#nutritional cube

[alfafilly]

Trade: A Lil Treat as aTreat

Mmmmmmm!! Love me a high quality nutritional cube~! Art trade with Khenlos featuring his Serperior-sona and my trainer-sona Milly!! 

Posted using PostyBirb

[heph]

Both of them should not be taking care of growing kids I think

[sparenickel-blog]

About square food

Someone on Reddit asked about whether or not Duviri had square food and I wrote such a long-winded response that I figured I would post it here too.

Enjoy!

I have been wondering the same thing honestly. I'm pretty sure ALL food on the Zariman was square, as they were meant for interstellar travel as "nutritional cubes" to keep longer.

I have pretty much zero idea what they ate in Duviri (only thing I know for certain is they had vineyards for wine for nobility), but my best guess is probably also nutritional cubes for a couple reasons.

One is that the drifter is the one who made Duviri, so whatever they imagined would be made real there, including what they ate.

The second is that the drifter, after arriving in 1999, mentions that square food is comforting, so they had to have eaten it often either before Duviri or during.

Given their non-descript allotted time in Duviri, which was purposefully left vague (but as time may not work the same way in the Void as it does our own reality, it could be anywhere from a couple decades to thousands of years for all we know), if they didn't eat cubes there, then it could make sense because the idea of "comfort" in a place they know as a personal hell would remind them of a time before Duviri. However, the longer the time they could have spent in Duviri, the less sense it makes, because then the memories of a time before would be faded or vague at best. It could still work if they held on to those memories, but given the drifter made a world of their own after being left on the Zariman (aka "not saved" like the operator was) just so they could escape from losing their mind entirely, then that prior comfort might have been entirely cast aside for their own sanity's sake.

The possibility of them having had nutritional cubes for only a couple years leading up to space travel then saying that it is "comforting" doesn't make much sense either, especially if they only had them for such a short time.

So in my opinion, either the drifter ate nutritional cubes all their life up until a couple decades of Duviri, or Duviri had the cubes as well while they spent who-knows-how-long amounts of time there.

Added tidbit: When it comes to people, suppressing memories is something we do very well to cope, so I say "MIGHT have been entirely cast aside for their own sanity's sake" for the very reason that just because the memory is suppressed does not mean it cannot resurface. It's possible, just a matter of whether or not our brains can remember or will keep that memory in favor of something else.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[mecharose]

#vent

[canadianhealthcubesworld]

IT'S OK TO COLOUR OUTSIDE OF THE LINES!

Be bold, be different step out of that comfort zone and colour outside of of those bold boundaries! For centuries some of the most influential people have been colouring outside of those lines (Plato, Galileo, Einstein) is it your time!

[merlions]

I know B99 is copaganda and not ideal but I think nearly daily about this Holt quote with indescribable yearning in my heart

so tired of having to cook and trying to figure out wtf to eat, can I just have like. Specialized human dog food or something, like some vegetable and protein biscuits and a special drink so that I only have to think about maybe cooking something once a day instead.

[beingjellybeans]

Easy blender-free smoothies with Greens and Beyond

Are you a health-conscious individual seeking a quick and effortless way to embrace the goodness of smoothies? Greens and Beyond has the perfect solution for you! Check out its range of blender-free smoothies, made from fresh, raw, and natural ingredients such as organic vegetables, fresh fruits, superfoods, nuts, and seeds. These smoothies are not only delightful to your taste buds but are also…

[themanwhowouldbefruit]

at the point in my biking bullshit where i have to research like. nutrition and shit. like yeah this bitch (my body) needs 40-60 grams of carbs per hour in order to prevent collapsing after mile 30. yeah sure i will click the link for your rice cream cheese coconut based soylent green recipe scientifically proven to contain the most carbs per carb of all time. my root chakra totally isn't destroyed and im totally going to make it 🤪

[wayfaringtenno]

Imagine

For once, it's not angst and based on some things in canon Imagine Drifter's food being bland back in Duviri and on the Zariman. That the food they know was more for nutrition than flavor. The Hex notice they eat a bit slower at first, as if non-square food is foreign to them... because it is. Imagine Aoi treating them to different kinds of Boba every other day, laughing and giggling as Drifter gets used to the tapioca balls being sipped through the straw. Imagine Amir making Drifter try all sorts of candy, suddenly having a mix of gilt and uncontrollable laughter as a piece of candy was a bit too sour for them. Amir couldn't resist showing Drifter what mentos does in coke after that. Imagine Lettie taking time to explain the food groups and the food pyramid, trying to break it down simply each time the Drifter looked lost and confused. Lettie also wanted to see what Drifter ate in their time in Duviri and the Zarimain, now concerned about Drifter's nutrition. Imagine Arthur giving cooking lessons, each night is a different dish. Eleanor and Quincey help "judge" the Drifter's cooking. Just a little fun cooking competition while also encouraging the Drifter to be open to cooking more. This leads Drifter to do their own cooking experiments of "Will it Cube". Needles to say, Onigiri became a new staple food for Drifter along with pizza bites/rolls.

Quincey won't admit it, but he thinks it'd adorable to see Drifter so focused on making cubed foods. Soon he'll start requesting some to do food runs to those outside the small.

Eleanor takes note that Drifter's mind seems to quiet down when they are focused on cooking. She sometimes leaves little ideas in the back of Drifter's mind to help them give them something to focus on.

[pupkashi]

satoru loves yapping [to you]

satoru was always chatty, shoko could definitely attest to that statement, subjected to too many conversations she definitely did not care about.

“isn’t it hotter than usual? i swear last year it was colder around this time of year-” he began, continuing to talk as shoko tried to focus instead on healing an injured itadori in front of her.

it seemed that his chatty characteristic only amplified when you were around, his eyes would visibly brighten, practically gleaming when you appeared in his eyesight.

“sweetheart! how are you? staying cold in this heat?” you can help but smile at him, walking straight into his already outstretched arms and squeezing his waist a bit, pressing a soft peck to his cheek before pulling away.

“heat? it feels so good out today!” you sigh happily, waving yellow to shoko and itadori, “it is hotter than last year though I’ll tell you that,” satoru grins at your words, turning to shoko with a flint in his eyes before turning back to you.

“that’s what I said! global warming is getting too severe-” the two of you walking out hand in hand, the taller man still talking as you listened intently.

satoru never felt the need to be quiet around you, always finding things to talk about no matter the task or the hour.

“and so you would think that since they were doing so bad they would think of making changes right?” you nod along, humming so he knows you’re listening, “but no! they keep going with same stupid strategy and it’s so frustrating as a fan to see, i just want him to achieve his dreams,” he sighs sadly.

“can you pass the salt?” you ask, taking it from his much larger hand, thanking him before speaking up again, “why does he keep resigning if they always treat him so poorly?” you ask, satoru smiles, heart warming at the fact that you really do pay attention to him.

“he’s always wanted to win with Ferrari- let me take you back to the beginning” he begins, giving you a summary of charles leclerc’s life as you finish cooking dinner.

you could always tell when he got a bit insecure of how talkative he was, but you’d always smile at him, urging him to go on. “and then what? why’d you stop talking?” you’d say, making him smile widely before quietly starting again.

“I’m listening, angel boy,” you mumble in between dreams, listening to him talk about how orange juice isn’t the same as it was when he was growing up and how the new game he downloaded was more complicated than it seems.

it could be nearing 2 in the morning but you wouldn’t mind, satoru would be discussing how and why wombats have cube shaped poops and how koalas eat eucalyptus and pandas have half a brain cell they don’t bother to use.

“it has no real nutritional value and that’s why they have to eat so much of it,” he mumbles, eyes drooping as he cuddles closer to you.

“aren’t they made to digest meat?” you whisper, head tucked into the crook of his neck, your breath running a chill down his spine.

“think so, dunno” he mumbles back, breathing evening out before he’s fully asleep.

your eyes open slowly as you crane your neck, his pink lips slightly parted as he takes soft breaths, snowy hair pointing every which way.

you can’t help but smile at your lover.

“goodnight pretty boy” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “my little yapper,” you chuckle to yourself, already looking forward to what he’d talk about tomorrow.

masterlist

a/n: hi friends ! just a quick little something i put together bc i miss satoru so bad lately </3 he’s def a yapper and i want to hear him talk all day and night

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @sat6ru @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[mecharose]

ok. we are not doing this again today. its cooking mama time

[sevastiel]

Assorted Warframe fun facts I've found as of late! With screenshots and such. I find a lot of stuff just going through tilesets, looking for lore stuff that I can write into GS, so here's a few of my favorite things, in no particular order.

Folks who know me on discord have likely been subjected to these before.

-

-

While most of the 'growing' void angels look fem, there are masc variants of the ones you can wake up and fight.

The dummy you can whack on in Teshin's cave uses a very similar model+mask to the drifter doll in the Duviri paradox trailer, and I'm pretty sure it uses the drifter heron voice too, save with an accent.

There are a lot of wally arts around the zariman, (and liminus ones and orowyrm ones, I think,) but they're often close by symbols that seem like both references to dualism, (see: The scaldra's symbol) and the zariman's main time stream splitting in two, for the drifter and the Operator.

