#iii is an obvy red

[changewingwentz]

Hello to who sees this answer and/ reblog what color reminds you of sleep token, as in the whole band in general (specifics with the guys & esperas/the choir are also welcomed)

[eoieopda]

menace (pjm) — pt. iii

Pairing: Park Jimin x Kim!Reader Type: 3/6 (Mini Series) ⇢ Previous Chapter | Masterlist Word Count: 5K Content: (General) Seokjin’s younger sister AU; fuck buddies that hate each other AU; reader is AFAB & queer; sort of an omniscient POV; nudity; minor injury/blood mention; (SMUT | 18+) oral sex (f); fingering (v); squirting; and — worst of all — k*ss*ng. A/N: Things are, uh, happening, so this has more plot than porn (comparatively speaking.) Also, I’m trying to cover a lot of time in a few parts, so this is the first time skip — from Valentine’s Day (February, obvi,) to Chuseok (September.) The next chapter will be a flashback because we love a villain origin story in this house 🏠

Your arrangement had three rules, and three rules only.

The first of which was easy enough to follow: no kissing. Either of you could bite, lick, or suck on the other to your heart’s content, but under no circumstances should there be kissing. It was too intimate, too romantic. Too ironic, you’d concede, that Jimin was permitted to put his mouth on anything but yours. Still, it was a line neither of you would dare to cross.

Romance had no business here.

The second rule was that staying the night was only permissible to avoid serious injury or death — or if, in the event of an Act of God, you were otherwise unable to leave.

This came into effect the very first night you went to his house, when the terms of this arrangement were settled. Somewhere between you nagging at him and him tossing you up onto his kitchen counter, the record-breaking storm outside downed a power line at the end of the driveway. And even if that broken pole hadn’t trapped your car where it sat, the flooded street would have.

Otherwise, the deal was that you’d get it in, then you'd get out.

The third rule was the most important because it was created to cover the loopholes of rule number two: no cuddling, ever.

The only thing more intimate than kissing was having someone’s naked body curled against yours while they snored into your skin. This kind of vulnerability was to be avoided at all costs. It was unforgivable — a red card that would result in immediate ejection from the game.

Until now, there had been no violations.

When bright white sunlight hit your freshly opened eyes, you were disoriented. You recognized your own bedroom, of course, but the issue wasn’t where; it was when. Given how soundly you slept, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been out. You could tell that every muscle in your body was staunchly opposed to movement of any kind — up to and including your eyelids, which were still weighed down with sleep.

Instinctively, you rubbed your eyes to see a little clearer. Instantly, you regretted doing so once you noticed the way your day-old eyeliner stained your fingers black. Motherfucker. You didn’t know much, but you knew better than to fall asleep without running through your nightly skincare routine first.

If you ever regained the ability to move, you’d go straight to the shower and get yourself sorted. After the gauntlet you'd survived the night before, you deserved to be surrounded by steam and blissful warmth. Your legs felt as though they’d been encased in cement, however, and you couldn't will them to budge. The rest of you felt heavy, too; but you soon realized it wasn’t your exhaustion weighing you down.

It was the unanticipated arm draped over the curve of your waist.

You jerked when you saw it as if it were a snake primed to bite you. You didn’t intend to flail or to throw your elbow backwards into his unsuspecting chest. You didn’t necessarily feel bad about it, either.

Jimin screamed when your sudden act of violence knocked him awake. Shooting bolt upright, his sleep-laden limbs couldn't coordinate his movements. Unceremoniously and tied in a knot of sheets, he rolled off the edge of your bed to the floor. From your rug, he rubbed the sore spot on his shoulder and huffed, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Initially, your glare focused intently on his face, which had sheet marks pressed into his cheek. Then, you noticed that the stark-naked man sprawled out below you was standing at attention. He gasped when the same realization dawned on him, and his hands flew down to cover himself to the best of his ability. His attempts were laughably futile — even if his hands weren’t so slight, there was too much to hide.

For a moment, your stony expression cracked and you snorted. Immediately, you checked yourself before he got the inaccurate impression that you found his clumsy act of modesty to be cute. With a roll of your eyes, you sighed, “Not like I haven’t seen it before, Park.”

“There’s cock, and then there’s unsuspecting morning dick,” he groaned, his voice like gravel and yet still so childish. “Some shit is not meant to be perceived in the unforgiving light of day.”

You shrugged off his embarrassment, unwilling to hear more of his dissertation on dicks and daylight.

“You know the rules,” you stated simply while you slipped out from under your duvet. Unabashedly nude, you didn’t bat an eye. Jimin didn’t even try not to stare.

You hit him with a pointed look as you grabbed your phone off your nightstand, “When I get out of the shower, you better be gone.”

No parting glance was offered as you stepped coolly around him. You didn’t say anything further to acknowledge him before shuffling out of your bedroom to the bathroom. Once inside, you shut the door behind you and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. The chilly porcelain bit at the undersides of your bare thighs, but you ignored it and waited for the water to heat up to the perfect, scalding temperature.

After an abysmally slow climb, it eventually did; you pulled the switch that brought your shower-head back from the dead. With a rattle, your poor old pipes sputtered in disapproval. Like you, they were too worn out for this level of activity. You’d been meaning to call your landlord about the issue, but you suspected he’d hit you with the usual “it’ll get fixed faster if you do it yourself.”

If you were tall enough to reach, perhaps you might’ve done so by now. Too small and too tired, you stepped under the water and let the heavy droplets pummel your skin awake.

As you ran a loofa down your arms and legs, you were distracted by the swath of marks on your skin. Everywhere you looked, there was some scratch, bruise, or love bite. You wondered if the latter was the right term to use.

The tiny galaxies of blue, purple, and yellow were fueled exclusively by a toxic blend of lust and rivalry, nothing more. Those little contusions were the result of clashing titans, conquering as many objectives on the war map as possible — love had nothing to do with it.

When you finished washing, shampooing, and conditioning, you simply stood still. The steam loosened the tension held tight throughout your body and permitted your foggy mind to wander. You wished it hadn’t because you couldn’t seem to control the direction it took, where it led you and to whom.

There was something different about last night, and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to spend all night in the throes of absolute depravity. In fact, that’s how you’d spent most nights over the past year. You were both ruthless competitors, both incapable of letting the other have the last word. This was obvious in any of your conversations; but it was most applicable to whatever this was.

You both needed to deliver the TKO, to cause the orgasm so earth-shattering, the other would have to bend the knee. The two of you dealt in power moves and that was the ultimate — but last night didn’t feel like a title fight. So, then, what was it?

