#the way I have to grit my teeth at using that portmanteau

[booasaur]

Idk if you've seen the Woensdag 10:02 clip or not but if you haven't then the following are a bit spoilery.

I'm so happy with the recent development of Anaïs and Bobbie! It is SO good to see Bobbie smile again ahah, it was hell seeing them pining from afar and Bobbie with her sad eyes.

Also! Anaïs and Bobbie is so fucking good at communicating with their eyes??? Like?? Whoa Laura and Nell are such a good actresses.

And i need more of the kisses!

I loved that clip! So satisfying to see Anais caring enough and having the trust in herself to go and talk to Bobbie instead of the show waiting for some coincidence or Event to throw them together again. And lol, then of course Bobbie's like, okay, why do you think I didn't mean it when I kissed you.

I also really liked them talking in the cafe after, one of the best things about their dynamic has been how, despite Anais's natural politeness, the way they met and Bobbie's personality just overrode it completely so she started off rather resentfully honest but Bobbie's so chill and finds Anais so interesting that it's led to this perfect, comfortable dynamic immediately.

And yeah, they have great chemistry, they're very much like Station 19's Marina in that they're very good at conveying their interest with just body language, especially the eye contact. Kudos to the directors for using as many closeups as they do and letting these moments play out as long as they do, even without dialogue.

The eps are going by so fast for me, I saw people being upset at Anais backing away from the first kiss and the few clips of angst after and I was thinking, well, surely they've still got to get together and break up at least twice, we're still so early?? But then I realized, we're actually almost halfway through... But I still feel like we'll get a bunch more on/off hot/cold drama now, considering what I remember of Druck and the gifs/posts I'd see about Skams Spain and France.

I guess you liked last night's clip? :P I have to say, I keep seeing people throw around the word "toxic" and...I mean, they're kids who've only met recently and JUST gotten together. Yeah, Bobbie seems to have issues, both do, no doubt, but I feel like there needs to be much more of a pattern and intentionality and refusal to change to be considered toxic, at the moment it's just, needing to learn and grow and there's still a fair amount of time for that. Nobody's gonna be perfect off the bat, especially not in the middle of a Skam season. :P

[luckyshotwrites]

Yandere Vore 3 - FOREVER (Neutral Ending)

In case you haven't read the past parts: Yandere Vore Master Post-It

Contents Warning (Spoilers): Willing prey, Willing Pred, Half size Difference, ?/M Teasing/Threatening, vore mentions, and Possessiveness.

Word count: 1091

(He does have a name now, Portmanteau, (Port for short) shout out to @fairlyqualityanon for helping me with it. A few skips ahead. ENJOY!)

--------------------------------------------------------------

After my failed escape attempt, he made sure to tie me to the bed every time he left. He'd keep my wrists and ankles bound with rope to the posts. So tightly that any simple twist burned. Not that I wanted to keep trying anyway. There was no point. If I somehow slipped from them, I wouldn't be able to leave the house again. I spoiled my last chance.

The dread pressed into me. It's how I thought Port's knife might feel if he ever snapped. There were times he'd point it at me when I disobeyed before dropping it. Or he'd be rough handling me. If he held me and I pulled away, he'd squeeze me hard into himself. Almost like he wanted his body to mold around me and keep me incased.

If Port was around, he ALWAYS had to have me near him and in his sight. And anytime I looked at a door or window, he would tell me, "no one WILL EVER take you away from me," with the same overwhelming infatuation I never understood.

I won't escape him, will I? I questioned every day, getting enveloped by the same routine. I'd wake up with him and be alone for hours staring at the chips in the wood ceiling. I got to know every little line and crevice. And started to desperately await his return, even crave it.

I wanted to see his affectionate smile and hear him tell me how good I had been while he petted me. I needed affirmation to hope I didn't get bound up again. I didn't want to be left alone. The three hours felt like years.

And it turned into regret and remorse. I shouldn't have tried to run. Why did I do that? There was a frustration growing at my core. He feeds me, he clothes me, and he keeps me safe. Why would I want to run away? I let out a soft scream. I talked so little that I sensed like I couldn't anymore unless it was to respond to him. To obey him. That was truly the only way I knew peace. When he didn't threaten, prod, or harshly tease me.