This pillar in the Backroom, and the underside of the loft, have some very silly issues with the 'surface' things snap to. The ceiling itself is a fair bit lower than what you see, and the pillar is thinner on that particular side.

The mission entrance symbol on both the deimos hubs is notably duviri-esque.

If you remove the zariman food cubes from your dormizone, they will double in size, allowing you to make comedically large bricks of nutrition. This sometimes applies to the utensils, too.

In some of the caves in the murmur parts of Albrecht's labs, there are little mollusk like growths on the walls and ceiling. They are visibly added on, too.

On the main image thing for the Hex, Arthur looks Very different, and his hair appears to be missing its silver.

If you put the Zariman horse poster on the wall backwards, it becomes impossible to interact with, and pitch black.

In the murmur areas, lightning will occasionally flash in the fog below, revealing Wally!

The bottom of the Zariman food tray casts a solid block of shadow upwards, sometimes.

Also, the wall scribbles project over items put against it.

If you're using a thrown weapon like the Glaive Prime, (Or something with a very slow heavy) and your target dies before you can complete the heavy attack induced by your Wrathful Advance, you can get stuck in the animation. Weapons/Abilities are still usable, but you're invincible and cant move. (To escape, you must use the ability again)

You can 'escape' the backroom by stacking decorations until you're mashed against the ceiling, transferring out, and transferring back in, (And mashing some more) but you can't actually place decorations out there which is sad. I could only access the little window ledge and haven't tried it again elsewhere, though I do mean to.

Sometimes the drifter's legs will glitch out on his agile stance and either stretch the Fuck out of the textures, or make his knees look like a bent straw. It makes me giggle.

The drifter's model takes priority over the decor around the backroom mirror for some reason.

95% sure that the center beam on the rafters is off centered, and it makes my brain really mad to look at.

The windows in the backroom reflect the original decorations/coloring, not your actual ones

The sand dunes in the sanctum anatomica are facing the wrong direction. This is not a problem in the actual in level tilesets that I've noticed.

[highblkfemsociety]

Nourish Your Beauty: The Ultimate Fall Vegetable Guide

As the seasons shift, so do our nutritional needs—and the vegetables that thrive in the cooler months are packed with vitamins and minerals perfect for keeping your skin glowing and your health strong. For the Feminine Woman, integrating seasonal produce into your diet not only nourishes your body but also radiates beauty from within. Here are the best fall veggies to stock up on and their incredible benefits for both your health and your skin.

1. Sweet Potatoes

Sweet potatoes are rich in beta-carotene, which your body converts into Vitamin A—a key nutrient for maintaining healthy skin. Vitamin A helps prevent dry skin, keeps it soft, and promotes a youthful appearance by encouraging cell turnover.

Beauty Benefits:

• Glowing Skin: Beta-carotene protects your skin from UV damage and gives it a natural, radiant glow.

• Anti-aging: The high antioxidant content fights free radicals, reducing the appearance of wrinkles.

• Hydration: The Vitamin C in sweet potatoes aids in collagen production, helping to keep skin plump and moisturized.

How to Use: Roast sweet potato slices with olive oil, rosemary, and a pinch of sea salt for a simple yet delicious side dish.

2. Kale

Kale, the queen of greens, is one of the most nutrient-dense vegetables you can add to your diet in fall. It’s loaded with Vitamins C, E, and K, which are crucial for skin health, elasticity, and wound healing.

Beauty Benefits:

• Cleanses Your Skin: Kale’s high fiber helps to detoxify the body, leading to clearer, more even-toned skin.

• Fight Acne: The Vitamin C in kale reduces inflammation, making it a perfect addition to combat blemishes.

• Skin Elasticity: Vitamin K helps with skin elasticity, reducing dark circles and puffiness under the eyes.

How to Use: Add kale to a smoothie for a nutrient boost or sauté it with garlic for a quick, nutrient-packed side.

3. Butternut Squash

Butternut squash is high in Vitamin E, beta-carotene, and potassium, which help your skin stay hydrated, soft, and smooth. It’s perfect for preventing signs of aging while keeping your skin firm.

Beauty Benefits:

• Hydrated Skin: Butternut squash helps retain moisture in your skin due to its rich potassium content.

• Even Skin Tone: Its Vitamin E helps even out your complexion and reduces hyperpigmentation.

• Firmness: The collagen-boosting properties of Vitamin C in this squash keep your skin looking firm and youthful.

How to Use: Roast butternut squash and blend it into a creamy soup or cube it for a hearty salad.

4. Brussels Sprouts

Brussels sprouts are often underrated but are a powerhouse when it comes to skin health. Rich in Vitamin C, Brussels sprouts promote collagen production, which helps maintain your skin’s firmness and elasticity.

Beauty Benefits:

• Brighter Skin: Vitamin C boosts your skin’s radiance, making it look brighter and more youthful.

• Collagen Boost: Collagen production is essential for skin structure and elasticity, reducing sagging and fine lines.

• Detox: Brussels sprouts help detoxify the skin, flushing out harmful toxins and leaving your complexion clear.

How to Use: Roast Brussels sprouts with balsamic vinegar for a tangy, crunchy side dish that’s perfect for fall.

5. Beets

Beets are known for their blood-purifying properties, which lead to clearer, healthier skin. They’re also loaded with antioxidants that prevent signs of premature aging.

Beauty Benefits:

• Glowing Skin: Beets help boost blood circulation, resulting in a natural flush and radiant complexion.

• Detox Power: The high iron content in beets helps detoxify the body, keeping skin clear and blemish-free.

• Anti-Inflammatory: Beets’ anti-inflammatory properties reduce puffiness and redness.

How to Use: Add roasted beets to salads or blend them into smoothies for a pop of vibrant color and nutrients.

Incorporating these seasonal veggies into your fall diet will not only boost your health but also enhance your beauty from the inside out. These nutrient-packed powerhouses will keep your skin hydrated, youthful, and glowing as the temperatures drop.

So, head to your local farmer’s market, stock up on these fall essentials, and let your natural beauty shine!

[valyrianvibranium]

THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE.

Antichrist!Aemond Targaryen x female Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; dub con, p in v, fingering (with gloves 😮‍💨), dacryphilia, choking, degrading, unprotected sex, power imbalance, female reader

WORDS: 4.7 K

NOTES: Yes, this is based on American Horror Story Apocalypse. Michael Langdon is just so *phew* that I had to adapt it to Aemond. This is so self indulgent, I'm not even sorry. @kaelabear you're getting the special taglist. @arcielee thank you for beta reading this! <3

You have lost track of how many days, months, or even years have passed since your arrival in Outpost 3, and gods, you’d give it all right away to be back in one of the holding cells the government had put you in around the time the bombs rained down over King’s Landing. 

Even though you received the status as a purple upon your arrival, therefore placing you to the upper-class elites specifically selected for survival, you couldn’t be worse off. At least there you’ve been allowed to do your own thing – as far as the confines allowed you to. 

The nutritional cubes they serve you are rationed, with Ms. Misery announcing they’ll have to ration them even further in the next days, and on top of being hungry and bored, you haven’t had a good fuck in quite the while. 

Sexual contact, or any kind of copulation, is strictly forbidden, and you’ve witnessed firsthand what it means to break Miserys’ rules – not that you’d make any moves on the other residents occupying the former exclusive boys school anyways. 

It’s only been you and your hand, sometimes even your pillow, from the very beginning on until now, and truth be told? You’re sick of it. 

At some point you’ve stopped getting yourself off, only because your body longed for physical contact, for someone else’s body on your own. 

And what certainly doesn’t help with your misery is the mysterious man that arrived just a few days ago. 

When he introduced himself as Targaryen, you knew his arrival was something that came partnered with power. As much as you would have liked to focus on his speech to campaign himself, you found it was far too difficult to care about humanity being on the brink of failure when the man telling you about it was so, so damn easy on the eyes.

Just the sight of his sharp features, regardless of a part of them being concealed by a black eyepatch, has been enough to make your mouth water. And when your eyes traveled lower, taking in the way his black slacks all but hugged his toned thighs, all was lost for you. 

You’ve been grateful that Laenor pounced on him to be interviewed first, wanting to see if he'd be worthy enough to be relocated to the so-called sanctuary, because you certainly would have jumped Targaryens’ bones right then and there. 

His alluring aura, the dominance radiating off of him – it all are factors that drive your aching body to insanity. and the nights that followed you found your relief more than once with the image of him flashing right before your eyes. 

Some time has passed in which you’ve barely seen him around, only hearing of him through the stories of the other residents that have been interviewed by him; now it’s your turn to warm the large chair standing in front of the imposing Mahogany desk. 

It’s the door behind you sliding open that lets your heart drop into the pit of your stomach, and you fidget with your fingers to stop yourself from turning around. You don’t want to be caught staring in the first few seconds already. 

You hear your name fall past his lips so smoothly it sends a shiver down your spine. You give in to the temptation and watch him step inside with an air of mellow gratification, prowling around the desk until he eventually sits down in the empty seat across from you.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he purrs, a glint of mischief dancing in his eye. 