Once the heat of the water started to make you unsteady on your feet, you determined it was time to get out. You didn’t want to, however; it was always such a feat to leave a cozy bed to then stumble naked into a cold bathroom. When that dreaded commute was over, it was even harder to leave the warm shroud of steam you’d exchanged it for.

With a put-upon grumble, you grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it tightly around your middle. For good measure, you used a second to sop up the excess water from your hair before spreading a thin layer of moisturizer over your heat-flushed face. You should’ve stayed put, cherished that cocoon a little longer, but you didn’t.

The second you opened your bathroom door, you regretted it. The comparatively frigid air hit you hard enough to force a gasp as you turned and headed for your kitchen. You made a beeline for your refrigerator, pausing only to glance at the monthly calendar pinned to the front of it with a bottle-opening magnet. When you saw the date, your face fell and took your mood with it.

You kept trying to forget the encroaching holiday and for good reason: Seokjin was spending it with his girlfriend at her family’s home in Jeonju. For the first time in your life, you were your own. The idea of spending Chuseok alone in your house made your heart twinge, but there wasn’t a thing to be done about it now. You quickly bottled that impermissible sadness back up and opened the refrigerator.

Oh.

Unsurprisingly yet still disappointingly, it was a wasteland. One half-empty carton of eggs and a lonely block of cheddar cheese seemed to mock you from their spot on an otherwise bare shelf. You’d clearly forgotten to go grocery shopping despite the numerous post-it notes you’d left to remind yourself. With the holiday, the shops would be closed for three days — scrambled eggs would have to do until the weekend.

Ain’t it fun being on your own?

You stood on tiptoe to reach the frying pan, which hung from a hook on the wall above the counter. With a bit more effort than your fatigued limbs were willing to co-sign, you stretched until your fingertips could graze it. Swatting uselessly at it, you wondered how you’d managed to get it up there in the first place. Whatever witchcraft you must’ve previously employed sure would’ve been helpful now.

“Hope you’re making enough for two.”

Your fingers missed the falling pan by a meter, and you nearly jumped out of your skin as it clattered against the countertop, then bounced off towards the floor. It was impossible to tell what scared you more: the sound of angry metal against ceramic, or the disembodied voice laughing at you from behind.

Either way, you snatched the pan off the ground and wheeled around, weapon at the ready. Jimin, who was stretched out on the sofa in your adjoining living room, raised his hands in self-defense.

“Easy does it, puppy,” He teased, “Put down the cast iron before you hurt yourself.”

You glowered at him, filled with a rage only his smug face and that undying childhood nickname could ignite in you. For two decades, people had been needling you with that comparison. Teasing you constantly, pointing out the eager, attention-starved little sister trailing after Seokjin and his older, cooler friends. Until now, Jimin hadn’t been one of them.

Unwilling to expend limited energy on that particular fight today, you smacked the pan down on the surface of the stove. Attitude locked and loaded, you fired off: “Shouldn’t you have left by now? Like, hours ago?”

Jimin shrugged, unbothered, “I was too tired to drive, even if I could walk to my car.”

Ringed fingers traipsed over the joggers clinging to his thighs. Dizzying muscles notwithstanding, you couldn't imagine they'd been put through more of a workout than yours. The indignant look you shot his way seemed not to graze him.

“That’s not an excuse. We have rules, remember?” You turned your back to him and ignited the burner. “The reason this works at all is because we don’t try to play house the morning after. You go and do whatever it is you do; and I go about my day — in peace.”

“It’s Chuseok.”

His abrupt observation stopped you in your tracks. Heaving an exasperated sigh, you rolled your eyes. “So?”

“So, my family is traveling abroad,” He quipped, like this was a sufficient explanation for his continued presence. “There is no ‘whatever it is’ to do.”

As he stretched his arms lazily above his head, a faint trail of dark hair appeared in the gap between his shirt hem and belt. Just as soon as you caught yourself staring, you quickly returned to cracking eggs over the pan. With a dry laugh, you mused, “That sounds like a you problem, not a me problem.”

You’d have been perfectly content to listen to your breakfast as it sizzled. You would’ve loved to bask in the peace and quiet of your lazy morning, but you couldn’t because Park Jimin couldn’t take a goddamn hint. Instead, he kept on prodding.

“Seokjin’s with Chaeyoung, so I know you don’t have shit to do, either.”

With your back to him, Jimin couldn’t see the way your mouth curved into an involuntary frown. He could sense it in your posture, though; your shoulders dipped ever so slightly. For once, he hadn’t been aiming for an exposed nerve — but he’d clearly managed to strike one. He was simply noting that you also had nowhere to rush off to; and no reason to kick him out into the cold just yet.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your unaffected tone tried its best to cover how affected you truly were. Jimin saw right through you and the dismissive wave of your hand. “Presently, or generally.”

From behind you, you heard movement and feared that he was on his way over to you. With a furtive glance out of the corner of your eye, you determined that he hadn’t gotten up — he’d made himself even more comfortable on your couch and kicked his feet up on your coffee table. His voice lilted across your living room to where you stood, in your kitchen. You could hear the shit-eating grin in his words, even if you couldn’t see it.

Unbeknownst to you, Jimin’s teasing was intended to distract you from whatever thought was physically heavy enough to make you slump. “If you had anywhere to be, or anyone to be with, you wouldn’t be cooking yourself a depressing breakfast at three in the afternoon.

Shit, did I really sleep through half the day?

Then, to your horror, you realized that this meant you'd been together for nearly twenty-four hours. That fact felt like a violation even if there wasn’t a purposefully codified rule to break. Maybe, you thought, there should be a fourth one to limit prolonged exposure.

How did he manage to stick like a shadow? Would he ever just give it a rest?

“It’s none of your business what I'm up to because you’re not supposed to be here,” you shot back, mimicking the sing-song tone he’d fired at you. The edge of your rubber spatula scraped along the bottom of the pan, folding and separating the eggs into pieces as they cooked. “Go eat lunch in your own house.”

Jimin’s laughter reverberated through the room. “Why would I? You didn’t make four eggs for one person.”

You froze with your eyes fixed on the uncharacteristically large pile of scrambled eggs before you. It didn’t click until he pointed it out, but you’d unwittingly doubled your usual amount. Why? Surely, you hadn’t done it on purpose. There was no reality in which you’d cook for him.

“Best pull them off before you toast ‘em, puppy.”

Again with that goddamned nickname, reminding you — for the millionth time — that you’d only ever existed within the context of your relationship to Seokjin. Not someone, just someone’s little sister. A pet no one ever seemed to want.

With a smirk, Jimin hoisted himself up off the sofa and meandered over to you too casually, far too comfortable in your space. I really have to stop letting you in here. When he closed the distance between you, he reached over your shoulder and clicked off the burner. Worse still, his hand wrapped around your forearm and guided the pan over to the unused adjacent burner.