The days mashed together at one point, and I couldn't take it as he got ready to tie me up again. His hands came down, and I ran into him. I hugged his leg the best I could, my head near his hip. I could only wrap around one of his legs.

"Please, don't leave me," I begged and looked up at him.

The suddenness caught him off guard.

"I'm sorry, Port." I whimpered with a croak in my voice. "I shouldn't have ever tried to leave you. I didn't understand; I didn't know." I pressed into his leg, "I'll never do it again."

My strike left us in silence. I held on. 

"I know yo-you'll never trust me."

His swirling red hue bore down on me, and a severe crack whipped out, "you're trying to trick me."

"I'M NOT!" I declared, gripping his cargo pants tighter.

His lip quivered. He pried me from my hold and held me up in front of him. I could see his face struggling to smile, a joy oversaturated with annoyance. "Do you think you can run away again?" his cold eyes shifted to a sweet deposition, "you won't, dear. They won't dirty you anymore."

"I DON'T WANT TO RUN AWAY!"

His hands tightened around my ribcage, and he let out a few raspy. "STOP IT!" He brought our faces close to one another. "DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME," his hands trembled, "my sweet, sweet treasure.~"

He compressed my ribs, and I choked out, still making my declaration known. "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, POR-PORTAMANTEAU."

He flinched at his full name. His thumbs loosened. I expelled the old breath and took anew. Then, coughed in the process. 

His lips flicked into a smile, exposing his canines. 

He grit his teeth together and chuckled through them. He swung me near the bed and tipped forward with me.

 "Then prove it." His distrust never left. "Don't tell me with your words; show me." An exhilaration left his mouth along with the words he whispered, "let me encompass you."

A thick cocktail of worry and fear began in my throat. 

I swallowed it back. "If that's what it takes, I trust you."

His eyes widened wildly. He stepped to the bed and let me fall onto it. He didn't say anything; his vision marveled at my flesh. 

I knew he had the pure instinct to consume. I never admitted it before, but many Apex's did. I ignored it all and pretended the problem never existed. Until I met him. 

He held my legs up, easily keeping my ankles bound with one hand. "If you struggle or pull away from me..." he made sure I met his gaze, "I'll do far worse." He whistled, a serious cast over his eyes. "So don't make me do that."

I remained still and terrified. Listening to every single gulp, slurp, and hum as his body pulled me deeper into its warm insides. They pressed at my lower half, constricting it as the heated compression made me sweat.

He went so slow, occasionally stopping to lightly bite. He seemed so tempted to take a bigger one. But overall, even as his teeth went over my neck, I didn't concede. I stayed true to my word and let him eat me.

…

It became a habit. He'd playfully put my hands near his mouth, lick them, or lick my cheek or other parts he had near. He took my offer to the extreme, almost always choosing to consume me when he held me.

I knew his body was dangerous. It would digest me if I lingered inside him too long. And yet this was better. He was kind and caring as long as I gave myself to him. He even let me see the outdoors again, once.

He started doing it several times a day. He was careful, gentle, and adored the act. At this point, I was inside him more than outside him. I understood its constrictions, noises, and motions to try to break down my body.

I got used to his care, his threats, his skepticism, the ropes-his tone-everything, and anything he did to me.

And the thought of leaving again made me sick. I didn't want to feel the outside world anymore.

 Because now, I was his and would always be his, forever.

...

Thank you for reading, next part coming out soonish? It'll be a big one and a surprise VERY gritty one too that was supposed to be the real bad ending. Hope you enjoyed and have a great day!

[billiewena]

for the 100k fic celebration, here a portion of the “what if 10x05 had a sastiel agenda?” AKA lil shit sam/jealous dean destiel fic I first shared a while back! been having a lot of fun basically rewriting and expanding on the entire musical episode with new songs (and lots of cute kristen & siobhan moments because OF COURSE they’re still a couple.) it was really encouraging to see the positive response to it back then and it's been taking forever because of work/other writing but I’m so excited to have this one be the first full-length fics I ever post.

