#male predador

[benjaminthewolf]

Living Up To Your Name (Vore Story)

Welp, this was one of the most difficult vore story projects I've ever tackled.

Mainly because of the battle scenes. Yeah, needless to say, battle scenes are hard to write.

But this is the Sky/landers franchise we're talking about. Fighting is kinda, ya know, their whole thing, so-

Word count: 7,623

WARNING: INJURY, SWEARING

     Astroblast gradually shifted his head around on his pillow as he let a muted, scratchy half-murmur half-gnarly-grumble vibrate itself around in his voice box for a few seconds. Reluctantly rolling his crystal body over on his bed so he was now lying upon his front, heaving out a mildly despondent sigh as he did, the light elemental Supercharger soon after attempted to let his mind drift away from hazy consciousness (just as he had done all throughout the same night, so be it), and enter eventually into a state of tranquil, steady slumber, so he could finally get some good rest for next morni- 

     *FWOOMP*

   “ASTROBLAST!”

      Automatically and instantly lurching upwards as an instinctively hysteric “AAAAH!” burst out of the crystalline man’s throat, Astroblast urgently shot open his eyes, and swung his head around his room so he could decisively figure out what was going on. As soon as he did this, he immediately realized two things.

     Firstly, and most importantly, the one, or actually, the ones who had screeched out his name, and caused this sheer panic as a result, was the three of Fiesta’s amigos. Despite all being tiny skeletons, they were currently breathing in and out very rapidly, whilst leaning against the frame of the door they had just broken open in tremendous exhaustion. 

     Secondly, Astroblast was able to figure out from the height and angle he was looking at them from that he had apparently activated subconsciously his anti-gravity floating ability from the shock, and was now hovering approximately two feet over his bed, still positioned with his front towards the ground, as a result. Also due to this, his white and gold-trimmed pajama shirt with “I Come In Peace” printed in its center was now visible to the trio. His pajama shorts were similarly visible, and possessed the same color palette. 

     In the time it had taken him to comprehend this second fact, however, one of the amigos, coincidentally, the one in the middle, aptly known as “Dos” had finally managed to catch his breath enough to speak up to Astroblast once more.

“WEDON’TKNOWHOWATALLBUTCOUNTMONEYBONECAPTUREDFIESTAANDHEALSOTOOKTHECRYPTCRUSHERANDFIESTASUMMONEDUSAFTERDISTRACTINGCOUNTMONEYBONESOWECOULDGETTHECRYPTCRUSHEROUTOFTHERESOWECOULDGETHELPANDNOWTHEY’REUPPASTSKYHIGHLANDSANDYOURSUNRUNNERISTHEONLYONETHATCANGOUPTHERECAUSEITSALIGHTELEMENTAREAANDTHESUNRUNNER’SALIGHTELEMENTVEHICLEANDWENEEDTOGOUPTHERERIGHTNOWORELSE-”

     “WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT-WAIT! SLOW DOWN!” Astroblast finally brought the incoherent ramble to a halt. “ALL I HEARD WAS ‘FIESTA’ AND ‘COUNT MONEYBONE’! WHAT HAPPENED, EXACTLY?”

     Realizing he was talking way too fast for Astroblast to keep up in the following moments, Dos promptly shut himself up, slapping his two skeletal hands over his mouth with an “E-” noise, before Uno, the amigo to his left, ultimately decided to speak up instead.

     “Uh…it's kind of a long story, so maybe it would be best if we told you while you’re getting out of your pajamas and into your space suit, and…grabbing your laser gun and all that.” he relayed to the Supercharger far more comprehensively.

      Taking a few moments to reorient himself after this proposal, and all of the utterly unhinged, non-stop madness that had come before it, Astroblast sighed out a far more calm and collected breath of “Okay…”, before giving a firm nod back to the amigos. Proceeding to float downwards towards the floor, maneuvering himself into an upright position as he did, Astroblast eventually stuck a landing in front of his closet, whilst allowing all of the initial shock of the moment to gradually flow out from his being. As he was reaching for the door handle, however, something suddenly perked up in his brain. 

     “Uhhh…do you think you guys can…” he awkwardly attempted to ask the little skeletons. “...turn around?”

     “What-OH! YEAH YEAH YEAH, OF COURSE!” Uno responded in sudden comprehension of what, exactly, the crystal man meant, before instantly swiveling around. Dos and Tres would resultantly follow shortly after, in a shared sense of mutual, implicit understanding.

     “So yeah, since we’re all magically linked with Fiesta, he kinda just filled us in on all the details mentally when he summoned us.” Tres began to explain. “So here’s basically what happened…”

****

     “OI!”

     “OI!”

     “OI!”

     “WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU BONEHEAD!

"...Heh. Literally..." 

"BUT GET YOUR BONY PELVIC ASS UP OFF THE FLOOR! I SAID OI!”

     “...”

     “ARE YOU IGNORING ME ON PURPOSE OR ARE YOU REALLY JUST THIS INEPT?”

“WAKE UP!”

     “.......................”

     “Alright, that’s it.”

     “¡DESPERTARSE, TÚ ESTÚPIDO CULERO HIJO DE LA FREGADA! ¡VETE A LA CHINGADA Y CHINGA TU MADRE! ¿TÚ OÍR, IDIOTA? ¡TU MAMA!”

     “*GYAAAAAAAAAAH-* ¡MI MADRE NO TIENE ABSOLUTAMENTE NADA QUE VER CON LO QUE ESTÁ PASANDO AQUÍ!-”

     “¡Buenos días, motherfucker!”

     “MONEYBONE!”

     “THAT’S COUNT MONEYBONE, TO YOU, FIESTA!”

     And that was when Fiesta boiled over. 

     The undead Supercharger skeleton needed nothing in the way of rational thought. He needed nothing in the way of sight or sound. And he most certainly needed nothing in the way of consciously harnessing his strength in order to respond to Count Moneybone with his fist.

     A great cracking noise could be heard resonating around the two rival skeletons’ current vicinity. Seconds after, with the moment of fury gone by, Fiesta could critically think once again. Thus, he was given no other choice but to examine all the details pertaining to both himself and his most hated enemy the second his eyesight cleared up; as well as to their surroundings, a little later. With all of this new information at hand, then, Fiesta was rendered both silent and imobile rather quickly, as he subsequently connected all the dots.

     “...well, I guess I can’t blame you for trying…” Count Moneybone spoke up with his signature tone of royal, arrogant calmness. “...but I think you’ll find that trying to…oh, what was the phrase again? Oh yeah! ‘Slug me in the face’! Is kind of a lot harder when you’re THE SIZE OF AN AVERAGE SEWER RAT! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! Ahhhh~” 

     Fiesta only remained reticent and unmoving, as reality at last began to settle. 

     The indisputable fact of the matter, in isolation from everything else, was that Count Moneybone had somehow managed to capture him. That meant that right now, his goal was to learn as much as he could about the situation, in order to evaluate all of his options, and formulate a plan for escape. Moments after this had settled in his mind, Count Moneybone resumed his villainous chuckling. 

     “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH YOU ACTUALLY THOUGHT YOU HAD A CHANCE, DIDN’T YOU?! OH, HOW RICH IS THAT, NOW? HOW RICH IS THAT? ….WELL CERTAINLY NOT AS RICH AS ME! HAHAHA! …OR AS SMART! HEH!”

     That was when Fiesta realized that he knew exactly how to get Count Moneybone to reveal his hand.

     “...aaaaaanyway!” the former ruler of the underworld abruptly shifted the subject. “WELCOME TO BEYOND SKYHIGHLANDS, FIESTA! THE BRIGHT, CLOUDY, BASICALLY UNREACHABLE REGION WHERE SKYLANDS GIVES WAY TO THE VACUUM OF SPACE!” he hollered out in theatrical glamor, gesturing out and towards the landscape before them.

     As Fiesta had naturally expected, based on his skeletal rival’s description, he observed that Count Moneybone was standing upon a giant, glistening platform of clouds. Aside from the ones on the ground, the light blue, shimmering sky around them was also lightly decorated with the occasional pure white wisp.

     At this point, since Fiesta was still yet to speak another word, he appeared to be dumbstruck and muted from realization to Count Moneybone, as he took a few flamboyant strides forth. In reality, however, the shrunken skeleton was merely prepping his plan for probing, while continuing to note his surroundings.

     “Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little gimmick…” Count Moneybone cockily sneered before calling out a cheeky: “TA-DA!” and revealing to Fiesta the Crypt Crusher, simply by turning himself around; the vehicle parked about five meters from where he stood.

     “Oh, yes! Brought your stupid little funeral procession car all the way up here, too! HAH! I’m sure you know what that means, dont’ch’ya!”

     Fiesta spontaneously let out a stifled gasp, as the magical light blue eyes within his bony sockets widened to at least twice their size.

     “EHEHEHEHEHE, YES! I suppose you could say that I’M in the driver’s seat, now!” Count Moneyone immediately quipped in a sense of satisfactory superiority. “...except THIS driver’s seat contains a rift engine!”

     As Count Moneybone wasn’t currently looking at him, Fiesta couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the thoroughly self-absorbed former underworld ruler, who had all but seemed to have forgotten that engines aren’t located in the driver’s seat. Nonetheless, this news was still very good, as the presence of the Crypt Crusher meant he had a surefire option of escape up here with him.

     “If I can just summon my Amigos while making sure Moneybone is distracted, they can use its rift engine to get back to the academy in no time! But since this is a light elemental zone and there’s only one person at the academy who has a light element vehicle, they’re going to have to find Astroblast as soon as possible!”

     Fiesta momentarily glanced up to examine Count Moneybone’s current expression. He appeared to be staring down at him in victorious bliss, most likely still assuming that his tiny rival wasn’t speaking due to contemplating defeat. 

     “Okay, I’ll start off by asking him how we got here, and move into how he got, specifically, into a light elemental zone in due time. But the most important thing is that I have to keep him talking for just about as long as I can!”

     “Aww…what’s wrong, wittle guy? Is wour defweet just two much fwor you two handwleeeeeee?” Count Moneybone joyously mocked the still silent, tiny Fiesta.

     “Alright, Moneybone…”  Fiesta suddenly spoke up rather calmly, much to Count Moneybone’s sheer and sudden, though attemptedly suppressed, shock. “If you think you’re so high and mighty, and smart, since you’ve apparently already ensured your total victory over me, why don’t you just go ahead and answer this one, simple question for me? Hmm?” he continued on in an outwardly apparent state of regulated fury. “HOW IN THE NAME OF THE ANCIENTS DID YOU EVEN GET US UP HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE?” 

     A thoroughly uncomfortable pause proceeded to follow, one in which Count Moneybone’s skeletal brow steadily furrowed deeper towards his similarly narrowing eye sockets.

     “Oooooooooohhhhhhhh, I see!” he eventually spat out through grinding teeth. “So YOU think you can just wake up in the clutch of COUNT Moneybone, see that you’ve been bested by his technological, and magical capabilities, and then go on to insult him like a petulant little child, hmm? Well I’ll have you know that I’ve been able to magically teleport objects for YEARS! So what makes you think I can’t develop my skills to where conscious beings can be affected too, huh, Fiesta?”

      In the midst of Count Moneybone’s rant, Fiesta had wasted absolutely zero time summoning his amigos, telepathically informing them on the situation as they appeared, before the three miniature skeletons collectively understood that they needed to take the Crypt Crusher back to the Academy, scampering over to the nearby vehicle in heightened urgency, as a result.

     “‘What makes you think I can’t develop my skills to where conscious beings can be affected too, huh, Fiesta?’” Fiesta quoted back to Count Moneybone in rising spite. “Oh, I don’t know…maybe the fact that…you’re an undeniably incompetent piece of shit standing proudly at the peak of the Dunning-Kruger graph’s mount stupid! And the just as indisputable fact that you failed spectacularly at the one, singular, though might I add, EXTREMELY IMPORTANT, job that Kaos gave you back in Superchargers is WAY more than enough proof for me of that point!” 

      There would only be three exact seconds between those words hitting Count Moneybone’s metaphorical brain, and the result.

     “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT”??????????????????????????????????????????????????

     Count Moneybone violently, hysterically, viciously, barbarously, and dementedly screeched at the top of his metaphorical lungs in explosively unwavering, frothing fury as Fiesta only glared up into his eyes in purely staunch contempt. Casting a bit of a sidelong glance over at the Crypt Crusher as the Amigos revved it up and began to drive, Fiesta, as he knew it was best for him to maintain his current facial expression, internally smirked back at the arrogant Count screeching at him; and doing so in nothing but purified, genuine hate. 

****

     “Geez! Was he actually screaming that loud for that long?” Astroblast asked in slight disbelief as he continued to steer the Sun Runner upwards through Skylands’ stratosphere; the elongated, wispy white clouds swishing past the windshield in an instant up against the light blue background of the sky.

     “Ayyyyup!” Tres, huddled up with Uno and Dos upon the seat beside him, (resultantly sharing a seatbelt with them), promptly responded. “Good thing, too, or else we probably wouldn’t even be here in the first place!”

     “Well, I mean, having no windpipe does mean there aren’t really any consequences for doing something like that, so…” Uno added in soon after.

     “Yeah, that’s true, too.”

     “I wonder if they’ll still be screaming at each other when we get there!” Dos lightheartedly pondered with a chuckle.

     “Maybe! I dunno!” Tres giggled out in response.

     Astroblast internally heaved a pained sigh paired with a sharp eye roll. He understood that the amigos weren’t Skylanders in their own rights, and didn’t have nearly as much experience in these kinds of situations as he or Fiesta did…but even so, now was not the time for idle chatter, and Astroblast felt that they should know this. 

     “Well…” he eventually spoke up in an abruptly lowered and serious tone, which seemed to accomplish the intended effect of indirectly reminding them all that this was an urgent rescue mission, “There’s only one way to find out.” 

     Astroblast leaned forwards just slightly in the driver’s seat whilst significantly narrowing his eyes.

He knew based on his ship’s continual Rift Engine-aided velocity, and how far the area defined as being beyond Skyhighlands was from the academy, that the four of them were mere seconds away from arrival by now. It was extremely important, then, for him to properly time the Sun Runner’s deceleration, so that they wouldn’t find themselves breaching into space.

