In these last ten minutes of Pride month in my year+ of Star Trek: the Original Series stanning, it seemed only right to shout out a true icon of our people: William Ware Theiss, the lead costume designer for TOS, both a creative visionary who enormously influenced the imaginative, bright, zany aesthetic of the show and, let's say, a great ally to his wlw sisters. He died of AIDS in 1992, but the work of him and his team remains deservingly iconic.
The above is just a small selection of some of my favorite costumes from TOS!
alpha gally who lost his entire pack he’s known for over three years within the span of three days. alby, the original alpha of the glade, now buried six feet under. sinks his teeth into the remaining gladers the following morning, ignoring the heartache growing in his chest when minho and newt refuse to let gally mark them. should’ve known he lost them right then and there. the sun hasn’t even set yet as he loses what little gladers he has left as they follow after thomas. then gally’s got a gun pointed to thomas’s head and a spear through his chest that prevents the gun from going off. following the death cure comic timeline, he’s dragged through the desert and watches as his kidnappers die before his eyes. grabs the rifle, tucks it under his chin, and ends up encountering lawerence before he can pull the trigger. then following the death cure movie plotline, he almost loses thomas minho and newt — too many near death experiences for him to count, and those are the ones he’s seen — in the span of a day.
once newt’s body is stable in the safe haven, minho slowly accepting that this peace is his newfound reality and not an illusion and thomas has someone by his side every night to comfort him when he wakes up screaming from his nightmares — he starts to avoid them.
no need for gally to be around anymore. he did what he had to as the alpha of the pack, regardless of if the gladers had his mark on the napes of their necks or not. it’s what alby would’ve wanted anyways, for all of his gladers to be safe and happy.
so gally’s extremely surprised when chuck comes up to him as asks for a pack mark on the back of his neck. he thinks he’s hallucinating, so he asks chuck to repeat himself. chuck points to the side of his neck, telling gally it would look so cool if he placed it right under his ear and maybe one of the icers might find him attractive if he had it. gally shuts down his rambling with a hard no before departing off island for a supply run.
when he returns, brenda’s waiting for him at the storage units, munching on an apple. “never had any sort of pack before.”
gally raises an eyebrow — well, raised his eyebrow higher — as he lets out a sigh of exhaustion. “don’t you have jorge?”
“yeah, but he’s more like a dad. he’s not really into the whole pack thing, not since the flare wiped out half of earth. says he enjoys the freedom.”
“so do you.” gally retorts.
“i do.” brenda nods in agreement. she takes another bite of her apple, pondering for a moment. “and you’re not the type of leader to keep his pack trapped in the house all day to attend to their every whims.”
“yeah, well, you came to the wrong guy. if you wanted a leader, go find minho.” gally slams the last box down, sharply turning on his heel and ignores brenda calling out to him.
it’s a rare day off for gally. vince was insistent that gally take a break from the frequent off-island supply runs and that he can tag along for the next one. so here he is, shirtless, laying in the sand as the waves occasionally brush against his feet. he hears footsteps making its way towards him, the suns rays blocked with someone hovering over him. gally takes a peek, greeted with the sight of newt’s smile bigger and brighter than the sun. he hasn’t seen that look in a long while. not since they were in the glade and newt realized they had an overabundance of tomatoes, so he took it upon himself with the gardeners to hit any and everyone they could. gally remembers thinking he narrowly escaped being smacked in the face with the fruit only for it to hit him in the face mid-bath.
“newt.” gally mutters out, feigning irritation in his voice. newt responds with a giggle, and that’s his sign to sit upright. “newt, what are you planning?”
“nothing.” newt says, but he’s moves himself in front of gally as a particularly strong wave crashes into the shoreline.
brushing the sand off his arms, he narrows his eyes at him. “right. and your in nothing but shorts—“
an mouth full of seawater cuts his sentence short, and gally jumps up to spit it out, wiping his tongue on his shirt, which only makes it worse because its covered in minuscule pebbles of sand. newt’s toppled over from hard he’s laughing, and gally swiftly gets his revenge by grabbing a fist full of sand and tossing it right into his mouth.
they chase each other through the sea, splashing water onto each other until newt seems to slip on something and his body submerges into the sea. gally wait a moment, expecting newt to come back up and smack him with a starfish or something. but newt doesn’t, and gally catches a glimpse of a head peaking out before it dunks right back into the body of water. his heart drops, and gally dives into the water, heading right towards the patch of blonde in blue. he hoists newt out of the water and rushes back to the shore, dropping him on the sand so gally can place his ear on his chest to listen for a heartbeat.
newt’s fist bonks the top of gally’s head, and he looks up into a tender gaze. “i wasn’t drowning, silly. here.”
newt holds out a shell for gally to take, but all gally can focus on is how close he is to newt. his once pale, scrawny body now covered with thin scars that stick out against his tan, muscles filling the gaps where he was once malnourished. newt tilts his head to the side, exposing the broad expanse of his neck.