Low voice vibrating down your spine, he chided you. “You’ll definitely lose your security deposit if you burn the place down.”

His hand was lingering on your skin, and all you could do was stare up at him, mouth parted slightly like an idiot. You’d refused to look at him much while you cooked, thinking that ignoring him would make him disappear. Unfortunately, because you weren't an infant, you were plagued with object permanence.

And there he still was — permanently.

You eyed the bean-sprout ponytail holding back the longer, upper layer of his hair. It dawned on you for the first time that there was an undercut beneath it; one you’d somehow failed to notice in all the time you’d spent with your fingers tugging at his hair. How long had that been the case?

That haphazard knot at the top was the work of unbothered, unpracticed hands. Spare pieces hung down around his face, which was upsettingly poreless and smooth even though he wasn’t the one with the religiously adhered-to skin care regimen. A fucking Renaissance painting, in living color — in your kitchen.

Park Jimin was disgustingly angelic and it infuriated you, but you couldn't stop looking at him.

“Now, now,” he tutted, derailing your train of thought as he placed his hands on your waist and rudely lifted you out of his way. He did it too easily — like you weighed nothing. Setting you down to the left of the stove, he reached for the cabinet to the upper right. “Stop eyeing me like you want to frame me and hang me above your fireplace.”

Opting to ignore his point entirely, you snatched the plate he held out to you. You hated that he knew where you kept them. “I don’t have a fireplace,” was your nonchalant reply before you used your hip to nudge him back out of your way.

His eyebrows shot up at the audacity of you dumping the entirety of the pan’s contents onto your plate. With your back turned, an impish grin tugged at your lips. You weren’t hungry enough to eat it all yourself, but he needed a reminder on whose house he was in; and what he was and wasn’t entitled to.

“Raised by wolves!” Jimin muttered with a shake of his head. His frustration didn’t stop him from following you as you grabbed a half-empty bottle of buldak sauce out of the refrigerator, though. He was still at your heels when you shuffled off to the sofa.

He took the corner opposite you and turned inward to glare at you as you nestled up against the cushioned arm with a satisfied sigh. Those burning eyes stayed fixated on you as you made a big show of cozying yourself up against the throw pillows. Never one to forgo an opportunity, you gave him something worth watching.

Opening your mouth slowly, you slid your tongue out until the tip of it grazed the bottom of the egg dangling from your fork. Without breaking eye contact, you pulled it off between your teeth. A soft moan accompanied your chewing, as if this depressing mid-afternoon breakfast was the best thing you’d ever tasted. Jimin’s eyebrow twitched as you licked your lips, still refusing to tear your gaze away from him.

Gotcha, fucker.

He’d had quite enough of your little games. Without warning, Jimin grabbed the plate and fork from your hands and dropped them onto the coffee table with a clatter. Your eyes and mouth opened wide and froze that way.

That shocked expression only intensified when he grabbed your ankles in each hand and pulled your lower half towards him. You squeaked as your back slid down the arm of the sofa. Now flat against the seat cushions with your knees hinged over his shoulders, you were left to blink up at Jimin as he smirked down at you.

“Maybe you can finish your breakfast after I’ve had mine,” Jimin purred, leaning down to erase the space between your bodies. With your legs held hostage, his hands were free to push the ends of your towel to the side, out of his way. His pupils were blown as he looked up at you from a curtain of dark eyelashes.

You may have been hungry, but he was ravenous.

Face dipping down between your legs, his hot breath lit you on fire. He fanned the flames, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses up the inside of each thigh before suckling on the delicate skin he found there. The wet heat of his tongue and the sting of his suction caused your eyelids to flutter. You screwed them shut completely and tilted your head back as he continued his way towards your cunt, already dripping with need.

Jimin’s arms bent up underneath you, curling over your hips and forcing you still. You felt the cool tip of his nose brush against your core as those sloppy kisses ceased; and his mouth found what it’d been seeking. With his tongue dipping between your slicked folds, you melted into his arms with a low moan.

“So focused on your own appetite… Did you ever consider mine?” He murmured between flicks of his tongue, “Selfish, really.”

Your mouth was hanging open, but for once, you couldn’t find the words to bite back at him. Instead, you did something you’d never done before: you gave up. Bottom lip pinched tight between your teeth, you let the opportunity drop without any attempt to volley it.

Though you likely assumed that this was all for your benefit — or that he was merely exercising power over you — Jimin would beg to differ. He reveled in the unholy sounds you made as he devoured you. In a rare display of vulnerability, you surrendered yourself completely in moments like this. You collapsed limp and trusting in his arms, except for the hands clinging desperately to his hair; and he could momentarily believe that you were always this open, this inviting.

Like this, you were perfect. You looked it, too, with your high cheekbones flushing a shy shade of scarlet. Even the way your chest heaved was delicate, subtle enough that it felt like a secret meant for him; gentle, though the hammering it prompted in his own chest wasn’t. Still, it felt illegal to steal these glimpses of you like this; so, he attempted to blink the indelible image of your face away and pressed his even closer to your pretty pussy.

Of all the times Jimin had you in this position, it never felt like this. No hesitation, no animosity, just indescribable and uninterrupted pleasure tingling through every nerve — from your curling toes; to the goosebumps erupting on your skin; to the coil pulling tighter, tighter, tighter in your —

“Oh, fuck.”

At his chest-deep groan, you gasped, slapped your hands over your mouth, and screwed your bleary eyes shut. If you couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see you — and you couldn’t bear to look at him. You wouldn’t. You refused to face the mess you’d made of him, or whatever horrified expression he was wearing. The hands over your mouth slid up to cover your eyes.

As he sat back on his knees, Jimin lifted his arm to wipe the remnants of you off his face and onto the back of his hand. You were dripping off his chin, down his neck, to the damp collar of his t-shirt. He was panting, albeit less so than you, but he was beaming. He’d made you cum more times than he could count, but he had never made you cum like that before — and he'd previously considered himself an expert.

He reached up and wrapped his hands around yours, surprised when you allowed him to uncover your face. Cheeks burning pink with embarrassment, you winced when confronted with the sight of your release all over him.

“I don’t — Seriously, I’ve never —” you stammered hopelessly, wanting nothing more than to disappear. If you could, you’d sink completely into the gap between the cushions, never to be seen again, but Jimin wouldn't let you. Embarrassed and near to tears, you peeped, “I’m so sor—”

He let go of your hands and placed a finger over your lips, imploring you to shut up. “That was, without a doubt,” He paused and you withered. Just let me die. “The hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

This floored you and you didn’t know why.