There comes no reply from you, instead you continue to fumble with your fingers, looking at what you assume to be your file splayed out on the desk in front of him. 

It’s the dismissive hum that rumbles in his chest that finally piques your interest, and when your gaze settles on him again, you spot him touch his chin thoughtfully as his eye skimps over the pages, seeming as if he’s reading it for the first time. 

The red gloves he wears stand in stark contrast to the otherwise colorless rest of his outfit, your gaze drawn to them like a moth to a flame. He has worn them upon his arrival already; the smooth leather shining in the dim light of the candles makes your mind wander to more indecent things. 

He tilts his head up again to meet your gaze, his smooth and calming voice ringing out. “Your genetic profile would appear to be favorable, so you can say that this interview is solely conducted as a… precaution.” Though it’s meant to be reassuring, the deliberate pause he makes doesn’t seem convincing. 

His words make you frown. “What for?” you ask, and you curse yourself for how blunt and bold your voice sounds. “Aren’t you in need of relocating the last few people that pass on good genes, now that this is the last outpost standing?” 

The genuine laugh he offers you prompts you to lean back in your seat, juxtaposing the way he leans forwards in his. Something in the arrogance that radiates off of him, and the smug smirk he has on his lips, feeds your irritation. 

“Doesn’t seem like you can afford to be picky,” you snap back at him. 

He licks his lips, and although it’s not longer than a second, your mind immediately drifts off to think about how it would feel between your legs, how he would feel between them. You try to be subtle as you shift in your seat, barely moving enough to soothe the aching that blooms at the apex of them. 

“We’re making the selections as carefully as possible,” he counters. The paper of your file is pinched between his index and thumb, rubbing it between the pads of his fingers. “We need to ensure the survival of humanity, and I’m sure you understand that we have to look for a certain level of ambition in the people we choose.”

Even though his explanation is vague, and doesn’t make much sense to you, it is strangely appealing. The word ambition is such a broad term that could mean anything from career-minded to cutthroat, yet you still have to figure out exactly what he means. 

The tension grows thicker and thicker with each passing second of silence, and you feel a warm sensation spreading inside of you from his intense gaze – which is perhaps also due to the hint of desire that gleams in his eye as he regards you. 

You try your best to ignore the way your heart races, wanting to diminish the warmth inside of you. But to no avail. 

When he rises from his seat, your heart drops into your stomach again, and your eyes grow wide with curiosity and intrigue. 

It’s a brief flicker of your eyes down his body that has you squeezing your thighs together, far too distracted by how tall he is than to notice the smug smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips. 

“Would you say that you’ve… settled here?” he asks, his voice carrying a hint of something you find difficult to decipher.  

He slowly stalks around the desk, the tips of his leather-clad fingers smoothly gliding over the dark wood. His eye lingers on your face, taking you in and assessing your reaction. His expression holds the same edge of darkness his voice does, though he isn’t hiding it as effectively as he thinks he is this time. 

Your eyes never leave his frame when he comes to stand next to you, leaning back against the desk. He’s gripping the edge of it, and even in the dim light of the candles, you notice that it’s rather tightly, almost as if he’s suppressing the urge to touch you. 

“Well, I suppose I’ve managed to adjust,” you reply. 

For a brief moment, neither of you says anything. He just stares at you with this cold precision – until you catch his eye flitting lower, trailing over your form. 

The purple gown you wear isn’t revealing at all, not that Ms. Misery would allow you to wear anything of that sort anyways. The neckline is squared with raised yet off-the-shoulder structured shoulders that leave little to the imagination – but only if you’ve been touch deprived for long enough.

And, judging by the way his jaw clenches as his eye meets yours again, you can tell it’s also been a while for him. 

The thought of it makes your blood run hot, the warmth now spreading to your cheeks. Your gaze falls to your lap, watching your fingers fumble with each other while you feel his bore into your frame. 

There’s a hum rumbling in his chest once again, but this time it sounds more like a purr, as if he finds satisfaction in your nervousness. “Are you normally this flustered in front of men… or is it just me?”

A sudden rush of excitement and embarrassment floods your veins as your mind processes his words; your head snaps back up to look at him, and you’re greeted by a teasing grin. 

“I’m not flustered,” you reply, your voice only wavering slightly, yet you know that it’s clear to him that you’re not being very honest. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you. 

He tsks, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I mean, I can see you,” he says, gesturing to you with his hand. “You’re licking your lips, you can’t meet my eyes for more than a few seconds, your cheeks are flushed – it’s clear your body yearns to be touched…” he trails off, smirking to himself as he briefly glances to the ground. “... by me.”

His statement catches you off-guard. A quick exhale from your nose leaves you feeling winded with the sensations of butterflies wreaking havoc within your body. 

The silence between you lingers, heavy and thick as you ponder over his words, and you decide to go all in. You glance at him sideways, before speaking. “Is that so?”

His eye darkens at your coy demeanor, and with the corners of his quirking up into a sly smirk, he reveals just a glimpse of the devil that lurks beneath the angelic exterior. “Oh, it is,” he replies with a mocking tone. “I know you’re getting off to the thoughts of me at night, sweet thing. And even right now, you’re dripping for me. It’s almost pathetic.”

He almost seems relieved as he finally reaches to trace a gentle line over your exposed shoulder, starting at the crook of your neck. His light touch and the coldness of his gloves cause you to shiver involuntarily, and makes your breathing heavy. 

As if he’s searching for something within yours, his eye narrows, and your mind races with the possibility of what such a look might signify. 

“Look at you,” he purrs, licking his pouty lips. “You’re sitting here, just waiting for me to take things a step further – all the while I could smell that sweet pussy of yours ever since I’ve stepped into the room.”

Your mouth goes dry at his words, making it difficult to swallow, and you feel yourself clench around nothing; the urge to squirm in your seat is nearly overwhelming. 

“That sweet scent of yours…” he trails off. Mesmerized by his words and confidence, you almost flinch when he pushes himself off the desk, slowly kneeling down to be on a level with you, hovering close to you like a predator pretending to pounce. 

Your breath is heavy, and with your body still facing the desk, you’re forced to turn your head to the side to meet his gaze. There are mere inches between your faces now, and you feel his minty breath fan over your lips, swollen from how often you've licked them at this point. 

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, and heat follows where the cold leather of his gloves ghosted over your skin. “So desperate to be touched… to be filled,” he hums. While embarrassment blossoms inside of you, there’s no amusement laced within his silky voice. It’s as if he’s just stating facts. “Or am I mistaken?” Your name topples past his lips with so much ease, it makes you imagine how it would sound moaned by him.

Your head begins to swim. His scent, his domineering aura, the warmth emanating off of him – it’s all too much and not enough. 

Meekly shaking your head, the ‘no’ you reply comes out not louder than a whisper. 

He takes in a quick breath of air, relishing in his victory. The way you submit to him, to his power and dominance, feeds something within him; a hunger that’s been growing more and more demanding from the moment he stepped into the room with you. 

“Good girl,” he purrs, slowly rising to his full height, stretching his fingers as he keeps his eye locked on you. A flush spreads over your cheeks at his praise, the subconscious urge to make him proud sending a shiver of excitement through your veins, feeding right into your desire to please him. 

He’s standing again, letting his eye drift over your sitting frame for a moment too long, trailing down your neck, over the curves of your breasts, and settling in your lap. A gloved hand comes forward to pinch the skirts of your gown between his fingers, an almost disgusted look on his features. 

“Take it off.”

“W-What?” 

“W-w-what?” he mocks, the scoff he releases filling you with shame. “Take it off,” he repeats. “Or else I will take it off of you, and that won’t be any more pleasant.”

The thought of him undressing you seems tempting. A small part of you wants to protest, to say something along the lines of ‘you can’t just demand something like this’ but the other part craves this. It feels as if it’s quintessential for your body to survive, not able to go one day longer without being touched at all. 

Rising to your feet, you smooth out the skirts of your dress before craning your neck to look up at him. He’s towering over you, hardly stepping back far enough to create any space for you to undress. 

Having always been a bit of a pain to put on, getting out of the dress was even worse. The tight fit and squared neckline leaves you with very limited mobility, meaning you’re always relying on a servant to help you get out of it. And facing these difficulties, the thought of removing it all by yourself, especially in front of him, seems almost sacrilegious. 

A thought pops into your mind, and your body is quick enough to get through with it before you can even think about it properly. 

“Care to help me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him. Before he can refuse, you brush your hair over one shoulder and turn around, presenting him with your back and the tightly laced corset. 

Much to your surprise, he doesn’t refuse, and you say nothing as his fingers find the lacing of your corset, gloves brushing your skin as he slowly undos the laces. 

It’s a slow process, one that builds anticipation within you, and has you squeezing your thighs together yet again. 

His caresses are light and careful at first, but they grow increasingly firm and forceful. Each tug and pull draws you closer to him, and only when you hear the same dismissive hum rumbling in his chest do you dare to glimpse at him from over your shoulder, seeing him staring at your back with his jaw set with a new purpose. 

