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mmmleckerlecker · 5 months

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The Magic of Christmas

Summary: Santa grants you the gift of a full year in the North Pole with him. What you don’t realize is that YOU will end up being the true gift of Christmas.

Contents: m/?; fatal vore; willing pred; unwilling prey; size-difference; betrayal; painless digestion; long-term; a little bit of soul vore?

Wordcount: 2,398

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It’s the night of Christmas Eve, and you’re already curled up, fast asleep in bed. Until suddenly you are awoken by someone gently shaking your shoulder. You blink your eyes open and are startled to find someone standing above you. You gasp and sit up. The stranger in your room is dressed all in red and sports a great white beard. As you come to, you realize you’re looking at the man himself.

“Santa Claus!” you blurt. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles at you. His eyes are as twinkly and his cheeks are as rosy as all the stories say. He’s also much, much bigger than you ever expected. You wonder how he even fits down all those chimneys.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you since you were a small child,” he explains, his voice warm and rumbling. “Not once have you been on my naughty list, and each year I’ve admired your kindness, thoughtfulness, and your ability to bring joy to other people’s lives. It’s because of this that I want to give you a very special gift this year.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you ask, “What is it?”

You’ve always known Santa to be real, even when all your friends grew up and stopped believing in him. And now, to not only get to meet him but to receive such high praise from him… it’s a dream come true.

“As a gift for your enduring generosity,” Santa begins, “I’d like to invite you to spend the next year with me in the North Pole.”

Your jaw drops. You’re so honored by the offer that it takes several stuttering attempts to say, “Yes! I mean, yes please!”

Santa lets out a quiet chuckle, each set of, “ho ho ho,” like music to your ears.

“Come,” he says, holding out a mittened hand. “Let’s go.”

You spend the rest of the night at his side, flying over the earth in his sleigh. You expect to be terrified by the height and speed, but you’re not. You’re exhilarated. There are even several times you stop at a house and Santa returns carrying carrots. He hands them to you and lets you feed the reindeer.

When you’re not feeding reindeer or waiting for Santa as he drops off gifts, the two of you are engaged in conversation. A lot of it is asking questions about the North Pole. Very often, Santa’s only response is, “You’ll see.”

As you talk, you can’t help but notice the faint scent of sugar cookies that emanates from him and the way he has a habit of dotingly rubbing his impressively round belly (like a bowl full of jelly). You don’t think too much of it, however. He’s Santa Claus and he’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

At the end of the night, you land in the North Pole and are greeted by hordes of cheerful elves. They’re smiling and laughing as they show you around Santa’s Village before guiding you to your new room where you promptly crawl into your marshmallow soft bed and fall asleep.

The next year goes by like a dream. All the elves make sure to meet your every need. Taking you on sleigh rides, inviting you to snowball fights, teaching you to ice skate, and then always making sure to bring you some cookies and hot chocolate after every meal.

Living in Santa’s village is like living Christmas every day and you couldn’t be happier.

There’s only one small thing that nags at you. And it’s Santa himself.

You see him quite regularly, and every interaction with him is as magical as the last. But as the year goes by, you notice that he starts to lose some of his… glow. The twinkle in his eye grows dim, the rosiness in his cheeks fades away, he loses his distinctive sugar cookie scent, and even his round belly grows smaller and smaller until there’s almost nothing left.

You’re too polite to comment on someone’s appearance, but you also don’t understand how this could be happening. Everything about the North Pole is invigorating and full of life. The longer you live here, the more you feel its influence. You can even see it when you look in the mirror. Each day, your reflection glows a little more brightly, so how could Santa be losing his own glow?

In the last few weeks leading up to Christmas, you truly begin to worry for Santa. At this point, if it weren’t for the beard and red suit, you wouldn’t even be able to tell he’s Santa at all. It’s like all the magic has gone out of him. But whenever you ask if he’s okay, he simply chuckles, pats your head, and assures you not to worry. But you do worry. You even ask the elves about it in hushed tones, but they just laugh and dismiss your concerns.

On the night of Christmas Eve, Santa’s workshop is a whirl of activity as everyone makes last minute preparations for the Big Night, yet Santa looks as un-Santa-like as ever. Still, no one seems concerned about this, least of all Santa. And amidst all the other hustle and bustle, the elves still manage to find time to prepare the grandest feast you have ever seen. Turkey and ham and potatoes and gravy and green beans and cookies and ice cream and cakes and pie.

In the final hour before Santa’s departure, everyone sits down to eat. You’re at the head of the table while Santa sits all the way across from you at the other end. Every dish you try is the tastiest thing you’ve ever eaten. Even more so than all you’ve had in the last year (and you’ve had a lot of good food in the past year.) You can’t help yourself as you try each dish at the table, going back for seconds and then going back for thirds on all you favorites.

The only thing that puts a damper on your spirit is that Santa himself doesn’t really touch his food. But the elves don’t seem perturbed. They’re all feasting away. And when Santa catches you watching him, he smiles that same warm smile at you, a ghost of a twinkle in his eye.

After that, you’re too embarrassed to be caught looking at him again. You put your head down and pretend nothing is amiss. It’s only when you’ve eaten so much you feel like you’re going to burst does the feast end.

As soon as it’s over, the elves swarm about, cleaning up the table. Meanwhile, you hang back, trying to stay out of the way and nervously waiting as Santa makes a few last minute adjustments before his trip. You know your year in the North Pole is nearly up. You know the time to say goodbye is fast approaching. Something tells you that you’ll never see this place again, and the very thought of it fills you with a terrible, aching sadness.

Finally, Santa approaches, and you know it’s time to go.

“Come with me,” he murmurs once he draws near. “There’s one last gift I need to finish and I want you to be a part of it.”

You blink in confusion as he beckons you to follow. This is not what you’d expected, but you’re not going to argue. If Santa needs your help, after all he’s done for you, the least you can do is comply. Besides, if it means staying here a little bit longer, you’ll happily go along with it.

A little uncertainly, you follow him away from all the elves and into Santa’s private workshop. You’ve never been in here before, and you marvel at the wonders within. So many beautifully and masterfully crafted toys. You wonder how in the world you can help with one of these gifts. They all seem perfect already.

You hardly notice when Santa shuts the door quietly behind you. Your attention only returns to him when he puts his hands on your shoulders and turns you to face him.

You swallow as he looks you up and down with his icy blue eyes.

“Wh- what’s the gift you need help with?” you ask, thrown off by the intensity of his gaze.

Instead of answering, he merely smiles again and says, “I’m so very proud of you for all you’ve done to inhabit the spirit of Christmas. If it weren’t for people like you, Christmas wouldn’t be able to happen at all.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Your heart is soaring with elation. You don’t think you’ve ever received such high praise. “Of course,” you squeak. “You’re welcome.”

“Merry Christmas, my child,” he mutters before leaning down and planting a light kiss on your forehead. You feel a little electric shock go through you from the contact.

And then your insides shift and you freeze as things take an unexpected turn. The kiss turns into something so much more, and suddenly you feel your entire head being engulfed by Santa’s mouth.

It’s only when he begins to swallow you down that you realize something is very wrong. You start to panic. You struggle and kick and beg to be released, but none of it has any effect. You just feel more and more of your body sliding down Santa’s throat and being crammed into his stomach. By the time your feet join you inside, you’re sobbing and fighting for your life. But it’s all in vain. You’re trapped.

After several long minutes of trying to escape, you tire yourself out, curl into a ball, and resign yourself to your fate.

You can’t believe this is happening. After so much wonder and magic, you end up here, betrayed by Santa, someone you’ve loved and trusted your whole life. And you thought he loved you in return.

At least it doesn’t feel too bad in here. It’s actually quite soft and warm with a sugary sweet smell. You’re reminded of that first night you’d met Santa and the sugar cookie scent that had followed him. You’d almost forgotten about that. It had disappeared so long ago…

And then you’re surprised when you feel someone rubbing at you from outside and hear Santa’s voice.

“There you go,” his voice rumbles all around you. “Just relax in there.”

“Santa!” you call and push back where you feel his hand. “Please!”

But Santa doesn’t miss a beat. “Unfortunately, I can’t let you out, but you’re giving the greatest gift anyone can give.”

You go still. “What do you mean?”

You’re not sure if he can hear you, but still he goes on to explain. “You see, I can’t actually produce my own magic. Instead, all magic in this world resides in you, in humans. You attract it to you and absorb it. Only you all cannot sense it or control it. But I can.

“So every year, to keep the magic of Christmas going, I must take the magic from a single human who best inhabits the spirit of Christmas. The past year you’ve spent here has only strengthened the magic within you. I’m sorry to do this, but it’s the only way to rekindle my magic. I hope you understand.”

You kick out and very colorfully explain that you don’t understand, but now you’re sure he can’t hear you because you only receive a distracted pat in response. It’s then you realize there’s nothing else you can do. This is how it ends for you.

You can feel every little movement as Santa leaves his workshop and climbs into his sleigh. And then, for the next few hours, you feel him squeezing through chimneys and stacking presents beneath trees. He doesn’t acknowledge your squirms and occasional kicks beyond a distracted rub and a comforting word. So you’re surprised when you suddenly hear what sounds like him conversing with someone else.

You strain your ears and are able to make out what Santa’s saying, “So as a gift for your enduring generosity, I’d like to invite you to spend the next year with me in the North Pole.”

You go still. You know those words.

Then you hear a muffled reply from whoever Santa is talking to, and before you know it, Santa is back in his sleigh with his new human. For the rest of the night, you listen to the two of them chatting amicably. You even overhear Santa telling them that they can feed the reindeer. And every once in awhile, you can feel Santa lovingly caress you within his stomach. You have flashbacks to one year ago when you were on the outside and witnessed him doing the same.

Then everything clicks together. You’re not the first to end up here. And you certainly won’t be the last.

And so the night comes to a close. You feel Santa return to the North Pole and listen to him bid his new human goodnight before heading to bed himself. As you will yourself to sleep too, you wonder how long this is going to last…

You end up remaining inside Santa for far longer than you expect. From what you can tell, you’re in there for months. You never feel any pain, but you can tell your physical body is slowly being broken down and absorbed. It gets harder and harder to find the strength to move, but every time you do, you’re once more met with a comforting rub and a few soft words.

As the months go by, not only do you lose the strength to move (you’re not even sure if there’s anything left of your physical body to move), but you find it harder and harder to stay conscious of what’s going on outside your little prison. But you’re roused just enough when you hear Santa say one last sentence to someone on the outside.

“I have one last gift to finish, and I want you to be a part of it.”

What little remains of your consciousness flutters a bit as you recognize those words and realize it must have been a full year now. It’s time for you to be replaced.

And just as you have this thought, you feel everything slip away, and you’re met with a void of endless darkness. There’s quiet and freedom. At last, you find peace.

#back at it again with the random Christmas vore #I am sorry not sorry to be public about unconventional pred crush on Santa Claus #also nobody look at me but I might have also accidentally come up with a fuck ton of lore around what creature Santa actually is in this #I could not help myself. anydays.#soft vore #v.ore #size difference vore #fatal vore #painless digestion #soul vore #male pred #willing pred #unwilling prey #long term vore #endosoma

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intestinalemphasis · 2 months

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So I'm making a story now.

Blaming @lesbianoms for sorta planting this concept in my brain. This one's made for you, you wonderful human! Enjoy!

Sweet-Tooth Manor

Pt. 1

(F/F story, semi-NSFW?? Mostly foxy stuff. EVENTUALLY but not here yet: non-fatal vore, painless digestion, reformation)

A brief, shitty synopsis of idea: young femme meets middle-aged rich classy woman, and becomes her, ah, "plaything" at home...of the voracious sort.

Odette was enamored with this place. The atmosphere, the people, the blooming gardens spread vast and wide across the rolling hillside. It was simply breathtaking.

"You must have a very fine taste." Said a voice from nearby. Odette looked around, finding a tall, elegantly dressed older woman sitting at one of the metal dining tables outside. She sat cross-legged in a deep red dress, a cigarette between her manicured fingers.

"Oh, I don't mean to intrude, dear," she said, "I just had to tell you how much I admire your physique, your style."

"Oh, thank you!" Odette said, "I don't really dress this fancy most of the time, it's just this place is so beautiful, I wanted to look at least a little bit like I'd fit in with it..."

"Oh don't be so modest, honey, you look absolutely ravishing," the older woman said, flicking the butt of her cigarette off into the ashtray. "Come, sit."

Obediently, Odette walked over to sit with the compelling woman. She was even taller close up, more than a head higher even while they were sitting down. And in heels of all things, too! She must've been one hell of an iconic figure in town.

"Forgive me, where are my manners. I haven't even asked your name."

"Odette," She replied, "my name is Odette."

"Oh what a lovely name. Just like-"

"Swan Lake, yes." She finished. The amount of times she'd heard that...

"All the more reason you're such a dazzle, darling. Trust me, I'd kill to be able to pull off that young, naive charm again..."

Odette smiled – a thin, humble-but-not-all-too-convinced-of-herself smile that she'd practiced giving in return to any form of compliment. The woman sitting across from her seemed to frown, noticing her cover.

"I do mean it, you know." She added, with a little smile of her own. The bright red lipstick almost made it appear devious.

'You mean which part?' Odette almost said, as she contemplated her last words. She was stopped in her tracks, however, by the way the older - and impressively tall - woman turned in her seat to look her straight in the eye.

She looked the young woman up and down: long hair tied back in a ribbon, flowery sundress with modest sleeves, and a youthful, springlike aura which seemed to surround her. Yes. She would do quite nicely, she thought. Quite nicely indeed.

"I don't usually ask this of people this soon," she began, "ordinarily, I like to have a drink or two first, let things wander where they ought to before I make any propositions. But you've..." - she made a popping sound with her lips - "...let's just say, you've piqued my interest. I admire your modesty even in your sheer beauty."

"Oh?" Odette asked, curious.

"I can see that whimsical sparkle in your eye. You long to live in this kind of a place, no?"

"it's been my dream for all my life," she said, "this village, the people who inhabit it...I am so deeply connected with it, and it means so much to me."

"So you might be open to this proposal, then, I take it?"

"What proposal?"

The older woman leaned forward on her elbows, twirling the end of her cigarette in her hand. "How would you like to stay here, in the villa, under contract of a...business venture, I'd like to offer to you?"

Odette blinked, her big brown eyes appearing to the mistress like that of a mother doe's in the woods. She was slow to respond, either thinking too many things, or none at all. Finally, she nodded softly. As though the concept was equally intriguing and intimidating.

"I'd love to be able to stay here, yes. But I'm curious...What's this of your business venture?"