“bite me.” newt mutters, a dark look in his eyes. gally slides his body up so that their torsos slide together and his lips press against the collarbone, teeth grazing against clavicle —
the sound of laughter approaching snaps gally out of his trance, and he scrambles off newt’s body, hand covering his mouth. newt doesn’t dare move, waiting patiently, holding eye contact as gally moves futher away and breaks it when his feet touches grass, running back to his cabin shirtless.
gally doesn’t get any sleep that night, his mind plagued with thoughts. thoughts that have him standing under the cold shower and counting sheep and attempting (and failing) yoga. he saunters out of his cabin at the first sight of dawn, wandering towards the food hall when he sees teresa leaving. her eyes flicker up to him, clearly surprised to see gally up so early.
gally waves at her, and she takes a look around to see if there’s anyone else around her before pointing a finger at herself. gally nods, waving again, and teresa holds up a bowl of food and nods towards the direction of the medical tents.
once gally’s made his way inside, teresa hands him a fork as she taps at the empty seat besides her. she pushes away her vast array of empty flasks and tubes to make space for her large tray.
“its fine — i was going to grab my own breakfast anyways.” gally states, but teresa latches onto his wrist and tugs him into the seat. the fork is pushed into his hand and they begin to eat in silence.
“i avoid eating with everyone else.” teresa starts. gally munches on a sweet strawberry, thinks about how the rich juices could only have been from the work of newt’s tender hands in the garden, and feels his face burning up in the same shade. “frypan’s tried but, i can feel the way the other refugees look at me. so he always wakes up a little bit earlier so make me something.”
teresa looks up then, her face forming into worry as a scarred hand touches his forehead. “you’re burning up. have you been feeling unwell lately? coughing? hot flashes? pain?”
“um, no. just — thought of something stupid. sorry.” gally quickly replies. teresa gives him a skeptical look, but he can’t exactly tell her that he’s thinking about newt in his swimming shorts, and she looks just about ready to knock him unconscious to administer medicine against his will. “i’m sure thomas and the others wouldn’t mind having you there, y’know. they’ve forgiven you. WCKD manipulated you, used you, for their own selfish desires. you only did what you thought could help save the entirety of humanity.”
teresa’s fingers move down his face, over his sharp eyebrows and jawline, curling around to feel the fading bite mark given to him by alby. “would you?”
gally stiffens at her touch. “what do you mean?”
“the day thomas led us to the exit with the griever key, you went around putting a pack mark on the survivors. except for me.”
“i didn’t put one on newt, chuck, thomas or minho, either. ‘cause of… y’know. everything.”
her shoulders slump, eyes downcast as her nails dig into the scarred bite. “i know. i’ve seen their bare necks. i just… i’ve never really belonged. anywhere. maybe if i had your mark—”
her other hand presses against her adam’s apple, looking directly at gally with far too much trust and hope in her eyes that he jerks away from her hold and jumps out of his seat. “i can’t.”
“…oh. i understand.” gally can hear the pain in her voice, as teresa’s own chair swivels around and her hand makes motions to brush away tears.
“i’m sorry. i’m…” a failure. useless. disgrace. “i just — i can’t. i’m sorry. i really am.”
the next day, the aircrafts are grounded for to make sure everything is in working condition, so he heads over to the woodworking areas to keep his hands busy and his mind focused. spends the first couple of hours chopping up wood and sanding down the smaller ones for chuck to use as carving practice.
the sun sits at the highest point in the sky when he hears a couple of cat-calls behind him. gally thwacks his ass into the tree stump and turns around to see harriet & sonya look at him with wandering eyes.
“wow. my brother wasn’t lying when he said gally’s got muscles.” sonya smirks, jabbing harriet to point directly at his abs. “i wanna play with those like a xylophone.”
harriet laughs. “don’t let newt hear you say that.”
“what do you two want?” gally sighs, scrubbing a hand over his sweaty face. “i’m not going to give newt a pack mark, if thats what you want. or either of you, for that matter.”
“really? well, it was worth a shot.” sonya shrugs. “but i think you’ll agree to our next request.”
gally does not admit he feels a twinge of true fear when harriet and sonya share a mischievous glance with each other.
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