It starts with costumed teenagers locked in a tight embrace with absolutely no room for Jesus.

“What are they doing?”

Marie glances over her shoulder for only a brief second.

“Kids these days call it hugging,” she says slowly. Geez, it would’ve been less insulting for her to just outright say Wow, you’re old.

Except it’s not just any of the show’s stars hugging over there. One of them is the “Dean” who’d been mid-rehearsal when they arrived and looked more like Bieber than him with the blonde wig. And the other? Well, he would recognize that Columbo coat anywhere.

“Is that in the show?” he asks, pointing their way.

Marie quickly shakes her head at the accusation. “Oh, no. Siobhan and Kristen are a couple in a real life.”

He nods and lower his hand. Got it. That’s all it was. Everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about—

“No, my play explores the nature of Sastiel.”

“The — wait, what?” he says, confused at once.

“Sastiel?” Marie pauses, giving him a second to figure it out. He doesn’t. “You know, the relationship between Sam and Castiel?”

Dean blinks.

“Sam and…C-Cas?”

“I know, I know. Edlund’s series never finished. I’m lucky I got these drafts. Ugh, it’s Midnight Sun all over again. But the love story is all in the subtext,” she says with confidence. “Can you believe there are people who still think Destiel is endgame? After everything that happened after the angels fell? After Gadreel? Please.”

He silently sounds out the word. Des-tiel? Wait…

“Ever since Cas came back from the dead and took on Sam’s pain, I knew. I just knew. Every one of their arcs had been parallel to each other’s from their fall from grace to the trials. And now with Dean gone, all they have…is each other.”

Marie sighs. “Besides, you can’t spell subtext without S-E-X.”

He coughs and nearly chokes on an asteroid-sized lump in his throat.

“I…uh. Yeah, th-that’s not…you know, I think I’ve seen enough,” Dean says with a forced smile. “Thank you for your, ah, time. I’ll, uh, we’ll follow up if we have questions about the missing persons case. I—alright.”

And with that he purses his lips, turns on his heel and walks away — nearly tripping over one of the stage chords as he does. Why are there are so many of them anyways? This is just some all-girls school production, not the goddamn West End.

He finds Sam in his natural nerd habitat (the tech booth) sifting through all the bins of A/V supplies.

“Yeah, not to interrupt the blast from the past here but it’s time for us to go,” he says, patting the door.

His brother shoots him an annoyed look but packs up and follows him out all the same. Not that Dean bothers to wait for him; no, he makes a beeline for the car as soon as he leaves the booth.

“Hey, what’s with the rush?” Sam calls after him as he runs to catch up with him at the school entrance.

“No rush,” he says shortly. “Just wanted to see what you found out before you got too lost in the nerd sauce over there.”

He doesn’t need to look back to know he’s on the receiving end of a Classic Sam Bitchface right now and continues to stomp his way through the parking lot.

“Well, no EMF, no hex bags. None of their props are remotely hinky. Talked to Maeve and all those extras in the auditorium.” Sam finally catches up and walks side-by-side with him now. “You have any more luck?”

“Nah. Ms. Chandler's office is just a pile of empty bottles and regret. She's probably just face down in a bar somewhere. Or a ditch. I did get to hear all about the director’s, ah, creative vision though,” Dean says, teeth gritted. “Apparently we go into space, I become a woman, and there’s even ninjas and robots!”

“Robots. Huh. Well, that’d definitely be a new one.”

“There’s no robots in Supernatural—”

“I-I know that,” Sam says in exasperation. “I just mean it’s, y’know, innovative. And Dean we’ve fought weirder. Remember the teddy bear? The fairies? The ballet shoes?”

“Well, you just wait until you hear about what she in store for you, Lover Boy,” he says.

And that makes Sam do an instant double-take.

“Uh, Lover Boy?”

“Yeah, your number one fan back there —” he says, gesturing back towards the school, “— was telling me all about the play’s, uh, love story between you and Cas. You got something you’ve been meaning to tell me or what?”

“The love story? Wait, what do you mean me and Cas?”

Dean scoffs, already in utter disbelief of the words he was about to say. “Like you and Cas, together. Together together? Romance of the ages the way she made it sound. Apparently it’s all in her play!”