     Gently pressing down on the brake pedal, Astroblast could feel his ship slowing, at a smooth, yet still extremely G-Force intensive rate, causing the three Amigos to get viciously thrusted backwards into their seats.

     “OH-WHAAAAAAAH! OH THANK THE ANCIENTS THAT SEAT BELTS EXIST-WRUUUUUUUNGH!”

     Tres screeched out in palpable terror, as his bony body was given no choice but to lay there and soak in the impact.

     Astroblast opted to say nothing as his surroundings became progressively more discernible from the Sun Runner’s braking. Eventually, the ship slowed down to a stop, and the three Amigos were able to gradually pull themselves together.

     “*Bluuuuuurgh*...uh…we’re ok….we’re ok, right guys? Ok yeah, we’re good.” Dos stammered out while shaking himself into reorientation. 

     Astroblast was once again tempted to speak up, if only to ask how the Amigos weren’t used to these levels of G-Forces after years of riding with Fiesta in the Crypt Crusher, but once again, ultimately decided to refrain. 

     “...alright, then…” he mumbled out, whilst driving the Sun Runner forth at a pace slow enough to scan the cloudy terrain below him. “...well now we need to find those two, and-”

     “OH, WELL LOOK DOWN AT YOU, FIESTA, THINKING YOU’RE SOOOOOOOOO SMART! OF COURSE LIGHT TRAPTANIUM CAN BE USED TO ENTER LIGHT ELEMENT ZONES! IF IT HAD TO BE A LIVING THING, THEN HOW WOULD YOUR OWN O’ SO PRECIOUS CRYPT CRUSHER GET INTO AN UNDEAD AREA WITHOUT AN UNDEAD DRIVER? HMMMMMM?”

     “...well, that was easy.”

     Immediately steering the Sun Runner in the direction of Count Moneybone’s screech, it wouldn’t be very long before Astroblast and the amigos spotted a royally dressed skeleton pricked up in a royally pissed-off stance, glaring down towards his furiously clenched fist, continuing his verbal barrage without any form of a break in between each sentence. 

     Astroblast proceeded to press a few buttons on the Sun Runner’s control panel in silence, whilst the Amigos collectively decided to hold their own. A soft wiring sound could be heard building up inside the Sun Runner, as upon the vehicle’s windshield, an electrical screen appeared to boot up. Utilizing this screen to zoom in significantly onto the back of Count Moneybone’s skull, Astroblast brought a golden target icon onto the screen, and maneuvered it onto the skull’s back’s middle. The amigos could only metaphorically hold their breath in preparation for what they figured out was going to happen next.

     *FWOOSH*!

The slim and precise, yet powerful laser blast shot itself across the sky, and towards the still hollering form of Count Moneybone just beyond.

     “SO IF YOU TELL ME ONE MORE TIME THAT I DON’T POSSESS THE SKILLS NECESSARY TO STEAL YOUR CRYPT CRUSHER WITHOUT SETTING OFF ANY ALARMS, I AM GOING TO-”

     Fiesta had indeed taken note of the Sun Runner in front of him by now, yet still knew he had to remain in character to ensure Count Moneybone stayed distracted. As a result, he was just barely able, from the very corners of his eye sockets, to watch the bright, red laser that was shot from the ship zooming closer to his far larger nemesis, who remained utterly oblivious to its presence.

     “AND DON’T YOU GO ON THINKING THAT JUST BECAUSE YOU HELPED DEFEAT ME ONCE, THAT AUTOMATICALLY MEANS I’M GOING TO GET BEATEN AGAIN!”

Count Moneybone spat onto the captive Fiesta.

“SO MAYBE-EEEEEEEEEEEE!”

     The following moments seemed to come by the pure, yet acquired force of instinct alone, as Count Moneybone’s pupils dilated.

     *SNAP*

   “AAAAA-HAH!”

     Instantly realizing the jig was up, Astroblast knew that he needed to get as close as he could to Count Moneybone, so he could better analyze his next moves.

     Count Moneybone, now donning his suit of robotic armor, gave a muted, sneering “Hmph.” as the Sun Runner pulled in closer to, though still far above, his position. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Astroblast Danger Guts himself! Oh, I’m so scared!”

     To this, Astroblast could only narrow his eyes before Dos stood up on the shotgun seat to clap back.

     “Hey! He’s got a sick-ass laser gun, and you don’t!”

     “*Pffft*! Like that stupid little ‘Special Class EZ 9,000 Laser Gun’ could do any more damage than a Chompy bite-”

     Not willing to waste any more time, Astroblast let loose a laser barrage on the skeleton, being sure to avoid his robotic suit’s left hand where Fiesta was still being clutched. 

     “-AAAAGH-A- GRRRRRRR-!” naturally rather ticked off from getting attacked whilst off guard, Count Moneybone snapped his bony fingers once more, summoning into the skies an entire air support squadron of his own robots; all of a model similar to that which he had used in his final battle during Swap Force.

     Thankfully for Astroblast, even though Fiesta’s Amigos weren’t as experienced working in the Sun Runner as they were the Crypt Crusher, they still knew their way around Supercharger vehicles’ supporting firearms, and were not hesitant to show it.

     “TAKE THIS YA STUPID…COPTER BOT THINGS!” Dos hollered out from the shotgun seat as he and his fellow Amigos gathered up around the Sun Runner’s supporting firearms control panel in front of the very same seat.

     With the Amigos covering him, Astroblast was free to focus on Count Moneybone, who was, no doubt, firing back at the Sun Runner in the form of purple plasma ball blasts from his robotic suit’s wrists. Weaving in and around to dodge the shots, Astroblast kept his gaze locked firmly onto the former ruler of the underworld; knowing once the snarky Skeleton’s robotic armor gave in, he would be rendered essentially helpless. Utilizing his Sun Runner’s Satellite Support move, the crystalline Supercharger could now see Count Moneybone’s health bar above his suit’s skull headpiece, whilst he continuously whittled it down with his lasers.

     “HEY! WOULD YOU STOP MOVING AROUND? IT’S WORKING ANNOYINGLY WELL!” Count Moneybone eventually roared up towards the still-firing Spacecraft and its occupants.

     The instant this remark hit Fiesta’s metaphorical ears, the captive Supercharger burst out into a prolonged bout of half-smirking half-chuckling at his former dictator and prolonged mutual rival.

     “You never actually learn anything, do you?”

     “SHUT UP, FIESTA, OR ELSE YOUR LOWER JAW’S GETTING RIPPED OFF, TOO!”

     “Hah! Oh really? Well I’d just LOVE to see you try!”

     Swiveling his robotic suit’s head around to meet with Fiesta’s challenging gaze, Count Moneybone let a growl progressively rise up in his metaphorical throat.

     “I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT I ONCE PUNCHED ONE OF THOSE STUPID TROLL SHREDNAUGHT MACHINES OUT OF COMMISSION WITH THIS SUIT! IN ONE PUNCH! SO UNLESS YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW, EXPECT TO SEE YOUR MANDIBLE ON MY TROPHY SHELF!”

     Fiesta held onto the resulting silence for only a single second “...what suit?”

     “WHAT-?”

    *FSHWINK-CLUNK*

    “.......................................................uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……………………the one that’s now in pieces on the floor?”

     “Alright, Moneybone! Hand him over!” Astroblast called out to the defeated skeleton as he slowly lowered the Sun Runner towards ground level. “Everyone here knows what’s going to happen if you don’t, so why don’t you just save yourself all that trouble, and put Fiesta down NOW?”

     “...........................................uh……..” Count Moneybone blankly vocalized, his immobilized body shaking in bewilderment as his eyes betrayed the dawning of reality. “Uh-......umm…….I-” and then, just like that, the infamous former ruler of the underworld perked all the way back up. In stance, in demeanor, in everything. Just as if nothing had ever happened at all.

     “Oh, oh you may THINK you’ve already won, but what kind of evil genius doesn’t have a secret backup plan lying up their sleeve?”

     “What? What is he-no. No, I can’t just assume that he’s bluffing. I gotta stay on guard!” Astroblast internally deliberated as the metaphorical neurons within Count Moneybone’s skull began firing for the very first time in the entire encounter.

     “YES, YES! LIE THERE IN SHOCK, OH WON’T YOU? BECAUSE I JUST SO HAPPEN TO HAVE ONE MORE ADVANCED SECRET TECHNIQUE LEFT!” Count Moneybone continued, ending his sentence with a dramatic point into the air. “WITH A TWIST!”

     “Secret technique? Wait a second IF THIS GUY ACTUALLY THINKS HE’S GOING TO OUTRUN THE SUN RUNNER-”

     “YEET!”

      “WHA-?”

      “FIESTA!” the three Amigos shrieked out in rising horror.

     Immediately slamming the Sun Runner’s gas pedal, Astroblast lurched forwards in order to zip his way over to the newly airborne Fiesta, before his momentum was brought to a nauseating instantaneous halt a second later by a newly snapped-in barrage of Count Moneybone’s air support robots. Looking through a stray gap in the currently robot-smothered windshield, Astroblast could see Count Moneybone sprinting forwards upon the clouds, presumably in order to snatch up the now undoubtedly unconscious Fiesta before he could.

     “YOU THREE HOLD BACK THE ROBOTS! I’LL GO AFTER FIESTA!” Astroblast called out to the Amigos as the Sun Runner’s windshield flipped open. With the robots now having been launched into every conceivable direction, Astroblast snagged the swiftly-dwindling opportunity and lept out of the driver’s seat onto the ground.

     Sensing a faint: “WE’RE ON IT!” echoing from behind him, Astroblast’s astronaut boots pounded against the floor as he began gaining ground on Count Moneybone.

     “MONEYBONE!” Astroblast screeched out to the sprinting Skeleton before him.

     “HUH?” Count Moneybone heaved out before taking a glance over his shoulder.

     “HEY, WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY LASER GUN AGAIN?”

     “...uh…uh-oh.” 

     Promptly picking up the pace, not out of the need to make it to Fiesta first, but out of his own natural instinct for self-preservation, Count Moneybone let a terrified: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” escape his metaphorical lungs as he continued scampering forth. Ultimately, however, his overflowing metaphorical synapses were eventually forced to admit that he couldn’t keep himself out of firing range forever. And that was when it finally came to him.

     “WELP, GUESS IT'S TIME TO MAKE USE OF THE CLASSIC VERSION!”

     Before Astroblast behind him even had a chance to react, much less attempt to figure out what that even meant, Count Moneybone had completely swiveled himself around.

     “RUN AWAY!” he began to wail as he hotfooted himself out of danger.

     “Ugh…” Astroblast groaned while rolling his eyes. 

     Placing his laser gun back at his side so he could have both hands ready to grab ahold of Fiesta, Astroblast continued sprinting forwards. 

     “There’s absolutely no way that Count Moneybone could’ve thrown Fiesta any significant distance. I’ve gotta be getting really close-THERE HE IS!”

     As he had suspected, Fiesta was out cold. Astroblast needed to look him over for injuries as soon as he possibly could, and to this end, as the shrunken Supercharger gained more and more room in his field of view, Astroblast timed a leap forwards with an outstretched arm.

      Successfully snagging the skeleton off the floor with his right hand as a result, Astroblast immediately began feeling over Fiesta’s body to make sure he wasn’t severely injured. He couldn’t care less that he’d landed on his chest from his leap. All that mattered was whether or not his friend was hurt.

     A swift preliminary check told Astroblast that Fiesta hadn’t gained any major breaks or fractures from getting thrown across the terrain. Importantly, that meant moving or handling him wasn’t going to exacerbate any injuries. 

     “...okay, now that Fiesta’s safe, I’ve gotta go back and help the Amigos clear out the rest of those robots, so we can finally get back to the Academy!” he internally noted to himself.

     Now, there was nothing left to do except get up off the floor and go. To this end, Astroblast attempted to pick up his left foot so he could place it onto the ground and push himself upwards. Only to feel his entire leg getting violently dragged back down to the floor, seemingly a millisecond later.

     “WHA-”

     “HAH! DID YOU REALLY THINK I WAS GOING TO GIVE UP THAT EASILY?”

     “MONEYBONE!”

     “THAT’S COUNT MONEYBONE TO YOU, ASTROBLAST DANGER GUTS!”

     Not only had the skeletal former dictator somehow slid himself back into the game, he seemed to be keeping a bewilderingly firm hold on Astroblast’s leg, preventing the Supercharger’s escape. It would only take one glance backwards, however, for this momentary mystery to be solved.

     “AHAHAHAH! NOW WHAT SORT OF EVIL GENIUS DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE, IF I DIDN’T HAVE MORE ROBOTIC ARMOR SUITS AT MY FINGERTIPS?”

     Astroblast strained to reach for his laser gun at his side, only for the full force of the suit’s left foot to come crashing down upon his forearm as he did. An overwhelming barrage of sharp, tingling pain signals shot straight to the crystal man’s brain before the numbness began to settle in.

     Count Moneybone only smirked as he immediately followed this up with a plasma ball blast straight  to the face. The superheated purple orb struck Astroblast square on the left cheek, creating a great, branching crack in the region, and causing him to give a pained: “GURNGH!” sound as a newfound burning sensation seared into the wound.

      “JUST HAND HIM OVER ALREADY! WE’RE NOT PLAYING THIS GAME OF KEEP AWAY ANY MORE!”

Count Moneybone spat out to the writhing Supercharger below.

“NOT LIKE YOU CAN REALLY DO ANYTHING ELSE ANYWAY! …EXCEPT DIE, OF COURSE!”

     Astroblast continued to breathe as he lay trapped within the armored skeleton’s grasp. Count Moneybone, then, continued awaiting an answer, positively reveling in the elation of his ultimate victory, as he did.

     “...no.” Astroblast finally broke the silence, in a pained and ragged, yet, to Count Moneybone, shockingly composed tone. “No. There’s still one more thing I can do.”

     Without skipping a single beat, Astroblast shakily moved his arm holding Fiesta in closer to his face, as he glared Count Moneybone straight down his undead pupils with narrowed eyes.

     And that was when he opened up his mouth.