You stared at one another in silent awe for what felt like hours but, in reality, only amounted to a few seconds. Neither of you knew what to do now that you’d made this discovery. The air crackled like static between you, and you each waited on the other to do something.

Jimin could easily tell that no one else had gotten this kind of response from you and secretly, it made him giddy that he was the one to do it. That he was so attuned to you, he could bring you over the edge like that. Before he could talk himself out of doing so, he cupped your flushed face in his hands. Then, without thinking, he pressed his frenzied lips to yours.

For a fraction of a moment, you felt yourself slipping, turning to putty under the surprising heat of his kiss. Then, when you remembered yourself, an alarmed gasp spilled out of your throat. Your fight-or-flight reflex kicked in and you chose both.

Your flailing caused Jimin to lose his balance and fall with a yelp against the arm on his side of the sofa. Simultaneously, your scrambling sent you tumbling off the sofa altogether. Your elbow slammed into the corner of the coffee table on your way down, and you cried out upon impact.

He stared wide-eyed down at you for a split-second, taking in the sight of you clutching your elbow in your opposite hand. You were bleeding — just slightly — and your eyes were starting to swim. Reflexively, Jimin lunged forward to help you, but you recoiled as if he’d burned you.

Just as quickly, his heart swan dove into the cellar of his stomach while his brain tried to square the drastic change in the way you looked at him. The stars in your eyes were gone and all that was left hurt.

“Get out,” your tone was eerily quiet, but unquestionably firm. He blinked back at you, too shocked by your reaction to do a thing. Then, with a voice halfway between a sob and a hiss, you repeated yourself, “Get out of my house, Park!”

Jimin wanted to say something — anything — to fix that broken look on your face, but he could see how much effort you were expending to hold back tears. The more exposed and embarrassed you felt, the worse his presence would make it. So, he called it. He shot you one last, apologetic gaze before he clambered to his feet, slipped into his shoes, and disappeared out your front door.

Even after watching his retreat, you stayed where sat on your floor with your knees hugged to your chest. Your bright white towel would wind up stained, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get up and find a proper bandage. Your elbow looked much worse than it felt — but you felt much worse than you looked. Still dazed, you touched your fingertips to your lips just to find that the heat of his mouth still seemed to linger.

That motherfucker.

The two of you had rules, and in a single day, he’d broken all of them. In one fell swoop, he severed the tightrope you’d been treading along so cautiously; sent you both hurtling towards the dirt. He ruined everything — again — and you fell back into that box you were never permitted to outgrow.

Pathetic little puppy, crying all alone.

Just outside your living room window, Jimin hesitated when he reached his car. He had one hand on the door handle and his keys clutched tightly in the other. He knew he couldn’t stay, but he didn’t feel as though he could go either, so he simply froze where he stood.

Trapped in limbo between what he wanted and what he could have, just like always.

He hoped he would’ve grown out of that gnawing disappointment by now, but those teeth somehow got sharper over time — not duller. To make it all worse, this was the first time he’d seen you in pain that you hadn't specifically requested. The way you looked just then unsettled him deeply. He hated the way you crumpled, how quickly you tore yourself away from him.

It stung — bad.

So much so that Jimin didn’t notice the car driving down your street. He didn’t see its driver, either — unexpectedly in town — nearly hitting the curb upon clocking the familiar frame standing in his baby sister’s driveway.

a/n: i’m as shocked as you are that i updated this within seven days of the last part ☠️ one nap and six hours of writing later, here we fuckin’ gooooooo!

feedback in any form (reblog, reply, inbox, PM) is sincerely appreciated 💕 tysm for reading, my sweet, sweet beans!!!

[king7doms]

Vague wishlist ideas for various muses. DM me if you're interested in plotting/threading these out <3:

Daenys: The start of the doom of Valyria / the escape. Visenya & Rhaenys: Threads with others during Aegon's conquest, and after (including a soon to be written AU where Rhaenys lives longer), with their rule in Westeros. Viserys I: Ceding the crown to Rhaenyra BEFORE his death, when his health declines, so that there is no question of the succession Viserys III: Staying behind in comfortability in Pentos until after he hears of the dragons being born / finding Dany after the death of Drogo and the dragons hatching. Rhaenyra / Harwin: Them marrying instead of her marrying Laenor (I write both so let's goooooo). Aegon II: Refusing to marry Helaena and/or refusing to be crowned, ceding the crown to Rhaenyra. Helaena: Leaving King's Landing after B&C with Jaehaera and Maelor (verse dependent obvi if you're show based, I will exclude Maelor) either across the narrow sea on Dreamfyre or attempting to seek refuge with Rhaenyra on Dragonstone. Myrcella: Her and Trystane deciding to wed without permission before anyone comes to Dorne to bring her back to King's Landing. Her surviving her trip back to King's Landing and reuniting with her family. Lyanna: Surviving childbirth, either raising Jon herself as a bastard ward, or playing as an aunt to him after letting Ned take him on as a bastard to keep her and her secret with Rhaegar safe. Rhaegar and her surviving and raising Jon, her becoming a second wife to Rhaegar (we ignore the annulment theory here woops but wouldn't if plotted) and Elia. Robb: More in the AU I have (written down somewhere that is clearly not on this blog yet woops) where he does not go to the Red Wedding because he is called away in a battle, but Catelynn and his wife go (could also change) and are killed instead. Him reuniting with his siblings is the most important part for me, thanks. Harwin: Escaping the fire in Harrenhal and surviving, heading back to KL.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

Obsessed with @thirsty-boba-fett-posts VampBoba thots ♥ And @daimyosprincess because bestie, I just read part III and I am very much into all that shit ♥

You've been browsing them magazines for some red bottoms that you know is just gonna make your ass look tight. Not to mention something sparkly for that neck of yours. You buy it using the Count's business card all excited and giddy. You, however, did not, for a hot fucking moment, check the price.

You in big trouble now bestie.

And the store doesn't offer returns or cancelations for rushed purchase, but adds a little extra.

If it pleases the court once more, here's Count Boba and his moody love languages ♥ ||

Lazy writing... but with progress? *LE GASP* !!! - Blood mention, biting, vamp things smut stuff idk, I really suck at tagging please forgive me, but it be filthy down there.

So you forgot that bit that banks will notify the card owner if they make purchases, particularly massive ones. Shops do the same with a bit of a thank you beep for your patronage and will send a brochure of the more lavish selection offered only to big buyers.

Our no fuss no muss count barges into your room, takes you by the wrist and effortlessly drags you against the wall. You best believe he'd pin you there with your hands over your head and his knee hard between your thighs because babe, he old with a bad knee. A very bad ~ knee.