To his surprise though, Sam just… laughs. “Well, I mean hey, that’s an improvement from the ones who wrote about me and you.”

“You got that right,” he agrees with a shudder. Meeting one Becky the Stalker was bad enough. Knowing she wasn’t alone and that she had an audience made it even worse. “She even had a portmanteau for you, dude. Like you’re some celebrities in a grocery store tabloid. Sass-tiel.”

“Sass-tiel?” He seems to seriously consider it but shrugs. “I don’t know. What about… Samstiel? CasSam? Cam? Mmm, maybe not that…”

Dean groans. “Really? That’s your issue with this?”

“Of course it’s not my issue,” Sam says. He stays pensive for a few more seconds until chuckling again to himself this time, as if he’s the only one in on a private joke. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Cas is great but…”

“Not your type?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says. No, it’s definitely more than that and he’s doing a piss-poor job of hiding his amused expression.

Dean turns and stares him down. “What?”

“I dunno,” he says, his smirk fully visible now. “I just think it’s funny they’re pairing me up with Cas when the one with the ‘profound bond’ with him is right there.”

“Oh, haha. You’re hilarious,” Dean retorts at once.

“Hey man, I’m not the one who stayed in Purgatory for a year to find him.”

His glare takes on a murderous edge.

“Okay. You know what? You’re going to do that thing where you just shut the hell up! Forever!”

Sam holds up his hands in either what’s either a show of innocence or surrender.

“Alright, alright. Well, other than the Charlie Kaufman of it all I got nothing.”

“So…what?” Dean says. “This-this all... This whole musical thing, everything, it's... it's all a coincidence? There is no case?”

“Unless you're seeing something I'm not, no, Dean. There's no case here,” he says sincerely this time.

“Come on. This has classic Trickster vibes all over it.” He almost wants to turn around and start yelling, Come on out Gabriel you bastard!

“Trickster’s dead, man. And he wasn’t just a trickster, he was an archangel. And they’re all gone too.”

“Could be a lower-rank angel?” Dean tries. “I mean, Zachariah pulled off an entire apocalypse world. And that place where we were both corporate drones. Before you know it, this’ll get all Buffy and it’ll be me and you singin’ and dancin’—“

“Dean…I think it’s just fans. Look, as long as they’re not putting another love spell on one of us I couldn’t really care less what they’re doing,” Sam says with some bitterness, clearly not looking back at that particular memory with any fondness. “Just writing some songs? I mean, it’s innocent enough.”

“Oh yeah, so innocent,” he scoffs. “They’re singing about our dead parents, your demon blood bender, the apocalypse, all of it! This is just…it’s make-believe for them! But it’s our lives!”

Sam runs a tired hand through his hair. “Look, I don’t get it either man. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the books’ entertainment value while Chuck was describing my sex life in vivid detail—“

“Don’t remind me,” he says, holding up a hand in disgust.  

“—but I dunno. There’s obviously something about it they connected to, right? Something they related to, something that moved them, inspired them? And I guess…I mean, what’s wrong with that?”

There is so, so much wrong with that.

“I don’t know what story they’re reading and what Sam and Dean they’re ‘connecting’ to here. But it sure as hell ain’t us. I mean…they even made me blonde, dude.”

“It’s a high school play, what can you expect?” Sam laughs. “It was probably the closest wig they could find at Party City.”

Dean ignores him, muttering aloud as he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“The hair…the singing…the robots… the love story…”

“You really were bothered by that, weren’t you?” Sam gives his brother a curious look.

“SUPERNATURAL ISN’T A ROMANCE!” Dean snaps. “Look, these girls obviously don’t know what they’re talking about—“

“I dunno, Dean,” Sam said in a clearly taunting voice now. “Maybe you’re just jealous of what me and Cas have.”

He flushes. “W-what? I-I’m not—“

“We could give you two a name too, y’know? So you don’t feel left out? What about…Dee-stiel? CasDean?”

And he refuses to entertain this conversation any longer.

“Shut your face! Get in the car!”

Thankfully Sam notices the shift in tone and obliges at once.