     It seemed as though time itself had dilated around the two conscious beings to a point where it halted entirely. Yet with each passing nanosecond, Count Moneybone’s metaphorical neurons were able to continuously piece together exactly what Astroblast was doing. Still, he could only react as fast as his metaphorical brain could process his actions. Bound by his physical limitations within the shackles of time’s linear arrow, Count Moneybone was resigned to the role of a mere observer, whilst Astroblast’s own movements progressed.

     Astroblast knew very well that this might just be the only possible way he could protect his friend in this moment. That meant that no matter how Fiesta tasted, or how hard he was to swallow, Astroblast was going to get him down to safety. Down to a place where the shrunken skeleton was quite literally surrounded by his friend. Surrounded by the soft, malleable walls of his stomach, but also by the solid, firm, crystal exterior that acted as his skin.

     And so, Astroblast stretched open his crystal jaws, exposing the fleshy interior of his maw, as he extended his white-colored tongue, where Fiesta would be laid down. Upon the unconscious skeleton’s first contact with his fellow Supercharger’s taste buds, the sensory receptor cells zapped his flavor up to the crystal man’s brain; just as fast as time would allow. Though Astroblast’s brain was certainly not in a position to focus its resources on examining Fiesta’s taste, the signal was nonetheless received. Thus, as Fiesta was slid further along the warm, squishy surface of the tongue, his mildly spicy chili pepper flavor was dragged along with him. It certainly wasn’t anything Astroblast couldn’t handle, though. (Especially not after all his Enchilada Night experience). So, the light Supercharger merely shoved his skeletal friend deeper into his maw, as Count Moneybone stood by, imobile.

     Eventually, Fiesta was pushed deep enough into Astroblast’s maw to where his skull headpiece bumped against his white uvula. The plump, bulbous sack of flesh swung back and forth for a while from the strike, as Fiesta’s shoes entered into the maw at last. 

     Able to sense the entirety of his friend’s form tucked away within his maw, Astroblast swiftly snapped shut his jaws, enclosing Fiesta inside the warm, damp chamber, and causing a *click* noise to echo throughout it, not like Fiesta could even hear it in the first place. 

     Count Moneybone sure could, though, the detection of which only solidified in his mind the notion of what Astroblast was going to do. For even though his maw was sealed up and secluded, it could still very much be pried open with force. No, for Fiesta to be truly safe, he needed to go somewhere deeper.

     Raising up the back of his tongue, Astroblast could sense Fiesta’s skull headpiece scraping against the alveolar ridges upon his hard palate. Soon, gravity would draw the skeleton downwards and towards the crystal man’s pharynx. With sealed jaws leaving hardly any room for comfortability, Astroblast could sense both Fiesta’s skull headpiece as well as the felt on the back of his Mariachi suit brushing up against his soft palette, naturally resulting in a second contact with his uvula. Nonetheless, he understood deeply that right now, the most important objective was to keep his friend safe. Consequently, the crystal man’s white colored epiglottis covered up his laryngeal inlet, as his upper esophageal sphincter opened up. Fiesta’s head and skeletal upper body were thus slid past the laryngopharynx, and into the muscle region of the sphincter, as the downward pushing motion of swallowing squeezed the aforementioned sections of his body into the esophagus. 

     Astroblast didn’t waste any time completing the job, swallowing again in order to shove Fiesta’s  middle body into the muscular tube; once more for his legs, and one final time for his Mariachi shoes. His esophagus’ rhythmic, involuntary contractions of peristalsis could handle the rest.

     And that was when time came rushing back. 

     Astroblast heaved in a gasp of air the instant Fiesta’s shoes slid past his upper esophageal sphincter. Reality began to settle in as a newfound jolt of adrenaline hit his veins. One second later, he could sense that Count Moneybone’s hold around his leg had loosened, as he was still very much stunned. Yanking his leg out of the former dictator’s grasp and planting both his feet on the ground whilst forcing his arms up underneath him, Astroblast gathered all his energy into his left leg. 

     At last, the full force of an upwards striking kick smashed squarely into the skull headpiece of Count Moneybone’s robotic suit, completely cracking the thing open and exposing the fragile form of the skeleton’s head lying within. 

     Now back standing upright, Astroblast needed only to kick the skeletal villain straight in his delicate skull, exactly as he did with the headpiece; thus removing him from the battle entirely. 

     Count Moneybone’s eyes rolled into the back of his sockets as his jaws dropped open from the shock. Soon enough, the entire suit toppled over all at once, as the electronics within began shutting down; presumably due to the unconscious state of its user. 

     Now, there was nothing to do except run.

     His feet striking against the cloudy grounds of the light zone, Astroblast’s adrenaline continued to course through his being, before he spontaneously became vividly aware of Fiesta halfway down his esophagus.

     The continuous peristaltic motions within the organ guided the skeleton towards the stomach as Astroblast’s body continued running forwards. Astroblast himself, however, wasn’t sure how long he would be able to keep doing so, mainly considering his injuries. As a result, whilst Fiesta proceeded to move beyond his collarbone, he began to look around for some cover he could safely hide behind.

     Until he could find some, though, he needed to keep going.

     Suddenly able to sense his lower esophageal sphincter opening up as Fiesta was squeezed through, Astroblast finally spotted a cluster of boulders lying in the distance. Picking up his pace as Fiesta made a splashdown in his stomach, Astroblast could sense his fellow Supercharger’s form sloshing around within the non-acidic liquids of the organ. Eventually, however, the shrunken skeleton’s body settled down against the stomach wall, stabilizing him within the crystal man’s guts.

     As he approached the assemblage of boulders he spotted, Astroblast’s speed began to slow. Not only so he could bring himself to a stop when he reached his refuge, but also because he didn’t want Fiesta to get swirled around in his stomach anymore, which was already naturally churning to begin with.

     At last, Astroblast had slowed to a walking pace, as the boulders were now right in front of him. Continuing to pant strenuously as he set himself down against the largest of the bunch, Astroblast shakily placed his left hand over his middle, as an extra layer of protection for Fiesta within.

     The crystal Supercharger could faintly sense a gurgle emulating from the region, as his wholly exhausted, injured body began to slip into unconsciousness. 

****

     The very last thing Fiesta remembered before he struck the ground was, well, being hurtled through the air en route to the ground. Needless to say, then, the moment the shrunken skeleton began to regain consciousness, he did so with hardly any clues about where he could possibly be at this point. That was precisely why, the moment a low-pitched, echoing, rather boisterous rumble graced his metaphorical ears, Fiesta’s interest was roused. 

     Based on the rumble alone, Fiesta could presume that wherever he was right now was an enclosed space, as the echoes didn’t sound as if they had traveled very far. As his metaphorical brain continued to wake, he was soon able to sense that there were many softer noises of similar tones and timbre resonating in his surroundings as well. 

     Something about those noises sounded…familiar. As if he should be able to pinpoint exactly what they were. But as Fiesta knew he wasn’t exactly awake at the current moment, he wasn’t going to force himself to try and figure out their identity quite yet.

     Instead then, he merely examined this mystery chamber’s warmth which his body was now detecting, whilst his bony fingers felt their way over the wall, or obstruction, or whatever else, he was lying up against. The heat itself lay within that glorious sweet spot range that anyone would wish their bed’s blanket would bestow onto them at night. It was comforting, as though it was physically wrapped around him, ensconcing him within an ease of relaxation which could easily lull one to sleep. Yet it did not overheat his form, to where he began yearning for the release of cold air. 

     As for whatever he was lying up against, Fiesta’s first impressions as he glided his fingers over its surface, was that it was slick, damp, and smooth to the touch, yet malleable, and pillowy in its firmness. Fiesta was soon to realize after making these observations, that they were moving as well. Moving in the same way that one’s chest would move up and down as they breathed. Noticeable, yet subtle, rhythmic, and constant. But that wasn’t the only thing that was moving.

     Swishing faintly beneath his bony waist seemed to be some form of liquid pool. Judging from the fact he wasn’t feeling any pain, Fiesta presumed it to be similar to water in nature. Taking in a breath through his skeletal nose, he could sense no sour or bitter smells within his current surroundings, which only further supported that presumption. Exhaling from the same region, Fiesta was now feeling considerably more aware of both himself and his present confines. Thus, there remained nothing else left to do but open his eyes, and figure out once and for all where he was. 

     The moment Fiesta’s eyes flickered open, he was immediately graced by the color white. Once his eyes took the seconds they needed to refocus, the forms of the shifting white walls, and the clear-colored rippling pool below, became apparent. Taking a swift glance around, Fiesta could now be certain he was within an enclosed, secluded area; and that this area was, for now at least, safe. But…what was this area, exactly?

     Heaving in and out a sigh as he repositioned himself with his back against the wall, and his legs straight out in front of him, Fiesta lay down for a moment, before yet another question struck his being.

     Where was Astroblast right now?

     The last time he had seen his fellow Supercharger, he was piloting his Sun Runner near the ground, in a confrontation with Count Moneybone. Fiesta leaned forwards just slightly, and tilted his head downwards in thought. What had Astroblast done, exactly, after that? What had gone on between the crystal man and the Count after the latter had thrown him off into the distance? Fiesta glanced up and around the cushiony, heated chamber he was currently in. Had Astroblast put him in here? Still, where was here, exactly? Where was this white, compact, warm, damp, liquid-filled, squishy-

     Fiesta’s bony body froze up. 

     Yet another deep rumble reverberated across the churning walls, as Fiesta tilted his head upwards. Sure enough, there it was. All the confirmation he needed. He had no idea what the name for it was, but that was the lower esophageal sphincter he was currently staring at. Returning his head to its default position, Fiesta sat down in silence for a while, before eventually picking himself up and taking a couple of steps forwards whilst gazing at the liquid pool beneath him. Yet again, there it was, right below him under the waves. Though he could not identify it by name, he was gazing at the Pylorus, the sphincter leading from the stomach into the small intestine. Astroblast’s pylorus.

     Slowly returning to where he was laying before, and settling himself back down, waist deep within Astroblast’s stomach juices, the shrunken skeleton merely sat there in silence, save for the natural gurgling ambiance of the organ, and let himself take it all in.

     Eventually, however, his mind had finished doing such.

     Even if he was in Astroblast’s stomach, that was nothing to worry about! I mean, how else was his fellow Supercharger supposed to keep his shrunken form away from Count Moneybone’s unrelenting pursuit? It made complete sense! Plus, at the end of the day, what mattered most was that he was safe.

     And that was when a newfound sensation of mental clarity and calmness flooded over him. Only for it to completely dissipate just as fast as it had arrived. 

     He was most certainly safe right now. But could the same be said for Astroblast? Judging from the fact that he hadn’t heard the crystal man’s voice yet, and that he hadn’t felt the stomach’s spatial position change at all from any potential walking, running, or general moving around, Fiesta concluded his fellow Supercharger was most likely unconscious. 

    Still, that left one more very important question yet to be answered. Unconscious in safe surroundings, or unconscious in unsafe surroundings? Just as he hadn’t heard Astroblast’s voice since he woke up, he similarly hadn’t heard…well, anything else coming from outside the stomach. But this didn’t automatically mean his friend was out of danger. His years of experience as a Skylander had certainly taught him that well.

     At the very least, Fiesta did know that Astroblast was alive, and that his bodily functions were most likely all stable. He also knew Astroblast wasn’t being moved by anything or anyone. Yet, until he could get verbal confirmation from that man himself that he was okay, he would have no way of knowing for sure whether or not he really was.

     For now then, all he could do was wait, and stay vigilant about his observations. If anything about his current surroundings or situation changed, Fiesta would leap right on it. Leaning further back into Astroblast’s stomach walls, Fiesta gave a slight nod to himself, knowing what he needed to do.

****

     The very first things Astroblast could sense as his consciousness began to return were the sharp burning and throbbing sensations emulating from his damaged cheek; swiftly followed by the dull tinging in his injured arm. Still, he had regained a significant amount of energy since he had gone unconscious, and was therefore ready to get up and start moving again.

     But first, he needed to check on Fiesta. Upon his jittering eyelids opening wide enough, Astroblast glanced up, and upon seeing nothing of immediate danger, glanced down to his middle. He could sense that there was still pressure being exerted onto his stomach walls. That meant Fiesta was still in there. Judging from the fact he hadn’t heard anything besides gurgles coming from his guts since…well, since the tiny skeleton first arrived, Fiesta was also probably still unconscious. But he was still inside his stomach, and that meant he was safe.

     Now that he knew his friend was okay, Astroblast tilted his head back up, and glanced around his immediate field of view for a more thorough assessment of danger. After once again spotting nothing that could be of danger to him, he cautiously turned his head to the left, and then to the right. Still no danger. Even so, he wouldn’t know for sure whether or not he was safe until he looked behind himself.

     Cautiously placing both hands in front of him on the ground for support as he slowly shuffled onto his knees, Astroblast turned himself around in order to examine the region which was previously behind him. Nothing. That meant he was safe for now. Nonetheless-

     “Astroblast?”

     Reflexively leaping onto his feet in silence whilst yanking his laser gun from his side and aiming it in front of him, Astroblast swiftly came to his senses moments later.

     “Woah there, amigo! Calm down! It’s me!”

     Shifting his gaze back towards his midsection, Astroblast softly exhaled a relieved sigh.

     “Fiesta!”

     “Yep, that’s me!”

     “Are you okay?”

     “Most certainly! Are you?”

     “Well,” Astroblast hesitantly responded, not wanting his friend to get worried about him. “I took a couple hits back in a scuffle with Count Moneybone while trying to keep you away from him, but other than that, I’m fine.”

     “Well, you certainly succeeded in that, now, didn’t you?” Fiesta lightheartedly chuckled.

     “I…guess I did!” Astroblast replied with a giggle.

     “How did Moneybone even react to that?”

     “Shock.”

     “Eh, makes sense. Where are the Amigos?”

     “Count Moneybone summoned more air support bots, and I needed them to keep the robots back using the Sun Runner while I went after you on foot.” Astroblast explained. “Which basically means we’re just waiting for them to catch up at this point.”

    “I see. Guess it's time to start waiting, then!” Fiesta replied whilst placing his skeletal hands behind his head, laying one leg on top of the other, and leaning further back into Astroblast’s stomach walls.

