes and shortcomings already replaying in his head a broken holo recorder.

Eli threw his pillow over his head, smothering his face with the soft fabric, as if the pressure would somehow expel the humiliating thoughts that plagued his mind.  

The Ensign wasn’t surprised when the darkness did the exact opposite, the self-imposed void only paving way for more shame.

To be frank, the missed shot hadn’t even been the worst of his blunders.  In its entirety, the operation been a plethora of mistakes from the beginning to end, and now, with the fighting hours behind him, his mind had thought it a perfect time to remind him of all of his mishaps.

Every single one of them.

His stomach twisted in knots, his face heated considerably, and he felt like shrinking into his mattress as he was made to relive his numerous failures, one by one.

And as always, Thrawn’s remark had been the icing on the cake.

“Do not worry, Ensign Vanto. I had counted on your misfire, as you call it,” Thrawn had explained as Eli came to him, fumbling out an apology after an embarrassing shot during a bout of crossfire, “without it, I never would have had the chance to set my plan into motion. And for that, I thank you.”

Thrawn hadn’t meant to be condescending, at least that’s what Eli told himself.  Nor had he meant to make it seem like the entire operation depended on the Ensigns ineptitude.

But that didn’t change the fact that his tone conveyed the exact opposite, regardless of what he actually meant. And in actuality, the young Imperial was still oblivious to the workings of the Chiss’ brain.  

So for all he knew, Thrawn might as well have been playing on his stupidity.

This conflict tore at Eli’s gut for the remainder of the evening, tormenting him into the waning hours of the morning (or what constituted morning, given that he was stranded on ship in space), leaving him groggy and restless by the time he swung his legs over the bed and forced himself to the restroom to prepare for the day.

He looked positively dreadful as he brought a tired gaze to the mirror, the revelation from the night before still ever present in his mind, darkening his already sour mood, thus dampening his outlook on the rest of the day.

And oh, then there was Thrawn, his commanding officer who he would have to report to. His commanding officer who had been the source of his current dilemma.

His commanding officer who he would need to confront about his issue if he ever wanted to get a peaceful sleep again.

The decision, though sudden and brash, was a split second decision, and one made as Eli’s red, bleary eyed reflection stared back at him.

The solution hadn’t been hard to reach, in fact it had been the most logical thing to do. There was no point in letting Thrawn’s treatment of him gnaw away at his psyche, not when one day of contemplation had already done so much to him.

He couldn’t even being to imagine what years of service under such a strenuous relationship would do (actually, he had. His unraveled, dejected appearance had only been the beginning of what was to come if he refused to speak to his superior about his situation).

With little time to waste,  Eli sighed and headed to the bridge, where he knew Thrawn would be waiting.

Their conversation on the bridge had been a short one, as Thrawn had discussed his schedule with Eli, and was prepared to send then Ensign on his way.

“Sir, may I have a word?”

Formalities said and done, Eli jumped straight to business when the opportunity arose. There was no point in delaying the matter at hand, not when the effectiveness of his job depended on it.

“In private?”  He added quickly, before Thrawn made a spectacle out of Eli on the bridge with his questions.

At this, the alien raised a blue eyebrow, indicating his surprise at Eli’s demand. Though his expression, he schooled almost instantaneously, bewilderment fading with the softening of his features.

“Of course, Ensign Vanto,” Calmly, the words rolled off the alien’s tongue, tone nor stance indicating any previous discomfort, “Would my office suffice?”

“Yes Sir.”  

They walked to the office in complete silence, Eli’s forward gaze usually trained to his superiors back,  now diverted downward, towards the floor, taking in the dull reflection of his body bouncing off of the silver ground. It cleared his head, somewhat, gave him the opportunity to contemplate on how he’d go about the conversation, and what lengths he’d need to take in order make Thrawn understand his issue.

The walk was relatively short, though Eli supposed his anxiety may have elongated it.  

Thrawn settled himself behind is desk in silence, and Eli assumed his position standing before the Chiss, hands held behind his back, and head held up slightly, though his eyes continued to look elsewhere.

Now that he was here, about to complain to Thrawn…he felt nervous.

“You wished to speak to me, Ensign Vanto,” Thrawn began, and much like Eli, wasted no time in diving into the issue.

Eli gulped dryly and leveled his eyes with Thrawn’s red ones.

No matter how he felt about his dilemma, presentation was everything when it came to Thrawn. And if he wanted the alien to understand why he was feeling the way he was, Eli needed to communicate his side efficiently. He supposed that he should have thought about this before he presented his case to Thrawn (as the walk down the hallway hadn’t been nearly enough time to figure what was to be said during discussion). But at the time, his sanity and sleep schedule had been at stake (though if Eli really thought about it, he should have spoken to Thrawn when he was more sensible. He supposed that now, he was paying the price for his terrible planning).