"Oh come now, the evening is still so young," the woman said, "we have all night to catch up on these things, back in my quaint little hillside manor."

"Of course, yes," Odette said, smiling more genuinely now. "That sounds quite lovely, I look forward to learning about it."

"I have a feeling you'll be just suited for the job..." The woman said.

"Forgive me, where are my manners." Odette added in, "I still have not even asked your name."

The woman smiled, chuckling softly. "No worries, dear. Most people only ever refer to me as the Mistress. Sometimes theirs, sometimes not. But I like you, especially so. Mmm...I think so, yes. You can call me Edith."

The way the woman smiled, Odette was unsure whether to feel enamored, honored, or slightly unsettled.

#v0re #; vore #v.ore #; vore story #wlw vore

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squirmysyrup · 1 month

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Obligatory About Post

Hey all, thanks for stopping by~! Before I get to the, mmm, tasty, juicy parts of what these are usually for, I'd like to set some ground rules. First and foremost being:

THIS BLOG IS NSFW

If you're a minor, do not follow me. Vore is a sexual thing for me and I enjoy it in that context, my hangups around kink content being considered sfw at all aside. If you don't have your age in your bio you will catch a block faster than you can blink.

Secondly, my askbox is open! Teasing and flirting with me is fine, I only ask that you keep my preferences in mind if you do!

So with that out of the way,

Who Am I?

It's rude to ask a gal her age, you know~? That being said, I'm in my 20s! Legal adult and everything.

I go by She/Her pronouns exclusively!

I'm kinky as hell and have a whole panoply of interests besides vore. Sometimes I'll even mix them together! Non-vore stuff will be tagged appropriately!

Mostly prey-brained, but I do have the occasional predatory impulses~ I like my preds fem or enby!

What Do I Like?

I'm a soft vore enthusiast at heart. Blood and gore and graphic digestion are touchy for me and only hit the right notes on rare occasions. A little strange, coming from a vampire lover, but the brain works in mysterious ways.

I adore digestion, with a strong preference for painless and melty kinds.

I also do enjoy "sticking around" on my preds after they're done with me, especially on curves~

Burps/belches are great!

I do enjoy being a willing meal, though unwilling/non-consensual scenarios are the ones that really take my fancy!

I much prefer fatal scenarios! Reformation optional but by no means required~

Playful and/or cruel preds get me very worked up, though casual preds are always a delight!

Preds are best at same-size, though a little bigger is always fun!

(Avatar was drawn by HornedHotcakes on Aryion!)

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curiousdibandbeyond · 2 years

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You have chronic pain??

Ah, yes, I do. Have had it for a while now, but I’m managing well, I think! More backstory and context under this post’s read more if you’re curious, I don’t get to discuss it often so like. I wanna vent some?? It got a bit long...

So, I have two (kind of?) kinds of chronic pain. One with my spine that was misdiagnosed for like my whole life until a few years ago. And a food intolerance that treats me like I own it money when I eat something I shouldn’t. Friggin’ wheat mafia coming for these kneecaps

Ok so I grew up with what I thought was hip dysplasia (when the hip socket doesn’t really cover the ball of the upper thigh where they join, so partial or full dislocation can occur. Which as you can imagine really hurts).

This has to be corrected with surgery, and most people who have it are born with it. I was a breech baby so to the doctors it made sense that I would have hip dysplasia as the diagnosis, since they tend to have a higher rate of getting it. It wasn’t until almost two decades later that I saw a doctor that actually looked at my xrays and went “Your hips are fine???”

and I was like “ex-fuckin-cuse me???”

turns OUT that my hips are DANDY. The pain is actually coming from my spine. So, he took a spinal xray. Easy-peasy. Well, turns out that I have three issues with my spine, but we’ll focus on the one that’s actually being a bitch with me. The bulging disc from when I fell out of a tree as a kiddo and never got treated. In my defense, according to the doc, most people assume it’s tailbone injury (which take forever to heal) or just lower back pain, and don’t get it treated right away so at least I wasn’t alone!

But I have physical therapy exercises to help with it, at least. And while the pain never really goes away, it’s manageable and some days I don’t feel it, or I hardly feel it at all!!

The second (?) chronic pain (?? does this count?? idk) is actually a food intolerance. I can’t have wheat, but only modern wheat. Anything that’s been GMO’d. I legitimately cannot digest a very specific protein found in most modern GMO’d wheat, and if I do my body reacts like i somehow attacked it personally and it’s got spite and a bat to correct me with. Luckily I found a food company that makes pasta and flour from “ancient” wheat grain (meaning it hasn’t been GMO’d and therefore lacks the protein I cannot have) so I can still eat bread!! If I make it myself!!!

But I find hand making bread therapeutic so. Not really a loss.

To break down that story real quick though, my arms used to turn red and bumpy when I was a small kiddo but it never hurt or was itchy so my family just ignored it. We didn’t pick up on the fact it only happened after meals. Turns out that was one of the only painless symptoms. It wasn’t until I was 16 that the abdominal pain started and my mom actually figured out what was wrong after reading a few articles and we just, on a whim, gave the new diet a shot.

and I have never been so angry, yet so happy, at the same time before in my life. On the one hand, I could finally know what was the problem (and eat like a normal (close enough) person again); but at the same time it was so simple.

I was in my early twenties by then, and struggled to eat on any normal schedule or serving size scale since it just hurt to eat, or I would get sick. I had to cut a lot out of my diet, obviously, but luckily for me most stores have a gluten free section now and Oreos made a GF option. I do miss kit kats though....

#asks #text post #this is probs referencing the comment thread on AO3 on my Amaurosis Fugax fic with blind!zawa #also when did asks get a tag function?? was that a thing for a long time and I just forogt???#i have shitty memory for those kinds of things so i would believe it

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thefanciestborrower · 4 years

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Working at a restaurant (or however you spell it) where there are tiny waiters to carry dishes to and from the customers on the table. Maybe the tables are connected to the kitchens, I'm too excited and want to share this idea to think. But of course, there's always the risk of being a tiny in the food industry, and sometimes you just end up in a customer's stomach.

I actually really love this idea anon and I think I might have drawn something similar once?? Gotta fish through the sketch pile and find it lmao

Anyways yes this is an excellent idea. I imagine there are giant waiters too of course to help carry out the bigger meals, but tiny waiters are totally in charge of stuff like refilling the bread basket and wheeling out drinks on little carts. They definitely have a bunch of fancy walkways and such along the walls and such to make serving a bit more convenient.

As far as ending up part of the meal, I imagine it would be rather rude to eat your waiter so it isn’t something that happens out of the blue for the most part. Maybe there’s an option like that on the dessert menu or something! Like, if you pay extra you get to have your waiter as an after dinner treat so to speak! This would probably have to involve some teleportation or reformation tech/magic because let’s be honest, throwing up an entire meal to get the waiter out doesn’t sound all that fun and I doubt it would be at all convenient to have to return them once the food in your stomach is gone.

Ooh, maybe they’ll normally be teleported out after an hour, but if you pay more you can keep them in for longer and digestion with reformation is the most expensive. At least, if I were a waiter that’s how I’d want it to be. You wanna digest me then I’d better be getting paid extra thank you very much.

#oh just so y’all know any reformation content I post is painless and consensual #and just because I like reform doesn’t mean I’m a fan of fatal or hard noms so please remember that #hhhh I just really like this prompt though my goodness #soft vore #safe vore #reformation vore #reformation #digestion mention #digestion #I think that’s all the warning tags #if there are any I missed let me know

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mint-yooxgi · 3 years

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OC has accidentally swallowed yan kitsune!Yuta’s bead and therefore he’ll have to keep a close eye on her

"Accident?" You're furious, disbelief clear in your voice. "How do you accidentally let me swallow your sacred bead?"

"Well, it happened so fast," he rolls his eyes. "I didn't let you do shit."

"Who leaves it just lying around, anyways," you grumble, crossing your arms in front of your chest. "I thought you'd have to keep it on your person since it's so, you know, sacred."

"Yeah, if I'm separated from it for too long I could die," he says, almost nonchalantly.

"You could what?" Your eyes are wide as you look at him exasperatedly. "Then how the fuck do you get it back? Do I, you know..." you trail off, avoiding his gaze at what you're suggesting.

"Oh, god, no," he scrunches his nose in slight disgust. "If you waited for that to happen, we'd be waiting for years."

"If it can't be digested, then how else is it supposed to be removed?" You counter, frown prominent on your features.

"Well, there's a few options," he goes on to say, watching you carefully through narrowed eyes. "Not all of them favourable."

"Great," sarcasm drips from your voice, "just great."

"For one, I could reach in and rip it out of you,"

"Rip?" You nearly choke on that one word.

"Yes, rip," he quirks a brow. "You'd only bleed for about twenty seconds until I healed you again. It'd be almost painless."

"I fail to see how you sticking your hand in my gut and ripping a bead out of me would be painless," you deadpan.

"I said almost painless," his lips quirk upwards at the corner in a smirk.

You narrow your eyes at him. "What else?"

"This next one is by far the best option for us," his smirk widens as he looks at you, and you shift slightly beneath his suddenly heated gaze. He licks his lips as his eyes trail over your figure. "We could make love until I absorbed it all back."

Your jaw drops. "You mean to tell me that if we fucked our problem would be solved."

"You make it sound so... apathetic," his nose scrunches once more, "but yes." He meets your gaze, that all too familiar smirk making a reappearance. "Fair warning though, because of how old I am it would take a while for me to absorb it all back."

"So, we'd have to fuck-" he narrows his gaze once more at that word and you roll your eyes, "fuck like rabbits, essentially. Like wild animals."

"Not that there'd be any problem with that," his eyes, once again, trail over your figure, desire dripping from his gaze as he takes a step towards you. Your heart races in your chest as he leans into you, his lips just grazing the side of your ear as he speaks, voice low and seductive, "allow me to show you just how wild I can be."

You swallow, a shiver running down your spine at his close proximity. A fact which only serves to make him more smug. Finally, he's so close to having you all to himself.

"Tempting," you hum, bringing your hands up to rest on his chest. Yuta nearly purrs at the feeling of your hands on him, just not in the way he wants. "Like you said though, you're an old man," he pulls away to look into your face, surprise clear on his features, "wouldn't want you to bust a hip or something." This time, it's your turn to smirk, "what else you got?"

#ask #yandere nct #yandere yuta #yuta drabble #nct drabble #drabbles

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catthefeminist · 2 years

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Physician-Assisted Death

Okayyy so this is for an assignment for English class. I had to write a rhetorical speech based off of my research paper (which is on the morality of physician-assisted death) and find a way to publish it/ share it outside of the classroom. First I have my speech, then I have my research paper which is followed by sources. Happy reading :)

Physician-Assisted Death Is An Acceptable Option (the speech, by yours truly)- 585 words

When you think about death, what do you envision? If it's not the ominous drone of medical machinery, the sterile smell of a doctor’s office, a terminal diagnosis, or an overpriced prescription, then you're thinking about death incorrectly. Modern death is characterized by debilitating, chronic conditions such as heart disease, diabetes, and cancer-- all of which are illnesses that lurk in the shadows, waiting to prey upon their next victim. Even though new studies from Stanford, the National Institute of Health, and other scientific leaders have shown that 90% of Americans now die from incurable, terminal diseases, modern medicine often fails to provide proper comfort at the end of life. For years, many terminal patients have been throwing out the idea of hospice care and painful procedures in favor of physician assisted death, which is an end of life option that allows those with less than six months to live to self administer a painless, lethal dose of medication. We must respect and accept physician assisted death as a valid option for the terminally ill as it embodies qualities that are central to the foundation of our human morality such as peace, dignity, and compassion.

Terminal death is like a relentless tide. Each new physical symptom, painful procedure, emotional battle is a wave that envelops unsuspecting patients and drags them further into the depths of their suffering. The fact that the human body shutdown process is a two-sided coin that causes both emotional and physical turmoil makes this month long progression brutal. Patients are expected to happily trudge through the rest of their days with the knowledge that they will experience the excruciating pain that accompanies organ failure along with digestive issues, extreme exhaustion, weight loss, poor circulation, and hallucinations. Furthermore, imagine having the knowledge that your days are numbered. Imagine waking up only to realize that you were one day closer to a life characterized by immobilizing pain, perpetual anxiety, and complete loss of self, independence, and dignity. Physician assisted death grants the gift of ultimate peace. Additionally, it gives these people--who have lost so much, whose lives have been dictated by doctors and their disease--a choice. A recent survey conducted by the Yale Department of Biology and Medicine revealed that 90.6% of Oregonians undergoing the death with dignity process were concerned about losing their autonomy. In 2017, Don Monroe, a resident of Arizona, found himself in a similar situation after being diagnosed with a rare form of terminal throat cancer. His condition landed him in the intensive care unit where he was intubated without anesthesia due to being underweight. Don Monroe made the only choice he had when he shot himself less than twenty-four hours after his discharge. Physician assisted death places the most important medical decision back into the hands of terminal patients; it provides people with a compassionate choice, a kind opportunity, and a peaceful option. It allows those who are suffering to die on their terms.

As the population ages, terminal illnesses will only become more commonplace in our society. You will know someone who is diagnosed with cancer or heart disease, or you might be given a terminal sentence yourself. We must remember and respect that terminal death doesn't have to mean white hospice wings, noisy ventilators, and bottles of pills. Better ways of dying exist--we just have to open our minds to them. For those looking for an option that embodies our widely accepted human morals of compassion, kindness, and dignity, physician assisted death is the answer.

Physician-Assisted Death Does Not Undermine Human Morality (aka the research paper, by me again :) ) - 2351 words

“If we ask for a dignified death it is because we are tired of all the illnesses that overcome us,” explains Victor Escobar. A few weeks ago, Escobar became the first person to end his life using Colombia’s new assisted death law despite being a devout Catholic in a country where 70% of the population follows this belief system that opposes suicide (Beltrán). In 2008, Escobar suffered two strokes and had since been diagnosed with a litany of other debilitating conditions. After living for over a decade in excruciating pain that even morphine failed to subside, Escobar opted to petition the courts to allow his physician to assist him in dying (Suárez). As the population ages and medical technology advances, cases like Escobar’s have become more common. Despite the concern that physician-assisted death contradicts human morality, countries such as the Netherlands, Belgium, and Luxembourg, and even several states, have protected this end-of-life option for years (Emanuel). Further exploration into the topic of physician-assisted death reveals that the idea is based upon traditional, widely-accepted morals such as compassion, acceptance, and the pursuit of peace. Allowing people to make end-of-life choices including physician-assisted death does not undermine our generally accepted view of human morality.