     “Ummmm….” Astroblast awkwardly spoke upon this action, “...do you want to get out of there, or…”

     “Nah. It’s a lot safer in here, after all. And comfier. And warm. And…okay I think you get the picture.”

     “......alright, then! I’ll just…sit down, and start waiting, too.” Astroblast responded whilst carefully lowering himself to the floor, not wanting to disturb Fiesta within.

     Finally getting settled on the ground after a while, Astroblast proceeded to lay there in silence for a few seconds, before Fiesta perked up once again.

     “You know, I don’t know where you got this idea from, Astroblast, but however it happened, I guess it really does make you Astroblast Danger Guts!”

     To this, Astroblast could only give a stunned grin and a soft *pfft* sound as his uninjured cheek began blushing slightly. “...I-...I-I mean-” he struggled to form a response. “...well yeah! I… guess it really does! Heh…”

     Giving the walls he was presently snuggled up against a slight rub in solidarity, Fiesta then decided it would probably be best to stay quiet for a while.

     Thus, the two Superchargers rested silently in the midst of each other’s company, until the Sun Runner became visible over the horizon.

#soft vore #safe vore #vore writing #vore stories #vore story #v0re #v0r3 #v.ore #v/ore #g/t vore #gt vore #endosoma #wholesome vore #extreme cuddling #protection vore #protective vore #male pred #male predador #male prey #willing prey #willing pred #unaware prey #unaware vore

[benjaminthewolfnsfw]

A Sugary Snack (Remastered)

....sooooo this fic definitely needed to be remastered. Not because I was unhappy with the quality of writing of the original...but because in the original the prey was a wild, non-sapient Sugarbat and yeah...I think that might just cross one line too many.

So, I made the prey a Sugarbat borrower hybrid instead! Enjoy!

Oh, and just for clarification, "Portal Master" is the Skylands term for Human.

WARNING: FATAL VORE, GOOEY DIGESTION

****

     Being a Borrower-Subarbat hybrid, life was generally pretty good. You got to enjoy all the benefits that resulted from the Sugarbats’ kind and cuddly reputation, (as well as their ability to fly), whilst simultaneously benefiting from the fact that as a borrower, you possessed a level of sapience that full Sugarbats just didn’t have. This essentially meant that you could experience the best of both worlds to their fullest, which was an opportunity you had taken and flewn away with over the years.

     Your flight, a coveted ability which most other Borrowers and even Borrower-Hybrids didn’t have, ensured that you could practically go anywhere you wished at any time. Your diet of disease-spreading bugs earned you a near-heroic reputation in many of the villages you often frequented. And perhaps most importantly of all, your soft, fluffy Sugarbat body allowed for headpats and tummy rubs galore. You loved receiving them, and people loved giving them. You loved everybody, and everybody loved you. This was the Sugarbat way of life, and thus, it was yours as well.

      Due to all this, then, upon sensing that some sort of tall, lean, green troll was climbing up the tree you were currently resting in whilst gazing up at you intently, (although slightly hesitantly), you didn’t really think you had reason to be alarmed.

     The troll eventually makes his way up to the branch that you’re on, before slowly and shakily extending his arm. You promptly respond to this by gently nuzzling your head against his hand before his fingers cautiously slip around your being, gently grasping ahold of you as a result. The troll then starts to direct his gaze downwards, eventually making eye contact with a tiny, bald midget portal master standing rather impatiently on the ground. He then goes on to swiftly glance downwards towards his feet before precariously releasing his grip on the branch he had been previously gripping onto and maintaining his balance with. Once he has managed to do this without immediately falling out of the tree, he tenderly places his other hand on your head, covering up both your ears as a result, before rubbing all around it nice and slowly. This, of course, causes you to let out a rather pleased stream of high-pitched squeaking noises as he did.

     Finally, he opens up his mouth to speak before re-establishing eye contact with the portal master standing right below. However, as your ears are currently being covered up whilst you’re constantly making high-pitched squeaking noises, you don't end up understanding a word that he’s saying. If you could understand, however, you would hear something like this.

     “UH, LORD KAOS, I THINK I GOT IT NOW!”

     “THEN GET DOWN FROM THERE, YOU FOOL! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, I’M STARVING OVER HERE!”

     “-Y-YES LORD KAOS, RIGHT AWAY, SIR!”

     The troll promptly takes his hand off your head before, as carefully and yet as swiftly as he could, proceeding to climb down the tree, placed at a major disadvantage since he could currently only use one hand to keep his grip. He still needed to hold onto you, after all. Inevitably, this unfortunate combination of circumstances would cause him to lose his balance. Since he was already almost at the bottom at this point, though, the impact didn’t really hurt him too much aside from knocking the wind out of him for a while. Despite all this, he had still somehow managed to keep his hold on you. You can’t really help but slightly tilt your head to the side in slight concern at this scene.

     “Took you long enough…” the portal master grumbles under his breath as he walks up to the troll on the floor and places his own fingers around your upper body. The troll immediately lets go and simply focuses on regaining his breath for the moment, as the portal master takes a few steps away from the poor creature whilst silently staring you down. It was at this point where you really began to get confused.

     “Ugh, you Sugarbats are still too sickly sweet for my liking…” the portal master begins to groan to himself as your already pretty confused face now begins to grow slightly concerned. “… but I’m still really hungry! So, in you go!”

     Immediately snapping your head up in a bout of instantaneous, undistilled, body-jostling horror which rendered your form completely and utterly paralyzed for the moment being, you suddenly let out a terrified “EEP!” sound as the realization at last began to settle in. The portal master towering above you steadily brings you closer and closer towards his twisted face. It was only when his slimy, slick, smooth purple tongue momentarily exited his mouth to give a rather wet lick across his chops did you realize that your fate had already been sealed.

      Upon the relative giant finally unveiling his maw, the saliva-soaked, goopy purple chamber within promptly stretches just about as wide as it could feasibly go in order to fit all of your being within its confines at once. His mildly sharpened, glistening, white fangs brazenly gleaned their brilliant shine back at you as the portal master himself maneuvered you around in his two hands for a while until they were holding you in a cupping motion; this in order to insure he wouldn’t accidentally bite down onto any of his fingers whilst shoving you into his maw.

     The portal master goes on to waste absolutely zero time before doing exactly that, shoving his cupped hands up against his face in order to cram you inside past his jaws. His tongue, now that you are mostly underneath it, swiftly flings you up and back towards the middle of the chamber before the portal master’s lips close up, whilst still leaving open his jaws. He then slurps up your tail that had been previously dangling outside like a noodle, and finally, firmly snaps together both  jaws, sealing you away, permanently within him, yet momentarily within his maw, as a result. 

     The portal master’s glossy, soft, moist tongue proceeds to slide itself out from underneath you, before longingly caressing your being with a slow, warm lick across your head. It then proceeds to move in, out, up, down, and around the whole of your body, positively slathering your middle, back, wings, tail, and all, with his saliva. The compounding natural warmth within the maw acts as yet another thing that is constantly soaking up into your being, simultaneously.

     Eventually, the portal master goes on to slide his tongue back into place under your form, before using it to swish you between his cheeks for a while, the sensation of your waterlogged, soggy fur brushing against the slick walls of his cheek causing a pleasured shudder to run its way down the midget’s spine. This would go on for Eon knows how long, before the portal master slowly raises up the back of his tongue, in order to get your soaked being to slide back and towards the entrance of his throat, the gullet opening wide as the great, plump, dangling purple uvula gently sways back and forth above your head.

     At this point, it had become all but certain in your mind just what was about to happen next, but as the portal master’s tongue proceeds to shove you deeper and deeper into his gullet, it somehow grew more and more impossible for you to get yourself to move, and therefore resist and escape.

 Eventually, you are able to see the epiglottis covering up the entrance to the trachea, as the portal master swallows you whole. He somehow manages to squeeze your small, furry being down into his esophagus all at once, and down towards his stomach as a result. He, himself, however, does not seem to be surprised by this fact in the least.

     The portal master immediately let out an excessively satisfied sigh before placing a few fingers over the great bulge you were making in his throat, poking and prodding at it in a teasing manner, all the while you on the inside only continued your long, grueling journey downwards and towards his now empty stomach.

     At this point, the troll that had first brought you out of your tree had managed to get back up on his feet. He merely glanced over at his portal master…master with a slight sigh and a head nod before just simply being forced to watch it happen as the man sat himself himself down against the very same tree and placed a hand over his rumbling, growling gut, patiently lying in wait for its oncoming meal to be delivered right into it.

     Back on the inside of the throat, you had, understandably, begun totally freaking out, squirming and thrashing around within the tight tunnel to quite a considerable degree. Ultimately though, this was all just simply in vain, as no matter how much you pushed and shoved against the slimy, purple walls of the esophagus, the seconds ticking down all around you, you only seemed to be getting squeezed deeper, the rhythmically squelching walls pulsing around your poor being as you continued on squeaking desperately, practically begging the portal master on the outside to let you go free. Quite unfortunately for you, however, this request was absolutely, positively, not going to be granted by the now hazily drooling man lounging casually against your own tree. His fingers began to gently drum over his stomach in a tranquil air of contentedness, as you on the inside are now able to pick up his heartbeat.

     The deep, booming thumping emulating from deep inside of his chest would be absolutely nothing, in terms of audio noise, compared to the relatively high pitched grumbling and gurgling noises echoing around within the portal master’s still empty stomach which you were able to detect just a few seconds later, however. As, upon realizing what, exactly, this meant for you, your utterly futile cries and struggles only proceeded to grow stronger.

     When at last you reached the lower esophageal sphincter, the slick, narrow entryway gently squeezed you out into his growling, shifting, tightened purple stomach, the heated, growling organ expanding just slightly upon sensing your newfound, sudden presence, picking up its churning and rumbling even more whilst the acids began to trickle in.

     The portal master on the outside could feel his formerly empty, growling gut positively filling up with your form, the sensation of your heavy, squirming, helpless Sugarbat being fighting desperately for your very life within the hopeless, compact, slimy confines of his stomach chamber being all but heavenly for him, causing him to start slowly rubbing his hand over his stomach in absolutely nothing but pure bliss as a result.

     You on the inside were now beginning to feel the stinging of the acids seeping through all your formerly soft and fluffy pelt, now horrifically soaked and soggy with saliva and gastric juices, causing you to start squeaking despairingly in pain, as the slick, purple walls of the stomach repeatedly expand and contract, sloshing and swirling the acids all around your poor being whilst your many fur and skin layers only continue to cruelly melt away. Dissolving all the way down into a thick, oozy, viscous, mucky goop, your tiny, Sugarbat body is only ever able to keep on flailing helplessly up until the very end, never, ever, ever to see the light of the moon anymore. 

     Now with no more resistance to worry about, the organ only ramps up its sloshing even further, gurgling and shifting about in order to churn up what once was your living body into a nutritious soup of gooey mush, one that would only be mashed up into chime and pumped through the portal master’s intestines, destined in the end to build up into a permanent part of the man’s body after all was said and done.

     Soon, your being had become so incredibly pulpy, that its former Sugarbat outline was at last beginning to drip off and swirl away, many large chunks of mush breaking away from each other and sinking deep into the swishing pool of acids before dissolving down even more, at last being mashed up and churned about into a homogenous pool of soupy chime. Now, you were nothing more than a bunch of cellular slush, and the portal master’s body treated you as such, your liquified former body casually flowing on down into the beginnings of the man’s small intestine, as the pylorus opened up seconds later.

     The portal master on the outside proceeded to give his satisfied, growling stomach a few pats and many more rubs as a small amount of air that had been previously trapped inside his stomach was suddenly brought up inside his throat, and released all at once in a great, deep belch, one that caused the poor, green troll standing solemnly next to the man to just sigh.

     He didn’t know when his master would get back up. It could be in a few minutes, it could be in a few hours. All the troll knew was that, at the very least, now that his hunger was satisfied, there would be no need to try and appease the midget portal master by scrambling around sporadically in the kitchen doing what little was possible to whip up a satisfactory meal for him anymore. The last time this was attempted was…disastrous, we’ll just say that.

     As such, as the portal master’s loud, rumbling guts continued to make work of the sloshy remains of the once living Sugarbat that had just recently entered into it, the troll could only stand back and silently hope he would never have to fall out of a tree in order to get a meal for his master ever again.

#soft vore #v.ore #v/ore #v0r3 #v0re #vor3 #vore stories #vore story #vore writing #male pred #male predador #human pred #human vore #gt vore #g/t vore #reader prey #pov vore #vore fic #unwilling vore #unwilling prey #gooey digestion #digestion #digestion vore #vore digestion #fatal vore #furry prey #fuck it it counts

[papirouge]

I will NEVER be gaslighted into thinking any remote criticism about a woman is misogyny, or being pressured to believe any woman just because we share the same sex

#'feminists' like are you is why feminism is struggling #have fun caping for shady women but im built different #and btw next time actual misogynists dogpile on women and defend CONVICTED male predador #and refuse to OFFICIAL LEGAL COURT SENTENCE because they saw shit on the internetz #*refuse to accept #remember you did the same arguing a legit court sentence and rather choosed to believe a freaking twitter thread #which obviously has been debunked but hey...Brandolini's law ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #you people lowered the bar for everyone and soon enough this recklessness is gonna bite you in the butt #you all made your bed now lie in it #papi watch

[bio-facts]

The last song | La última canción | A última canção

English

Moho braccatus, known as  ʻōʻō de Kaua was an endemic bird to the island of Kauaʻi officially extinct in the 20th century. Its extinction was a combination of several factors, such as mosquito-transmitted disease, introduction of mammalian predators such as the small Indian mongoose or Polynesian rat, and the destruction of its habitat, making the species more vulnerable to catastrophic weather events.

A male was last heard in 1987, the audio from this video. The images are from 1985, when he was last seen.

The silences between songs are meant for the female to fill with her  singing, since during the mating season they form a duet.

Dr. Christopher W. Clark : The last male of a species, singing for a female who will never come. And now his voice is gone.

Not only is the species extinct, but the whole genus was swiped away within the last male.

/

Español

Moho braccatus fue un pájaro endémico de la isla Hawwaiana Kaua’i, extinguido oficialmente en el siglo 20. Su extinción fue una combinación de varios factores, como las enfermedades transmitidas por mosquitos, introducción de mamíferos depredadores como la rata de la Polinesia y el meloncillo chico, y la destrucción de su hábitat, acentuando la debilidad de la especie a catástrofes naturales.