“Yes Sir…” Eli inhaled slowly at this, squaring his posture as he prepared to procced.

Thrawn tilted his head at Eli’s change in posture, reclining slightly and folding his hands atop the desk surface.

Wanting to avoid an awkward silence, and end the conversation that was growing difficult to continue before it had even started, the Ensign spoke.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

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new klingons wouldn’t even make it past round 1 of face off - which is literally hosted by michael westmore’s daughter who was an ensign on voyager once - because of the design flaws like can’t see eyes/baked in expression/no hair/muddy painting/uneven amateur sculpting 

like geez

why wasn’t westmore even hired to do anything? he could’ve at least given a consult or sOMETHING.

could you imagine The Enterprise having like a yearly inspection and Kirk bugs out every time because the best running ship in the fleet certainly doesn’t become so because they follow the rules. He has to remind the crew a week in advance to actually call him Captain and use formal titles. Bones and Scotty’s shared bathroom which is one hundred percent a liquor cabinet/distillery cannot be a thing. Sulu has to collect all of his plants out of everywhere that’s not the Botany Labs and hide the illegal ones he picked up during their journey in his quarters. Scotty has to remove all of his Scotty-Approved-Modifications from Engineering. Spock can’t work four shifts in a row and break the ensigns that challenge him in the gym to sparring matches. Bones can’t medically offer alcohol to anybody. Uhura needs to not curse every ten minutes, in any language. Chekov needs to focus more on his console and less on every pair of legs walking by his station. 

okay but when picard had to walk out on data’s performance in the ensigns of command it was literally that pathetic moment when a parent leaves a kids’ talent show or something and the kid is like “why is my dad leaving does he not approve of me am i not performing well am i failing” and dATA MY HEART

You were about to make a medical comment, Jim?

So, I was thinking about what a goddamn badass Leonard McCoy is.

Actually, I was thinking about drug shortages. I am a resident in the United States. The United States of America. First world medicine, folks. And sometimes - all too frequently - I have to revise the treatment plan of a healthy patient undergoing elective surgery because I do not have access to the ideal drug.

In other words, I compromise.

That’s a sickening feeling, friends. 

Which brings me back to Bones.

Bones, Chief Medical Officer on a five year mission in deep space, where no man has gone before. Bones, who cares so goddamn deeply. Bones, desperately filing requisition forms for medications that he has no hope of receiving in the foreseeable future. Bones, elbow deep in a unfortunate ensign that caught the wrong end of a blast in engineering, sweat dripping in his eyes, nagging thoughts of, “is his name Jason or Joseph?” Bones, mad as hell because medical takes another budget cut. Bones praying frantically to a god he doesn’t believe in, “oh, please, not again.” Bones, eyeballing a unknown species and making a quick judgment call, based on a hasty heart rate estimate and an eyeballed weight, the effective loading dose of a - probably - renal toxic drug. Bones, hissing at Spock to shut the hell up, all the while making his own calculations. Bones, who years after the mission has ended, bolts up out of a dead sleep in a panic of adrenaline, because endless nights of call have made gentle awakenings impossible. Bones, staring dumbstruck at Starfleet Medical’s supply rooms. Bones, dedicatedly carting his tiny medkit on his hip, facing an alien world with a tricorder and a few hypos. Bones, hiding in his quarters for days, pouring over all of the federation’s published xenophysiology records, searching for a connection, wondering where it went wrong. Bones replaying the day’s scene in his mind, fear still gripping his chest as Jim sleeps peacefully in the biobed. Bones alone in the field, performing a bilateral finger thoracostomy on a blue-lipped yeoman who reminds him a little too much of Joanna (if somebody does not write this fic, I will). Bones, fresh out of med school, feverently murmuring his oath with conviction and wide-eyed naivety. Bones blaming himself. Bones bitching about the unpredictability of genetically modified antimicrobials. Bones needing a goddamn drink. Bones, contemplating the nuances of therapeutic nihilism. Bones, forcing himself to meet Jim’s eyes as Jim officiates a funeral. Bones, calculating pharmacokinetics in his head. Bones, knowing there was nothing to be done, but dammit, what if? Bones, painstakingly documenting his every discovery, every treatment plan, every failure and every triumph, for the next generation of medical professionals. Bones in his office with his head in his hands. Bones, absolutely giddy and shaking with relief, “Don’t be so melodramatic; you were barely dead.”

Practicing medicine is terrifying. Every day, I am horrified at the thought that I will not be able to provide for my patients. I love my field with every breath in my body, but the responsibility is overwhelming, and sobering.

Disease and danger, indeed.

“By golly, Jim, I’m beginning to think I can cure a rainy day.