Physician-assisted death is a procedure that allows terminally ill patients to legally end their lives with the assistance and supervision of a medical professional (Dugdale). Often incorrectly referred to as physician-assisted suicide, this form of death differs from traditional suicide in the sense that these patients are not depressed, but are simply waiting for their terminal conditions to catch up with them (Goy). The movement began in the United States in 1975, when Derek Humphry helped his wife with terminal breast cancer end her life. After her death, he formed the Hemlock Society, America's first major right-to-die organization. Humphry and the group focused on advocating for assisted death laws and helping terminal patients achieve peaceful deaths. Attention surrounding the assisted death movement skyrocketed in 1990 when Dr. Jack Kevorkian invented a machine that allowed people to inject themselves with lethal doses of prescription medication in the back of his van. In the span of eight years, an estimated 130 people suffering from terminal conditions ended their lives in Dr. Kevorkian’s presence. Dr. Kevorkian explained that he believed physicians had several responsibilities and “those responsibilities include assisting patients with death” (Childress). In 1994, Oregon became the first state to approve an assisted death bill, known as the Oregon Death with Dignity Act. Since this historic piece of legislation was ratified, nine other states and territories have passed similar laws allowing physician-assisted death (States with Legal).

Further expansion of the movement has been met with varied reactions. In 2018, a poll conducted by Gallup revealed that 54% of survey respondents from the United States believed physician-assisted death was morally acceptable (Brenan). The main concern cited by the remaining 46% was that the legalization of physician-assisted death would cause a slippery slope effect that would increase suicides among those suffering from non-terminal chronic conditions and lead to the eventual legalization of nonconsensual euthanasia. In 2004, an extremist group known as Final Exit arose, claiming to be another right-to-die organization. However, Final Exit’s three thousand plus members believed that everyone, regardless of physical or mental health status, should have the right to kill themselves legally. True right-to-die organizations distanced themselves from Final Exit, and in 2009, four of the groups’ leaders were arrested and charged in court for illegally assisting hundreds of people in dying and running a “suicide ring” (Childress). While it has been seen that the right-to-die movement provides an outlet for groups with nefarious purposes to spread their ideas, the strict criteria listed in death with dignity legislation makes it difficult to act outside of the laws’ boundaries without legal repercussions. With the exception of the state of Montana, which allows physician-assisted death only through court rulings, all current legislation regarding the right-to-die movement is fairly uniform (States with Legal). All individuals must be at least eighteen years of age, have less than six months to live, reside in the state whose law they plan to use, make two formal oral requests to their physician to receive the lethal medication, sign a written request in the presence of two witnesses, undergo a psychological evaluation for mental competency, sit through a fifteen day waiting period, and only then can they receive the prescription which they then must administer themselves. In addition to this, all of these steps must be documented in the state database (Chapter 70.245 RCW). With all of these regulations and roadblocks in place, it is highly unlikely that a slippery slope effect would be successful. Since physician-assisted death creates a conflict of interest for doctors who are most concerned about saving lives, acquiring a true understanding of how this end-of-life option morally fits into our society requires a look at the complex role of medicine.

While modern medicine has benefited human society, its techniques often prolong death and suffering. In the past several decades alone, new medical innovations including ventilators, chemotherapy, cardiopulmonary resuscitation, and the creation of the intensive care unit have added years to the average American’s life expectancy (Gordon). But at what cost? At the beginning of the 20th century, most people died as a result of accidents or sudden illnesses such as influenza. A study conducted in 1994 revealed the top two leading causes of death in America to be heart disease resulting in 25.7% of deaths and cancer-causing 20%. Chronic conditions such as these are the direct cause of over 90% of Americans’ deaths (Death and Dying). According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, six out of ten adults suffer from a chronic disease that reduces their overall quality of life (About Chronic Diseases). This coupled with the fact that over one-third of the American population is over fifty years old means that death intervening technology has only become more commonplace in our society (Rogers). However, doctors’ and scientists’ current hyperfocus on death prevention is at odds with medicine’s traditional purpose to mitigate patients’ suffering and provide them with comfort. This is a larger issue when applied to patients who are terminally ill. Are intrusive medical procedures and painful resuscitation attempts the best option for someone with mere days to live? In 2012, Corinne Johns-Treat, a faithful Christian, was diagnosed with stage three lung cancer. That year she had a portion of her lung removed and underwent several rounds of chemotherapy. In March of 2015, Johns-Treat discovered her cancer had spread to her neck, chest, and brain. After a second failed surgery to remove the tumors in her brain, she was given only several months to live. With all other medical options exhausted, Johns-Treat began to research physician-assisted death. Though she lived in California, where physician-assisted death was legal, she was criticized for even considering that route by others in her faith community. They believed the process to be suicide and against the will of God, but Johns-Treat saw this a different way. “When science can’t offer life-sustaining treatments anymore, then the role of medicine should be to relieve suffering,” explained Johns-Treat who was still facing excruciating headaches and undergoing chemotherapy at the time. She added that though she hadn't definitively decided on the procedure, she felt that it was in line with her morals and that God was showing compassion by presenting physician-assisted death as an option (Johns-Treat). This desire to achieve peace after a long medical journey is a common motivation for many considering physician-assisted death.

Physician-assisted death allows patients to avoid the inevitable emotional and physical pain surrounding their deaths. For terminally ill patients, death is an excruciating experience due to the human body’s shutdown process. This process, which can begin as soon as months before a person’s ultimate death, is gradual. In the first stages, one experiences decreased circulation, poor brain function, and extreme exhaustion. This progresses to include weight loss, digestive issues, hallucinations, and difficulty breathing that lasts until one’s heart eventually stops (The Physical Process). At this point, death is often a welcome visitor, its arrival signaling that the sufferer can finally lose consciousness and slip into a permanent, painless peace. The knowledge that they are to endure agony as their organs shut down in the months leading up to their final moments is one of the top reasons terminal patients ultimately choose physician-assisted death. One study by the American Medical Association reveals that the majority of their fifty-six survey goers who were on the list for physician-assisted death placed “concerns about future pain” at the highest level possible (Goy). Aside from experiencing physical pain, patients must additionally face the emotional turmoil of knowing that their days are numbered and that they will be forced to live out the rest of their time feeling unlike themselves. The same American Medical Association study also asked questions regarding emotional motives and saw patients list reasons such as “loss of mental clarity”, “poor quality of life”, “inability to care for oneself”, and “loss of dignity” as significant (Goy). All patients surveyed resided in Oregon, a “death with dignity state”, so they were able to go through with their intended procedures. Those suffering from terminal illnesses in other states still experience these same concerns, and many also look for ways to avoid the inevitable pain. Dr. James L. Werth, a psychologist involved in conducting the study, explains: “Many more people with serious illness end their lives through some other negotiated means, such as ceasing medications, withholding food or drink, refusing life-sustaining treatment or signing ‘do not resuscitate’ orders (Weir).” The fact remains that those who are set on escaping their pain will find ways to do so, even if those ways are less humane. Don Monroe, a resident of Arizona, began experiencing pain radiating from his ear to his jaw along with difficulty swallowing in 2017. After two years of suffering from these pains, Monroe was diagnosed with a form of throat cancer. By this time, his condition had progressed to the point where he could no longer eat, speak, or hear and he was admitted to the intensive care unit due to extreme weakness. Because he was underweight, he could not be fully sedated as he was intubated and given a feeding tube. His wife, Robin Toole, described her husband as being in constant fear and pain. When Monroe was released from the hospital twenty-four hours later, he chose to take his life with a gun rather than suffer a single second longer. Toole explained that her husband didn't believe anyone should suffer and that he would have chosen physician-assisted death over traditional suicide had it been an option (Toole). While physician-assisted death allows people to gain freedom from pain peacefully and humanely, the desire to have the ability to make decisions regarding one’s own death is another gift this option grants to the dying.

Physician-assisted death allows patients to have control over their deaths, which is a leading concern of those interested in this option. The American Medical Association study results also revealed that the desire to have “control of the circumstances of death” was the highest ranked reason (Goy). A separate survey conducted by the Yale Department of Biology and Medicine showed that 90.6% of Oregonians undergoing the death with dignity process were concerned about losing their autonomy. The survey report written by a panel of doctors explains that the reason for this is simple: “Patients accustomed to making their own healthcare decisions throughout life should also be permitted to control the circumstances of their deaths ” (Dugdale). If people go their entire lives having control over their bodies and the ability to make their own medical decisions, what disqualifies someone from making the final, most important one? This desire to have control over the circumstances of death was a leading motivation for Brittney Maynard. Best known for her involvement in several states’ eventual legalization of physician-assisted death, Maynard was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer at the age of twenty-nine. Upon her diagnosis, Maynard lived in California, which did not allow for physician-assisted death at the time. When she was given six months to live and started experiencing seizures, Maynard and her husband made the decision to move to Oregon so that she could use the state’s Death with Dignity Act. She had planned to spend a few weeks traveling with her family, but had to cut that time short as her debilitating headaches, strokes, and seizures made it difficult for her to continue. She decided to undergo the procedure while she was still coherent enough to make the decision. “I am choosing to go in a way that is less suffering and less pain,” Maynard explained. She additionally stated the importance of having the ability to choose a peaceful death, explaining how it brought both her and her family comfort. “The thought that I can spare myself the physical and emotional pain of that, as well as my family, is a huge relief (Death With Dignity).” Allowing patients to have the choice to control their deaths provides a significant amount of peace.

Physician-assisted death falls within the guidelines of human morality as it provides compassion, acceptance, and peace to the dying. Death is the ultimate human experience, and being able to have control in death is just as crucial to that experience as having control in our lives. In his last few days, Victor Escobar explained that he looked forward to the tranquility of his death and saw his end as the beginning of something else. “It is the door so that a patient like me, with degenerative diseases, has the opportunity for a dignified death (Suárez).” Physician-assisted death can give people the chance to close the last chapter of their lives in a meaningful way that avoids suffering, which is something we should all find morally correct. Morality exists to guide humans through life, and we must learn to understand how physician-assisted death and other manners of dying abide by this concept to create a future more accepting of death as a whole.

List of Works Cited

“About Chronic Diseases.” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 28 Apr. 2021, www.cdc.gov/chronicdisease/about/index.htm#:~:text=Chronic%20diseases%20are%20defined%20broadly,disability%20in%20the%20United%20States.

Beltrán, William Mauricio. “Descripción Cuantitativa De La Pluralización Religiosa En Colombia.” Departamento De Sociología De Universidad Nacional De Colombia, Universidad Nacional De Colombia, 6 July 2011, web.archive.org/web/20140329185722/www.bdigital.unal.edu.co/8486/1/williammauriciobeltran.2011.pdf .

Brenan, Megan. “Americans' Strong Support for Euthanasia Persists.” Gallup.com, Gallup, 31 May 2021, https://news.gallup.com/poll/235145/americans-strong-support-euthanasia-persists.aspx.

“Brittany Maynard's Legacy, Five Years On.” Death With Dignity, Deathwithdignity.org , 14 Jan. 2022, deathwithdignity.org/news/2019/11/brittany-maynards-legacy-five-years-on/.

Brown, Harold O. J., and Robert D. Orr. “Assisted Suicide and Euthanasia Overview.” Assisted Suicide and Euthanasia Overview | The Center for Bioethics & Human Dignity, Trinity International University , 30 May 1999, https://cbhd.org/content/assisted-suicide-and-euthanasia-overview.

“Chapter 70.245 RCW: The Washington Death With Dignity Act .” Washington State Legislature , State of Washington , https://app.leg.wa.gov/rcw/default.aspx?cite=70.245.

Connors, Alfred F., et al. “A Controlled Trial to Improve Care for Seriously III Hospitalized Patients.” JAMA, JAMA Network, 22 Nov. 1995, jamanetwork.com/journals/jama/article-abstract/391724.

Childress, Sarah. “The Evolution of America's Right-to-Die Movement.” PBS, Public Broadcasting Service, 13 Nov. 2012, www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/article/the-evolution-of-americas-right-to-die-movement/.

“Death and Dying in the United States.” Multi-Cultural Palliative Care Portal, Stanford School of Medicine , 25 Mar. 2014, palliative.stanford.edu/overview-of-palliative-care/death-and-dying-in-the-united-states/.

“Death with Dignity Advocate Brittany Maynard Dies in Oregon.” NBCNews.com, NBCUniversal News Group, 4 Nov. 2014, www.nbcnews.com/health/health-news/death-dignity-advocate-brittany-maynard-dies-oregon-n235091.

Dugdale, Lydia S, et al. “Pros and Cons of Physician Aid in Dying.” The Yale Journal of Biology and Medicine, YJBM, 20 Dec. 2019, www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6913818/.

Emanuel, Ezekiel J, et al. “Attitudes and Practices of Euthanasia and Physician-Assisted Suicide in the United States, Canada, and Europe.” JAMA, U.S. National Library of Medicine, 5 July 2016, pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/27380345/.

Fine, Perry G. “Modern Death: How Medicine Changed the End of Life.” American Society of Anesthesiologists, Oxford University Press, 1 Sept. 2017, pubs.asahq.org/anesthesiology/article/127/3/589/17780/Modern-Death-How-Medicine-Changed-the-End-of-Life.

Ganzini, Linda, et al. “Mental Health Outcomes of Family Members of Oregonians Who Request Physician Aid in Dying.” Journal of Pain and Symptom Management, Elsevier, 24 Sept. 2009, https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0885392409007076.

Gordon, Michael. “Rituals in Death and Dying: Modern Medical Technologies Enter the Fray.” Rambam Maimonides Medical Journal, Rambam Health Care Campus, 29 Jan. 2015, www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4327323/.

Goy, Elizabeth R, et al. “Oregonians' Reasons for Requesting Physician Aid in Dying.” Archives of Internal Medicine, JAMA Network, 9 Mar. 2009, https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jamainternalmedicine/fullarticle/414824.

Forest, Catherine Sonquist. “I'm a Doctor. Here's What It's like Helping Terminally Ill Patients End Their Lives.” Vox, Vox, 21 Sept. 2017, www.vox.com/first-person/2017/9/21/16335534/aid-in-dying-california-legal-end-of-life.

Johns-Treat, Corinne. “I'm a Christian with Cancer. I Want Death with Dignity.” Time, Time, 10 Aug. 2016, time.com/4445019/christian-death-with-dignity/.