El último macho fue escuchado por última vez en 1987, es el audio de este vídeo. Las imágenes son de 1985, cuando fue visto por última vez.

Los silencios entre cada canto están destinados a que la hembra cante su parte, ya que forman un dueto durante el cortejo.

Dr. Christopher W. Clark dijo: El último macho de la especie canta por una hembra que nunca llegará. Y ahora su voz ha desaparecido.

No sólo ha supuesto la extinción de la especie, sino que todo el género desapareció junto con este macho.  

/

Português

Moho braccatus era uma ave endêmica da ilha havaiana de Kaua'i, oficialmente extinta no século 20. Sua extinção foi uma combinação de vários fatores, incluindo doenças transmitidas por mosquitos, introdução de mamíferos predadores como o rato polinésio e a mangusto, e a destruição de seu habitat, acentuando a fragilidade da espécie às catástrofes naturais.

 O último macho foi ouvido pela última vez em 1987, é o áudio deste vídeo. As imagens são de 1985, quando ele foi visto pela última vez.

Os silêncios entre cada cantoria servem para que a fêmea cante sua parte, pois formam um dueto durante o ritual de acasalamento.

 Dr. Christopher W. Clark disse: O último macho da espécie canta para uma fêmea que nunca virá. E agora sua voz desapareceu.

 Não só levou à extinção da espécie, mas todo o gênero desapareceu junto com este macho.

|

#birds #zoology #extinction #ecology #conservation #Kauaʻi ʻōʻō #Moho braccatus

[4813203]

Seeing male teachers, neighbours, familiy members ect sexualising you as a young girl and looking at you like a predador just for excisting might be the reason pick me girls behave the way they do. They are just as much victims of a patriarchy, and showing men that they are more than a sexual object might be a way of taking back control. Idk how to put this into words but I think about this a lot and tumblr is the only place I will put it out for now.

[angelanatel]

Wellington Barbosa: “Para entender o porquê organizações missionárias evangélicas atuam entre pessoas vulneráveis para depois saírem como heróis. Ontem, alguns jovens que se preparavam para “traduzir a bíblia” por uma das missões entre povos da floresta morreu num acidente. Vale a pena ler o fio:”

“The Sound of Freedom” retrata evangélicos (que podem ser mórmons ou cristãos nascidos de novo) como heróis que resgatam crianças sequestradas, traficadas e abusadas.

No início dos anos 2000, na Tailândia, o antropólogo tcheco Tomáš Ryška descobriu uma verdade perturbadora: os predadores eram missionários.

“Prisoners of a White God” é o documentário de 2008 de Ryška sobre o que ele descobriu. Todos os males contra crianças retratados em The Sound of Freedom estavam sendo cometidos por missionários de uma das maiores organizações missionárias do mundo, a Youth With a Mission (YWAM) – JOCUM. https://vimeo.com/57438027

A descrição da Wikipedia sobre Prisoners of a White God (Prisioneiros de um Deus Branco) é muito boa. O documentário aborda uma realidade raramente exposta, a de que o que os missionários cristãos e as organizações cristãs de ajuda e assistência *dizem* que estão fazendo globalmente e o que estão *de fato* fazendo podem ser coisas muito diferentes. O antropólogo Ryška descobriu que os missionários sequestravam crianças indígenas Akha (que tinham pais), com o consentimento tácito do governo, e, na melhor das hipóteses, doutrinavam-nas para evangelizar suas aldeias, e, na pior, submetiam-nas a trabalhos forçados e escravidão sexual.

As operações missionárias de Jovens Com Uma Missão são, convenientemente, estabelecidas como um sistema de franquia laissez faire (atitude de deixar as coisas seguirem seu próprio curso, sem interferir) para que a JOCUM possa negar os abusos de qualquer operação missionária específica. Mas a JOCUM fornece cobertura de alto nível para seus missionários porque se integrou com “A Família” que, desde a década de 1950, administrava o Café da Manhã Nacional de Oração anual e estava inserida nos círculos de elite de Washington DC de uma forma bastante perturbadora. A Família (ou “The Fellowship”) foi tema de uma série recente da Netflix sobre a organização internacional sombria de alcance global que foi exposta em dois livros sucessivos do jornalista @JeffSharlet que, no início dos anos 2000, se infiltrou em um dos albergues da Família na área de Washington, onde jovens acólitos da Família aprendiam, como disse Sharlet, “as lições de liderança de Hitler, Lênin e Mao”.

Nesse contexto, tratava-se de lealdade fanática à Família e devoção fanática à causa – conquistar ou subjugar o mundo para Jesus. O antigo líder da Família, Doug Coe, entusiasmava-se com o fato de que, durante a selvagem Revolução Cultural da China, a Guarda Vermelha de Mao cortava a cabeça de seus pais pela causa, para o bem do Estado. Dizia-se que Coe era amigo pessoal de todos os presidentes dos EUA desde Eisenhower. É fácil ver como essas conexões poderiam convencer vários governos ao redor do mundo a fechar os olhos para o que os missionários afiliados aos EUA estavam fazendo, ou até mesmo a apoiá-los ativamente. As “lições de Hitler, Lênin e Mao” também foram aproveitadas pelas maiores organizações missionárias dos EUA, visando à dominação mundial – a ideia é doutrinar as crianças para que sejam tão fanáticas quanto a Juventude Hitlerista que, antes do início da Segunda Guerra Mundial, escreveu, com seus próprios corpos, em um estádio esportivo, diante de seu Führer, as palavras “Hitler, We Are Yours” (Hitler, nós somos seus). Nada menos que Rick Warren, que na época era um dos evangelistas mais famosos dos Estados Unidos, contou essa história, em 2005, em um estádio esportivo no sul da Califórnia, lotado com milhares de membros de sua Igreja Saddleback. Se os cristãos comuns tivessem esse nível de dedicação (ou fanatismo, por assim dizer), Warren disse com entusiasmo que “poderíamos conquistar o mundo”.

Tomar o mundo é o objetivo e, para isso, as armas são as crianças, e doutriná-las para que sejam fanaticamente dedicadas a esse objetivo é uma preocupação central da direita evangélica agora globalizada. O acesso às crianças é uma preocupação central da direita evangélica global, que considera as crianças de 4 a 14 anos como “a Janela de 4 a 14 anos”, porque pesquisas demonstraram que essa é a faixa etária durante a qual as crianças podem ser convertidas ou doutrinadas de forma mais eficaz no cristianismo. Mas não é qualquer cristianismo, pois não se trata de um projeto das principais denominações cristãs protestantes ou da Igreja Católica – é um projeto principalmente (com algumas exceções) de uma frente global fundamentalista e neofundamentalista orientada para missões que surgiu desde a década de 1970, na qual inúmeras vertentes do cristianismo, cada vez mais o cristianismo carismático nascido de novo, formaram relações de trabalho colaborativo com o objetivo de evangelizar todos os “grupos de pessoas�� com idioma e cultura distintos que tenham 5.000 pessoas ou mais. Isso requer a tradução da Bíblia para milhares de idiomas diferentes. Isso requer a divisão do trabalho (para evitar esforços duplicados) entre uma miríade de organizações e grupos missionários. Na década de 1990, esse esforço foi conduzido e coordenado pela mais recente tecnologia de informática e informação.

Em 2008, a revista on-line Tehelka publicou uma exposição sobre o direcionamento da Índia por esse esforço de missões globais, cuja investigação revelou uma operação de escopo, escala e sofisticação globais surpreendentes. “Preparing for the Harvest”, do repórter V K Shashikumar, agora pode ser encontrado em um único blog. O relatório revelou um esforço baseado nos EUA com um vasto banco de dados sobre cada 5.000 ou mais “grupos de pessoas” na Terra, com dados etnográficos, etno-linguísticos e etno-religiosos detalhados sobre *cada grupo. Na Terra*. Esse banco de dados é controlado por um consórcio de grandes organizações missionárias que, por sua vez, disponibilizam os dados para os esforços no campo. A sofisticação é tamanha que, em um ou dois dias após o recebimento de uma carta de um “buscador” na Índia, esse esforço terá localizado e enviado um missionário a vários quilômetros, ou menos, do referido buscador. Aqui está o relatório. Abaixo está um trecho.

Isso deve lhe dar uma noção da magnitude e intensidade do esforço missionário global que – voltando ao meu tema original – tem como alvo especial as crianças. As maiores organizações cristãs de ajuda e socorro fazem parte desse esforço – a maior delas (não citarei o nome), que recebe uma parte substancial de seu orçamento anual da USAID (US Agency International for Development), faz parte disso; embora afirme que não evangeliza, sua literatura revela que ela procura doutrinar crianças, mesmo contra a vontade dos pais, e enviar essas crianças para evangelizar em suas comunidades na referida organização líder de ajuda e assistência – há cerca de uma década, em sua conferência anual, seus líderes anunciaram o lançamento de um programa piloto para doutrinar uma grande porcentagem da população de toda uma grande nação africana, com ideias como que os crentes deveriam trabalhar para dominar todos os setores da sociedade – era, na verdade, se não no nome, o agora infame “mandato das 7 Montanhas” promovido, especialmente, pelo cada vez mais influente e notório movimento da Nova Reforma Apostólica, e cujas doutrinas dominionistas se espalharam amplamente no cristianismo americano e (cada vez mais) mundial. De qualquer forma, há muitas facetas no projeto de transformar as crianças em armas – o movimento Quiverful, por exemplo, e o movimento relacionado abordado na nova e perturbadora série http://Amazon.com “Shiny Happy People”. Mas eu tenho que ir…

Source: https://twitter.com/brucewilson/status/1687808860860399616

Saiba mais em nossa live sobre Teologia do domínio em https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIdpDLuezWw&t=1s

[rosanunescarli]

VERSÍCULO O Senhor é o meu pastor: nada me faltará. Refrigera a minha alma; guia-me pelas veredas da justiça, por amor do seu nome. INSPIRAÇÃO Na época em que este salmo foi escrito, o pastoreio era uma atividade muito comum. As ovelhas são praticamente indefesas contra os predadores, e se amedrontam facilmente, especialmente quando em rebanhos. Deixe o Senhor ser o seu pastor e guiá-lo para lugares mais tranquilos. Ele o levará pelo caminho reto, desde que você esteja disposto a segui-lo. Pense nas consequências para uma ovelha: seguir o pastor é ser protegida, comer, descansar e sobreviver. Mas perder-se é estar sozinha, ter fome, ter medo, morrer. A escolha é fácil. ORAÇÃO Ó Senhor, meu pastor, nada me faltará. Tudo de que eu precisei, a tua destra me ofereceu. Tu me progeteste, agindo como minha rocha e escudo contra todos os males. Mas, bom Deus, eu pequei, deixando que o mal entrasse no meu coração sem me valer da Tua ajuda. Perdoa-me por isso e ajuda-me para que o meu amor por Ti não falte. Ajuda-me a servir a Ti e ao Teu filho, Jesus Cristo. Amém. (em Marília) https://www.instagram.com/p/CkA_YczrSIWWhSxp2Q-djfDlUnJ6RsvmRGpGjM0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[julliana100jesus]

*Um Otimo Sabado ☁️⛅☀️🤍 Um Maravilhoso e Abençoado Fim de Semana com Força ,Fé e pensamento Positivo* 🤜🏻🤛🏻🌱🌿🌳🌻🙏🏻🤍🕊️ *Oração do Dia* 🤜🏻🤛🏻🤍🕊️ *Versiculo* O Senhor é o meu pastor: nada me faltará. Refrigera a minha alma; guia-me pelas veredas da justiça, por amor do seu nome. Livro Salmos Capítulo 23 Versículo 1-3 *Inspiração* Na época em que este salmo foi escrito, o pastoreio era uma atividade muito comum. As ovelhas são praticamente indefesas contra os predadores, e se amedrontam facilmente, especialmente quando em rebanhos. Deixe o Senhor ser o seu pastor e guiá-lo para lugares mais tranquilos. Ele o levará pelo caminho reto, desde que você esteja disposto a segui-lo. Pense nas consequências para uma ovelha: seguir o pastor é ser protegida, comer, descansar e sobreviver. Mas perder-se é estar sozinha, ter fome, ter medo, morrer. A escolha é fácil. *Oração* Ó Senhor, meu pastor, nada me faltará. Tudo de que eu precisei, a tua destra me ofereceu. Tu me progeteste, agindo como minha rocha e escudo contra todos os males. Mas, bom Deus, eu pequei, deixando que o mal entrasse no meu coração sem me valer da Tua ajuda. Perdoa-me por isso e ajuda-me para que o meu amor por Ti não falte. Ajuda-me a servir a Ti e ao Teu filho, Jesus Cristo. Amém. https://www.instagram.com/p/CkAt3rFO-2p/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[gyntraregion]

045 - Herm-Fist Mutualism Pokemon TYPE: Water / Poison FEMALE 50% MALE 50% Ability: Anemone defense: When the HP changes to less than 50%, the pokémon changes to the Defense form doing the Attack and Special Attack status changes to Defense and Special Defense. - ENG: Dex: Herme-fist is the evolved form of Distharm and Wellfish. Distharm since they are hatched, aims to seek Wellfist in order to be able to evolve. After evolution the bodies of the two pokémons are interconnected forever, not being able to survive, one without the other. Because of this mutualism the two parts work as one pokémon, however much there is a division of tasks between the parts, and the locomotion part (Herm), helps to obtain food and some fights, while the protection part ( Fist), has an amount of poisonous substance that protects Herm from possible predators. - PT - BR : Herme-fist é a forma evoluída do Distharm e Wellfist . Distharm desde que nascem dos ovos, tem como objetivo buscar Wellfist para assim conseguir evoluir. Após a evolução os corpos dos dois pokémons ficam interligados para sempre, não podendo sobreviver, um sem o outro. Por conta desse mutualismo as duas partes funcionam como um só pokémon, por mais que haja uma divisão de tarefas entre as partes, sendo que a parte da locomoção (Herm), auxilia na obtenção de alimento e algumas lutas, enquanto a parte de proteção (Fist), possui uma quantidade de veneno substância que protege o Herm de possíveis predadores. - WELLFISH + DISTHARM (Leven up 34 with both on the team) < HERM-FIST - ATTACK MODE HP: 122 ATTACK: 120 DEFENSE: 70 SP. ATK: 100 SP. DEF: 70 SPEED: 50 DEFENSE MODE HP: 122 ATTACK: 80 DEFENSE: 100 SP. ATK: 80 SP. DEF: 120 SPEED: 50

#pokemon #fakemon #pokeart #pokemongo #pikachu #pokemonsnap #pokedex #eevee

[gale-gentlepenguin]

I never understand the whole "there only two individuals of this species but one is male and the other female. Lets make them mate so we can save the species". But there tons of problems with it. Like what if the female rejects the male because he is not strong enough or they are both not interest. Even if they have babies the offspring will not have anyone to mate with they cant mate with family. Or the babies are not strong and died. Or decide to raise them in captivity but once release into the wild they dont know how to defend against predadors. Thats one common mistake. Or what if one of the parents is infertile. Clonation is not an option since we not yet close enough in terms of Jurassic Park.