Yeah, Leonard McCoy. I think you can.

According to one of the books the reason chekov became chief of security in the movies is because he was rejected from command school for being too immature but he still wanted to be in charge of people so he went to security school instead

Submitted by @ lord-of-the-dark-realms 


So, I had this thought after reading several stories about humans giving birth and not having eggs.  What if aliens do not have ‘family units’ the same way humans do, but instead raise children in more of a group setting.


Captain H'roll'ah was excited to have hired on not just 1 but 3 humans, all of whom were extremely qualified for space travel.  Even better, they were all from the same clan and so there would be no rivalry or refusal to work together because of old scores to settle.

“Captain! Three humans just came in a have taken over the dining area! WHAT SHOULD WE DO?!?” Ensign Khralhen was out of breath and panicked, but his species was notoriously afraid of humans after it became public knowledge how dangerous they were.  Not that his own was much better, but H'roll'ah knew that these humans should be here and it was probably near a meal time for them.  How could such an evolutionary advanced and apated species not figure out a way to avoid needing 3 or meals a day was beyond H'roll'ah.

“It is fine, Ensign Khralhen.  These are likely the Humans that I just signed on to the crew.  They are from the same clan, so they should work at peak efficiency,” the Captain answered, trying to put as much calm and soothing into his voice as possible, “Let us go introduce ourselves and welcome them so that the ‘pack-bonding’ can begin.”


“Greetings, I am Captain H'roll'ah and this is Ensign Khralhen, our cook.”

“Nice ta meetcha! Cook, huh? Guess we best buddy up to you right quick then!” said the male.  He was average height for a human and perhaps a little on the heavy side, but H'roll'ah knew that it was likely muscle not fat.  After all, this human and one of his female companions were security personnel.

“Always thinking with you stomach, Thomas.  How about you buddy up to the Captain, so that we do not get kicked off this boat? Hmm?” said the smaller female, later identified as Samantha or “Sam” for ease.  "Small" being used only in comparison because she did not have the bulk of her clanmates.  She must be the medical officer.  H'roll'ah was worried that she would be distant from her clanmates but her body language suggested extreme comfort and trust, above what H'roll'ah felt for his own clanmates of different castes.  The third human, Laura if the captain remembered correctly, remained silent but was constantly looking around, as if expecting an attack at any moment, not that strange considering all that H'roll'ah had hear about Earth.

“Well then, please tell me what times that the three of you eat, and I will prepare food for you then.  Also, please tell me any dietary restrictions you have so that you do not have any medical incidents,” Khralhen said, realizing that the humans could be bribed with food as easily as a Con'valix could be bribed with fruits.


(3 Months Later)

Captain H'roll'ah was surprised at how well the humans worked together.  He thought that they might exceed standard human operating efficiency by 10%, but regularly they were 20-25% better than the reported average.  They barely needed to vocalize to communicate, and they were able to remember each other’s needs and the needs of the crew extremely well.  Captain H'roll'ah decided to ask them how they did it, and if it was a clan trait, where he could hire more humans of clan “Walker.”

“Thomas clan Walker, do you have a few minutes to talk about personal matters?” The captain asked, assuming that Thomas would, since he was off shift and relaxing in the lounge.

“Sure thing, hoss.  What can I do for you?  And I hope this isn’t about my or Laura’s tattoo’s, because we had to settle a bet on that a few days ago,” Thomas answered easily.  He was a bit flippant for the captain’s taste, but his results were impeccable and the other humans followed his lead, which spoke volumes for the man.  

“I was hoping that you could explain how you and your clanmates have achieved such a high efficiency rate.  You perform well above average, even for clanmates who grew up together.”

“Clanmates? Oh, that’s right! Sam mentioned that your species, and most species on this ship raise their young in a group setting and the kids hatch from eggs, right?”

“That is correct, and please do not remind me that human females carry their young in their bodies like a parasite.  The last time Sam explained that, it was enough to make all of us wonder how humans have managed to reproduce at all.” H'roll'ah still shuddered when he thought of it, and Khralhen wasn’t able to cook for 3 days after Sam had explained human reproduction.

“Fair enough, I think we reproduce more by accident that anything else, but yeah.  Me, Laura, and Sam are not clanmates like you think,” Thomas chuckled and shook his head, “We are siblings.”

“I do not know this word,” H'roll'ah answered uneasily.  In his experience, an unknown term from a human meant that something painful, gross, horrifying, or all 3 was about to be revealed.

“Sam could explain it better, and having Laura here only seems fair…” Thomas trailed off as he reached for his comm.  "Hey, brats (again with the casual disrespect), can you both get up to the lounge? Captain wants to know about siblings.“ H'roll'ah was always surprised that Thomas clan Walker could be disrespectful when asking for others to do something.