He'd tell you in that sultry, velvety voice all: "Now what did I say about being such a naughty little money whore?"

He'd 'hmmm?" the shit out of that question in such a low, baritone voice, paired with them dark, devious eyes that burned right through your heart. "Did I not tell you that you only get presents from Daddy when you've not misbehaved?"

You arch your body towards him because he being hella hot and you being hella sus over some orders coming in today that you didn't tell daddy.

And before you could answer, he drops you on the floor and began unbuckling that grade A-spankmedaddy belt he has on his waist.

He doesn't say a word and hooks the belt around neck and fastens the buckle. You'd think he'd choke you out then and there, but no baby girl. No, no, no.

DENIED. DENIED. DENIED. DENIED. DENIED. DENIED.

A short tug, motioning you to follow as he walked out the room. The palace is a labyrinth of mirrors. The naked eye may not see both of your reflections, but you can see your own.

You'd think this'll turn into some over the top, hot angry sex where he'd nail you down the bed and fuck your lovely brains out until the frame breaks? No boo, he denying you that too.

DENIED. DENIED. DENIED. DENIED. DENIED. DENIED.

He drags you to his office, the one place you're not allowed with your clothes on. But being the stupid little baby girl you are with his belt around your neck, you were too worried about the carpet burns on your knees and the belt around your neck.

He takes offense in this. His mind be like:

Like bestie, you should know better! TSK. TSK. TSK. He about to double dick you down with that electric dildo you decided to buy that greatly offended his pride because droids, am I right?

But he loves you enough to give toys a chance because you know, you're his pretty, little, baby girl~ ♥ His one and only full-time princess ♥ And he knows he's always for work to get that dough rolling you love so much just so he could make it rain on that tight, juicy, punani ♥

He walks towards his desk, leaning, sitting on the edge with arms folded over his chest. You can see the white formal shirt barely leaving any room for his muscles and it's just.. unf.

You sit on your ankles with a whimper, rubbing your barely flustered knee from having to crawl to his office. You recall what you ought to do because huntie, we not really dumb bitches here ♥ We're intellectual, independent queens who just want sum dik.

You began unbuttoning your shirt but you see him push off the desk and walk towards you with your back on the wall. Obvi no room to escape.

But like bestie, why would you? You're on the floor looking at this hella fine man. You ought to be praying ~

He takes you by the chin and forces you to really look up to him, even hitting the back of your head against the wall accidentally.

I guess he really wants you to go stupid for him. SMH.

So he reaches for the shelf above your head and whips out the electric dildo you purchased that his butler had snitched on you. SHH BBY, THANK HIM LATER.

( The butler is Din Djarin. It's official.)

Any how.

He turs the dildo on and it begins vibrating. Something about him holding another cock made you moan and sigh at the same time, it seemed like you wheezed a little. Maybe died a little. Understandable.

He drops to his ankle, chin still a firm grasp under one hand and the other , bringing the toy close to your face.

"You like this shit, hmm?" He asks, clear with a tone of anger. He began to tap it on your cheek. Boba's not shy about it as he began to slap it on your face a little harder, making you wince and move your head.

BUT BESTIE, HE AIN'T HAVING IT.

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU."

His eyes be red and you can hear the soft hissing sound he makes when he's not at all happy. His voice loud and domineering, forcing you by the chin to look at him. He bears those dangerously sharp fangs close to your face as he presses his forehead against yours for a brief moment, steadying your gaze.

So you do and no amount of sugar is gonna change this daddy's mind. Buckle up bitch, you in for it now.

He pulls back and properly thwacks the entire shaft onto your face. Nodding almost approvingly as he could hear the impact on your skin.

"Good girl."

With your new found obedience, he brushes your lips with his thumb. Caressing your cheek and leaning forward to offer a whisper of a command as he drags the dildo right over your mouth.

"Now lick."

You gulp and obey. Not wanting to anger the count.

He peers at the corner of his eye as you lick the toy, making sure to move it around and make you coat the entire tip.

At a point he even drags the entire shaft slow along your tongue. Down to the base to the head once more.

"That's my dirty, little devil ~ "

A stifled moan escapes his lips that moved inches down your neck. Breath hot against your skin and you could feel the sharpened tips graze generously.

He adjusts himself to kneel and guides you to fully sit on the floor. A free hand tracing your thigh, only to duck under your knee and pull it up.

With your knee up and your legs spread, Count Boba kneeling between your thighs, he lowers the toy to level with his own.

"Now be a real bad girl for daddy and fuck it."

I'd write some shit about how hot that made you feel but babe, I am not about that life for now. I'm too tired from work so, get your own freak on ♥

You drip the toy inside you and you can sense him look down with interest. You were starting out slow, but like I keep saying: THE FETTS HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO CHILL.

"Surely, you can do better than that." He'd tease, licking the length of your neck and rubbing his face onto the side of your head. "Come now, show daddy how good of a slut you are."

You tried mid and the vibrations were doing it for you. Get it girl. It made your knees twitch in an attempt to close your legs, but it wasn't enough.

He notices this and pulls back. Reaching down to take hold of the toy over your hand and flick the switch to Max.

See, bestie? He cares! He knows that that garbage mid-tier vibro ain't doing you good! Love languages all about ♥ Our man here being sensitive to your needs ♥ Okay, so back to fucking.

You groan loud and your hands frenzied on where to go as he pumped the toy in you a few times and pulled it out to let it rattle against your clit.

You could feel some wetness on your own hands under his and it didn't help that he had stuffed two of them thick fingers in you.

He went on like this for another minute or two before he reached down with his other hand and whipped that might sword of destruction out his slacks.

"Oh ~ You like that, you naughty, cock-hungry whore? Have you been blowing daddy's money because he hasn't fucked that filthy tight cunt lately?

Boba had pressed his face onto the side of your neck, mumbling and grunting as he began stroking himself while he continued to hold the toy rattling your clit with two fingers pumping inside you.

But as usual, the count doesn't like waiting for an answer. Specially if he's dripping precum on the floor and you know he ain't about that wasteful lifestyle.

He gave himself a long, full to hilt, stroke and coated his hand with cum, leaving his cock only to shove the same fingers between your lips, only to wipe the slickened on your tongue.

He took hold of himself again and pulled the busy hand free, exposing your wet cunt only for a second before, he his tip in.

You gasp and started burying your nails on your thighs because you know daddy doesn't let you do them grabby hands unless he tells you to ♥

He grabs your leg and pulls you to take him by a good half before holding the toy upside down to continue vibrating against your clit, gyrating as he buried himself deep inside you.

Grab on bestie, because this is the shit that just drove me wild an hour ago as thots just smacked me in the head while I was contemplating useless shit to buy today.