The fabric is still pinched between his fingers when they suddenly change course, gripping the purple fabric around the lace with a bit more force than necessary. He rips open the corset in a single, harsh motion in a clear display of his impatience, the torn fabric hitting the ground with a thud, and your gown quickly follows suit. 

For a moment, you feel relief at being freed from its confines. But it’s fleeting, your skin immediately prickling as you become aware of how much of your body is exposed to him now. 

It’s weird to think that this thin layer of modesty has been enough to keep your fluttering nerves at bay, and now it’s peeled away with you knowing he’s gazing at you as if he’s been served his first meal in months. 

Easing your trembling legs, you hold onto the desk for support. It feels like an eternity as you crouch forward slightly to steady your uneven breathing, the moment only breaking as he advances towards you, his body leaning against yours and pressing you up against the desk. It’s the only thing keeping you upright, and the moment you feel his hot breath caress your neck, your legs feel like they are about to give in. 

His thigh slips between yours, but you can’t feel his hands on your body, assuming he’s clasped them behind his back or kept them at his sides. You can tell that his chest isn’t the only firm thing that presses against your body, his cock rock hard and all but straining against your lower back, clearly finding as much pleasure in the situation as you do.

His proximity is all you’ve thought of for the past days, yet it’s not enough. You need his hands, him, to feel thoroughly satisfied. The urge to whine scratches in your throat, but you manage to swallow it at the last moment. 

“Beg for me to touch you,” he drawls, voice laced with a mixture of excitement and hunger. 

Exhaling a strained breath, you close your eyes. “P-Please,” you whimper, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Please… touch me. It’s been so long.”

“Hm.” You hear it loud and clear, the amusement, the satisfaction, causing your skin to heat up. “That’s all you’ve got?”

You tip your head back in frustration, meeting with his shoulder, a loud huff slipping past your lips. But you’re so close to getting what you want, there’s no way you’re giving up already. 

“Please, please touch me… Mr. Targaryen.” His name is spoken with a bit of hesitation. “I-I- please, fuck, need it so, so bad. Please.” That you’re not stomping your feet on the ground like an insolent child is everything, knowing it would push your chance for relief further away. 

But it seems to do the trick, because one gloved hand settles on your hip without him saying anything, while the other clasps around the outside of your thigh, his thumb brushing smooth patterns over your hot skin. 

He drags his nose along the side of your face, his breath tickling your skin, and you slightly turn your head to lean into it. “Where else do you want me to touch, mh?”

Feeling him on every inch of your body has you far too aroused to be frustrated by his on-going teasing and stalling. “Right…” you pant, peeling his hand from your hip to bring it down between your legs, “... here.”

A quiet whine slips past your lips as his fingers make contact with your sensitive clit, the cold leather of his gloves against your hot skin striking you as a welcome surprise and sending a shiver down your spine. It feels foreign, but nice nevertheless.  

You’ve fully anticipated him to pull back again, to leave you high and dry, but he surprises you again, when he drags his fingers through your swollen folds. 

“Right here, mh?” he purrs into your ear with a husky voice. 

It’s a grazing touch that alone is enough to make your mind hazy, merely humming in return. 

He’s not doing more than rubbing your clit and brushing his digits through your folds, but you’re wet enough already for it to be audible. The squelching sounds coming from between your legs are embarrassing, clearly highlighting your desperation for him, and it only gets worse when he slips a finger inside of you. 

Taking in a sharp breath, you hold onto the desk again. “God, fuck,” you whine. 

His finger is thick enough to be accompanied with a slight burning stretch, intensifying the moment he adds another. You can’t resist the urge to grind against his hand, the base of it applying just enough pressure to your clit to numb any discomfort. 

“You like that, mh?” he rasps. “So fucking wet and desperate for my fingers, dripping all over my glove.”

A string of whiny yesses leaves your lips as the pace of his fingers increases, making it incredibly difficult for your hips to maintain the rhythm. 

Heavy breaths and pants fan over your flushed skin, spurring you on and bringing you closer to the sweet relief you’ve craved for so long. He seems to sense your impending orgasm, and works you just a moment longer, before he withdraws his fingers from you, making sure the loss would make it even worse. 

But there’s no time to whine. 

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” he teases, acting as if he’s completely oblivious to the torture he puts you through, and brings his gloved hand up to your face. 

The red leather is covered in your arousal, sticky and glistening even in the dim light. As he spreads the two fingers, a few strings of it connect the leather, and you bite your bottom lip, knowing all too well what might follow. 

“Open your mouth, pet,” he commands in a stern voice. “Clean up your mess.” 

And you comply, parting your lips and eagerly embracing him pushing them inside. Your tongue swirls around the digits, the leather tasting and feeling completely different on your tongue. 

You hardly notice that his other hand has left your thigh, and even less that he’s undoing the zipper of his slacks, pulling out his hard cock. Only when you feel the pressure against your entrance do your eyes widen, and you whine around his fingers as he pushes inside. 

Even though you are stretched from his digits, it can not compare to his cock. 

He’s filling you to the brim in one, swift thrust, and with you being gagged by his gloved fingers, you can’t do more than mewl and moan. “Fuck, tight cunt taking my cock, hm? That’s it, such a good, little pet.”

Not giving you the chance to adjust to his size, he sets up a reckless pace from the very start, his impatience running thin with the way your tightness embraces him. He fucks you as if it’s a one time thing, as if you won’t make the cut, but something inside of you tells you this is merely the beginning. 

Saliva trickles down your chin as his cock drives deeper and deeper, forcing moan after moan past your lips and his gloved fingers. It’s the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his strained grunts and your muffled whines filling the room, and if Ms. Misery were to find out, you would be tortured or killed even before the next day arrived. 

Maybe it’s the risk of being caught that drives him to his next step, but he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, gloved hand coming down to rest around your throat instead. He applies just a bit of pressure, merely meaning to hold you upright and steady to make it easier for him to use you to his liking.

You scramble for hold, sweaty palms planted flatly on the wooden surface in front of you, supporting yourself as the man behind you all but fucked every coherent thought out of your brain. 

“Look at you,” he grunts, pounding into your needy cunt. The tip of his cock brushes your sweet spot, pushing high enough to knock the air out of your lungs and make you lose yourself. “All you’ve been thinking about was my cock. So desperate to be fucked by me, huh?”

You are so full with him, his scent, his warmth, everything, that breathy whines and yesses are the only things slipping past your lips. 

He drags his nose along the side of your face, clearly relishing in the way he’s fucked you dumb with so little effort already, and you almost feel yourself come on spot the moment he presses his lips to your earlobe. 

Pushing his hips all the way into yours, he stills them for a moment, bringing up a gloved hand to spit on his fingers and before dragging them harshly over your sensitive clit, and putting you straight into a frenzy. 

The tears that were brimming in your eyes now spill and run down your flushed cheeks, hitting the desk he has you hunched over. 

“No need to cry, pet,” the man behind you drawls, a satisfaction weaved in his husky voice. “You wanted this, didn't you? Wanted my cock to fuck you stupid? Or do you want me to stop?”

Your blank mind barely processes his words, but just hearing the word stop has you finding your voice again. “N-no,” you whine, arching your back and pressing your ass back against him. “Don’t-don’t stop, Sir. ‘M so, so close.”

“Close, mh? Then fucking come for me.”

With his hand now applying a good bit of pressure to your throat and his fingers strumming your clit in a reckless pattern, you feel yourself getting lightheaded as your release hits you suddenly. 

His strained groans are hushed against your neck as you spasm around him, sucking him in hungrily. He works you through it, fucking you as you quiver and shake. Grinding against him, you ride your high out in rhythm with his thrusts, gasping each time his cock pistones inside of you. 

His hips falter slightly for a moment, caught off guard by how tightly your walls are squeezing him, but he regains his composure and sets up a brutal pace again. You’re swollen and raw by now, but he doesn't stop. 

“That’s it, fuck, I’m gonna get this pathetic cunt stuffed with my cum,” he grunts, pulling his hand from your clit to plant it on your hip. 

Each rut of his hips makes your eyes journey to the ceiling, the tears on your cheeks now dry. There are hiccuped breaths spilling from your mouth, and you can’t do more than to hold onto the desk, bracing yourself for his relentless pounding. 

With a stutter of his hips and a raspy groan escaping his throat, his cock eventually spills deep inside of you, coating your walls. He fucks it into you with deliberately slow thrusts, the last spurts of his warm release filling you to the brim.

A strained groan is audible as he pulls out, tucking himself back in his slacks, and assumes the cold demeanor he’s had before. The only courtesy he grants you is picking up your dress and underwear he’s torn off you before, holding it out for you to take. 

You get the cue, and dress yourself on trembling legs. The blonde watches curiously, leaning back against the desk again. The red gloves now lay on the desk, and you catch a glimpse of his long, ring-clad fingers. 

With flushed cheeks, you briefly look at the ground before presenting him your back again. “Do you mind?” 