McDermid, Robert C, and Sean M Bagshaw. “Prolonging Life and Delaying Death: The Role of Physicians in the Context of Limited Intensive Care Resources.” Philosophy, Ethics, and Humanities in Medicine : PEHM, BioMed Central, 12 Feb. 2009, www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2644722/.

Rogers, Luke T. “America's Age Profile Told through Population Pyramids.” The United States Census Bureau, The United States Census Bureau, 8 Oct. 2021, www.census.gov/newsroom/blogs/random-samplings/2016/06/americas-age-profile-told-through-population-pyramids.html.

Samuel , Lawrence R. “Death, American Style.” Psychology Today, Sussex Publishers, 23 June 2013, www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/psychology-yesterday/201306/death-american-style.

“States with Legal Physician-Assisted Suicide .” ProCon.org, Britannica , 14 Dec. 2021, euthanasia.procon.org/states-with-legal-physician-assisted-suicide/.

Suárez, Astrid. “Colombian Man Felt Tranquil before Euthanasia Ended His Pain.” AP NEWS, Associated Press, 8 Jan. 2022, https://apnews.com/article/health-religion-colombia-caribbean-euthanasia-ae9b3a2ec40ab8665dc3318438095134.

“The Growing Crisis of Chronic Disease in the United States.” Partnership to Fight Chronic Diseases, Fightchronicdiseases.org , www.fightchronicdisease.org/sites/default/files/docs/GrowingCrisisofChronicDiseaseintheUSfactsheet_81009.pdf.

“The Physical Process of Dying.” Healthdirect, Healthdirect Australia, www.healthdirect.gov.au/the-physical-process-of-dying.

Toole, Robin. “Robin Toole: Having Control at Life's End.” Death With Dignity, Deathwithdignity.org, 12 Jan. 2022, deathwithdignity.org/stories/robin-toole-having-control-at-lifes-end/.

Weir, Kirsten. “Assisted Dying: The Motivations, Benefits and Pitfalls of Hastening Death.” Monitor on Psychology, American Psychological Association, Dec. 2017, https://www.apa.org/monitor/2017/12/ce-corner.

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lesbianoms · 2 months

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(CW: Cruel pred and neglect for prey's humanity, but digestion is still painless. Old draft I finally decided to share with y'all)

Pred/observer wlw couple with petplay dynamics~~ 🥵

The observer is a generous mistress. She keeps her pred pampered and submissive, leashed and collared. And she always sees to it there’s a steady diet of men to fatten her up.

Make no mistake, the observer loves the pred and isn’t just using the live feedings for her pleasure. She absolutely adores her pet and treats her like a princess, giving her belly rubs and kisses and spoiling her rotten.

The pred is madly in love too, and living the dream. Her hazy, hungry mind only knows bliss. Maybe she’s on the smaller side— or at least, she was on the smaller side. Now after churning up so many struggling meals, the weight of her lifestyle is evident, constantly bulging off her middle <3

Maybe she’s aware of what actually happens to the prey she eats, or maybe she’s not. Either way, her partner does all the hard work for them both, all the scheming and planning to lure unsuspecting male meals towards their gurgly fate.

A typical feeding night might go like this:

The observer flirts with a guy at a bar, acting like she’s interested in him. He may respond. As they engage with each other, she usually makes her decisions based on the vibes she gets from him. The chauvinists always taste better.

She takes him home, promising him the threesome he’s always wanted. He happily obliges and has most of his clothes off by the time they reach the bedroom. The pred— who, depending on the night, was either in the middle of a nap or nursing a hungry, empty tummy— sees the observer enter and her eyes light up excitedly.

And what’s this? Her mistress has returned with a delicious looking treat~

“Here pet, I brought you supper,” the observer tells her with a sweet yet mischievous grin.

The man is confused. He’s about to ask what she means… but before he knows it he’s already been pushed to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, and a drooling girl on top of him.

Compared to her prey, the pred doesn’t look threatening— not even taller than him, not strong physically— but the minute her instincts take over, it’s the end for him…

The observer watches in delight as her pred-pet devours the screaming man whole, watches as he slips down her throat and fills out her gut, rounding out her empty stomach. She’s all ready with the praises as her pred manages the final swallow. His cries for help get lost inside of her, and now he’s sealed away inside of her greedy belly… walls squeezing in, acids bubbling…

“Good girl~!” The observer cooes, pleased that her pred managed to get yet another victim to go down so easily. “Good puppy!!”

The pred tried to sit back up but she’s completely overwhelmed by the sensations of her living meal inside her. She wriggles on the carpet, whimpering in pure pleasure, weighed down by her hefty gut. Feeling every frantic movement of her prey as he struggles inside of her, desperate to escape. All that he manages to do is muster up a burp from the mouth of his pred as she pants and drools like a satisfied dog.

Her mistress’s words snap her back to attention. “Come here, sweetie, I’ll help your food settle down~”

Loyally, obediently, the pred pads over on all fours with enthusiastic steps, her belly hanging low to the ground. She rolls over onto the bed and purrs as the observer begins to stroke her huge stomach…

“He’s a feisty one,” the observer hums, admiring the futile squirming of the prey. “But don’t worry, honey, he's no match for your hungry tummy~”

The pred stares up at her owner with hearts in her eyes, as the observer traces small shapes over her belly. At this point, both women are aware of how active it is, gurgling and growling and setting to work on the man inside. His protests are muffled by the thick, churning walls. Not that either of them would listen anyways.

“You have a noisy belly, pet,” the observer murmurs, giving the overstuffed organ a firm pat. It groans in response as it twitches under her touch.

“T-thank you... mistress...!” the pred gasps between moans, blushing.

The observer lowers herself onto the pred and starts kissing the swell of her stomach.

“I love it when you get all plump like this,” she continues. “You’re so pretty when you’re stuffed with men…”

“Huff... I can feel him-” the pred whines. Before she can form a coherent thought, a meaty belch makes its way up from the burbling, slimy chamber below.

*BWOOOOOURRRRPPP!!*

She feels her dinner thrash around in response, and she squeals and squirts all over the bedsheets, mumbling incoherently as she’s overstimulated by the sudden surge of movement in her belly.

“Oh, my good girl. You really like feeling him in there, don’t you, princess?” Her mistress teases. “Yes... you love destroying those pigs with your belly…”

The pred can only make animalistic sounds of pleasure, mewling as her owner holds her close and fondles her belly.

The observer can’t keep her hands away, caressing every rounded inch, every bit of its softening surface. She’s kissing her pet’s pretty lips, fingers buried in her hair. The two of them are extremely aroused, growing wet, rubbing their bodies together…

And after they come together, they lay back in their orgasmic bliss, holding each other like they’re all that remains in the world.

“My sweet, gluttonous puppy,” the observer trills, staring into her pet’s big, beautiful eyes. “My little man-eater.”

The rest of the night is soft. The observer coos to the pred how much she loves her, what a precious thing she is… all while her food kicks and struggles weakly, his quiet pleas for mercy competing to be heard over the erotic sounds of digestion.

After her prey stops moving, the look in the pred’s eyes glazes over and she clings to the observer, nuzzling against her like a large cat. They make love to each other while what’s left of the man sloshes around in the pred’s belly, eventually slipping deeper into her guts, pumping through her intestines…

#v.ore #v0re #soft vore #vore talk #vore writing #female pred #male prey #unwilling prey #observer vore #pred x observer #digestion #fatal vore #painless digestion #I mean... all my digestion is painless #just thought id tag it though since this is a meaner scenario #vore scenario #vore kink #minors dni #I wrote this a while ago when I was feeling pretty vorny lmao

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trash0receptacle · 3 years

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Headcannon

Before that however: I’m sorry for not being active lately I’ve been very, stressed, busy, and tired. Since school started back my mood definitely declined a shit ton. With that being said writing is a way of coping for me so this is really just gonna be what I need today. If it helps you then that’s wonderful too.

Tw: Deppresion, Anxiety, and Anorexia

Paring: Lucifer x f/Mc

Also the way I right Luke is supposed to be taken platonically.

(Mc’s Pov)

Life had been shitty lately a lot more shitty than usual. I suppose it started when I heard some of the other succubi talking about me in on the way to class.

“She’s so lucky!”

“I know why does that bitch get to live with the brothers?”

“What do they even see in her?”

Sure I shouldn’t have taken the comments so personally but hell I take everything personally. So thats when my self doubt started forming roots in my mind again.

Before devildom I already had a lot of unresolved trauma and pain but the brothers really helped me. They were there for me when I needed them and made me feel wanted however after Belphie escaped the attic things went downhill for me mentally. The situation caused me a massive relapse and I began my destructive habits again. It went unnoticed for the most part mainly because they didn’t know the full scale of my past. All they knew is that I struggled and was medicated but nothing else. Perhaps Barbatos knew but he never said anything and I don’t believe he truly knew what went on inside my head either.

Now in the present moment I am contemplating what the succubi were saying about me. They’re right, “what did they see in me?” Surely it wasn’t my looks. I’m decently smart but I have no work ethic. The only thing I know I’m good at is being kind yet I’m a bitch half the time. So that’s when it came back to my body. The thing I’ve always hated about myself because I was never skinny enough, tall enough, pretty enough, curvy enough. I was never enough for someone to care about me.

I started skipping meals here and there. I still ate 2 out of three meals but I figured losing weight couldn’t hurt but then before I knew it I was lucky to even eat once a day. I was always good at making myself lose weight but not so drastically that you could tell I starved myself. For the most part I seemed healthy. However since I was going unchecked it kept getting worse. First my curves disappeared, then it was my hips sticking out, after that my cheeks began to sink, and finally my hair began coming out when I brushed it. I knew what I’d done but I couldn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want to hurt them and in the past asking for help only got me ridiculed or hurt.

“No one wants to here about your problems mc it makes us sad.”

“You wonder why I don’t like you!”

“You always beg for compliments!”

“Your fat anyway.”

Those words just kept circulating inside my mind and wouldn’t stop. I wanted to get better I really did but it was hard to force myself to eat. However I couldn’t rely on anyone else for fear of hurting them or them hurting me so I stayed silent. That was until my ddd pinged and I received a text from Lucifer.

Lucifer: Please come to my study mc.

Mc: Uh sure... is everything alright?

No response.

This is unlike Lucifer whats wrong? Is he mad at me? I guess I shouldn’t keep him waiting otherwise he will get mad. I got up and walked to his study inside the library. On the way I noticed the house of Lamenation was eerily quiet. There was no noise besides the sound of my feet walking through the hallways. When I arrived at the door to the study I was surprised to not only see Lucifer but everyone else?

Simeon resembled a worried parent, Luke seemed confused and angry, Diavolo was most serious I’d ever seen him, Barbatos stared at me with what I assume was pity, Solomon looked at me like I was a ghost. However the brothers appeared in worst shape. Mammon seemed on the verge of crying, Levi had guilt written over his face, Satan like Luke was angry angry, Amso was for once frowning, and Belphie and Beel looked disappointed. However I couldn’t read Lucifer’s expression but I could tell something was definitely off.

“Uh hey guys... what’s wrong you look like someone died or something?” I tried to laugh off the uneasy mood in the room but it was to no avail.

“Mc if you could sit down we have some things we must discuss with you.” Lucifer spoke solemnly

They had to have figured it out. Of course I knew this would come out eventually but it still felt like a stab to the heart none the less. I sat down not even listening to the others words. All my energy was focused into not breaking down in front of them but I’d stayed “strong” for too long and tears began to silently fall down my face. The talking stopped and I felt them all look at me which just made the tears fall harder. I felt my wall crumbling down as the final straw on the camels back was placed. I just cried for what felt like hours. Once I began to calm down I finally spoke in between sobs and breaths

“I-.... I’m so-...sorry.”

The room became silent once more. No of them knew how to respond to the broken girl infront of them

“I just didn’t want to burden you guys.... you have your own problems and don’t need to put up with mine” “nor would you want to” I mumbled the last part but I didn’t go unheard.

Luke got up and ran over to me enveloping me in a hug. He just stood there hugging me as if he didn’t I would fade away. I just hugged him back feeling slightly better by the angel’s hug.

Simeon was the first to speak

“Mc we aren’t angry at you. I think I speak for everyone when I say we are worried.”

A silent agreement was exchanged throughout the room.

Diavolo spoke next

“While Barbatos wouldn’t divulge all of what he knew for the sake of your privacy he warned me that you needed an intervention.”

I chuckled halfheartedly knowing my hypothesis was indeed correct.

“Well I figured it would come to this eventually.”

*time skip*

“Can I go back to my room now?” I whisper

I wasn’t really asking rather I just said it and got up to leave. The others stayed still likely digesting the information I’d given them. I felt ashamed and exposed. I hated seeing how much my words affected them and I really needed to be alone at the moment. Eventually I made it to my room. Walking in I closed the door and just cried.

(Lucifer’s Pov)

No one bothered to utter a word after Mc left and no one went after her either. Eventually my brothers excused themselves to go where, I’m not sure. I couldn’t tell if it was minutes or hours that passed but Solomon, Simeon, and Luke left saying they should head back to purgatory hall. Which left Barbatos, Diavolo, and I alone in the study. For the first time since I’d known the prince I couldn’t tell what was going through his head. Barbatos eventually composed himself however and turned to me.

“I believe My lord and I should make our way back to the palace..”

I just nodded in agreement as the pair left me alone with my own thoughts. I’d never seen that side of Mc before. Of course I knew somewhat of Mc’s history either from her file or her own account but clearly things had been left out.

I eventually got up and left to go to my room knowing I wouldn’t be able to focus on my work even if I wanted to. On the way there I passed by Mc’s room and noticed the light was on. I debated knocking or leaving her alone when a voice called out.

“If your gonna stand at my door like a creep you might as well come in.”

And so I did.

“Hey Lucifer...”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Foot steps. I can tell who’s in the hallway by how they walk.”

“I see then.”

The room’s atmosphere felt awkward as neither one of us bother or start conversation. So I simply sat down on the floor across from Mc, who had her head in her knees. (The fetal position) Eventually she brought her head up to wipe tears from her eyes and said with a broken laugh.

“I’m sorry you had to seem me like this. I look pathetic right now..”

“Mc why do you say these things about yourself?”

“Why not it’s how I view my self Lucifer. I’ve heard it from your mouth before”

“I’m just a mere human.”

I cringed at the memory knowing she were right of course.

“Mc I-“

“You don’t need to apologize or explain I understand I pissed you off then. It was just an example”

Wanting to change the topic of discussion I asked her a question.

“Why didn’t you come to any of us?”

“Denial...”

“Denial of what?”

“That it got out of control.”

“Is that all?”

“Not exactly...”

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“I- just please don’t get angry...”