I aint a scientist. I just know that we humans just try our best to preserve the linage of species that are living.

Personally, I believe we shouldnt be doing that. If a species is dying out and its not directly our fault, I just say leave it be. If its directly our fault, like we are hunting them to extinction, then I say we have some moral responsibility to ease up on that. But if they are just dying out, let it happen

There is only so much we can do. It sounds a bit cold hearted, but the animals are not sentient and dont have the self awareness we do. If they dont adapt they dont survive. Its just how cruel mother nature is.

#nature is cold and cruel #gale talks #animals #its a hard thing to accept

[hattercatsparadise]

Nemean roar

Mirror, mirror on the wall ... Reveal the Reflected Wish.

The mirror reveals the Reflection of the Wish: When you are a calm and gentle lioness who hates to fight, but discovers that you are a descendant of the Nemean lion (feat. Leona)

Fem reader

✨ Mas que irônico;

✨ Como o destino gosta de causar ironias;

✨ Nunca imaginou que haveria uma leoa em Nitgh Raven;

✨ Mas ele não pode evitar comparar a sua personalidade calma e gentil o lembra um gato doméstico;

✨ Independentemente se você estiver ou não em Savanaclaw ele mantém um olhar atento em você, mas ele nega;

✨ Se você em Savanaclaw estiver ele se pergunta se o Espelho das Trevas tem algum problema;

✨ Primeiro uma mulher está em uma escola exclusivamente masculina;

✨ Segundo você foi colocando em Savanaclaw;

✨ A sua personalidade é incompatível com o comportamento selvagem e agressivo dos outros estudantes;

✨ Isso até um dia alguns residentes de Savanaclaw pensarem que era uma boa ideia te provocar;

✨ Você ignorou e aturou tudo para evitar uma luta até que você teve o suficiente e o último fio de paciência estalou;

✨ Então você solta um poderoso rugido que criou não só um estrondo como uma repentina ventania que varreu todo o dormitório derrubando tudo que estava no caminho;

✨ Se erguendo sobre os idiotas que estavam te incomodando você rosna um ultimato;

✨ “Detesto lutas, mas não sou contra a ser quase tão implacável quanto meu antepassado era contra quem nos incomoda! Já ouviram falar do infame leão de Nemeia? Ou vocês querem experimentar quão afiadas são as garras que herdei dele? ” – Você rosna uma ameaça fora de sua habitual personalidade gentil e calma para a presença imponente de um predador que aterroriza qualquer um que presenciou essa mudança.

✨ Sendo “benevolente” você dá mais um último aviso para que não provoquem você ou a próxima vez será como o próprio leão lendário fizesse uma visita para criar o caos e o inferno na vida desse tipo de idiota;

✨ Leona.exe parou de funcionar;

✨ Ele simplesmente não consegue absorver de imediato a nova informação;

✨ Você descendente do leão de Nemeia? Aquele leão temido que fora praticamente invencível?

✨ Ele tem uma nova opinião sobre você e não quer te irritar;

✨ Leona já bebe o suco de “respeito às mulheres”;

✨ Ele não está com medo Okay?

✨ São apenas os instintos dele dizendo: “Não seja burro e respeite-a em dobro”;

✨ Isso enquanto alguns outros instintos aguçam sua curiosidade mesmo ele sendo um grande preguiçoso;

✨ Afinal, quando alguém tem a chance de conhecer um descendente desse infame leão?

✨ How ironic;

✨ How fate likes to cause ironies;

✨ He never imagined that there would be a lioness at Nitgh Raven;

✨ But he can't help but compare your calm and gentle personality to a domestic cat;

✨ Regardless of whether or not you are in Savanaclaw he keeps a watchful eye on you, but he denies it;

✨ If you are in Savanaclaw, he wonders if the Mirror of Darkness has a problem;

✨ First a woman is in an all-male school;

✨ Second you have been placing in Savanaclaw;

✨ Your personality is incompatible with the wild and aggressive behavior of other students;

✨ That until one day some residents of Savanaclaw thought it was a good idea to provoke you;

✨ You ignored and put up with everything to avoid a fight until you had enough and the last thread of patience snapped;

✨ Then you let out a powerful roar that created not only a crash but a sudden gale that swept across the dormitory knocking down everything that was in the way;

✨ Rising over the idiots that were bothering you, you growl an ultimatum;

✨ “I hate to fight, but I'm not against being almost as unforgiving as my ancestor was against those who bother us! Have you heard of the infamous Nemean lion? Or do you want to experience how sharp are the claws I inherited from him? ”- You growl a threat out of your usual gentle and calm personality to the imposing presence of a predator that terrifies anyone who has witnessed this change.

✨ Being “benevolent” you give one last warning so that they don't provoke you or the next time it will be like the legendary lion himself paid a visit to create chaos and hell in the life of this type of idiot;

✨ Leona.exe has stopped working;

✨ He simply cannot immediately absorb the new information;

✨ Are you a descendant of the Nemean lion? That feared lion that was practically invincible?

✨ He has a new opinion about you and doesn't want to piss you off;

✨ Leona already drinks the “respect for women” juice;

✨ Isn't he scared Okay?

✨ It's just his instincts saying: "Don't be stupid and respect her twice";

✨ This while some other instincts pique his curiosity even though he is a big lazy one;

✨ After all, when does anyone have the chance to meet a descendant of this infamous lion?

✨ Que irónico;

✨ Cómo le gusta al destino causar ironías;

✨ Nunca se imaginó que habría una leona en Nitgh Raven;

✨ Pero no puede evitar comparar su personalidad tranquila y gentil con un gato doméstico;

✨ Independientemente de si estás o no en Savanaclaw, él te vigila, pero lo niega;

✨ Si estás en Savanaclaw, se pregunta si el Mirror of Darkness tiene un problema;

✨ Primero una mujer está en una escuela masculina;

✨ En segundo lugar has estado en Savanaclaw;

✨ Su personalidad es incompatible con el comportamiento salvaje y agresivo de otros estudiantes;

✨ Que hasta que un día algunos residentes de Savanaclaw pensaron que era una buena idea provocarlos;

✨ Ignoraste y aguantaste todo para evitar una pelea hasta que tuviste suficiente y el último hilo de paciencia se rompió;

✨ Entonces dejaste escapar un poderoso rugido que creó no solo un choque sino una tormenta repentina que barrió el dormitorio derribando todo lo que estaba en el camino;

✨ Al levantarte sobre los idiotas que te estaban molestando, gruñes un ultimátum;

✨ “Odio pelear, ¡pero no estoy en contra de ser tan implacable como lo fue mi antepasado contra quienes nos molestan! ¿Has oído hablar del infame león de Nemea? ¿O quieres experimentar cuán afiladas son las garras que heredé de él? "- Usted gruñe una amenaza de su personalidad gentil y tranquila habitual a la imponente presencia de un depredador que aterroriza a cualquiera que haya sido testigo de este cambio.

✨ Siendo "benevolente", le das una última advertencia para que no te provoquen o la próxima vez será como si el legendario león hiciera una visita para crear el caos y el infierno en la vida de este tipo de idiota;

✨ Leona.exe ha dejado de funcionar;

✨ Simplemente no puede absorber de inmediato la nueva información;

✨ ¿Eres descendiente del león de Nemea? ¿Ese león temido que era prácticamente invencible?

✨ Él tiene una nueva opinión sobre ti y no quiere molestarte;

✨ Leona ya bebe el jugo del "respeto por las mujeres";

✨ El no tiene miedo. ¿Bueno?

✨ Es solo su instinto diciendo: "No seas estúpido y respétala dos veces";

✨ Esto mientras que otros instintos despiertan su curiosidad a pesar de que es un gran vago;

✨ Después de todo, ¿cuándo alguien tiene la oportunidad de conocer a un descendiente de este infame león?

#leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x y/n #leona kingscholar x you #Savanaclaw #savanaclaw x reader #Savanaclaw x you #Savanaclaw x y/n #fem reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland headcanon #twisted wonderland headcanons #Twisted Wonderland x y/n

[benjaminthewolf]

Garcello Gives You Snuggles (Remastered)

The difference between this and the original is night and day, and I couldn't be more happier at my improvement.

****

     The only two things your ears are able to detect in the present moment are both the ragged, labored, desperate huffing of your oxygen-depleted, withered lungs, as well as the overheating, cramping, constant, pounding of your poor, throbbing, shriveled little heart, as your all but entirely numbed feet continue aimlessly striking their force against the concrete of the filthy city sidewalk right below. With a form so utterly miniscule against the relatively gigantic world all around you, there could be no better display of cruel irony as to just how, exactly, your emotions had engulfed your being. Especially in the dead of night.

     Vigorously forcing your body as such to do whatever it physically could to hold back your sight-submerging, stinging flood of minuscule tears, if for no other reason than your lungs’ momentary inability to handle the inevitably resulting gasping and wheezing, you were now all but rendered physically unable to continue in any direction but forwards, for the energy required to overcome your present inertia in said direction would prove simply far too much for your body to actually handle. Still, you carried on with your sprinting. 

     And then, just like that, your form was struck with the oxymoronic comforting shock from an equally as oxymoronic mysterious, yet familiar, teal glow. It didn’t matter in the slightest that you couldn’t detect rigid shapes for the moment, as all the information you already had was undeniably more than enough for you to piece together what was happening.

     Your being instinctively swivels its current momentum, the wavering sparks of what could barely be described as hope for anything making use of its natural inertia to practically fling your poor form into the alleyway. Ignoring in its entirety the consequential pain of skidding against the rough asphalt seconds later, you instantly force your head up in order to confirm with absolute certainty your past assumptions about the teal glow.

     Low and behold, there he is, and quite thankfully for your horridly gagging, strained lungs, you are not even forced to call his name in order to get his attention.

“Woah! Hey there, little one! I….didn’t know you were there!” the ethereal, wispy ghost form of the man only known as Garcello gently addresses your battered, jittering, scraped-up being whilst simultaneously attempting to carefully scoop it all up in his hands. As he does this, the one, single, little thing you can get your quavering self to do now is just cry. Now that your body didn’t have to focus on running, it could instead redirect all that energy to what it had previously held back for so long, and for that exact reason as well.

     “Awww…. Hey now, hey now, it's perfectly okay for you to cry. I have absolutely no idea what’s happened to you, but you gotta be able to trust me when I say that whatever you experienced back there, it cannot hurt you right now. And that means it's safe to let it out.” Garcello softly explains to your torrentally sobbing, trembling being as he tenderly snuggles you against his dark teal abdomen.

     You absolutely didn’t need to be told to keep crying to keep crying. Nonetheless, in essentially instant response to the tender, sympathetic, soothing words of the ghost, you promptly bury your face in his t-shirt and immediately unleash the, somehow, now even harsher flow of your tears into the soft, ghostly, thin, silky fabric. Garcello says absolutely nothing as you only continue to bawl. Neither of you had even the slightest clue as to just how long this scene lasted. Yet, upon your fierce wailing giving way to pained sniffling, Garcello still doesn’t dare to break the silence.

     Eventually, however, you do remove your face from his abdomen. And that was when the words began to come. It wasn’t an elegant, nor a succinct explanation by any stretch of the imagination, but you couldn’t care less about that. All that you cared about was that someone was legitimately taking the time to let you incessantly ramble on about what exactly had happened to you, and was actually paying attention with intent of helping you recover from the experiences you’d revealed after the fact. Once again, the time it took for you to finish your rabid release could’ve been anywhere from five minutes to half an hour, neither of you had any way to know with any certainty. And, once again, Garcello remains completely and utterly silent as you just continue to rave about…well, pretty much everything you needed to rave about. It wasn’t until he was absolutely, positively sure you were finished that he finally took in a breath to start talking.

     “First of all, I just want to say that you are very brave for telling me this. Ultimately, the only way that you can get proper help is to talk to someone about what you’ve gone through. And I guarantee you, there ARE people out there who can help. …professionally I mean. Ya know, like licensed therapists, and…obviously I’m not one of those, so… But yes, talking about all this is a very big step. I can see you’re already jittering a whole lot less because of it. Just letting out all your emotions verbally can be a huge factor in regaining control in these kinds of situations.”

     Garcello takes a moment to pause as you continue your exhausted heaving.

     “For right now, you just need to keep breathing. I don’t want to overwhelm you any further by diving into the nuance of what you’ve told me. Just breathe in and out. That’s it. I’ve got ahold of you. Nothing can hurt you right now. You’re safe.”

     Your positively drained, depleted being proceeds to tremble only slightly as it softly wells up with more tears. A far less violent flow begins to stream its way out of your eyes as you once again bury yourself inside Garcello’s abdomen. The squishy, comfortable, warm flesh seems to somewhat wrap itself up around your being as you lean into it, whilst the places it couldn’t reach, such as your back, are gently caressed by the ghost’s delicate fingers. And that’s when you started to hear it.

     The low-pitched, subtle grumbles tucked away behind many layers of ghostly flesh immediately grab your attention whilst the gears inside your head begin turning. Garcello is slightly confused at first, but upon you turning your head to the side just a little, in order to squish it into his midsection, he begins to understand your thought process as well. 