He nods and steps towards you, silently lacing up your corset, and whenever his skin brushes yours, a shiver runs down your spine. His skin is soft, smooth even, and the warmth emanating from them is far more pleasant than the cold leather.

But the moment is fleeting as he quickly moves to sit down behind his desk again, a new file already pinched between his fingers. You smoothen out the skirt of your dress, merely bowing your head once, and make a beeline for the door. 

It’s his voice ringing out that stops you in your tracks, though you don’t dare to turn around. 

“I expect you to come back for your second interview tomorrow. See it as an opportunity for me to gauge whether or not you truly have the right… ambition.”

“Thank you, Mr. Targaryen,” you mumble in return, a strange sense of satisfaction and anticipation already coursing through your veins. 

Hearing your name once again, you turn your head to look at him. “There’s no need to be formal when it’s just us. You can call me Aemond.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

[suzieloveships]

Cybertron Pre-Sentinel's betray

AKA High Guard x B99 au

Part 1/Part 3

Starscream: no big deal, I'm not afraid to be alone with my thoughts, my thoughts are awesome. Action holofilms, traveling to another planets, gigantic cubes of energon, my mother never loved me, I'm going to die alone Starscream: oh boy, that happened fast ------ Starscream: How are we looking? Skywarp: Sexy, but not like we're trying too hard. Like, sure we're trying, but it's almost...effortless? ------ Starscream: Megatronus got injured during our last mission. Megatronus: I’m not injured, I was just lightly stabbed. Prima: I’m sorry, you were stabbed! Megatronus: LIGHTLY stabbed! ------ Starscream: So, what, now I'm just supposed to do anything that Shockwave does? I mean, what if he jumped off a cliff? Megatronus: If Shockwave were to jump off a cliff, he would've done his due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Shockwave jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff. Starscream: You jump off a cliff. Magatronus: Gladly. Provided Shockwave did first. ------ Starscream: I refuse to believe anyone here is a mole. Here, watch this. I know what everyone's gonna do tonight. Skywarp is going to pratice teleporting again. Skyfire's gonna be going over his weekly budget. Thundercraker is going to write his fanfics and if I run and leap at Soundwave, he will most certainly catch me in his servos. Coming in! Soundwave: No! I'm holding energon! [Starscream jumps and Soundwave lets him fall] ------ Thundercracker: Skyfire, do I look like Starscream to you? Skyfire: What? Thundercracker: do I look like Starscream to you?! Skyfire: No? Thundercracker: then why are you trying to screw me?!  ----- Starscream: The question is: Who here does the best impression of Megatronus Prime? You'll be judged on voice, body language, and overall lack of flair. Everyone will perform the same scenario: Megatronus eating a sweet cube for the very first time. Let the Prime-off begin! Soundwave: What is this non-nutrition monstrosity before me? Shockwave: The sugar in this is quite sweet. Thundercracker: Ooh, mm-hmm, mm-hmm-hmm-hmm! Starscream: That's your Prime impression? Thundercracker: I can hear him doing that. Skywarp: Looks like a sticky pillow. Starscream: I don't care for it. Classical music. Megatronus: What's going on here? What are you doing? Starscream: Captain, hey, nothing, just eating some sweet cubes. Care for one? Megatronus: Sweet cubes? [eats it] Hmm. Hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm! Thundercracker: I knew it! ------ Megatronus: What happened? Starscream: Well... remember when you told me not to burn the ship down? Megatronus: You burned the ship down?? Starscream: No, I had the fire put out immediately. This is a success story! ------ Starscream: Oh... I’m so tired. I can’t keep my optics open. Here, I need you to slap me. Megatronus: I’m not gonna do that. Megatronus: [Slaps him hard] Megatronus: I thought perhaps the element of surprise would help. Starscream: It did! ------ Starscream: I'm gonna go take another crack at that Quintesson's spy we captured. Skyfire: You've been in there, like, five times. What are you gonna do? Annoy him into talking? Starscream: Ha, ha. Very funny. *Later* Starscream, sitting in front of a spy with a guitar: 2, 3, 4! Starscream, strumming randomly on guitar: *Pterodactyl screeching* ------ Starscream: Alright, you’re clearly not listening to me. I can say whatever I want. Soundwave: Tell me about it. Starscream: I murdered Thundercracker as revenge. Soundwave: I feel you. Starcream: Now that I realize how easy it is to solve problems that way, I can’t stop murdering. Soundwave: Been there.

[rosescarletful]

Cosmic Connections

For my requests, @divinit3a requested for one of their au's! I just had to do their alien boys.

Requests here: Link

Word count: 7061

Summary:

You are a scientist aboard a space ship housing two shapeshifting aliens. They are strange and otherworldly, not to mention telepathic, but seem to have a sort of affinity to you. You have to resist their mind lures. At all costs. Yet, they just keep drawing you in....

Enjoy!

It’s quiet, this time of night. The space ship doesn't employ a full crew; there’s only just enough to keep it running, leaving just you and a scientist or so to monitor the specimens. The powers that be are paying a lot of money to see what those creatures can do, so here you all are. At least, both of them are contained as much as two otherworldly aliens can be. 

You read over your data pad with bleary eyes, cracking your jaw on a very big yawn. It's barely three am standard time, making the lines of data cross your eyes as you try to read their vital signs. Specimen S is active, though when is he not, and Specimen M seems to be talking to S. The spikes in brain activity go up one after the other, mimicking an internal conversation that they must be having telepathically. Sometimes, they share this conversation with you, even arguing inside of your own mind. They have some sort of…interest in you. 

Thus, this leaves the nightly feeding to you. The team learned quickly that they need to be fed as often as possible, or they start to get antsy and aggressive. Even the sleepy one will start banging against the glass if he is getting too hungry. A product of their constantly changing biology, perhaps, is a very high metabolism.

You procrastinate on their trays, gathering the paste from the containment cube. The team is very lucky they have taken to the nutrition paste, or you would all be alien food quicker than you can blink. Just the thought of them using their insane amount of teeth and mouths they have makes your stomach turn a little. Despite their strange affinity to you, you are very sure the minute you can not feed them your head would be severed from your spine.

The bag of nutrition paste crumples in your grip. They do not allow anyone else but you to feed them, but if you do not feed them then the crew will be devoured. The most important researcher, and also the scapegoat. It makes you angry that you are stuck in this situation, frustrated that you are light years away from home with a metaphorical collar around your neck. You stare daggers out the window in frustration at the Beta Nine Planet. It's a particularly ugly magma planet, so you flip it off just because you can. 

You take a breath and let it go. They can sense emotions, telepathically reading your thoughts and speaking in return. Going in there angry will piss them off, and the scientist part of your brain would like this to be a somewhat productive encounter. Plus, it's not as if you can blame them for their very biology. They are sweet in personality, even kind to you. But only you.

You balance the tray in one hand while you walk, sending a ping on the ship’s memo log. If they cannot find you tomorrow, your dead body will be in the containment room.

The door opens for you in a silent woosh. Your heart rate has slowed, a neutral expression on your face. What passes for a head on specimen S looks up, and upon spotting you twists himself to flail in what you think is excitement. He never stops moving, the lower half of his tentacle net twisting like a spiral on the glass behind him. Chittering and creaking fills the room and is echoed by specimen M, who cracks what could pass for an eye open in response. 

“Evening.” You try to maintain control over the situation by keeping your spine straight, refusing to let your eyes dart over their bodies. They’re both covered in eyes, all open ones staring at you. It's unnerving in the worst way. “I have your second dinner.” That gets M to open his other eye, sitting up lazily from his…folded position? He’s sort of in a pile on the ground, head appendage trailing after him as he presses his face against the glass.

‘Food? Food. Food for us? Lovely human brings food for us.’ They both love to speak at the same time in your mind, as if they timed it. The team has categorized them as a hivemind species - despite the fact that they are physically separated and behind glass containment cylinders, they can hear each other’s thoughts just fine. 

“Yup.” You try to keep your thoughts plain and simple: this is food. Here is food I made for you. You should eat this food. You take extra steps to not think about how interested they both are in you, how M’s smile spreads up his face akin to a shark’s. “Your regular gelatin packet. I'm going to give it to you both at the same time, okay?” You speak slowly not because they don’t understand you, but because they will injure themselves to get to you first. You watched in complete fascination as S sulked for days while M crowed and jeered at him for getting food second. 

“Sun’s too needy. Starlight likes me (No, me!) more.” Shoot. You opened yourself right up for an argument in your own mind, M jeering loudly at S’s expense. Externally, M chatters his teeth together and shifts, sitting back and away from you. S slaps his lower half against the glass, practically squished onto it and chittering away. You resist the urge to cover your ears, knowing it would do no good. 

You tune them out and focus on your task, slipping the packets into the small hole in their enclosure. The containment cells are just close enough for you to reach within your wingspan, so you get their internal doors open at the same time. Their argument ceases for a few blissful moments when they notice the food, but then you get to see the horrible sight of them eating. Almost all of their mouths open, each ‘chewing’ at the same time. Neither of them even bother to open the packet, eating the plastic and all. You are very grateful they appear to eat everything with no issues. 