I silently nodded my head as a watched Mc loosen up a bit.

“I think it might be my lack of trust towards really anyone.”

Mc started looking into space as she continued.

“I’m terrified of needing people or letting people help me. Part of it is when I have in the past I ended up hurt and alone. So I stopped I started being the one to help others.... then I needed help and I was cast out like a piece of trash. According to them I was selfish for needing affirmation and love. So that was when I decided I didn’t need that again.”

I sat silently contemplating her words.

“I’m truly sorry mc.”

“I would say it’s fine but it’s not. It hurts like hell but that’s life isn’t it? You learn to love and trust then you get your heart stomped out like a burning ember. The people you love leave you or die and you can’t do shit about it.”

“Wait what do you mean by die?”

“You know this sounds awful but you should be thankful Lilith didn’t suffer... sure it hurts that she’s gone but you are able to remember her before then since her “death” was quick. Painless.”

“I’ve had to watch the people who were my Lilith for lack of better terms die and suffer for months or years. I watched their bodies grow weak and feeble. However I was a child then and couldn’t do anything.”

I didn’t know how to respond so we sat in silence until

“Why’d you tell me this Mc?”

“Honestly I don’t know. Likely it’s because my body is physically exhausted and my filter was turned off.”

I noticed the tiredness Mc was trying to hide for the first time.

“You should sleep mc.”

“That’s ironic coming from you Lucifer.”

“I’m being serious mc.”

“What are you going to do? Mak-“

She didn’t get to finish her thought as I picked her up and carried her to my room. I knew she shouldn’t be left alone and I wanted to make sure she would be alright.

We arrived at my room and I deposited her on my bed. I sat in on of the chairs by the fire figuring she’d want the bed.

“Ok but why is your bed more comfortable than mine? Like sis you don’t sleep wtf!”

I just sighed knowing she was probably out of it but she was kinda of adorable when pouty.

Eventually she quieted down and her breathing became slower.

Mc’s POV:

“Mc you need to wake up”

“Five more minutes”

“Mc wake up!”

I felt the covers being ripped off. A dick move really.

“Ahh I’m up I’m up asshole!”

Wait why is Lucifer looking down at me? Why am I in his room? Shit I cussed him out. Well death never seemed that terrible

“Well if you’re awake now you need to come downstairs to eat breakfast. No, you can not object to this either.”

With that he left probably to go make sure the house isn’t on fire. I walked over to his bathroom and splashed water in my face to wake me up and noticed how emaciated I appeared.

Where my cheeks always so pronounced? Or when did my eyes start looking glassy and dark? I brushed it off not wanting to delve deeper into my insecurities. So I made my way to the dinning room. When I got there all conversation stopped and 7 pairs of eyes shot in my direction. I awkwardly made my way to the table and sat down.

I tried eating breakfast but it’s always been something I’ve never been able to stomach. I honestly never feel hungry when I wake up and it’s not like devildom food is exactly tasty. I was about to get up to leave when

“Mc you need to eat more.”

“Lucifer is right mc.”

“Ok...”

I sat back down and tried to eat what was on my plate but couldn’t so I sat there looking at it. I looked over to mammon’s plate and noticed how much food his had compared to mine and figured at least one of them knew it was a process to get me to eat again.

“I really can’t eat anymore otherwise I might be sick.” With no objections I got up and took my plate to the kitchen.

As I was washing it in the sink slowly some of the brothers came in aswell. First Asmo offered to take me shopping but I didn’t feel up to it. Then Satan asked if I wanted to go to the library again I didn’t exactly want people to see me like this so I declined. So levi offered we could play video games or something and I took him up on his offer.

He made sure I ate lunch that day which I honestly forget about sometimes. By the end of the day the other brothers excluding Amso, Satan, and Lucifer were all piled in Levi’s room.

Belphie was passed out in the bathtub of all places. Mammon was trying to impress me with his video game skills and Beel was munching on snacks behind us. It felt normal.

Eventually I got tired of it and decided to have some alone time. I was on my bed watching tik toks. (But fr tho I do have a problem with tik tok) Laughing at some etc when a knock was at my door.

“Come in”

I said this without looking up figuring it was beel looking for snacks or even Satan wanting to come in here and read. When I didn’t hear anything I looked back up from my phone surprised to see Lucifer standing there.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. I just heard laughing and was wondering is you were alright.”

“Oh yeah sorry about that I’m just watching stuff in my phone.”

“Would you mind if I joined you?” He smirked

Damn not that smirk. Stop blushing Mc you got this. It’s just Lucifer.

“Uh... sure...”

Damn that wasn’t smooth.

End. (Unless I am asked to make a part two)

So I’ve been working on this for a while because I’ve wanted to make something actually decent. I wanted to do a happy ending and remind you guys that you’re amazing. And no matter who you are you’re loved and remember that.

- Caroline

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3platoon · 2 years

Note

Hi! As someone who deals with lifelong chronic GI (gastro intestinal issues) and ive got some little tips for your trouble! (If you want, feel free to ignore if you want.)

1. Of course if you can, look into a doctor that specializes in gastro issues, bc a professional opinion is the best thing you can get. They may also point you in the direction of some over the counter meds that can really be life changing! Don't be afraid to get into detail, ya gotta say whats up.

2. Try to look for probiotic products, they'll help with digestion health!

3. Perhaps do get allergy testing, bc depending on your symptoms you might be allergic to something that you commonly consume.

4. Keep track of what you eat, if you have the attention span keep a record of what you eat and how it makes you feel after. This is how i figured out I'm sensitive to dairy, greasy foods, tomatoes and a handful of other odd specifics!

5. (This is a bit gross srry) but if your troubles lie especially in the in the lower intestines levels and functions, make sure you pay attention to the productions, and log that along with what you ate prior. If you have like, a Lot Of Blood, its not normal and you should get a doc's attention about what to do, for it could mean a lot and not a whole lot good. (As u can see im sidestepping a lot of words um. Again sorry. I know u dont want some anon talking abt the scary/ickyness bits)

6. For some reason i find bread sometimes agitates on bad days (other fam members can recite why but i can never remember why) so if you find yourself making a lot of sandwiches, maybe just roll the ham n cheese or whatev up in a little tube and consume it that way! Or do the bread for lettuce swap but ive heard a lot of recalls so maybe not-

7. If you want a more natural reliever for stomach issues, Ginger is your bestie. Tea, candies, get a product you can tolerate and keep it handy. If there is a ginger candy id reccomend, it would be Gin-Gin's, but specifically the hard candy kind. The flavor is somewhat strong but it's easy to get used to when your bod gets to know it helps (or u can just. Cronch) ginger is the main one i remember currently but research into what can alleviate naturally is worth it, cuz sometimes it's all you need on a decently troubled day!

8. Things like tums can also help, worse comes to worse take some ibuprofen with it too. Pain is best not endured is the motto.

Anyways, that's the advice i have! I hope it helps, pretty please take care and reach out to those that can support you! You deserve to lead as painless of an existence as possible. Gn! - 🦓

marry me right now 💍

YES omg so i am doing some of these things (seeing a GI again, taking ginger frequently (550 mg pills once a day)) but i know i need to get my ass in gear & start logging what i eat & stuff (a little late to do it ten days before my appointment but anything works i guess?)

i did not know that about bread or probiotic stuff and i've been curious about allergy testing for a little while now. i suspect red sauce might be troublesome?? but that's just because that's what i was told is troublesome so. idk LMAO. spicy food is obviously a no go, i will never eat spicy things again unfortunately

all in all your message is very appreciated!!! i have never gotten a thorough bullet list of tips like this before & tbh coming from an actual person it is more helpful than just rereading medical websites over & over and not knowing what's true or what's not u know. i am proposing right now

#ask to tag #illness tw #food tw #not sure what to tag this as i'm sorry bros 😭#long post #asks for me #gastrointestinal #health talk

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catsnuggler · 3 years

Text

I'll pray for my living grandmother...

She's in the hospital, needs surgery on her digestive system, but her heart is weak.

She looks older and weaker than I remember... her hair is so wispy and white, less life is visible in her face and eyes...

I'll pray for her. I'll pray that she lives what years or months she may have left peacefully, or that, if she is to die, that she does so painlessly.

If she dies, I'll no longer have any living grandmothers, save for my maternal step-grandmother, who is a right-wing kook who I can hardly stand in short bursts.

If she dies, my father will finally understand, to some extent, what it's like to live without your mother. Except... he was raised by her, for good and for ill. She was abusive to him. She was part of the cycle of abuse that passed from her to him, him to me. But he also sincerely loves her, and she's mellowed out over the years.

It took a few days - until this morning, as a matter of fact - for the possibility of her death, and what that would mean, to register to me sufficiently enough to issue tears from my eyes, to feel the burning, wet heat of the sorrow of imminent grief as it slid down my cheeks.

I hope she doesn't die, except if immediate, painless death would spare her a prolonged and painful one. But I fear for her, and I don't want her to die, as foolish a wish as that is, as inevitable as death is for us all... a lesson I learned when I was 7. The very reason I turned to worship a god of death once I finally left the foolishness, the ignorance, the hubris, vanity, and puritanism of Mormonism.

Eir give her strength, and, failing that, may Hel provide her a warm welcome in her hall.

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mattzerella-sticks · 4 years

Text

Desperation, Baby! (coda to 15x19 “Inherit the Earth”, Dean & Lucifer, Dean/Cas, 2.3k, T)

ao3 link

Death took her sweet time parsing through Chuck's book, meaning Lucifer spent longer than he'd like surrounded by his former vessel, his brother, his son, and a man whose obvious longing made him want to vomit. Instead of returning with his prize, Chuck welcoming him back, he must waste his valuable time playing 'nice; with those he can't stand.

Not that it matters. They don't trust him, each member of this ragtag group of survivors watching Lucifer in shifts. Never leaving him alone.

It's Dean's turn now, and he's driving Lucifer up a wall by doing nothing at all save for broadcasting a never-ending supply of feeling. Can he cut the signal without showing his hand, or put Dean's heart to good use?

It’s pathetic, truly. Lucifer huffs, deflating, sinking further into his seat. Weighed down by obscene amounts of longing that poured freely off Dean like a broken hydrant. Funneled into his awareness because its usual drain was cordoned forever. It flooded these now silent angelic air waves, Lucifer growing more annoyed with each, excruciating second. Until, finally, “Holy hell, can you please quit it?”

Dean startles from where he stood, jaw tensing. Mouth flattening in a thin line as he glares, “What?”

“Quit. It. Quitit!” He hisses, leaning forward. Stretches his arms across the table, reaching for Dean. Fingers twitching, Lucifer imagines Dean’s neck between them. “Seriously, you’re giving me a migraine with all your feelings.”

“Good.” Dean surprises Lucifer with his response. No attempted denial, nor misdirection. His gaze unflinchingly pierced through Lucifer’s vessel, pride bolstering its blow. Lucifer cannot detect any shame that usually clings to his soul, none of that smell lingering. He’s grown since they’ve last seen each other. Stunning character development. “Deserve it, after that dick move you pulled earlier.”

“You still upset about that?” Scoffing, Lucifer rises. Meanders across the room towards Dean, gaze never straying. Easy since it’s only them. “I thought my gift would have more than made up for that.” He grins, rocking on his heels. A breadth of space separates them now. “How else was I supposed to get in, anyway?” he continues, “Not like if I called as myself you’d’ve rolled out the welcome mat.”

“But… Cas?” Lucifer savors the taste of his brother’s name, drenched in sadness. Ripped from Dean’s heart in a barely controlled sob.

“Nasty habit,” he giggles, “Though the results speak for themselves. I mean – you know how easy it was smooth-talking little Sammy when I looked like his ol’ flame, Jess?” Dean doesn’t laugh, snarled lip suffocating Lucifer’s airy mirth. “You’re no fun.”

“Sorry,” Dean growls, “why don’t you try later when the world’s not ending.”

“It’s always ending. In one way or another.” Lucifer waves his hand and a chair drags itself over. He straddles it, gazing up at Dean. “If we waited for peace to enjoy life, there’d be no time. Better to… say what’s in your heart, even if it kills you.” He frowns, mockingly, “Or in Castiel’s case… did kill him.”

Dean slams his fist against the wall. “You have no right –“

“Timeout there,” Lucifer smirks, eyes glowing red. Reflection of Dean’s entire face, blood rapidly swelling his cheeks. “Don’t want to do anything you’ll regret…” He holds Dean there, frozen, waits until the other man seems calm. Dips his head, tries catching Dean’s gaze. “If I let you go, will you behave?” Dean remains silent, yet Lucifer hears him. Tunes into his frequency, actively sifting through his frenzied emotions. “Seriously,” he lets Dean go, hunter falling on his ass, “how are we supposed to work as a team if you’re not willing to cooperate?”

“This… isn’t a team,” Dean spits, “you’re working… with the Empty.”

“And the Empty’s trying to take Chuck out!” he argues, “So, enemy of my enemy is my friend or all that nonsense –“

“Go to hell.”

“I wish I could, but I’m kinda on a short leash.” Bored with Dean’s resistance, Lucifer threads his next few words with seriousness. “Listen, once Betty’s done with the book I’ll flit on out of here and one, two, three – humanity is saved from dear, ol’ dad! We can make this all painless if you’d just trust me, or we can keep doing what we’re doing. I, personally, am tired of this bullshit. Rather be napping back in the Empty, but no…”

“You should be.”

“Beg pardon?”

Dean bares his teeth, roiling hatred knocking Lucifer back a few inches. “You should still be sleeping, back there,” he says, “if anyone were supposed to come back, it’d be Cas. Not… you…”

“Ah, Castiel, yes…” Lucifer sighs, “that would make sense, wouldn’t it? Of course, he lacks my raw power and charm, but… yes, you’d trust anything that he said.” Hand on his throat, he affects his vocal cords. Mimicking the other angel’s gravelly tone again, “Dean, please go along with Lucifer’s wishes and help him –“

“Enough!” Dean kicks at a chair leg, interrupting Lucifer. Tears threaten to pour, dangling from his lashes like morning dew. “If you really wanna play nice, you’d stop doing that.”

“This is nice, buddy.” Lucifer pokes at Dean’s leg with the toe of his boot. “Why don’t you grow some thick skin, huh? Where’s the real Dean Winchester? That tough guy with endless bravado instead of this sad, sorry piece of shit that’s pining after some dead guy?”

Dean turns, Adam’s apple bobbing. “That isn’t me. I… he never was.” An intimate confession whispered into ancient brickwork. Meaningful for a different crowd. Except Lucifer shows little care, sarcastic clapping shattering Dean’s moment.