"That's it, baby girl."

You can hear him swallow and his voice rasped with desire as he began to just fuck you with that mightier than mighty cock of his in full, deep, hard, merciless thrusts while that droid dildo keeps on your swollen clit like a lamp to a moth (or some shit idk this has gone too long Dx)

"Come and fff--fuck daddy. Show daddy you deserve money. Come on, come on, come on, come on. Be daddy's fucking slutty cockdumb whore..."

You can tell he was close by the fact that he's dick is dummy thick in you and he was grunting, groaning, huffing, hissing, as you were. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you pooled cum under him, feeling your body violently shake.

Your arms find his ribs, digging through with your own nails, ripping his good shirt because you a vampie bitch too ♥

You began clawing for him, ducked under his arms as you dragged your nails from his shoulder down to his back, pulling him as close as you can as you literally convulsed on that vampire dick.

But just as you thought you were in the heavenly graces of god himself...

CHOMP CHOMP CITY BITCH ♥

Hard to tell if it it was a moan, a cry, a whimper, a scream, insert any other word here because I'm tapped out. But you made sounds babe. Sounds you didn't expect your whore mouth to do today.

Fangs a precise cut to bury on your neck and you can feel the blood run up the area.

It wasn't lock until his lips fell on your neck for optimal grip. The taste of your blood is as exquisite as his now cum-stained cock pounding you like he about to build a house in that bitch.

Blood filled his mouth and caressed his tongue like sweet, sinful nectar.

Perfect for those who dig eating/drinking and fucking at the same time.

But of course, old men get rich by being greedy.

He pulls off only to admire the holes from where his teeth sank and the sight of your blood oozing down your neck and onto those sweet supple breasts of yours.

He licks his lips, savoring your blood as he slowed his pace down a little.

He took the toy off your clit and just let it fall over your lap, still buzzing.

He takes your chin, turns you to face the other way just so he could sink his teeth on the other side of your neck in the same fashion. But this time, he pulls you from under your knees, lifting as he stands and pins you to the wall for a better angle at fucking.

He rams you in hard. Hard enough for one of his framed certificates to shake and break on the ground. Hard enough for the potted plan atop the shelf to hop and follow suit.

He breaks off from your neck again and you can tell the sight of blood slithering down to dampen both of your chest together was driving him mad with unabashed lust that his pace quickened the longer he stared.

"F..Fuck,... Fuck, Fuck, Not like this.."

And as if seeing you in a state near passing out as your palms knead, squeeze, and roam over your breasts and how tight your legs were wrapped around him was enough. It wasn't.

Let me introduce to you all my greatest personal kink that not even daddy kink would sway me:

M O N E Y.

He leans back only for a little to take in your blood stained presence that made his cock twitch inside you. Reaching down to procure a handful from his pocket, a devilish grin turns into a swift lick of the lips before leaning only to give you a quaint, barely connecting kiss.

And without a second to spare, the Count stuffs a handful of crisp bills with a new black card (with your own name on it) stuffed somewhere in the middle and a thin golden chain hooked in that messy clump, between your lips.

Seeing you with his riches in your mouth, cock in your cunt, and your pale neck marked and stained with the succulent supply of blood you just blessed his tongue with, he leans in to finish the job by moving in a little lower to take in the conjunction between your shoulder and neck into yet another bite. Piercing your ashen skin as he bucks wild within you a couple more times making you shiver, flail, and desperately try to push him off with how sensitive you've become after finishing before him.

Lowkey proud of myself for writing the end bit in not so lazy writing. But meh, garbage but in paragraphs OMG.

[sunkingwrites]

(source)

Hello hello, I'm Kasper- you can call me Kasper (obvi), sun, king, or literally any cheesy petnames!

If you call me a slur, I will not hesitate to block you!

☀ I'm a trans dude, he/him and they/them pronouns are fine

☀ May 13 (Taurus sun, Taurus moon, Gemini rising)

☀ I'm panromantic and polyamorous (aka I shove poly bakusquad in your face and you enjoy it)

☀ Inhabiting Canada, where the lakes flow with maple syrup and poutine, the beavers sing their silly tunes, and petting the foxes is sadly off limits

☀ I use petnames for a lot of my mutuals so so often, so lemme know if you're uncomfortable with me using petnames for you!

☀ I'm fluent in English (even tho sometimes I don't act like it), and I have intermediate French,, I'm trying to learn Spanish and Japanese but I'm so easily distracted and can't retain information to save my life 😅

☀ Avid enjoyer of spicy foods, sour candy, artificial banana and strawberry flavours, and cheesecake

☀ If you send me an ask, I will almost always do a little happy dance-- but no, you don't get to see it ;P

☀ I'll add more to this when I remember more things about myself :')

self-ships

Kasper's Bakusquad - me x the entire bakusquad (this includes bakugou, kirishima, sero, denki, mina, jirou, and shinsou) they're my poly bunch of loovvess

Kassou - me x Hitoshi Shinsou (apocalypse au)

Yasper - me x Momo Yaoyorozu

Kashima - me x pre transition!Eijiro Kirishima, prob happened in highschool or smthn

Kasawara - me x Koshi Sugawara

Katsukatsu - me x Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu (soul eater au)

kins

My Hero Academia: Denki Kaminari, Neito Monoma

Bungo Stray Dogs: Chuuya Nakahara

Haikyuu!: Kozume Kenma, Tadashi Yamaguchi

Demon Slayer: Zenitsu Agatsuma

The Way of the Househusband: Masaru Akamiya

The Yakuza's Guide to Babysitting: Toichiro Aoi

video games

Baldur's Gate 3, Beat Saber, Minecraft, Stardew Valley, Animal Crossing, Among Trees, Firewatch, My Time at Sandrock, Slime Rancher (1+2), Civilization (mostly III cuz nostalgia), Red Dead Redemption II, Graveyard Keeper, Kynseed, Don't Starve, Terraria, The Sims (mostly 4), Genshin Impact

anime

My Hero Academia, One Piece, Haikyuu!, SK8 the Infinity, Fairy Tail, Bleach, Demon Slayer, Bungo Stray Dogs, Cowboy Bebop, The Yakuza's Guide to Babysitting, Hunter x Hunter, Cells at Work!, Zombie Land Saga, The Devil Is a Part-Timer!

☀ navigation ☀ rules ☀ about me ☀ masterlist ☀

[x3rrorx]

Who the fuck pays for birth certificates of celebrities?! Like BFFR! And then threatening to release nudes?! Fucking insane. I feel so bad for III, no one deserves that. I remember when Noah's article got released III liked a tweet about how it took guts to talk about boundaries (obvi paraphrasing). BO and ST have such stalker hating ass fans. Waaaaay worse than the K-Pop stans. Like how much of a loser do you have to be to waste your money on a birth certificate, even just contemplating on doing it is a major red fucking flag.