     “Do you…do you wanna go in there?” he eventually manages to ask. 

     All you would give in response was a vigorous flurry of nods, prompting the ghostly teal man to let out a short, friendly chuckle.

     “Well, it is nice and warm in there! Makes a great resting spot I suppose!” he affirmingly speaks with a smile, whilst raising you up towards his face. “...and let’s be honest, you really need a good rest after all this…so yeah! You can stay in there for a while!”

     You are now inches from the ghost’s mouth, waiting patiently for the reveal. 

     “...just let me know if my smoker breath is still there…I wouldn’t want ya to have to suffer from that because of me…” Garcello hesitantly requests as a great twinge begins to form across his face.

     You briefly reassure Garcello that if he did still have smoker breath, you would’ve definitely picked it up by now. And since you smelled none, that meant it was certainly gone.

     Garcello simply blushes just slightly in response, before swiftly thanking you for the reassurance. Now, there was only one more thing he had to do. And so, the unveiling commenced seconds later.

     The mint blue colored chamber starts to flow upon your body its natural, soothing, calm, inviting warmth, something which eagerly prompts you to start crawling all the way past Garcello’s lips, and therefore have the comfort douse over the whole of your being. 

     Over his incisor teeth you went, as a result, before you finally squished a single palm down into the smooth, slickened form of his tongue. Eagerly, yet carefully, hauling the rest of your body onto the muscle soon after, you almost instantly collapse down upon its soft, warm, pillowy surface, before nuzzling your cheek deep into it, in order to show your deep gratitude unto the teal man outside. 

     Once the ghostly owner of the tongue is absolutely certain it was safe to close his maw, he slowly brings his lips together, thus sealing you out from the cold, whilst his jaws lying past them parted just about as far as they could. This was because Garcello knew that you were far too exhausted by now to make your way towards his open, tight, and squishy gullet. Because of this, he needed to elicit the aid of good ol’ gravity in order to get you down to his gut. 

     You are soon able to sense the ghost’s tongue lifting up rather slowly and gingerly. You therefore give the muscle a slight pat to let him know you’re okay before it starts to slope down, and towards Garcello’s now gaping laryngopharynx. 

     The plump, rounded form of his uvula gently sways back and forth above the drop whilst you start to slide down the slick tongue. Gradually slipping downwards and towards Garcello’s ghostly throat, it isn’t very long before your form becomes lodged nice and tightly against his tonsils, whilst you start to gaze down into his trachea. Garcello’s slightly wavering vocal cords are then naturally covered up by the epiglottis as you are promptly squeezed into his esophagus. It takes one more gulp before your lower legs and feet slip all the way through the upper esophageal sphincter, but once this is accomplished at last, Garcello heaves out a slight sigh, before placing a couple fingers over the slight bulge in his throat. Now, his ghostly body would handle the rest.

     Casually floating over and towards the side of the alleyway as a result, Garcello sets himself down rather cautiously, not wanting the force of the motion to disturb your own journey within, before curling his ghost tail over his middle. Accompanying his ghost tail with both hands before the slight bulge in his throat disappears behind his collarbone, Garcello thus gives a slight smile. You on the inside were soon to pick up a soft heartbeat, and when you did, you would know you were close.

     Back on the inside, meanwhile, the warm, squishy squelchings of peristalsis from the throat muscles are able to massage your poor body as they continue to escort you on down. Sure enough, however, you did indeed pick up rather soon an ethereal, ghostly replication of a heartbeat, though the fact of it not being from a living source did little to make a meaningful difference. The wondrous, continual kneading pushes you deeper and deeper towards Garcello’s stomach as the heartbeat pounds gently within the ambient background of the ghost’s internal body.

     Eventually though, there was to be far more joining along with the baseline beat of the heart as both high-pitched and low-pitched gurgles and grumbles begin to echo about the awaiting chamber just below. With the lower esophageal sphincter coming into your sight seconds later, you are gently squelched out from the natural valve head-first, before at last, the rest of your body follows through, and you take the deep plunge down below.

     Promptly rising up from the harmless liquids sloshing around within Garcello’s warm, churning stomach, touching your feet down upon the very bottom of the shallow pool as you did, you then proceed to give a rather visceral full-body shake in utterly cathartic release of pent-up tension. And then, immediately after, in use of ol’ reliable once more, your utterly exhausted being flops directly onto the pillowy walls as your eyelids droop down and close your eyes. 

     Garcello on the outside is able to feel all this happening within his gut, and yet, decides not to interrupt you for the moment, as you did need to rest rather desperately. Slowly rubbing his hands all over his middle for a while, Garcello can sense you shifting around just a little deep within, presumably so you could find a more suitable sleeping position. For you down below within the walls, it wouldn’t take very long for you to fully accomplish this task. 

     Heaving out a gigantic yawn, you subtly nuzzle your head into the squishy, cushiony, heated form of the stomach walls as the gently sloshing liquids around you calmly envelop the lower half of your being. Slipping deeper and deeper into unconsciousness as the soft gut’s natural heat drags you further and further into comfort, the very last thing you could sense before finally falling asleep was, indeed, the constant white noise all around you. The gurgling, growling, and groaning of the stomach of the ghost who had saved you tonight. 

     Garcello on the outside only lets out a soft sigh of contentment as he senses you settling down against the squishy walls of his stomach.  

     “Goodnight, little one…” he whispers very quietly, as he himself begins closing his eyes very slowly. It would not be very long then, before the both of you were softly slumbering away in silent peace; both of Garcello’s hands against his rumbling stomach housing your tiny form deep within. 

#soft vore #safe vore #vore writing #vore stories #vore story #male pred #male predador #human pred #human vore #I'm still counting him as human even though he's a ghost in this #gt vore #g/t vore #reader prey #pov vore #willing prey #willing vore #wholesome vore #extreme cuddling #endosoma #comfort vore #v0re #v0r3 #v/ore #v.ore #monday night munchin' #monday night munchin #vore fic #v.re #v/re #I think that's my first time using those censored tags that don't have the o in them hah

[benjaminthewolfnsfw]

Nightmare Of An Irish Snack

A vore story for @luci-voracious-blog with another inspiration source which I am sure many will recognize.

(Twilight's nightmare by Feedfancier)

But yeah, YIPPIE! MORE ARAN RYAN VORE LET'S GO!

****

     Your position within the space around you, as well as the nature of the space itself, was instantaneously jolted into a form far different than you had been experiencing up until that point. Your body jostling around aimlessly in the air before finally succumbing to gravity left you exceedingly dizzy and disoriented, causing you to murmur some rather displeased gibberish and cough a few times as you disgruntledly peeled your face off the floor. Only for the rest of your being to instinctively and immediately, jolt itself the rest of the way up, causing you to frantically scramble back up onto your two feet, holding your arms behind you as you did in order to catch yourself just in case you stumbled.

       “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! LET’S GO! LET’S GO!”

     Towering above, yet still before, your miniscule, frail, tiny body, hunching over your petrified form with nothing more than a twisted, demented, toothy grin on his face, taking up the bulk of the unidentified, enigmatic blackened space you currently occupied, there he was. In all of his deranged, unhinged, utterly derailed, yet most importantly of all, one hundred percent, pure, undistilled Irishness, there could be absolutely no mistake. This was Aran Ryan, in all of his blood curdling glory.

     Aran proceeds to grow his horrific grin wider as he silently stares you down, presenting effortlessly onto your gaze his two, glistening, sharpened, arrays of whitened teeth, the cause of its unrelenting shine being revealed soon after, as trailing down the corners of his mouth like slimy waterfalls, were two trickling lines of saliva.

     “Ya know…” Aran finally speaks up in a controlled, yet powerful tone, whilst extending a hand out to snatch you right off of the ground. “Back in me home country of  Ireland, we made Tinies one of our most beloved national foods!

     With your brain now lurching itself into fight, flight, or freeze mode, you subconsciously ended up choosing freeze.

     Thus, it became rather trivial for Aran to grab you and lift you up to eye-level. Chuckling out an irregular, erratic flow of maniacal laughter, Aran Ryan finally moves you just a little ways away from his face, before finally unveiling his maw.

     Before you even had a single chance to screech out or give a yelp, Aran had uncurled his fingers around your body just slightly before giving his wrist a slight flick and sending you hurtling straight into his gaping, slimy, pinkish maw as a result.

     Landing with a splattering flop down onto the middle of the tongue, Aran immediately snaps his jaws shut in order to prevent any possibility of escape. This causes a rattling echo to reverberate around the sealed chamber, whilst simultaneously snapping  your frozen, stiff, dissociated being back into the midst of your present, grievous reality. 

     Aran proceeds to lift up his tongue, causing you to unexpectedly scrape your head upon the rough ridges along his hard palette. Even more saliva becomes released from his salivary glands as he folds in the sides of his tongue, squeezing tightly upon your now decidedly hyper-aware being. Gently swishing your panicking form between his mostly air-filled, bulging cheeks, Aran finally steepens the downwards slope of his tongue, before releasing his hold which was previously being held by the muscle’s raised sides. Now, sliding head-first towards the gaping, blackened gullet of the giant, maniacal Irishman, your eyes are soon prompted by your brain to divert slightly upwards, within your flailing state of unchecked panic, causing you to promptly comprehend, out of pure necessity for survival, just what you needed to do.

     Aran Ryan on the outside was only slightly confused when he realized he wasn’t feeling you being lodged inside of his gullet. Only for him to instantly realize afterwards just why, exactly, this was the case.

     Gripping onto the great, floppy uvula for dear life, Aran immediately lets out a nonsensical half suppressed scream, half annoyed gripe, causing the uvula to become jostled about above the widened esophageal sphincter as a result, swaying gently and lightly as you squeezed yourself into its form.

     Swallowing hard with rising spite, the sucking force caused by the gulp forces the uvula to stretch downwards just slightly, as your legs begin to slip from their hold around the rounded end. 

     Aran instantly swallows again, so you wouldn’t be able to reorient yourself from the first swallow, and manage to hold out for any longer. Your legs are soon forcibly launched off the bulbous sack of flesh, and lodged inside of the upper esophageal sphincter, as your hands instinctively tighten as you let out a yelp of pure terror. 

     Swallowing again, and therefore squelching all of your lower body and the vast majority of your upper body into his esophagus as such, Aran simply ignores the rather uncomfortable stretching sensation being imparted upon his squishy uvula as he swallows for the last and final time, your body unable to hold on any longer as the uvula becomes slingshotted back into its natural position, and you become squeezed into Aran’s esophagus, destined to land inside his stomach.

     “Heh! Well, down the hatch with ya!” Aran proceeds to cruelly tease as the constricting, cushiony walls of the esophagus rhythmically squelch you on down towards the Irishman’s guts. Aran proceeds to flop down onto the floor as he places a hand over his midsection in excited, compounding anticipation for the plunge. 

     Aran was suddenly able to feel something rising back up in his throat, which would indeed have been a cause for panic, had said “something” not turned out to be simply a bunch of swallowed air, most of which had been gulped down in the process of getting you off of his uvula. Releasing all of said air with a rather deep, echoing belch, Aran gives a slight smirk, before a gurgle resonates from his middle.

     You on the inside had finally reached the lower esophageal sphincter at this point, and with the rather empty chamber below growling out its lamentations of such emptiness, your body squeezed through, with relative effortlessness, the tight, natural valve, before splash-landing into the acids.

     “Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! Now that sure hit the spot!” Aran once again teases from the outside whilst giving a contented rub over his stomach. This was swiftly followed up by yet another belch, that which you were still able to hear from the inside despite the constant groaning and rumbling reverberating about the churning, goopy chamber around you. Aran allows his tongue to hazily loll out of his mouth, as the Irishman finally settled in to let his body take care of the rest.

     Back on the inside, now that the organ had indeed been delivered a meal, Aran Ryan’s stomach proceeds to treat you as such, squeezing in its thick, heated, cushiony walls as the acid levels rise to aid in digestion. Now utterly frozen once more, and ultimately trapped within the merciless belly of the formerly ravenous Irish beast, your body is physically unable to resist as the acids splash and swirl all around you, seemingly trying to drag you down into its goopy, gurgling, deadly depths. The color begins draining from your eyes as you feel your body slipping deeper into the sloshy gut, now merely nothing but a satisfying, yet ultimately insignificant snack to the inane, infamous Irishman known only as Aran Ryan.

****

     Aggressively lurching up and forwards, your body gives an utterly animalistic, searing, petrified screech as you eyes flicker open with searing alertness…only to be instantly graced not by the churning, glorping stomach walls of Aran Ryan, but instead, by the welcome, soothing, private comfort that was your very bedroom.

     Taking a few good seconds to simply sit there and let everything settle in as you processed it, your now positively relieved and stress-alleviated body finally heaves out a sigh. Just a nightmare. That’s all it was. Nothing more. Nothing you needed to worry about. You were safe, that was a fact. Now, all you needed to do was go back to sleep, and prepare yourself for the day ahead. With that, you flop your body down onto your pillow…only to land instead upon something goopy, squishy, wet, and shifting. Your eyes are jolted open once more, and just like that, it was real, all again.

#vore stories #vore story #vore writing #v.ore #v/ore #v0r3 #v0re #vor3 #soft vore #safe vore #male pred #male predador #male vore #human pred #human vore #pov vore #reader prey #gt vore #g/t vore #unwilling prey #unwilling vore

[awaeinfobr]

3ª Temporada de Anne With An E fecha as portas de Avonlea

Texto original de The Spool escrito por Shannon Campe em 03 de Janeiro de 2020.

A charmosa adaptação canadense de Anne Of Green Gables de Lucy Maud Montgomery chega a um adorável (se prematuro) fim.

É difícil encontrar bons programas de TV para os adolescentes na idade do ensino fundamental. Presos entre dois mundos - programação infantil inofensiva e barulhenta e séries exageradas feitas para jovens mais velhos - pré-adolescentes são frequentemente privados de histórias que são atraentes para seus interesses de uma maneira que é apropriada para sua idade. De vez em quando, uma série como Anne With An E surge para preencher essa necessidade, então é uma vergonha que a terceira temporada da série será a última. É difícil não sentir que a série está se encerrando justo quando começou a encontrar sua voz.