“Wow, Dean… really fantastic. Amazing!” He climbs off the chair, crouching closer. Tongue dragged over his lips, smile wide. “Your verbose diction astounds me… did you whip that together after my brother got dragged into super hell? Are you still workshopping it – okay if I give you a few notes?” Lucifer pinches Dean’s cheek, poking this rabid grizzly. “At least you’ve got that face. Clearly Cas didn’t fall for your emotional maturity, your observational prowess or timing…”

He weakly bats Lucifer off him, “You don’t know anything…”

“I think I know quite a lot,” Lucifer challenges him, “Between the both of us, only I managed to slip inside my tight-ass little brother. Probably why I knew all his little… perversions, although it was clear as day how he felt about you to everyone – well… almost everyone.” His hand settles on Dean’s chest, atop his heart. “Do you know amazing it was, when I slipped my blade through him? You were a buffet that night… fear, relief, hope… despair. I could’ve ended him in that other dimension, but I waited until he crossed back. Knew how much more painful it’d be.”

“Monster,” Dean says, “Fucking psychopath.”

“The old me, maybe.” Lucifer teleports, sitting on a nearby table. Legs absentmindedly pedaling, stirring confusion within Dean. “But I’ve been reborn on the right side, Dean. Nobler. I’ve got purpose.”

“You’ve got a load of shit,” he accuses, standing on shaky legs, “that you’re trying to sell me. Us.”

“Come on!” Lucifer groans, hands flying skyward, “Isn’t this supposed to be your eleventh hour? How can you be so stubborn? Here I come, with a Hail Mary, and you’re turning your nose up at me like some snob. Like you have better options waiting. All because you won’t work with the Empty –“

“It’s not just that,” Dean corrects him, “I also don’t want to work with you.”

He crosses his arms, pouting. “You’re gonna have to suck that up. So the Empty wouldn’t send your boytoy, do you blame them? For a broken, little thing he sure is popular. Who’s to say Cas’d come back once this all wraps up? At least the Empty trusts me.”

“I guess something has to.”

“You can, too, if you want.” Lucifer casts his reel wide, waiting. Eyebrows waggling like baited worms. “It’d be a hell lot easier than what you’re doing now. Come on…” he needles, “why is it so hard to believe in miracles?”

“Please…” Dean says, hiding his face behind his knees. Arms circled around his legs, curled into a ball. “Stop talking.”

He relents for the time being. Proud of what cracks in Dean’s armor he made. When Chuck sent him, he asked Lucifer to ruffle a few feathers. Mess with their heads, ensure this ragtag group of losers would stay down. Accept their fate, end this miserable experiment called humanity in sadness. “Don’t provoke them too much, though,” Chuck warned, fists curled along his jacket’s lapels, “Betrayals only work when the other side doesn’t expect them. Plot’s stretched thin as it is, bringing you back doesn’t really make sense –“

“I love you too, dad.”

“That’s why you need to lay it on thick,” he said, “steer them away from why, keep the action moving.”

Lucifer stared down at his father, frowning. “Anything else you need?”

“No,” Chuck clapped Lucifer’s shoulder, nodding. “Just be yourself.”

Except none of them wanted him. Especially Dean. He wanted… Castiel.

It’s a little off-script, but Lucifer bets Chuck will enjoy what he plans. Even if it’ll involve his least favorite character. Lucifer hops off the table, grace burning across his body. Razing this vessel’s form, stealing its characteristics and distinguishability. A tall mound of clay left that he molds into a new body. Darker hair, sturdier frame, and bluer eyes. “Dean,” he says, swallowing his laughter. “Dean…” He tries again, sounding exactly like him.

Like Castiel.

Dean tenses, “Cas?” Barely audible, Lucifer strained to hear his prayer. That hope, sweetness quickly bittering as Dean digests the scene. “No…” he sighs, mumbling into his legs. “Lucifer, thought I told you to quit it.”

“Lucifer is gone, Dean,” he lies, kneeling. “I’m here… please, Dean, look at me.” Lucifer grabs at Dean’s head, thankful the other man lets him. Green finds masked-blue, their ‘reunion’ drawing a pained breath.

“What?” Dean asks, a single tear slipping free. Trails along his cheek until it falls off his chin. “How – how is this happening?”

“Because of you, Dean.” Lucifer’s hands shift, a thumb smearing that tearstain while he runs fingers through Dean’s hair. “You refused Lucifer’s help, even though what he said was true. The Empty saw and decided, if we were to truly end Chuck, the risk of sending me will be worth it.” Expression darkening, Lucifer leans into dramatics. Lips quivering as he recites his next line, “Though not without conditions, Dean – I… you know I can’t stay, right?”

“You will,” he says, “Cas – we will… if this book really can end Chuck, and we take him out, what can the Empty do –“

“Take you,” Lucifer cuts him off. “Take you… Sam, and Jack. I step even an inch out of line and we all get sucked into their being, with no hope of actually defeating my father.” He nearly breaks character, watching how the light in Dean’s eyes flickered before being snuffed. Lucifer regains composure, growling his next words. “You understand this, then? What it means?”

Dean nods, snaking his hands across Lucifer’s wrists. “Means we don’t have long,” he barks, squeezing tight. “I have to set it right, right now.”

“Dean –“

“No, Cas,” Dean talks over him, guiding Lucifer’s hands off where they rested. Silences the disguised archangel by chaining him, making Lucifer a helpless victim. Awe real as he waits for Dean, cowed by longing powerful than his earlier annoyance. “I… I need to get through this because – well, the last time you didn’t let me get a word in edgewise and I, there was a lot left unsaid that I don’t want to stay that way. If we can’t have a future, then at least… at least we have here.” He laughs, choking on it. More tears dance their way down.

“When you told me you loved me, I couldn’t believe it,” Dean confesses, “and then, when you told me why I – I was… I believed that less. I mean, you… you’ve listened to your heart more than I have. Even if a few of those times it was wrong, everything you did was for love. Knowing you was – that was my happiness. Having you, in whatever way you’d let me. Because there you were, this shining beacon, and for some reason you kept on letting me bask in your glow. I felt I… I didn’t deserve it. That I didn’t deserve you.”

Dean brings Lucifer’s knuckles to his lips, pressing a light kiss along a patch of skin. The gesture disgusts him. “And you were right about how – I thought of myself so… so poorly, it kept me from saying and – and doing things I wish I’d done sooner. All my life I thought there were things I couldn’t have, rules I had to live by, and I never questioned them until you saved me from hell. Literal and figurative. Because of you, I wanted to be a better person. I wanted to be good. But I never believed I could. Then you tell me you loved me… because I was good. I already was the kind of person I thought seemed impossible. I couldn’t believe it. What’s stranger… I didn’t have to believe it, to know it’s true.” Dean smiles at him, Lucifer mirroring his gesture though it pained him. “I’m the person I always wished I could be, and even when you’re gone I’ll still be that person. I’ll miss you, Cas. Always. I’ll miss you, and I’ll love you. I’ll love you always.”

It happens before Lucifer realizes. Distracted, nauseated by Dean’s powerful emotions, he missed how a hand snuck its way towards his neck. Pinched there, startling him. In that second, Dean forces Lucifer into an embrace. Lips crashing together, Lucifer stays frozen while Dean attacks his mouth. Mewling, whimpering.

Disgusting.

He pulls the curtains back, reverting to his previous form. Delights in how Dean senses the change, peeking with one eye as Castiel’s face vanishes. The other man violently hurls himself to the side, gaping at him. “Why Dean,” Lucifer grins, awkwardness heavy in his tone, “if I had known that’s how you felt about me…”

Dean sobs, wiping at his lips. “How… what the –“

“You really thought I was Cas, didn’t you?” Laughing, Lucifer towers over him. “I figured you’d catch on but… I underestimated you. And for that I’m sorry.” He devours these new emotions radiating from Dean, eagerly lapping them up. “I’m also sorry that you’ve convinced you deserve a happy ending,” he twists the knife further. Dean flinches, turning. Fleeing. Lucifer shouts at his retreating figure. “That’s not your story, Dean! Don’t ask for more, be happy with what you have!”

Then, as he waits for his next babysitter, Lucifer’s eyes glow red. “Because soon enough… you won’t even have that.”

#supernatural #spn #spn15 #15x19 #15x19 coda #15x19 inherit the earth #dean winchester #lucifer #castiel #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #supernatural fanfic #deancas fanfic #spn fanfic

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debiteful · 4 years

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What’s your top 3 vore scenarios ✨ I’m just gonna send you asks now haha

Huzzah! Lol

And gosh.... in... order of fluffiness (maybe don't read the last one if you're sensetive). I will note that these probably change a lot since so much of my preferences is based in mood. Right now I'm on a bit of a mean streak, which isn't unusual, but if I was feeling tired or stressed I might prefer softer stuff.

Quick content warning since normally my posts aren't so diverse and I don't wanna squick peeps: fearplay, digestion, unwilling vore, g/t vore, belly bulge

Basically: pred all but garunteed to win, causing prey alarm, pain, or discomfort (as long as in meta i know they're into that), good mouthful of prey, belly bulge (best achieved with size shifting to get optimal size at each point).

Cuddling turning into unsurprising vore that the prey resists, but ends with more cuddles from this new angle. May or may not lead to a painless digestion for the ultimate submission/togetherness.

Giant (of any species with hands) toying with a prey that fits in their palm. Can pin them with thumb, dangle them, have them fairly restrained as they're popped into mouth. Tons of versatility and potential~

Last one under cut because I know there’s a lot of softies. Those super into gore/hard vore don’t get too excited, I’m just over cautious.

Agressive naga pred attacking much inferior prey (humanoid or naga too) and creeping into rather rough treatment leading to either healing or digestion. Bonus if there's enough of a bump for the pred to rest on after, like a body pillow. Not straight up hard vore since the one big piece is kinda a pro imo.

#soft vore #digestion #naga pred #fearplay #g/t vore #personal preferences #ask #answer #star anon #debiteful thoughts

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years

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03. Sight "please, just look at me" for xicheng ❤️❤️❤️ thank you so muuch also id like to let you know that i really enjoy all of your fics/ficlets

Finally, my first ace!Jiang Cheng fic. Thank you so much, dear anon

Jiang Cheng is shaking with nerves. He doesn’t want to do this, never wants to tell Lan Xichen anything that could make him not want Jiang Cheng, but he knows that he has to do this. It’s not fair to either of them if he doesn’t tell Lan Xichen that he’s ace, or so Yanli’s voice keeps saying in his head.

He probably should have done this during their first date, Jiang Cheng muses as he tries his hardest to make his hands stop shaking, but Lan Xichen has been so sweet and attentive and Jiang Cheng has been in love with him for years, so he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it then.

It’s biting him in the ass now, Jiang Cheng is aware of that.

But then the first date has turned into a second one and a third one, and all the while Jiang Cheng couldn’t bring himself to say it, to just tell Lan Xichen the truth, because he knows how it will end. And he’s not ready to see Lan Xichen leave yet.

But Yanli is right when she says it’s not fair to either of them, which brings Jiang Cheng here, in front of Lan Xichen’s doors, about to ruin the one good thing that happened to him.

Jiang Cheng has himself convinced that Lan Xichen isn’t home when the door in front of him is finally opened.

Lan Xichen seems surprised to see Jiang Cheng, or maybe he just notes how pale Jiang Cheng is, and it just blurts out of Jiang Cheng.

“I’m ace, I’m not sexually attracted to you and I will never sleep with you,” he rambles and sees how Lan Xichen’s eyes go wide.

“I’m late for my plane,” is not exactly the answer Jiang Cheng was expecting at that, but when his eyes fall on the suitcase behind Lan Xichen he remembers that Lan Xichen talked about a business trip on their last date.

It would be just Jiang Cheng’s luck to catch him at this time.

“Oh, I see,” he weakly gives back and steps aside to let Lan Xichen out of his apartment.

“Wanyin, I really have to leave right now, but we’ll talk about this when I get back, okay?” Lan Xichen asks and Jiang Cheng forces himself to smile at Lan Xichen.

They will not talk when he gets back, and they both know it.

This is it, this is how the best thing in Jiang Cheng’s life walks out on him with no intention to come back.

“Of course,” he still says, because he’s not going to make a scene when Lan Xichen is already late. He’s more mature than that.

“I’ll meet you when I get back,” Lan Xichen says as he leans forward and softly presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s cheek.

“Fly safe,” Jiang Cheng can hear himself say on autopilot, because he’s too busy clinging to the feeling of Lan Xichen’s lips against his skin.

He knows it will be the last time.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is looking over some reports he brought back home with him, when he suddenly hears Lan Xichen’s voice outside his room.

He immediately tenses, and hopes to all the gods that he is just there to drop of Lan Wangji or something, but of course Jiang Cheng isn’t that lucky because a second later his door opens.

“Jiang Cheng,” Lan Xichen greets him and Jiang Cheng only shortly looks at him.

He is still as beautiful as he has been last week, and really, why shouldn’t he be.

“Lan Xichen,” he gives back, though Jiang Cheng turns his eyes back down on his report.

He can’t look at him. He knows what’s coming and he would rather Lan Xichen did it quick and painless and doesn’t drag it out.

Honestly, Jiang Cheng has been expecting a message all week, telling him that this is it, that Lan Xichen doesn’t want to see him again. It never came, but of course Lan Xichen would rather do this in person. Even though Jiang Cheng wishes he wouldn’t.

“Wanyin,” Lan Xichen softly says and Jiang Cheng’s mouth twists at hearing his name from Lan Xichen like that.

Why can’t he just makes this easy, get it over and done with, and not shred Jiang Cheng’s heart any further.

“Just say it Lan Xichen,” Jiang Cheng snaps and grips the report in front of him so tightly he’s afraid it might rip. He would never hear the end of it if that happens, so he consciously forces himself to relax his hands.

“Say what?” Lan Xichen wants to know and Jiang Cheng knows he’s still looking at him, can feel Lan Xichen’s eyes all over him.

“Don’t play dumb,” Jiang Cheng tells him. “I know you’re here to break up with me.”

Jiang Cheng cringes at his own phrasing because for Lan Xichen to dump him, there must have been a relationship first, and they never defined what they are.

“Won’t you even look at me?” Lan Xichen asks instead of reacting to what Jiang Cheng has said, but Jiang Cheng keeps his eyes resolutely down.

He’s not going to look at Lan Xichen. It hurts enough as it is.

“Just get it over with,” Jiang Cheng mutters and he startles badly when a soft hand covers his, still clenched around the report.