Disgusting behavior

[scribicronus-v02]

Amphibia: Buttery Drabbles -- Marcy and the Boonchuys III

Tag list: @karamelys, @popcornbee, @borkthemork, @themissakat, @cute-as-buttons, @maritasdump, @the-chaotic-lesbian, @antiableists-marcywu, @cynthiacoven, @slymanner, @space-lynn, @camomile-t, @calamity-unlocked-main, @detentiontrack, @milliegraveyard, @skibs-scribbles, @pyroclastic727, @eeveearoace, @goodartitude, @yourpersonaltimebomb

As expected, the third and final installment of the Marcy and the Boonchuys trilogy. This is a little more uplifting than A Mother’s Concern though I find it just as emotionally powerful in its own right.

Special shoutouts go to @mira-blue because flowers, obvi. I actually did some amateurish research (i.e.: googling and looking up the most comprehensive website) into flower meanings. If I recall, she was quite impressed with my selections and the meanings behind them.

Without further ado...

Marcy slowly stirred awake. She didn't even remember falling back asleep. It felt like she was waking up from some cathartic dream...

Marcy and the Boonchuys III -- A Father’s Support

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

She was hugging Anne's mother as if she were a lifeline and crying against her. She apologized over and over again as she cried on Anne's mom's shirt.

“I'm so sorry,” she half-whispered as she sobbed. I'm so sorry, Missus Boonchuy. I'm so sorry for everything.”

Anne's mother combed her hand through Marcy's hair. “I know, sweetie,” she said, kissing the girl's forehead. “I know...”

As she took a breath, she realized that it wasn't a dream. She felt just as tired now as she did then.

I can't believe I cried like that in front of Anne's mom, she thought, embarrassed.

She looked around and noticed something was different. There was a large flower arrangement sitting on the stand next to her bed.

White tulips...Galanthus Nivalis...Anemones...Yellow roses...White hyacinth...Irises...

She looked down from the flower arrangement to see an envelope on top of a flat white box. She slowly picked up the envelope, her name the only thing adorning it in expertly written calligraphy in navy blue ink. She turned it around and noticed that it wasn't sealed so she slipped the folded sheet of paper out of the envelope.

Marcy,

Anne and Theresa told me everything. I also talked with your sister, and I have a greater understanding regarding all that has happened to you, Anne and Sasha.

Ally gave me the package to give to you. Me, well, I think my thumb says it all.

-- Arthit Boonchuy

Her brow creased in thought as she folded up the paper and slipped it back into the envelope. She picked up the white box, which surprised her with the weight for its size, and opened it.

Inside in white stuffing was her handheld console, the left side blue, the right side red, the screen polished as if it was just bought. When she lifted it out of the box, there was a single tiny cartridge on top of a post-it note. She picked up the cartridge.

Vagabondia Chronicles.

Tears immediately came to her eyes and she gave a single crying laugh. She looked back at the box and at the post-it note.

Sorry I couldn't come. A little scared to be portal-hopping, especially after that one game with portals. Promise I will come soon! I love you!

-- Ally

She laugh-cried again and shook her head. Ally always knew what to say to make me feel better, she thought. She put the handheld back in the box but left it open, her gaze going back to the flower arrangement. She couldn't make any sense of what Anne's father meant.

As she stared at the flower arrangement again, everything came back in a torrent of thought.

Galanthus Nivalis...Snowdrops...Flowers of rebirth, flowers of sympathy.

Coronaria...Yellow and blue anemones...Symbol of spring. Yellow means optimism, blue symbolizes trust.

White hyacinth...It symbolizes praying for someone.

Iris...It represents hope.

White tulips...They represent forgiveness.

She felt a tightness in her chest as the tears returned in full force. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

“Thank you, Mister Boonchuy,” she whispered to herself. “Thank you so much.”

[kereshq]

¡Go, Big red go! Dentro del campus podrás encontrar con facilidad a 𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐘, miembro de la fraternidad 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐀 𝐏𝐒𝐈, ¿Estará escondiendo algo? De acuerdo con los reportes de la LIBERTAD CARMÍN, al parecer tiene bastantes esqueletos en el ático, ¿Quieres descubrir alguno? Te invitamos cordialmente a seguir sus pasos, seguramente te terminarás sorprendiendo.

¡Bienvenida, 𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃! ¡Nos encanta tenerte por aquí! Te recordamos que cuentas con veinticuatro horas para enviar la cuenta, pero si necesitas más tiempo no dudes en pedírnoslo. Cualquier duda, sugerencia o comentario siempre estaremos en el buzón. ¡Muchas gracias por el interés!

INFORMACIÓN OOC.

nombre o pseudónimo: reed.

pronombres: ella/suya.

edad: +21.

zona horaria: gmt-5.

disponibilidad: 7/10.

triggers: homofobia + racismo + abuso sexual + maltrato animal.

en caso de unfollow, ¿nos permitirías utilizar a tu personaje para la trama?: obvi.

cualquier cosa que desees añadir: AMO TODO!!

INFORMACIÓN BÁSICA:

nombre completo: rasmus appleby.

rostro utilizado: dylan minnette.

fraternidad: delta psi.

fecha de nacimiento y edad: 13 de octubre / 1998.〔 xxi 〕

carrera estudiada: fotografía.

club(s) y/o deporte(s) a los que pertenece: club de fotografía + esgrima.

PSICOLOGÍA.

aspectos positivos: templado, asertivo, afable.

aspectos negativos: testarudo, imprudente, ávido.

HISTORIA DE VIDA.

i. producto de un amor entre la pobreza, de falsas esperanzas y ambiguos planes para un futuro que jamás llega; abandono parece ser la única opción cuando recién nacido termina entre el porcentaje de un sistema de adopción. acostumbrarse no le resultó difícil con el paso del tiempo, no cuando era lo único familiar y los hogares de acogida terminaban siendo fotografías de un carrete sin fecha determinada, pixeleadas hasta lograr ser irreconocibles cuando los años no eran tan amables y la memoria se volvía selectiva. tal vez recuerde a un par de familias, esas que parecían volverse algo permanente, un destello de luz que terminaba apagándose y las oportunidades se desvanecían.

ii. siempre resultaba ser demasiado, demasiado ruidoso, demasiado oportunista, demasiado él. los vestigios de adolescencia pronto llegaban a su vida y con ello las esperanzas de pertenecer permanentemente a algo que trascendiera, algo que no fuese un número de identificación almacenado en un archivero, algo en donde pudiese ser RASMUS y eso fuese suficiente. quizás los appleby vieron la oportunidad perfecta, un caso de caridad, un empuje que ayudara a dar tan buena publicidad a cargo político de patriarca de tan renombrada familia, no importaba, para alguien en busca de un techo solo bastaba con que fuesen su salida.