Dean, meanwhile, takes a moment outside the car to glance around — almost as if checking to see if anyone overheard that comment. Not that it mattered. Who could overhear? No one even knew they were THE Sam and THE Dean. Who cared? He certainly didn’t care. He didn’t care at all...

(to be continued)

[skadventuretime]

I am shopping in your bookstore and you didn’t notice my mother was standing directly behind me when you really blatantly hit on me. - Soma

Time to bust out of that post-resbang slump. Please accept this little bit of ridiculousness as I adjust back to writing past tense and Black Star’s shenanigans.

On FFN. Edit: On AO3 too, because I was too lazy to do it last night. 

It started out as a dare.

More like a challenge, really, one to see who could ask out their respective crushes first, and Maka refused to lose to her muscle-headed nincompoop of a neighbor who still insisted on being called by his childhood alter ego’s name.

Black Star. More like Black Death the way his nonsense seemed to kill all logic and reason with the speed and ferocity of deadly bacteria.

Gritting her teeth, Maka peered around the edge of the bookshelf she had strategically chosen for surveillance purposes - it was far enough away from the checkout that the grumpy object of this godforsaken mission would have a hard time seeing her, but close enough that she could gauge both how busy the store was and how tired he seemed. If she played her cards right, she could walk up when there were few people around, dazzle him with some tried and true wordplay that she had spent all of the previous night researching, and then be done before he woke up enough to realize he’d agreed to go on a date with someone as pathetically endowed as her.

She lurked in the sci-fi/fantasy section for another thirty minutes while the lunch rush came through, nearly forgetting about her mission entirely when she overheard a couple of teens talking about Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonriders of Pern series and getting into an animated discussion about the pros and cons of being soul-bonded to another sentient being. But then they left, and the relative quiet reminded Maka she had a job to do.

A final peek around the shelf confirmed that there was nobody else in the store but her and Sir Slouches-A-Lot. Remembering the Internet’s reminder that men like confident, assertive women, she put on her competitive jiujitsu face and strode up to the counter with her back straight and her head held high. Her script was memorized. Her research was iron-clad. There was no way this could end in failure.

“Do you have a name or can I just call you mine?” she asked him in the most neutral tone she could manage. No need to pull out the sultry yet - all of the articles she’d read had agreed that pacing was important.

“Excuse me?” he stuttered, eyes wide as he half-tripped, half-collapsed onto the counter.

Maka frowned. It seemed the initial line didn’t work so well - perhaps something more poetic would get the point across. “Do you have a map? I’m getting lost in your eyes.” That should definitely provoke the needed response - his eyes were a brilliant shade of wine-red that did funny things to her stomach when she thought about it too much, but she supposed that was why Black Star teased her about him so often. That’ll stop when she wins this bet, though. Surely Star couldn’t be faring any better with Kid given his utter inability to form coherent sentences that didn’t involve some inane portmanteau of ‘bro’ and the meme of the week.

“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand?” he wheezed, red splotches making his cheeks glow in an awkward, adorable way. “Do you uh, need some help finding something in the store?”

Maka took a calming breath. Of course she’d fall for the one who couldn’t take a hint. Third time’s the charm, they say, so she summoned her most seductive smile (the amount of time she spent practicing it in the mirror the night before was borderline embarrassing) and said, “Are you my appendix? I have a pain in my side that makes me feel like I should take you out.” If he missed the subtext of that last bit, she might have to resort to some of the more drastic measures mentioned in the article, like showing up at his window with a boombox and 80s music or giving him a bouquet of roses, and flowers were expensive.

“Are you hitting on me?” he said, voice cracking in the middle and rising an octave or so while he looked at her with a strange mixture of incredulity and something a little like hope.

“It appears that way, Soul,” an amused voice said to their right, and oh god, someone else was there the whole time. She had waist length blond hair, fine cheekbones, and some of the sharpest eyeliner Maka had ever seen. With a growing sense of horror, Maka realized this must be his mother.

Soul jumped and turned to face her, groaning when he saw the satisfied smirk and delicately placed hands on hips. “Why are you here? Weren’t you doing inventory?”

“Now now, is that any way to treat family?” she chided, still smiling while moving past Soul to collect a stack of receipts by the register.