“Please, just look at me,” Lan Xichen coaxes again and Jiang Cheng is helpless but to obey the softly muttered plea.

Lan Xichen looks entirely too good for someone who is about to crush Jiang Cheng’s heart.

“What?” Jiang Cheng demands when Lan Xichen doesn’t say something and Lan Xichen sighs before he intertwines their fingers together.

“I said we would talk about this when I get back,” he says and pulls Jiang Cheng up and over to the couch. “So let’s talk.”

“You--want to talk about it,” Jiang Cheng dumbly repeats and he cannot believe his ears.

Lan Xichen had a whole week to decide that Jiang Cheng and his stupid issues and his sexuality weren’t for him. What is there to talk about?

“Yes,” Lan Xichen says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “It was kind of a big thing you dropped on me at a very bad time.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Jiang Cheng mutters as he sits down next to Lan Xichen. “I didn’t think. I forgot you were going on that work trip.”

“And you were nervous,” Lan Xichen says what Jiang Cheng cannot and Jiang Cheng nods.

“I looked it up, asexuality,” Lan Xichen goes on and Jiang Cheng frowns at him.

“You were on a work trip,” he says, because Lan Xichen is very diligent about his work.

“And I might have been more distracted than normally,” Lan Xichen easily gives back.

“Alright, what’s the verdict?” Jiang Cheng flippantly asks. “Too much of a bleak prospect for you, never sleeping with me?”

Jiang Cheng tries to keep his voice even, but his heart is hammering in his chest. His partners in the past have stated very clearly that, if they don’t get to sleep with Jiang Cheng at one point, there is nothing holding them by his side. Apparently, his personality can only be tolerated by the promise of sex.

“Not at all,” Lan Xichen gently gives back and raises their still intertwined hands to kiss the back of Jiang Cheng’s. “But I do have a few more questions.”

“What do you mean ‘not at all’?” Jiang Cheng says, blinking owlishly at Lan Xichen because it cannot be true what he is saying.

“Wanyin, sex is not what defines a relationship, and I honestly refuse to let it be the one thing that comes between us. I’ve been in love with you for too long to care about that.”

“You’ve been what?” Jiang Cheng dumbfoundedly asks, because things like this don’t happen.

He has been in love with Lan Xichen for years. Not the other way around.

“In love with you,” Lan Xichen patiently gives back. “For years now. I’m sorry I never said it before.”

“That’s okay,” Jiang Cheng whispers, still digesting the fact that Lan Xichen apparently feels the same about him and then he finally relaxes on the couch.

“So it’s not a hard no,” he says, just to be sure and Lan Xichen tugs him into his side which Jiang Cheng allows.

“It’s not even a soft no,” Lan Xichen reassures him. “But I do have questions, and we should talk about what you’re comfortable with.”

“What about what you are comfortable with?”

“I have you by my side. I am very comfortable,” Lan Xichen gives back without hesitation and Jiang Cheng turns his head into his chest to hide the flush that’s spreading out on his face.

He cannot believe that he gets to have this.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lan Xichen reassures him, a hand at the base of his neck as he presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Good,” Jiang Cheng mutters into his shirt. “Because I’m in love with you, too, and I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“Well, that sounds like a good, solid basis for a relationship,” Lan Xichen says and Jiang Cheng melts against him completely.

“It does,” he agrees and then they fall into a comfortable silence.

There will be questions, and Jiang Cheng might even be ready for them later, but right now, nothing tops this.

And nothing ever will.

[Five senses sentence starters]

#bt writes #xicheng #the untamed #mdzs #ace!jc #getting together #kind of #hurt/comfort #anon #Anonymous

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darth-salem-emperor-of-earth · 4 years

Text

Not sure if I’m late or not but here is my latest entry for @naruto-fantasy-week, a prompt for Day 5! I doubt I’ll have enough time to eek out fanfics with the last two prompts before the event ends but I’ll eventually write them and post them anyway and go back to this fanfic and the previous to spruce them up and expand on the ideas I came up with for each fanfic/prompt.

There is some violence mentioned and acted upon, especially in the end, but it’s nothing too graphic. And as a fun tidbit, cantarella was a poison rumored to be used by the Borgias but since there’s not a whole lot of evidence the poison exists, I took artistic license with it to suit my purpose of this story.

The title derives from the lyrics of Nightwish’s song “7 Days to the Wolves”.

Summary: He was a man of many faces, shapes, and ideas. Unfortunately, shapeshifters like him were a prize to be captured and then used for gladiator arenas. While he was used to the killing that didn’t mean Orochimaru never stopped contemplating his revenge. Who would have thought he would find another shapeshifter hidden right under Danzo’s nose? Naruto Fantasy Week, Day 5. Prompt: Shapeshifters. [Orochimaru x Sakura]

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“Serpents were in my heart.” — Mary Shelley, The Mortal Immortal

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The white wyrm rested, and waited, in anticipation for that small cellar door to open and here the sounds of the humans issuing orders at him, telling him how lucky he was that a wretched snake, a shapeshifter, continued to live under the generous hospitality of Danzo, and if he continued to do his part in the fighting pits, he would be fed and not lose any of his scales.

Orochimaru snarled at the door, wishing he could snap the wood in two and break the bones of the sentries posted outside his door. He heard that same annoying speech approximately 5475 times, once a day, for the last fifteen years. And sometimes they lied, for after battles, if he ended the match too quickly or gave his hapless opponent a swift, clean, and painless death, they’d drug him and pry a few of his white scales off, while the magic they used to bind and control his shapeshifting restrained him from unable to lash out. Such actions served to not only remind Orochimaru of who was in charge of his life and to sell his pearlescent scales to the highest bidder, adding a hefty, lucrative amount to Danzo’s coffers.

One of these days, he was going to swallow Danzo whole and let that fool slowly digest in his stomach. His death would be slow, agonizing, and very satisfying.

A guard eventually did open his chamber door, recited the boring, useless drivel Orochimaru heard over thousand times before nodding over to the masked mage at his side. The unknown mage wore a rodent-like mask, different from the last mage who temporarily lifted the block on his shapeshifting.

“Danzo requests your presence, your human presence, at his side. The next match is starting soon.” informed the masked mage once the yellow glow departed from his outstretched hand. Orochimaru narrowed his slitted golden eyes dangerously. He remembered what happened when they first allowed him to change shapes, to assume his human form. He acted all compliant and understanding, lulling them in a false sense of security right before he first bite off the head of the mage, then a nearby guard, before shifting out of his wyrm body and back into his human self to escape the narrow door and grab the first weapon he could find to slay the other guard who was about to raise the alarm of his escape. He was eventually recaptured before he could leave the keep, home of the fighting pits, and was whipped brutally for his attempt. Yet through it all, Orochimaru still had to laugh bitterly at their earlier carelessness. Did they not forget who he was and why Danzo decided to let him live after his greatest transgression (besides being a shapeshifter)?

Before the village discovered his identity of a shapeshifter–creatures the elders condemned as monsters, only fit for extermination–, he was a trained warrior, a skilled killer who served the town while keeping his snake-like gilded eyes hidden in his youth through glamor or shaded spectacles. His parents could hide their natural heritage and appearances better with simple alterations and had no need for glamor, since they were older and more experienced shapeshifters. Yet all their years of experience and aptitude didn’t save them from being slaughtered–by the orders of Danzo. And Sarutobi, the village’s main leader, Orochimaru’s very teacher, turned a blind eye, and let the cloak-and-dagger execution happen. And then promptly turned around to lie to his young pupil’s grief-stricken face about his parents’ deaths.

He didn’t regret killing that old bastard for lying to him after all those years. He may have not wanted his parents to die or issued the decree but his negligence, his cowardice, and acceptance of shapeshifters being lesser beings, like animals, made him just as guilty as Danzo, who hung up his parents’ skins up on his office for all to see. He had forced one of them to turn into a large serpent and the other, a small dragon, all so he could use their hide as a trophy. Such disfigurement was the most traumatizing death any shapeshifter could experience, especially if their corpse was paraded around like a proud prize for humans to gawk at.

Orochimaru was left alone in his cell once more so he could transform back into a human and change into the clothes that were left for him. Those robes were always placed so neatly in the corner, waiting for him, when he was permitted to be human. His scaly body was soon a tall, lean pale man with long, silky black hair, and he kept his signature, curved golden eyes with dark purple markings around the eyelids. Everyone already knew who he really was so why bother mask his true appearance?

By the time he was escorted and brought to Danzo, the power-hungry man was already barking orders at the serving girls to bring him more sake and food. For Orochimaru, he simply inclined his head, inviting him to take a seat and watch the upcoming match. Just like always, whenever he planned to sic some unfortunate soul in the ring with him, as a wyrm. He wanted Orochimaru to study the gladiator’s fighting techniques and movements beforehand, a sure sign that he wanted his opponent to die in the battle arena.

Most likely a political opponent of Danzo’s or a dissenter he labeled as a ‘traitor’. My, my, he’s finding so many of them these days.

The fighter down below was fast, Orochimaru would give him that, but strategy was not his forte. He dodged most of his larger foe’s attacks and was more of the type to wear his assailant down until they became exhausted and made mistakes. And he repeated his defensive blows often, another tactical error. Basically, his onslaught with him would hardly be a worthy match.

Sighing in disappointment, Orochimaru helped himself to a goblet of water, draining its contents dry before setting the cup back down. As if on cue, one of the serving maids rushed up to him to refill his drink. He turned around, about to politely thank her (after all, unlike some, he actually had manners), and he heard a sharp intake of breath. When a pink haired server came into his line of vision, his nostrils flared, and her green eyes stared at him surprise. He understood her reaction.

Here, amidst Danzo’s private posse of servants, trusted men, and soldiers, was another shapeshifter. And unlike him, she was not branded or wearing chains that restricted or prohibited her from transforming into other animals or people. Which meant…

Danzo doesn’t know she’s a shapeshifter. How bloody rich.

If he wasn’t in the presence of Danzo’s oh so charming company, he’d laugh viciously at the irony right there, on the spot.

The girl–no, young woman–whoever she was, fumbled with the pitcher during her moment of distraction and quickly averted her gaze to focus on not making an entire mess of the water and attracting the unwanted attention of Danzo. Meanwhile, as she concentrated solely on watching the water rise in his metallic goblet, Orochimaru leaned forwarded and whispered in her ear.

“Be careful, little one. Better stick to the shadows, lest someone gets suspicious and uncovers your secret. Then you’ll be chained, just like me.”

That mocking warning startled her but she uttered nothing. She merely finished filling up his cup and returned to her original location, off to the corner and out of sight. Yet she did sneak a glance over her shoulder to get a glimpse of him one more time before she returned to her duties and he resumed his bored review of the fighting before him. Hopefully, that fledgling shapeshifter had enough sense in her to realize she risked more than just her life staying here and would quit the village in the dead of the night.

There was no need for this putrid city to have two shapeshifters under their control or be responsible for another’s one death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was wrong about the other shapeshifter.

She must be lacking wits, to sneak past all the guards just so she could creep into his cell and offer him water and leftover food from the kitchens. Some might call her courageous but all Orochimaru beheld was a foolhardy woman who should have left Danzo’s service, packed her bags, and left this godforsaken place already.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he hissed, revealing his rows of sharp, venomous teeth.

The roseate haired shapeshifter ignored him, setting down a jug of water, scraps of chicken, pheasant, beef, and wild boar. The tender, seasoned meats and the spices cooked into its juices wafted through his nose and he eyed the meal curiously.

“I never thought I would see another shapeshifter,” she began, inching the food tray closer to him. “Especially one imprisoned by Danzo. I thought he had a strict ‘kill every single shapeshifter I see’ policy.”

He chuckled dryly. “He does, unless he wants to use you for his own purposes. But why are you here to see me? You risk torture and certain death should the guards notice you.”

“But I wanted to see you!” she protested. “I haven’t seen, much less talked to another shapeshifter in years. Especially one who could help me–teach me, that is!”

“Teach you what?” Orochimaru finally decided to sate his hunger and first devour the bits of pheasant, relieved to find that the chef didn’t use too much pepper and balanced the amount of herbs just right.

“To change into larger, stronger creatures,” she explained, verdant eyes sparkling with hope. “You see, I was adopted by humans and they didn’t know my true heritage. So I had to learn how to transform on my own or scavenge for any books left behind by shapeshifters for helpful tips. I can do small animals and creatures but nothing as big or impressive as this.” She gestured to his wyrm body.

That explains how she was able to skulk past all the sentries.

“Why should I help you?” Orochimaru cut in, cocking his big, heavy head at her. “Why stay here, talking to me, instead of departing this wretched town and start searching our own kind? Surely, someone there can help you better than I.”

Her green eyes leveled with his amber ones, resolute and dark. “Because I crave to kill that bastard Danzo and I believe you’ll help me do that. And besides, I want to help you escape this horrible place.”

She didn’t even know him and yet, she wanted to help set him free. This shapeshifter was a strange creature, but he understood the hunger for revenge. It was a language he fathomed all too well and the burning desire had kept him going for all these torturous fifteen years. Danzo expected him to try to escape again or at least, try to murder him, but he didn’t anticipate her. And that raised the odds a little in their favor.

“What an intriguing proposal,” he practically purred, his breathing fanning against her face and causing her pink hair to billow out behind her. “In exchange for me training you in how to change into more complex forms, you’ll help me escape from this dungeon, and somehow, together, we’ll kill Danzo. Is that correct?”

She nodded firmly. “Yes. And I don’t care how long the training takes. I want, no need, to master my shapeshifting.”

At least she was dedicated, eager to learn. Orochimaru couldn’t abide small-minded people and those who had no drive, no interest in acquiring more knowledge and skills.

Either way, he was trapped underneath the fighting pits, with nothing else better to do so why not? At least this way, he wouldn’t be so dreadfully bored.

“Very well, I will accept this offer. However, I will need to know the name of my pupil. It’s only polite after all.” He forked his long tongue at her, amused when he startled her a little.

“It’s Sakura.” She bowed her head in reverence. When was the last time someone gifted even a small measure of respect like that? “What’s yours? I need to know the name of my teacher too.”

He grinned wide, knowing full well his face probably appeared utterly monstrous and terrifying but to Sakura’s credit, she didn’t flinch or scramble away from him in supreme terror.

Good.

“Orochimaru. Now, let us begin with your first lesson.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Contrary to the popular belief among humans, shapeshifters didn’t magically obtain knowledge on how to transfer into every creature or animal in existence overnight. Each attempt took time, energy, training, and practice to learn, control, and master each form, so a shapeshifter could not only move and talk in their new form but stay in it for long periods of time. The same went to altering their human appearance or body completely.