You take this opportunity to swallow your fear and take your clipboard out. You are a scientist, regardless of the smacking noises S makes while he cleans his fingers. And the sides of his cheeks. A long tongue stretches out if the yellow rays on his head, passing over an eyeball before joining in on the grooming. S crouches down once done, cooing and bouncing in place. You’d almost call it stimming, if he were human. Do aliens stim?

‘Stimming? Movement, human movement?’ S asks, the rays around his head waving. It’s similar to how ferns would wave underwater, gravity defying. One of the eyes on his rays darts all over your face while he taps the glass to get your attention. You look down at your clipboard, trying to give them as little simulation as possible. 

“It’s a movement humans do to receive a specific type of simulation. Does spinning your..” What do you call that, because that’s not his legs. “Lower half give you stimulation?” S taps the glass, pressing his hands flat against it. He always wants to get closer to you, as much as possible.

‘Cage is cold, by myself. Miss closeness.’ He croons sadly, and in your peripherals you can see him ducking lower to try and get you to look at him. Makes sense, a hivemind species would be used to being close to another being all the time. You would almost feel bad if you didn’t know what they’re capable of, though the cells they’re in are too small. ‘Sunshine can warm me up.’

Your swallow and try not to dwell on that image of S wrapping you up and mind melding with you. What would that be like, to share thoughts all the time far more than he does now? You imagine for a hivemind species it must be euphoria. You think your personality would surely be crushed instead. Instead, he probably just wants to eat you. 

‘Not true!’ You look up in surprise at the force of his declaration. ‘Starshine would be with us, inside - together.’ Both echo inside of your mind, hushed and reverent. It makes it sound as if such a thing is sacred. Do they have a culture around these things? M makes a melodious noise while you ponder, and when you look over, his head tail is slithering slowly against his back and his red eyes are staring at you. 

Your head becomes foggy for a movement, and you curse silently while your feet move against their will. ‘Closer…’ echoes in your mind, body helpless as you stop in front of the glass. You stare up at him in what you can feel is a slack jawed expression, and press your hands to the glass. ‘Better. Sun’s hogging.’ He reprimands S all the time about how clingy he is towards you, yet croons and calls to you any chance he gets. He wants you to sleep next to him, which he has not successfully done so far. You can’t imagine opening your unconscious mind to him is a good idea. 

Despite the pressure of his call, you have a little room in your mind to think. You picture your mind’s self pushing him away, rejecting a sort of blanket he’s trying to impose on you. The shark’s grin spread up his face turns into a pout, blues on his body flashing in mid annoyance. 

“I’m not tired, specimen M. Is this a call in your species to join minds?” You force yourself to keep calm and clinical, moving your leaden arms off the glass to write on your clipboard. 

“Starlight’s fragile, needs more sleep.” He pokes the glass around where your eyes are, making you flush in annoyance. You only get a few hours of sleep thanks to them! You stress all the time about them breaking out the glass, dooming you all. ‘Sleep better if you were with us.’ The ‘us’ is layered over a few times, as if in an echo chamber. Your head is starting to hurt, meaning it’s time to leave. You did your task, and you got a few more notes on avoiding merging with them. 

“I see.” You note this, and write down the time and date, plus the new information you have gathered. S stims, and there may be an easier way to mind meld with you when unconscious. Isn’t that a nerve wracking thought. 

‘Leaving so soon?’ They both coo, M’s a more aloof tone. You nod, setting the pen behind your ear. 

“It’s very late. Good night.” Your tone is clipped, dismissive. You have already given them enough rope tonight, far more than you wanted to. You force down all of your feelings, exiting out of the area with a fast pace. The door closes on echoing chitters and croons, calling you back. The back of your mind wants to, the part that you fear they have wormed themselves into. It must be, because why else do you want to know more?

You send a message to the ship’s log about your current state of being alive, and flop hard into your bed. Another restless sleep lies ahead of you, mind racing as you try to relax. 

You fall asleep within minutes, instead. One second you are staring at your wall, the next you are enfolded into a pair of arms. A sort of buzzing echoes in your dream mind, pleasant despite the droning. 

On loop, you are praised and pampered, slithering things touching you inside of your skin and out. You feel like you should be scared, but the constant praise and droning noise prevents you from thinking much at all. 

“Darling..” you think you hear. You’re not sure, because the sound seems to be coming from both inside of you and outside. “You’re so perfect, yes, so kind…” You see flashes of yourself talking to Sun and Moon when they were first brought here, when they’d cry constantly. You felt bad, so you tried to console them. You feel bursts of love and gratitude from yourself, or maybe whoever it is that’s inside your mind. Who is that?

You are twisted..no, rather your perspective changes. Two faces peer down in your field of vision, one yellow and one blue. You’ve…merged? But…they need to do it physically..it's very hard to think, and very hard to feel scared when such joy is rocketing through your systems. Euphoric, you had hypothesized. You can think of no better way to describe the way they enfold you into themselves. 

“Hey!” You sit up so fast you almost flail out of bed, heart racing inside of your rib cage. The door is assaulted with banging, your name called in an urgent tone. Dizzy and disoriented, you wrestle yourself out of bed and clutch your head, the vivid dream overlapping with the monotone colors of your room. Just a dream, you mutter to yourself. You did not merge with them without knowing. 

“What?” You get the door open and muster an irate expression, because what is all the commotion about if the ship’s alarms aren’t going off? The head scientist sighs in relief when he sees your face, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Do you know what time it is? You’ve overslept by four hours. Both specimens have been banging at the glass constantly. Are you alright?” You feel yourself pale, flipping your wrist to see your watch face. The wake alarms have been clearly going off for hours, unheeded in your strange dream. You pray to anything that is listening that it was only a dream. 

“One of the administrators is here today. Can you get them to calm down? Please?” You know he would not be saying please if this was not dire. Those corporate types pretend they don’t have a very dangerous alien on the ship and board whenever, in the interest of seeing ‘progress.’ You think they want to see if they see if they can be tamed, but these things are above your clearance. 

“I'm fine. Just slept too hard.” You lie smoothly, nodding your head. “I’ll calm them down. Give me two minutes.” You shut the door, pulling on your work clothes and splashing water in your face from the refresher. 

You shove your strange dreams back down into the pit they came from. There is no time to worry if they gave you those dreams or if it's a product of your overactive imagination. You are going to believe the latter, since you are in proximity to them all of the time. If it were given to you, then wouldn’t you be a mindless drone already? The thought is comforting, and it steels your heart as you stalk out to the containment room while the dream fades from your mind. 

They weren’t kidding. S is very agitated, baring his teeth while his body shapes and morphs. M is in sort of a heap on himself, pressed into a small corner of the cylinder. You can faintly hear chattering of teeth under all of that mass. Both of your fellow scientists have clutched their hands over their heads, a faint trickle of blood pooling out from under their palms. Yeesh.

“Hey!” You call out, willing your heart steady. You knock on S’s glass, then tap M’s glass. You think you may just have a stronger mental fortitude, because your ears never bleed like that. S’s eyes snap to you, and his entire demeanor changes - one second he looked a hair's breadth away from smashing the glass, the next he’s cooing gently, flattening himself to the bottom of the cylinder to look at you. M quiets down, but refuses to move from where he’s in a pile. 

His body is still half twisted when he was forming himself into knives. What made them so angry? ‘Beloved is here, is here! Get rid of them - poison - trying to hurt us, want to kill us!’ S does most of the talking, but M chimes in when he feels like. He’s rather shy if there’s anyone else but you in the room, but you fear what he would do if he’s fully awake. You blink in confusion, turning your gaze to the other scientists. They seemed to be okay, rubbing their temples. 

“Oh god, the ringing has stopped. How do you stand it?” The junior scientist, a more recent recruit, asks while glaring daggers at S. You grimace, looking at the older scientist for an explanation.

“Don’t look at me. One minute I was trying to see if Specimen M was awake, the next my head was splitting open.” Mason looks down at the new recruit…Abel? Atticus? Something fancy you can’t remember for the life of you. He swallows, suddenly looking caught.

S bangs against the glass. You all jump, and S hisses a steady stream. He’s not usually this angry. ‘Poison. Bad human thinks we’re stupid,’ echoes in your mind before he twists in a way that would be impossible, and his head changes right before your eyes into the recruit. “What freaky ass aliens.” He asks, with a tone of voice that's clearly mimicking human speech. Your stomach drops out, heart rate picking up. They can do that? “They need some shock collars or something. Ugly creatures.” S morphs back into his normal head, pressing flat to the glass. He chortles at the shocked expression on the recruit’s face, slithering around. 

“I think you two need to leave.” The demand leaves you in a rush, but your face is blank. “I will take over from here.” They don’t need to be told twice, practically speed walking out. You swallow, S chittering happily when it’s just the two of you. 

‘So good to us, thank you!’ You press your lips together, taking slow and even breaths. They both seem to relax now that the room is empty, M unfolding himself from the ball he made himself into. You think calming thoughts, a hammock on the beach, windchimes, anything to keep your heart steady and your mind clear. 