“I try to forget I’m related to you,” he grumbled, scrubbing at his face in a vain attempt to rid himself of the color in his cheeks. “Don’t you have better things to do than creep around up front?”

She laughed and ruffled his hair with an easy kind of affection that made something in Maka’s heart twinge. What it must be like, to have a mother like that.

“I’ll leave you two kids alone. I can’t be late to my modeling gig, anyway. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She winked and, after making her way around the counter towards the door, turned and stage-whispered to Maka, “And that only involves anything without clearly negotiated safe words and boundaries, so have at it!” Another wink and she was gone, the small bell above the door chiming her exit.

“Your mom seems nice,” Maka said cautiously, not wanting to say much more because Soul already seemed like he was one wrong look away from disintegrating on the spot and she was busy trying to figure out how to steer this conversation back to dates.

“Mom?” he said, aghast. “That wasn’t my mother, that was my brother.”

Now it was Maka’s turn to blush. “Oh! I’m sorry, I guess I presumed with the hair and — do you think he can teach me how to do eyeliner like that? I always mess it up.”

Soul’s laugh was more like a whimper while he lowered his face into his arms, sinking into the small stool behind the counter like he wished he could simply fade away. “Probably. He’s always picked to do high fashion stuff like this.”

Maka allowed him one minute of embarrassed sulking before clearing her throat and asking, “So, is that a yes?”

He raised his head, confusion breaking through the pained set of his features. “Huh?”

“Will you go out with me?” she said impatiently, glancing at the clock. Kid had gotten out of orchestra almost an hour ago and she didn’t want to risk Star somehow being smooth enough to fingergun his way into a relationship before she could apply her hours of thoroughly researched technique.

“I mean, that sounds—” He’s cut off by the door slamming wide to none other than Black Star and Kid, the latter wearing an impeccable neutral face despite Star’s large bicep curling into the back of his neck from the arm around his shoulder.

“'Sup nerds,” Star said, sauntering over to join them by the counter. “This hot piece of sass agreed to go out with me just a few minutes ago, and given the awkward tension I felt from down the street, you two haven’t even gotten to the confession yet. So I’m gonna say booyah and you lose, Maks.” He raised his other hand over his head, fist formed, and didn’t break eye contact with Maka as Kid sighed and lifted his fist to bump Star’s.

Maka seethed. She’d been so close! All of her planning, her research, was for nothing after all.

“Actually, she was just waiting for me to finish my shift,” Soul said, glancing between Black Star and Maka. “She asked me out hours ago, and we’re also heading out on our first date soon.”

She tried not to look so surprised when he made eye contact with her then, that warm feeling coming back in waves and allowing her to return his smile with a genuine one of her own. “Yeah, right. We’re thinking about a movie.”

Star gaped at the two of them. “Are you kidding me? Punch Ya Albarn got a date before moi? Jeez man, we gotta be friends if this one’s nerdery didn’t scare you away. We were going to the movies, too, so how about a double date?”

“Sounds good to us,” Maka said.

“Great, we’ll meet you out front.” Black Star and Kid walked back outside, and the longer Maka looked at them, the more she saw the bashful tilt to Star’s smile and the small fidgets he made when Kid leaned into his arm. It looked like Star wouldn’t be the only one with teasing ammo.

“Thanks, by the way. For covering me,” Maka said to Soul when the others were out of earshot. “We’d had a bet about who could ask their crushes out on a date first and—”

“I’m your crush?” Soul looked dazed again, but this time with such an honest, open smile that Maka couldn’t help but indulge the melting emotion lapping at her heart.

“Yeah, you are,” she said, tamping down her own starstruck expression and remembering the need to project confidence. “I spent a lot of time looking up how to flirt. I’m glad it wasn’t all for nothing.”

“Well, that’s cool because you’ve been my crush for a while.” That wide-open smile seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face, and he held out his hand to her as he walked towards the door. “But just so you know, you shouldn’t take dating advice from cheesy pick-up line sites.”

Maka’s eyes widened. “How did you know where I sourced my information?”

Laughing, Soul enveloped her hand in his and opened the door. “Call it a hunch.”