“Sure, be right up,” Sam responded.  She was likely a floor up in the medical facilities and wanted to take a break.

“Grrhhrhhgg.” Laura clan Walker had been sleeping, then, and did not want to come.

“Thanks, ladies, you can both explain family better than me.”  Now the captain was worried again because there was a second new word being bandied around.


“So, captain, a family unit for humans is very small compared to yours of Ensign Khralhen’s,” Sam explained, “A family is usually made up of the mother and/or father or a surrogate who has assumed that role and the children.  It usually numbers no more than 4-7 individuals.”

“But…But…how do you grow or develop? And to place all that burden on only one or two adults, how do they do anything else?” spluttered K'roll'ah.  He was shocked to find out that humans in the region called ‘America’ did not have an open community.

“Well, children who share 1 or both parents are called “siblings”, and they develop together.  The adults are called “parents”, and yeah, there is a definite loss of freedom involved.“

“So then, you three are…siblings?” H'roll'ah asked.

“Yes, Thomas is the oldest, and Laura is the youngest, with me in the middle,” answered Sam, “and our father bailed on us after Laura was 3 years old, so Tom became the ‘man of the house’ at 7 years old.”

THAT explained Thomas clan Walker’s attitude! Captain H'roll'ah realized that Thomas clan Walker had been in a command position and not had a commander from a young age!

“So that is why you both follow him? He is the new leader”

“Kind of, he is just the best at leading.  He knows what to do and does it well.” Laura answered, which was rare; she was the most quiet of the three.

“And the reason for your peak efficiency?” Captain H'roll'ah asked, determined to get an answer to his question.

“Well, we have known each other all our lives and spent most of those lives in close proximity to each other.  We just understand each other from the long familiarity and exposure.”

“Ah, the same way a pilot becomes better from being on the same ship, just with a person instead.”

“Exactly! And if you are interested in hiring others we are familiar with, we have some cousins, children of our parents’ siblings, who we know very well and want to get into space.”

“Then I will look them up, thank you for answering my questions." 

Humans were a strange species.  Instead of focusing on a large community, they developed close bonds with only a few people who share familial ties with them.  Captain H'roll'ah did hire the 'cousins’ and they worked out very well.  The human guidebook was updated to notify captains that humans sharing close blood ties have the potential to perform at higher than normal efficiency.  


Now somebody write a story about a captain hiring siblings who hate/cannot stand each other!

lol okay buddy whatever u say

Humans are space orcs #317

So imagine an alien race with only one gender or who have like really different gender characteristics or something.

First, they have trouble understanding that there are genders, because we look really similar regardless of gender, two arms, two legs, no colour scheme to separate “male” from “female” exclusively.

Second, no matter how many times some humans say there are only two genders, others say there are many. It seems, the aliens conclude, that all humans have their own way of defining how many genders there are, and how these are allowed to interact.

Third, the aliens soon discover that the humans get really awkward if you bring up mating (“fucking”) with another human around. And as we all know, humans are space orcs and nothing seem to faze them, so having found this small weakness, the aliens likes to exploit it and mess with the humans as often as they can.


“Officer Toft?”


“Are you and officer Alvarez a couple?”

The humans looked at each other. Their faces scrunched together and assumed a colour resembling the mess hall walls. The ensign could barely contain its delight.

“We are both men, ensign. Just because we are the only two humans…”

The human trailed off, blushing harder by the minute and refusing to meet the eyes of its fellow. The other human looked surprised and then a small smile erupted on its face. It reached out its hand and placed it carefully on top of the others knee.

“We are not a couple, but I understand your confusion,” it proclaimed. “I mean, we are usually keeping pretty close.”

The ensign nodded both antennae slowly, not sure where this was going.

The human who had spoke last moved closer to the other. The ensign immediately got a bad feeling. The human put its darker hand on the paler ones jaw and smiled sweetly before leaning in.

The ensign felt all vital fluids drain his extremities. Meeting mouths was highly inappropriate, not to mention unsanitary! Gagging, the alien fled.

The ensign leaned against the wall, weak legged, as its sensitive antennae picked up the scattered conversation between the humans.

“Wha…good for?”

“To mess… mess with them.”


“Also… anted to kiss you… really long time.”

More noices and the ensign moved away. There was certainly a downside to teasing the humans.

Anton Yelchin
Wherever you are
I want to say Happy Birthday
I’m so sorry your life was cut short
You didn’t deserve to fade away
You have so much to share
It hurts to see you in this situation
But I hope you’re ok up there
Please don’t cry
It’s not your fault
It never was
And never will be
Don’t think it was
You’re great
So smol
And a little cinnamon
You may be gone
But you are never forgotten
Happy Birthday Anton
Dobroy nochi