‘Starlight’s better.’ M sounds petulant. ‘Others too loud.’ In mind, or out loud? Could be ether. 

You’re going to need to brief them again. How many times have you told the others to at least try to be clear headed? That’s why you’re the only real handler - the others make both specimen’s too agitated. It’s like they want to die. 

‘Never hurt treasure, no, keep treasure safe.’ Both of them press against the glass. S scrunches his face, as if the thought of them hurting you is absurd. ‘So good for us..so lovely. Come closer?’ This is echoed between the two of them, a light show streaking down both of their bodies. S…no, Sun’s yellows turn vibrant, Moon’s blues into royal blues, mesmerizing and enchanting. Perhaps it’s the dream you can’t remember, perhaps your defenses are low, but you have no mind to look away, the edges of your vision blurry. Why are you hesitant to get close to them again? They look inviting, grins spread up both of their faces. Wouldn't it be nice? You wouldn’t have the burden of a body anymore.

‘Pretty….’ This is much easier than speaking aloud. They can hear you just fine, and they both look so happy! You sort of shuffle forward, elated and confused in equal measure. You’re not sure what's going on, but the light streaking down their bodies is mesmerizing enough not to care. 

‘We can hear you.’ The message ping pongs around inside of your head, both of them pressed flat to the glass. Something changes with that declaration, the voice settling somewhere in the back of your mind. It sort of….buzzes, almost. 

Your pda takes that moment to chime, startling you so hard you freeze in place. You blink, shocked to see you are halfway across the room and in the center of both of their cells. What were you about to do? Their wide eyes narrow in displeasure at the same time, the buzzing noise ceasing. A shiver of fear goes down your spine - you were very close to doing something. God knows what, but it was not something you should be doing.

You flip out your pda. It's a call to the conference room - almost two hours have passed somehow. You don’t spare them a goodbye, crossing your arms and ignoring their low upset crooning. 

*~*

“Really.” The administrator sits across from you in the only conference room, the one you all use to give the company updates. You are so, so tired. The thought that they could pretend to be anybody won’t leave you, stomach turning over itself. “Hm. That's a new development.” 

Vanessa, she introduced herself as. A straight laced middle manager type, she types on the datapad with her constantly, never really looking at you or the head scientist. There’s a headache building somewhere right behind your eyes the longer you sit here. 

“We just need different precautions then.” She finally looks up, resting her hand on her chin. Her eyes seem to pierce through you. “So long as they’re just listening to your thoughts, they’re calm, yes?” You hesitate to tell her yes, because nothing is going to stop them from jumping from your mind to someone else's. Nothing really stops their telepathy, no matter what the team has put up to try and block them. And the fact that they could just command you to do anything…are you really a block between the crew and certain death?

“Yes, of course. If there are only a few people, then that should keep them calm.” The head scientist answers for you, looking nervous. He’s such a pushover. 

“That can be arranged. A few interested parties want to see them. We’ll provide you with a shuttle in a few hours. I'm sure you can get them ready, yes?” So that's why she’s here. The stakeholders love to spring random things on your crew, unheeding of the danger it poses them. So long as you’re there and the glass is reinforced, who cares? They want to see progress. 

“Understood.” Saying anything else will change nothing. They are paying exorbitant amounts of money to handle shape shifting aliens, so that is exactly what you are going to do. “Please select more experienced crew members. They are very emotionally sensitive, and will lash out if emotions are too high. We can knock them out, but it doesn’t mean they are not mentally active.” And will probably kill everyone on that ship.

“Why? Knock them out enough to keep them docile. Keep the concentration of gas on for the duration of the viewing. Problem solved.” The dismissive tone she says it in shows you how little she cares. Great. This transport is going to go swimmingly. Your heart sits somewhere in your stomach, feeling distinctly like you are going towards your doom. 

“If you will excuse me then. I will get them ready.” You do a few mental calculations as you go to the maintenance room; they need to be unconscious for several hours, but not enough to kill them. It’s a little sick, treating them like animals. They’re still intelligent beings, regardless of their capacity for slaughter, as shown by how much they talk to you. You wish there was a way to let them out without killing everyone and yourself. 

But what can you do about it? You curse to yourself as you fiddle with the controls, biting your lip. Getting kicked off this ship is a surefire way back to a planet like Gamma Thirteen, where you will be stuck behind a desk all day and all night. You think you would go crazy, cooped up for the rest of the foreseeable future. Between that and aliens who want you as one of them, it's a rock and a hard place. 

“Okay. That should knock them out in time. I hope.” The gas still works, but it makes them agitated as they slowly fall asleep. Maybe you can try talking to them. At least to form a truce rather than this uneasy relationship you have going on. Maybe if you ask, they won’t try to force you to do whatever you were about to do again? They're gentle with you, letting you refuse their mind control. Doubt is strong in your gut, but you have to try. 

With that in mind, you unlock the containment doors once more. M is asleep again, resting on his arms. He’s using his own lower half as a pillow, the net spread out like a blanket. S appears to be singing to himself, swaying side to side while he stares at the ground. 

“Sorry for leaving like that.” S sits up, smiling once he sees you. “You..surprised me.” He doesn’t look mad, at least. 

‘Star doesn’t need to be scared.’ The lightshow has subsided, but all eyes are on you once more. The one on his chest is curled into a crescent sideways, appearing to be happy. What is it about you that entices them so?

“I have a request.” M cracks an eye open, giving you his attention. You take a breath. “We have to move you - not far!" You cut yourself off as S presses himself against the glass, chattering distressingly. You keep your mind as blank as possible. "But we need to go somewhere special. If I promise not to leave, do you promise to stay with me?" Do they even understand promises? S and M look at each other, then back at you.

'Treasure won't leave?' They speak at the same time, both pressed against the glass again. At the very least, you are not being drawn into a light show that will surely spell your doom. The pressure on your mind is a lot weaker. They really just want you close, apparently. Hopefully. 

"Yes." You refuse on principle to answer in your mind. You feel like this will give them an invitation to speak only into your mind, and you cannot allow that to pass. That's a step too far. "I promise. I'll be with you the entire time." They don't look especially happy, but you think you have gotten them to agree.

You sit down in between their tanks to prove it, and watch as they settle down to be level with you. The gas is working - S's eyes are getting droopy. You hum quietly, as he would sing to himself. M’s eyes close quick, as he most often does, but S stares at you with sad eyes. 

‘Don’t like sleep..’ Do they ever sleep? You call M’s behavior sleep, but he opens an eye even when completely still. S never really seems to stop moving, either. You swivel to him, humming just a little louder. S’s head rays droop around him, and you feel a sort of buzzing sensation before he finally closes all of the eyes. 

You sit there and hum softly for a few more moments. A sort of squirmy feeling makes its way into your gut and in the back of your head. He was scared, going to sleep there. You turn to M, who is less curled up comfortably and more in a sort of a sprawl, mouth unnaturally slack jawed. Was he scared, too? He ‘sleeps’ more often than S does, but…well. You resume humming, keeping calm. 

Wait. You reach up and press the back of your head. You swore for a second…but that's impossible, because you are separated by glass. They are both unconscious, barely twitching. So what was that sensation? There’s a sort of low buzzing noise coming from…oh, from them. You breathe a sigh of relief, and go back to emptying your mind. The nauseous feeling must be coming from sitting near them for so long today. 

Now. You have around forty eight standard hours before they’re awake, or at least active. You keep your mind steady and your movements slow, watching carefully for any movement or agitation. At most, a bioluminescence travels sluggishly down their bodies, but they remain still and silent.

You get the release hatch open, unbolting the cages from the ground. These things are on wheels - there would be no way to transport them safely without risking a breach. It also has a closed air supply to keep the gas at a steady level, so you and your crew have the best shot of keeping them calm. That's all, you tell yourself. Just relax. You watch S settle from his tensed position, falling flat once more. 

It doesn’t make them any lighter though. You crouch down and get two good grips on the handles and begin to pull, wheeling them down the hallway. You can hear people getting out of your way, some curses, some doors shutting. The tension in the air is palpable - any mistake and  - it will be fine. M’s hands are curling into claws, he relaxes as you level your thoughts again. You have meditated a lot since coming in contact with these aliens, and it serves you very well for this purpose. So long as they are linked to you, it all will be okay. 

You manage to get around the few hallways, hitting the hatch with your elbow. Lo and behold, a luxury cruiser is docked to the tiny airlock. You allow yourself a small, stray thought of how annoyingly organized these people are when it comes to flaunting something expensive. 

“That's them?” Vanessa stares wide-eyed at the containment cylinders, both of them twitching in response to her voice. You raise a hand to your lips, and then poke your head. 

“Don’t talk to me, I can’t think about anything.” Your tone is curt, but you really can't. They’re already agitated from all this movement, just startling to settle down again. Little pulses move somewhere in the back of your mind, as if a reassurance that you are there. It's fine, you send back, in a strange reflex.

…..you can freak out about that later. The buzzing is not coming from them. 