So his lessons with Sakura continued for years as she made progress with more medium sized animals or changing her human self to the point no one would recognize her. He never inquired why she wanted Danzo dead so much because that was none of his business and right now, he was not that interested in prying into her personal affairs. In return, she never asked what he did to be imprisoned so cruelly by Danzo. However, he did not miss the way her eyes would linger over his old scars or small, open patches of flesh where his scales once were and her face would scrunch up into pure, indignant rage. It was adorable, actually.

Yet he could hardly say the same whenever she was too exhausted in her training to head back to her room and go to sleep in her bed. Instead, Sakura would simply collapse amidst his coiled, scaly body and wrapped her arms around him, almost as if she was giving him a hug. Part of her features were usually resting up against his neck, so near his face that half of the time Orochimaru was tempted to shake his head or move around to jostle Sakura out of her slumber but something always prevented him from doing so. Maybe it was pity seeing how weary she was, juggling her servant duties, making sure her identity as a shapeshifter is still a secret, and then sneaking into his cell during the night to receive more lessons from him. She probably didn’t even realize she was falling asleep on him. Regardless, Orochimaru allowed this habit of hers to continue and only waited a few hours later to carefully wake her up and remind her to get back to her room before the sun rose and the other servants inquired about her absence. The routine turned into a cycle he had no motivation to stop.

While Sakura was improving with her shapeshifting and finally could move onto the larger creatures, they began to discuss, in all seriousness and not just idle musing, about escaping and slaying Danzo in the process.

“Poison would be the surest way to kill him,” Sakura opined. “There are so many different varieties out there that are slow acting and don’t show any immediate signs of poison until after death. And I serve him his meals occasionally, right after he is given his medicine. I can always poison the drink he takes to wash the foul flavor of the concoction down. He wouldn’t be able to notice a difference in taste.”

“A fine idea but Danzo is a paranoid man, especially since he knows I want to kill him and many of my previous forms favored snakes, serpents, or dragon-like beasts. I’ve heard he boosted his immunity to several poisons so if we choose poorly and select the one he’s immune to, then we wasted our time.” Orochimaru pointed out, stretching out his long, cumbersome physique in this rather cramped cell.

Undaunted, Sakura still pressed the venom route. “What about poisons that will simply immobilize him and prevent him from speaking or moving for a long time? Surely he wouldn’t have spent his time increading his defense for poison that won’t kill him outright or over time.”

Cocking his head, Orochimaru regarded her curiously at her suggestion. If Danzo was paralyzed like that, preferably in his bed, those close to him would raise their suspicions that this wasn’t natural and the work of some curse or toxin. On the other hand, if they measured the dose correctly and timed its effect exactly, then it could be possible to have the old devil at their mercy. That is, if he was predicting Sakura’s plan accurately.

“Are you suggesting we use a poison that will paralyze sometime in the night, rendering him unable to defend himself or call for help as we kill him?” he stated, making sure they were on the same page.

Sakura nodded, eyes resolved, her face grim. “Yes. Do you think that scheme would work?”

“It could, if we can get our hands on this specific poison. Cantarella, I believe it’s called. Do you know where you can obtain some?” Creating cantarella on their own would take far too long and even though shapeshifters were blessed with longevity, Orochimaru did not want to take any more risks with these nighttime lessons of theirs. Sooner or later, someone would notice Sakura’s odd nocturnal routines and investigate. And such nosiness could get them both butchered.

“Yes, I know someone. He poses as a traveling merchant and has no love for Danzo or this village. He won’t ask questions if I purchase the cantarella from him.”

Orochimaru hummed with approval. “Good, that issue is taken care of. Now, onto the other snag in this scheme of ours.” Lifting his head up, he gestured to the thick, old, and heinous brand embedded in his upper torso, located right on his upper left chest if he was a man. “This brand and the chains that bind me here prevent me from transforming. Since none of us know how to remove the brand or negate it completely, we need one the sealing rings the mages use to control whether or not a shapeshifter can change their form.”

Moving away from her spot on the hard, damp ground, Sakura approached the branded section and gingerly reached out to touch it, tracing the design slowly. “I think I can get one. It might take me a few days or a week to butter up the mage but I have a plan.” She turned her head towards him. “Trust me on this. By the end of this week, I will get us that ring and once we have it, then all we have to do next is administer the cantarella.”

“And not get caught in the process,” Orochimaru reminded soberly. “If Danzo or one of his supporters catches wind of our plot, then we’re good as dead.”

And this time, Danzo will skin me for certain, wyrm form and all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His concern on Sakura’s unspoken plan to get a sealing ring from a mage was apparently groundless. For by the end of the week, after she entered his cell in the form of a cat, he glimpsed the ring in her mouth. She dropped the item in front of her, a triumphant beam on her feline visage before steadily changing back into the petite, muscled young woman with short, cropped rose hair and jade eyes.

“How long do we have before the mage starts searching for his missing ring?” was the first question Orochimaru asked, not touching the said ring right away. For years he longed to get his hands on this trinket, to use its powers to nullify the brand’s power and finally control his own shape for a change. It didn’t matter whether he or Sakura used the ring, the magic inside would work and he could shift back into his human self again or take the form of another animal. They were lucky the sorcery within those rings could be accessed by anyone with just a simple word, a word Orochimaru heard often enough with his now almost twenty years of imprisonment.

Contemplating his query, Sakura scrunched her nose up to concentration on her estimation on the amount of time they had left to enact their wild scheme. “I think we have until morning. The sleeping potion I gave him will leave him knocked out the rest of the evening and night.”

Sleeping potion? If he had eyebrows in his wyrm form, Orochimary would have risen both of them. Only those who possessed enough knowledge and skills in medicine would boost such confidence in the lasting effects of a sleeping potion. No mere amateur could create a legitimate concoction that would actually work.

Sakura never ceased to surprise him.

“A shapeshifter and a practitioner of medicine? My, my, you must have an interesting story to tell. I must say, I’m rather impressed with your skillset.” Orochimaru remarked. He remembered a former comrade-in-arms who was a combat medic, the first in her line of work. By the time he murdered their former teacher, Sarutobi, she had already left the town and roamed the countryside to be with her lover, a civilian named Dan. If Danzo was now fully dominating this town, she would have been aghast and then incensed what became of her home.

Orochimaru hadn’t thought about Tsunade for a long time. Being chained in a dungeon and used for gladiatorial matches had a peculiar way of warping one’s memories and perception of time, it seemed.

Sakura brightened at his praise, the luster in her eyes practically illuminating his dim, dusky cell. “I’m happy to hear that, Orochimaru. Sleeping potion can be chancy, especially mixed with alcohol, but the mage I was charming earlier already wanted to spend some time alone with me after his shift. Getting the sleeping potion was actually harder than mixing it into his ale. By the time he wakes up tomorrow, he won't remember if we had a wild night or not.”

Mocking laughter percolated from the back of Orochimaru’s long, thick throat. Undone by the lust in his own loins. How insipidly easy.

“As long he won’t recall clearly and the potion lasts, we have our chance.” He nodded to the ring on the ground. “Use that thing on me. It’ll be easier for you to release the binding seal on me rather than myself.” His tail or mouth were much too enormous to hold the ring securely with dropping it or accidentally swallowing it. “All you need to do is chant ‘Release’ and I should be able to change my form at will.”

Sakura gifted him a skeptical look. “The word to use is ‘release’? Nothing else? Nothing more complicated?”

“I never said the mages under Danzo’s control were intelligent. Most of them are mindless drones. Danzo mass produces those rings to help all of his soldiers and assassins combat shapeshifters so of course he wants them to be easy to utilize.”

She glared at the offending ring on the ground prior to picking it up and slipping it under her finger. Her mouth opened and formed the lone word, her voice low, soft, but commanding.

“Release!”

He felt the brand heat up, the pin-prickling warmth uncomfortable at first prior to evanescing away into nothing. The shadow of control the brand had always rendered inside his mind and body was gone, replaced with an empty sensation that there was no magic this time to stop him from shifting.

His body grew smaller and assumed a new shape. His alabaster scales became white skin, long, luxurious hair the color of jet black cascading effortlessly down his scalp and past his shoulders and back, and he relished the feel of arms, legs, hands, and feet. The only part of him that remained the same was his golden eyes, outlined by violet markings.

Sakura stared up at him in wonder, holding the ring up for him to take and use for his own protection. “I’ve never seen you shapeshift before. You did so flawlessly...it’s like watching water move on its own.”

An indulgent half-smile slithered across his lips, accepting the ring and dropping the trinket over his pointer finger. “If you live long enough as I have, then you’ll be able to shift your body as swiftly and deftly as me.” His eyes roamed past Sakuraand over to the cell door behind them. There were no guards around but they still had to be cautious. They were so close to the final stages of their plot.

“I take it since you made plans to snatch this ring that you already are in possession of the cantarella?”

She nodded. “Yes, and I’ve been scheduled to bring Danzo his meal and drink tonight, with the physician who will feed him his medicine.” A black smirk spread across her fair visage. “I will be needed for this duty in less than an hour.”

He expected such news but the information was so welcoming and pleasing to him that his half-grin soon morphed into a smirk identical to hers. “Perfect. Go and make the preparations and let me know when it’s done. When night has fallen, we will shapeshift into an unnoticeable animal to enter his room. After that…” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if the two of them would just be wishing Danzo goodnight instead of murdering him in his bed. But the sinister, vindictive gleam in both of their gazes belied the softness of his tone. Orochimaru could imagine Danzo’s blood on his hands, coating the entire wall in a crimson palette. “Well, let’s give the people of this...amusing establishment something to chat about tomorrow morning.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The priceless, alarmed look in Danzo’s eyes would be forever burned in Orochimaru’s mind. There was a small fragrance of fear emitting from the usually prideful, smug hunter of shapeshifters, the tantalizing smell hovered so deliciously over him as the two shapeshifters approached the bed, a candle in both of their hands so Danzo could witness his assassins. The cantarella worked wonders for even now, Danzo could not move nor speak to save himself. All he could was listen. Listen and wait for his demise to come.

“I warned you all those years ago that killing me would have been wiser for you,” Orochimaru intoned darkly, his whispery words surely evoking the same memory from Danzo. The candlelight illuminated his amber eyes so clearly in the vacant darkness of the room. “But I shouldn’t be so rude and hog all the introductions. Sakura, dear, why don’t you jot Danzo’s recollection of you? Judging by the confused expression on his face, I say he doesn’t recall you.”

Danzo wheezed and grunted, mouth hanging up like a fish, but his fear was now replaced with utter rage.

In an instant, Sakura held a dagger over his chest, a silent snarl overcoming her mouth, her face promising no mercy and a slow, painful death. She glared at Danzo like he was vermin, not fit to even exist in this world. “I doubt you remember me, you bastard. Why would you, when you banned the women in this village the right to become warriors? And why would you care about some girl all those years ago, from a civilian family, who could not possibly be a threat to you? After all, it was her friend, that orphan boy whom the neighbors whispered about having shapeshifting powers and that he acted more like an animal than a boy? Isn’t that right?”

By now, in the midst of her ranting, Sakura had already begun to sink the blade into Danzo’s stomach and the old coot hacked, and then gurgled out wordless noises, his eyes wide as saucers. Although Danzo could not scream out his agony, Orochimaru still tore some of the bedsheets and stuffed them in his mouth, just in case. Sakura retracted her hand, only to plunge the dagger into another area of his abdomen once more.

“He was just a boy, Danzo! And he was my friend!” she growled, jade eyes ablaze with retribution, fury, contempt, and grief. Emotions Orochimaru comprehended all too well. He could never forget behelding his parents’ hides decorated in Danzo’s office, no matter how hard he tried. “His name was Naruto and you executed him for being a mischievous shapeshifter.” Again and again she stabbed, garnet holes oozing out of him and spreading outward to create morphless, endless streaks and designs, staining his clothes and sheets until the entire bed cover, once a bland beige color, now was dyed a deep burgundy hue. “But you missed one. You missed me, Sakura. All this time, I’ve been serving your food, pouring your drinks, and you didn’t fucking realize a shapeshifter was amongst you this whole time.” She spat in his wrinkled countenance, giving the dagger another savage twist before she rend the weapon out and handed the blade to Orochimaru.

Your turn, she seemed to convey.

He tilted his head at her as a silent ‘thank you’, the hilt of the sanguinary, jagged dagger warm, consoling, and solid against his palm. He rested the edge of the dagger against Danzo’s throat, the point delicately piercing the skin of that center bulge. “I know based on how much blood you have already lost thanks to Sakura’s wonderfully enthusiastic work that you don’t have long for this world. So in your last fleeting moments, I am going to fulfill my promise to you and take my pound of flesh.” Danzo’s eyes bulged in recognition, his chin soaked with his drool.

Orochimaru cackled. Excellent, he still remembers my first threat to him before he cast me into the dungeons.

“That’s right, Danzo. I’ve come to carve out your heart at last.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he and Sakura changed into bats and flew out of the open window Sakura had left ajar hours earlier, when she added the cantarella into Danzo’s drink, the sun was barely reaching the tips of the hills and bringing faint tinges of purples, pinks, and oranges to the night sky. By the time the servants opened the door and witnessed the gruesome display of what little remained of Danzo, the two shapeshifters would be a distant memory and far from the village’s reach.

“What will you do now that Danzo’s dead? You can shapeshift on your own quite well.”

At his question, Sakura frowned. “I’m not sure. I always assumed I’d die right after assassinating Danzo so I never really figured out the part of what comes next.” She combed through her lush, pink hair, her fingers untangling any stubborn knots. “But I recently heard some shapeshifters live away from humans and formed their settlement. Perhaps we could find them and live amongst them?”

Funny how she included him in her idea. Yet Orochimaru didn’t protest. It wasn’t as ifhe had any fine plans of his own and besides his parents, there was no one else in the world who cared about him. Save for Sakura.

“I suppose that idea has merit,” he admitted, pretending not to notice the delighted sparkle in her verdant gaze or the way her lips curled upwards in triumph. “Let’s give your plan a try and see if we’re lucky enough to find more of our own.”

Much to his surprise, she reached over to grab his hand and held onto it, a small smile gracing her lips. “Even if we don’t, we won’t be alone. I’m…” She swallowed briefly before resuming. “I’m grateful...and delighted to have you in my life, Orochimaru.”

He squeezed her hand fondly, the right words caught in his throat. So was he.

Regardless, Sakura understood his unspoken sentiment and continued to grin ever brighter for the rest of the day.

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