A showrunner Moira Walley-Beckett foi notável desde o início por se distanciar bastante dos acontecimentos dos livros de Anne Of Green Gables de Lucy Maud Montgomery, fazendo a sobrenaturalmente empática órfã Anne Shirley-Cuthbert uma campeã das pessoas marginalizadas de todos os tipos e adicionando mais diversidade ao universo de Green Gables a cada episódio e em todas as temporadas. Foi uma escolha corajosa e digna de aplauso: dramas de época ainda tem um caminho longo a percorrer ao incluir pessoas de cor ou personagens LGBTQA+, então tamanho esforço notável para trazer variedade de experiências vividas dentro do mundo de Anne traz uma mudança revigorante.

Isso não quer dizer que a mensagem da série sobre raça e aceitação não tenha ficado atrapalha às vezes. A 2ª temporada admiravelmente lidou com uma subtrama envolvendo o amigo de Anne, Cole, se descobrindo gay, mas o marinheiro trinitário-tobagense Sebastian “Bash” Lacroix pareceu mais como um veículo criado exclusivamente para o crescimento do personagem de Gilbert Blythe. Dessa vez, Abuzeid (um dos mais carismáticos e magnéticos membros do elenco) tem muito mais para fazer. Infelizmente, é às custas da esposa de Bash, Mary, a única mulher adulta de cor significante da série.

Antes de ser derrubada pela Linda Doença de Interesse Amoroso à Moda Antiga, Mary emaranha-se com os rígidos ingleses Barrys em um decepcionante enredo que é retrato das ocasionais trapalhadas da série em tentar contar histórias apropriadas para crianças sobre preconceitos. Na narrativa, a série trata o racismo como uma falha pessoal facilmente concertada através de uma única interação positiva com um membro de um grupo marginalizado, ao invés de um sistema de opressão institucionalizado.

Como resultado disso, personagens como Marilla Cuthbert e Rachel Lynde podem variar às vezes entre personagens que são totalmente mente-aberta e pessoas rígidas. No entanto, como o super poder de Anne é fazer pessoas mais velhas mal-humoradas se iluminarem, é fácil deixar isso passar.

Uma trama envolvendo a separação e re-educação forçada de crianças indígenas canadenses se sai muito melhor. A nova amiga de Anne, Ka’kwet, e sua família são enganados pelas falsas promessas das escolas residencias, um processo de tentativa de assimilação de povos nativos pelo governo canadense que resultou na morte de até 6.000 crianças indígenas. A última escola residencial para crianças não foi fechada até 1996, resultando em gerações de abuso e sofrimento.

Esclarecedora, tensa e por vezes assustadora, os sofrimentos de Ka’kwet servem tanto para educar os jovens fã de AnnE sobre os males históricos do colonialismo quanto para ser um passo na jornada pessoal de Anne.Anne teve que fazer trabalho pesado para adultos até que encontrou uma família para chamar de sua; Ka’kwet foi arrancada de sua amorosa família para fazer o mesmo. (Pais estejam cientes: como todas as temporadas de Anne With An E, a 3ª temporada contém breves cenas retratando abuso físico de crianças).

Mas e quanto a própria Anne? McNulty é uma Anne ideal, tão cativante e de olhos brilhantes quanto a própria personagem duradoura. Seu rosto expressivo podem fazer momentos como Anne simplesmente olhando pela janela ou arrancando pétalas de uma flor parecerem incrivelmente comoventes. Nunca sexualizada ou feita para se parecer como uma gloriosa rainha de concurso de beleza, McNulty irradia energia sincera e cheia de coração, liderando um elenco de pares igualmente adequados à idade. Assistir uma série sobre jovens que realmente se parecem como jovens e agem conforme suas idades é um respiro de ar fresco. Os jovens de quinze e dezesseis anos de Anne se preocupando sobre uma dança do colégio soou mais realista do qualquer coisa em Euphoria no ano passado.

À medida que a série intercala tramas sobre as bobagens românticas alegres de Anne e seus amigos, com Anne se tornando uma proto-feminista, as coisas se conectam como nunca antes. A temida Josie Pye, a coisa mais próxima que a saga de Green Gables já teve como uma verdadeira vilã, tem a sua dose de redenção em um arco oportuno sobre slut-shaming e culpar as vítimas.

Dalila Bella permanece como um destaque na série como a melhor amiga de Anne, Diana Barry, que é tão prática e estóica quanto Anne é fantasiosa e impulsiva. A amizade de Diana e Anne é testada quando um garoto chama a atenção de Diana, e o cortejo de Gilbert a uma garota rica faz com que Anne se sinta solitária e desesperada à medida que o grupo transiciona para a vida adulta mais rápido que nunca. Marilla e Matthew permanecem os pais adotivos mais adoráveis que um órfã da virada do século poderia querer. Além de Marilla e da indomável Rachel Lynde, Anne e seus amigos tem uma digna figura feminina em Miss Stacy, uma educadora corajosa que os encoraja a começar o jornal da escola.

Até Prissy Andrews, a personagem adolescente que famosamente se tornou noiva de seu próprio professor, retorna para falar sobre o homem que a cortejou - ou como diríamos em 2020, agiu como predador - enquanto ela era estudante. Mais importante, após de uma excruciante temporada afastados, Anne e Gilbert, os personagens centrais da série, estão de volta ao mesmo local. A relação de Anne com Gilbert, um jovem sensível que valoriza muito o intelecto e imaginação dela, formaram a espinha dorsal da série de livros. Por mais feliz que eu tenha ficado por ver Anne explorando suas amizades na 2ª temporada, foi difícil não ficar decepcionado em como esse relacionamento tão importante foi extirpado, especialmente em virtude dos valores positivos e feministas que isso promove. Isso não machuca o fato de McNulty e Zumann terem uma maravilhosa e divertida química em tela.

Assim como Montgomery habilmente encaixou mensagens pacifistas que iam de acordo com suas crenças políticas nos livros originais, Walley-Beckett e os roteiristas entendem que os jovens são maduros o suficiente para quererem histórias com substância, onde os personagens lidam com desafios reais sem agirem como mini-adultos. É tentador pensar o que Montgomery, uma lutadora pelos direitos das mulheres à sua propria maneira, iria aplaudir a escolha de deixar as garotas de seus histórias correrem livres e soltas.

Em umas das sequências mais visualmente instigantes da temporada, Anne e suas amigas dançam ao redor da floresta em longas camisolas brancas e coroas de flores. Elas constroem uma fogueira e prometem respeitar elas mesmas e seus corpos. Ruby desaba à luz do luar, chorando de alegria “Eu sou tão contente por ser uma mulher!”. Soa um pouco moderno e anacrônico. Mas quem se importa? Se isso inspirar jovens meninas a se sentirem menos envergonhadas de seus corpos e sexualidade, valeu a pena. Jovens merecem histórias que foram feitas para eles, não apesar deles.

Por três temporadas, Anne With An E esforçou-se (e frequentemente foi bem-sucedida) em contar uma histórias para jovens com real substância. Eu tenho certeza que todos nós retornaremos para Avonlea de novo algum dia, mas eu sentirei saudades até nós voltarmos para lá.

___________________________

Link da matéria original: https://thespool.net/tv/2020/01/anne-with-an-e-season-3-review-netflix/

#annewithane #anne with an e #season3 #3temporada #thespool #review #gilbert #diana #marilla #matthew #dalmar #bash

[hellonanyeong]

Gong Hance

Nome do faceclaim e ocupação: Liu Hao - Modelo.

Nascimento: 28 de Outubro de 1995.

Local do nascimento: Guangdong.

Etnia: Chinês.

Profissão: Artista Visual.

Qual local o personagem mora? Mungcho.

É natural de Nanyeong? Não.

É turista ou morador? Turista.

User do twitter: @nyghann

personalidade & história

Duas qualidades: Observador e compreensivo

Dois defeitos do seu personagem: Arrogante e manipulador

Resumo da personalidade: Dizem que Hance parece intimidador, embora o chinês sempre negue com um sorriso ladino, enrolando o cabelo enquanto mantém os olhos no interlocutor. Ele tem essa mania de olhar sempre nos olhos, procurando descobrir segredos e tesouros escondidos em vícios de linguagem ou postura corporal. Quando encontra algo que gosta, ele cede e revela seu lado luminoso, divertido e confiável. É um excelente amigo e você provavelmente não vai encontrar alguém mais leal que ele, só não pise no seu pé porque o artista é capaz de fazer o inimaginável para se defender quando ferido. Só os mais fortes sobrevivem nesse mundo injusto e Hance tem orgulho de ser um sobrevivente.

Background Estava no banho quando recebeu a ligação do curador. Primeiro achou que era dívida e não quis atender. Sua intuição falou mais alto no terceiro toque e ele pegou o celular com a mão ainda meio escorregadia de espuma e então a notícia veio: Sua obra foi selecionada para fazer parte de uma exposição em Nanyeong, na Coreia do Sul. O celular escorregou da mão do rapaz e nem a água, que sempre foi seu elemento, ajudou a acalmá-lo. Não era todo dia que um rapaz da periferia do Cantão vencia uma seleção internacional. Lembrou-se da infância complicada, eram quatro irmãos criados por uma mãe solteira, mas ninguém percebia o quanto a situação era difícil naquela época. O luxo que tinham era quando a mãe comprava melona, dando um para cada filho e ai de quem pegasse o do outro. Era difícil, mas eram felizes até que a realidade bateu na porta de casa e levou embora a mãe e a inocência da infância. Os irmãos foram separados, sendo que dois ficaram com uma tia e um com a outra. Hance, por sua vez, foi o único que teve de ir para a casa de um tio esquisitão em Shanghai. O tio era um poeta influente, dava aulas de literatura chinesa na universidade de Jiao Tong e tinha uma vida particularmente reservada. Por trás da fachada de professor sério, Yunxi era um grande libertino no melhor sentido possível e organizava festas, saraus e banquetes abertos à elite artística e intelectual da cidade. Crescer em um ambiente como aquele foi decisivo para formar a personalidade e os interesses do rapaz. Aprendeu a gostar de cinema, da carícia que as páginas dos livros faziam em seus dedos conforme as percorria languidamente nas tardes de verão. Descobriu que não precisava gritar para conseguir o que queria, pois os verdadeiros predadores eram silenciosos, maleáveis e astutos como uma cobra – ou como o tio Yunxi. Ainda assim, criou um forte instinto de sobrevivência. Ele sabia que era visto como o mais fraco por ser o mais novo e o mais franzino dos irmãos. Além de tudo, era considerado o mais feio quando criança. Não foi à toa que foi o escolhido para ser exilado em Shanghai com um tio que ninguém tinha visto. Há males que vêm para o bem e, apesar da relação com o tio ser muito boa, Hance nunca se permitiu esquecer de quem era e de onde havia vindo. Formou-se em Artes Visuais na Jiao Tong e foi viajar por aí. Morava em hostels onde trabalhava para pagar sua hospedagem, submetia algumas obras à exposições de pequeno porte ou realizava projetos por conta própria. No meio do caminho parava para contemplar a humanidade, frágil e líquida. Apaixonou-se inúmeras vezes, odiou tantas mais e tudo isso passou como um filme em sua cabeça enquanto estava caído no boxe do banheiro, exultante ao pensar que valeu a pena. Só lhe restava passar uma temporada em Nanyeong e ele fazia questão absoluta de conhecer o local que havia reconhecido sua obra, sua essência e seu olhar como arte. Encontrou uma pensão simpática e baratinha em um bairro chamado Mungcho, que parecia deveras adorável nas fotos. Talvez Nanyeong pudesse servir de cenário ou inspiração, mas se nada desse certo, ele sempre teria Paris.

“ We'll always have Paris. “

informações ooc

Idade do player: +18.

Triggers? Quais? N/A.

Temas de interesse: Todos.

#nyg — ✿ acc #nyg — ✿ masc

[agnieos]

Sacred Chants Of Tibet - The Gyuto Monks Tantric Choir

Aqui nós temos a figura da algorovia, tomada pelos portugueses em suas viagens pelo oriente ao ver e não compreender todas estas cantorias, então barulhos sem significado. Algorovia, algazarra, folia, cantoria. Com o passar do tempo a causa é sempre apartada de seu resultado, como  consequência, o significante é separado de seu significado. E a  confusão é sempre o mais provável resultado. Mas a luz suprema, se tem um destino, há de encontrar seu esperado. A realidade é devir e devenir,  para a glória do infinito e do incriado. A esperança é a semente do porvir, expressão do amor ilimitado. A culto a Shiva segundo ouvi dizer vem desde a pré-história, os homens se postavam a volta do fogo, na proteção de seus ermos, e contavam estórias sobre caça, sobre coragem, sobre o que era importante, sobre o que era perigoso, sobre o que era impressionante, sobre uma natureza governada por poderosos deuses. Neste tempo fazer barulho era uma arma, poddia trazer a vida ou a morte, mágica era a possibilidade de ligar um som e seu significado, mais ainda de através dele transferir um conhecimento, pinturas, sons, significados. Para chamar a atenção de um animal, predador, ou para o assustar, sons, barulho. Logo para acordar a divindade e pedir por sua proteção, deveriam se produzir sons mágicos, grafar os encantamentos para serem então recitados. Para espantar demônios e chamar anjos os sons eram usados. Esta é a origem, e tudo mais expressão de um esforço de aprimoramento, de incorporação do divino e da beleza, do esforço do ser criado de chegar ao incriado ser. Para nós no ocidente, e isso falo lembrando de meus primeiros contatos com tudo isso, é sinistro e assustador, parece ali haver algo de mal, desafiador do comum, do que estamos acostumados, a verdadeira definição de perigoso, e nisto esta a origem de muitos males que nos acompanham até os dias atuais. Mas esta tudo lá no fundo de nosso inconsciente, gravado nos arquivos eternos de nossos genes, esperando para ser lido, para ser decifrado, pelos que desafiam a sina dos que foram destinados a interrupção, a mortalidade. É assunto para especialistas, mas já que eu nunca os tenha encontrado deixo na pilha uma pedra, para que quem venha as cegas diga um dia a ter encontrado, e disso talvez, algum proveito tirado.