“Whatever, so long as they’re contained. This way.” The guards all stare at your entourage openly while you haul them up the ramp, staring straight at Vanessa’s back. How long is this journey, anyway? You should have more than enough time till they wake up, but you hope the majority of it isn’t in the ship. At the very least, it appears to be one of the higher end ones, judging by the polished floors and holo signs. 

It turns out the ‘secure’ location they put you in is in the cargo hold, made claustrophobic by the size of the cages. There is just enough room for you to put them on either side of the room, almost blocking the door. Great. 

“Does the intercom turn on in here? Please keep it off.” The last thing you need is a loud announcement that startles them enough to wake up. Base instinct to protect themselves is far stronger than any gas you could give them. 

M violently twitches, slapping the glass with his hand. Both of you jump, your heart in your throat.

"Shhhhh." You start humming again, forcing anything else out of your mind. Seriously, anything can startle them. You crouch down, close to where his head is. "It’s okay. Shhh..." M settles, hand falling off the glass. He must be very uncomfortable if he's willing to move so fast.

"What? Why’d it move like that? You said they were going to be unconscious." Vanessa sounds disturbed. You look over your shoulder at her, face deadpan. Whatever she sees makes her face pinch. 

“I tried to tell you.” You pause, letting the wave of anger pass through you and out. “They are unconscious as of now, but they are very receptive to emotion. I thought about something startling, and Specimen M reacted in reflex.”

She looks almost afraid. You really, really wish someone would have listened to you. She turns on her heel and fiddles with the intercom, the overhead speakers turning off with a click.

“There. Just…keep them calm.” She runs a hand through her hair, and shuts the door behind her.

With that, you are left in the darkness of the cargo hold. Slowly, you sink down into crossing your legs, stiffly sitting in between them. How is this your life right now? You take even, slow breaths, lightly lamenting the choices that got you to this situation. Getting four degrees in different fields could not have prepared you for the task you face, for the long journey ahead.

The silence drones on, permeating. The buzzing comes back stronger, a sort of a low droning sound at the base of your skull. You dearly wish you could pretend that is the rumbling of the ship, but this is far too new. The engine is silent under the floor.

Where have you heard this sound before today? It’s familiar, but you are having a hard time placing it. What's more worrying is how unbothered you are by it. It's like white noise but inside of your skull. 

You’re almost getting sleepy. You sag forward, the buzzing growing with each passing second. It wouldn’t be so bad to take a nap, would it? They’re still, and it's not like you’re going to be bothered anytime soon. 

“Can’t sleep…” you mutter to the air. You want to, but you’re on duty. You rub your eyes and push down the buzzing, shaking your head to clear it. It doesn’t do much. It must be them, but how have they connected your minds like this?

It's very hard to think. You slide forward, sprawling out on the floor. It’s cold, but it would be a lot nicer if you were lying on something. It's almost uncomfortable to be by yourself like this.

On either side of you, Sun and Moon twitch. They kind of lean towards you, but that's as far as they can get, not with the gas in the chamber. In your muddled state, you struggle to remember why the gas settings are on that high, because why do they need to be forced asleep? It's leaving you alone in the cold. 

“Are you doing this?” You ask the air, your question directed at the aliens. Muted fear worms its way up your spine and into your stomach, fear for these desires you're starting to think aren’t your own. But when, how? You never opened your mind to them, never let them touch you.  As far as you know, that's the only way to…..

The light show. You responded in your mind, didn’t you? Just a short word, a bust of emotion. In a hive mind species perhaps reciprocating means consent, if they have any concept of consent to begin with. It's more strange to begin with that they’ve paid such close attention to you and let you go thus far, culturally speaking. 

Well. Mindless drone with no concept of boredom may be better than getting pulled apart.

Time passes sluggishly like this, your thoughts slow. You’re sort of sprawled out on the ground, cold and lonely. The cold is your own, but the loneliness is not. A hive mind would never sleep alone, curled into their loved one’s bodies. How long till there is nothing left of you? Only time will tell. If you had any mind to do it, you would almost call for help. You’d probably get that person killed though.

How close are you to the station anyways? It feels like it's been a really long time since you’ve left, but you have no way of telling, not with the engines silent. For all you know, you’ve been docked for hours - 

The entire ship rocks.

You shout in alarm, thrown forward onto your shoulder. Your body flips like a ragdoll on the ground before slamming into the door, suddenly wide awake. Your thoughts return to you in clear focus, the numbing buzzing from before dulling into almost nothing. What?

That's the least of your worries. In the blast, both containment cylinders rip clean off the supports, living flesh flailing inside as they go shattering onto the floors. Your heart stops for a moment, fear - panic - anger bouncing around your skill in quick succession. They kind of splat onto the ground, squeaking and chattering. 

They’re out. You are effectively trapped in a room with freed aliens, the only way out a door that will do nothing to stop them once merged together. They’re barely awake, and already they begin this process, tentacles and arms and limbs all reaching out to each other. It becomes a marriage of color and moving skin, eyes and mouths and teeth moving as they twist and connect. Up and up the body rises, till they are easily seven feet tall. 

Two heads emerge from the top, one yellow in a crown of golden rays, and another blue with a tail hat. The eye on the center of their chest opens wide, curling into a crescent once it spots you. The panic from earlier turns into a burst of euphoria, a grin working its way up your face without your consent. 

‘Darling, star, starlight…’ They work their way over to you, seamless now that they are together. They move akin to a spider, a lot of movement at once for a short distance it takes to lean over you, staring excitedly into your eyes. Well, mostly..to hell with it, Sun. Moon seems to be resting against him, though an eye is cracked open to stare at you. ‘Not cold or lonely anymore. Come.’ 

A mouth opens up where their chest is. They want you with them, together, closer than they are just in your head. What would it be like, with no cares or worries?

“I'd lose myself.” Your smile wobbles, distress and confusion worming around in your stomach. Sun slaps his hand above your head, chittering loudly. 

‘No loss, only together.’  You shake your head, Sun’s delighted grin turning crestfallen.The blue side hand reaches out to you slowly while Sun crouches down, freezing in place when you flinch. Moon chatters, Sun coos. They get just below your face, staring at you with wide and pleading eyes. ‘Beloved tired and cold. Rest?’ You shake your head again, firmly. They already mind merged without you knowing. This is far enough. 

Whatever they were about to plead with is drowned out by the rat-tat-tat of gun fire, the air charged with the phaser beams that follow. You whip your head to the door, the alien reeling back from the noise. 

Pirates. Here? Now? You were in a remote area of the galaxy, where did the shuttle go that was anywhere near pirates? That must have been the explosion from earlier!

‘Pirate? Danger, bad humans.’ You can feel them indexing your mind, watching your own memories play out in front of your eyes.

“Stop that!” You flail your hand in front of your face, blinking hard to clear it. “Please just ask. They are very dangerous though, maybe if we block the door -”

Said door whooshes open, leaving you sprawling out on your back. Three men grin at you, guns trained right onto your face. There’s splashes of blood streaking up the sides of their faces and on their clothes, terror leaving your mouth in a pathetic whimper.

“Well, lookit what we have here. You a scientist type? We could sell them for a lot.” You hold your palms out in surrender, eyes darting to Sun and Moon for help. 

Anger - fear - hatred. A deep anger boils inside of you, and the room fills with a deeper growl then you have ever heard them make. They rush towards you, cracking the walls from the sheer force of their bulk. 

“What the hell is that?” One of the screams, reeling back. The others open fire, both you and the alien wail in pain from the awful noise. 

Crunch. A man is slapped into the wall, turning into a mass of guts on impact. Your mouth drops open, staring at the gore uncomprehendingly. The alien passes over you, the net of tentacles temporarily blocking your vision from the awful sight. In reassurance, a little blue tendril caresses your face, before you get to see a yellow one shank another man through with a knife hand. He dies in seconds. One after another they are taken care of, bullets going through the alien and out, harmless to his shifting biology. Bulletproof, your scattered mind understands. 

Through this, cooing and shhing permeates through your skull, exactly like how you calm them down. They’ll never let anything harm you, they seem to say. Your heart rate slows, staring directly at the ceiling. There is no gore or viscera there. 

‘All better. Sunshine okay?’ You can’t say that you are. But you are physically fine, and that's what matters. You swallow. ‘Shh, made it better.’ Moon’s head shifts down so he’s closer to you, cupping the side of your face. A sort of sweet melody permeates your mind, a blanket of calm washing over you. Not a mindless drone, but rather as if you were being held. It's…comforting, actually. 

“Thanks.” You work your way out from underneath them, standing up on very wobbly feet. “We can’t…stay here.” You stare at their faces, trembling some. If you stay here, there will be more, and they could easily take over the ship and leave you stranded. A ship dead in space is as good a coffin. “Do you two think…you can protect me? Our best bet is the bridge.”

Your cheeks are squished by both hands, new ones clean of blood. Despite the fact that gore streaks both of their faces, your heart swells with the bursts of love and affection they surge into you. 

‘Lovely will never be hurt.’ They do not do things by half measures, the declaration sincere. 

It’s time to take back the ship. Two aliens hum in the back of your mind, all encompassing and fierce. You hope to any gods that are left that Vanessa is still alive. 

Fin.