iii. la vida de lujos y oportunidades pronto estaban al alcance de la palma de sus manos, aires de grandeza arraigado a apellido imponente en ocasiones le aturdía, lo suficiente para alguien acostumbrado a una mochila rota y una vieja cámara como único sustento para el paso de los días. las festividades, el trascurso de las temporadas, las banalidades que antes no notaba ahora parecían abrir espacio para que encajara completamente pero no era lo único nuevo, su confianza fue en aumento y dejó atrás al infante que cargaba una montaña de miedo, ese que debía guardar sus opiniones cuando mantener silencio se volvía prioridad.

iv. su presencia nunca se sintió bienvenida por primogénito de quiénes ahora se auto-nombraban sus padres, no era suficiente para desanimarle, no cuando los años dejaban la paleta de grises y se volvían coloridos de nuevo, no cuando en ocasiones dudaba pertenecer a mundo de cunas de oro y cubiertos de plata, de justicia a medias y de secretos a voces. demasiado despierto, demasiado consciente para dejarse engullir por aquel mundo nuevo.

v. es ingenuidad aquella que le envuelve con esmero entusiasmo cuando carta de aceptación llega a su puerta, cuando es pensamiento constante el querer un respiro de responsabilidades y apariencias que debe mantener para no manchar reputación, de reglas que rompe cuando nadie le ve. no es sorpresa para nadie que haya sido aceptado salvo para él, alma mater ha cargado con apellido que ahora le identifica por generaciones, ha oído historias sobre gran casa de estudios y sueña con que los mejores años de su vida se produzcan desde el primer minuto que pise campus.

PREGUNTAS.

¿QUÉ TAN DISPUESTO ESTÁ EN PROTEGER EL BUEN NOMBRE DE SU FRATERNIDAD?

DELTA PSI ha sido el hogar que ha esperando durante mucho tiempo, aquel que le permite vociferar opiniones y que le educa, le insta a ser mejor. ha logrado escalar hasta ser secretario, hecho suficiente que le permite ser fiel creyente de reputación que mantienen y daría lo que fuese para que continúe siendo así.

¿QUÉ OPINA DE LA VIDA GRIEGA EN CORNELL?

despampanante. atractiva. magnética. es fácil sucumbir y dejarse llevar cuando te hacen creer que estás en la cima y que nada más importa.

¿CUÁL ES EL SECRETO POR EL CUAL TENDRÍA MUCHO QUE PERDER?

removido por administración.

EXTRA.

TABLERO DE PINTEREST.

[pinkiepiebones]

So what I can remember of my dreams...

I’m in a classroom, as a student. A substitute teacher is asking us for our names and favourite animals I think (I was going to name a shark, but the word Aquilus was in my head when I woke up, which I think is an eagle thing?)... Substitute gets to one guy and asks ‘who’s your dealer,’ which the rest of the class assumes means ‘homeroom teacher,’ but the guy gets really nervous about being murdered. A tall pretty girl walks over and hands him a red business card and from my impossible dream angle I can see Z O M B I E in thick red typeface on it.

Then a couple of white scrubs wearing truant(?) officers come in with more students. Instead of taking one of the many empty desks one guy shoves me over to sit in my seat. I get up like, hey I’ve been here since the bell rang, this is mine, go find your own seat. He responds by getting up, grabbing the back of my head, and slamming my face into the desk at least two times and does something to fuck up my leg. I somehow wrestle him to the ground and punch him in the face until my hand breaks. Another teacher with butterfly glasses (the bridge had the body and head shape and the lenses were wing shaped) called more white suited officers to get me for inciting violence. I throw up blood as I’m trying to demand why I’m the one in trouble. One of the offices looks like Robert Englund and I get scared.

I manage to get out into the hall and sneak into a bathroom with a gaggle of girls, none of whom seem to notice the blood and injuries all over me. I duck into another group to get out and get outside where parents and buses are picking up students. I flag a car down and offer the mom driving $50 to drop me off at a gas station. She’s very concerned about my injuries and tries to drive me to a hospital but I insist ‘they’ll be looking for me.’ She drops me off at a Target eventually.

t’s dark and I’m in another city. I buy, like, duct tape and popsicle sticks to splint my hand and leg. At this point in the dream I know(?) I’m being tracked so I try to buy things that I wouldn’t normally buy, to throw them off my trail. I buy a lighter and condoms and shitty frozen meals with cheese and Pepsi drinks and a long blonde wig. The wig is for disguising, obvi.

I manage to get a ride from someone who must know what’s up because he’s pointing out abandoned houses I could hide in ‘until the heat dies down.’ Instead I have him drop me off at a college campus where Ghost is playing. I can’t go to the show, of course, the ticket holder activity is being heavily monitored. So somehow I get a butler(?!) disguise and sneak into the performer’s tent.

It’s as big as a circus tent and there’s no one inside but Papa III. I take off my wig and moustache (good disguise, dream self). He recognises me and asks what’s going on. I tell him I need help.

And then I wake up.

[windwardstar]

My Star Verse OCs

(as of 5-28-18) There are 160+

Arranged Alphabetically.

A Afa, Aille, Ald, Aldet, Aldri, Alodi, Arim, Arren, Arsch

B Ber, Besene, Biitka, Bos, Brond,

C Calif, Carrots, Cendi, Chair, Che, Che II, Chief, Crain

D Daal, Deffen, Del, Deldan, Dellar, Den, Di, Digits, Queen Doese I, Dol, Dolle,

E Eille, Egari, Ellele, Elloine, Elthelene, Elthen, Ele de Rell

F Feille, Fel, Feldran, The First Apprentice, Fren

G Gled, Granny Afa, The Green Dragon, Gren, Guri,

H Hadell, Hardri, Hat, Hellend, Henn, Hetat

I Idell, Ihs, Illene, Iln, Indlenle (Indle), Iyaan,

J Jadesch, Jellede, Ji, Jolnde

K Kalr, Kedre de Aie, Lady de Kelle, Kirsch, Klim Tog, KtK,

L Le, Lef, Lell, Lem, Lethe, Lial, Little Deer, Lord Healer

M Madine, Mald, Maldl, Mari, Moo-Cow, Mosri, Mur

N Nama, Namri, Nen, Nes, Nivelle, Noddle Pannrig

O Obviri, Obvis, Odelle, Oren, Oslen

P Pardri, Parsnip, Pirre, Plin, Potato

Q Qiv, Qotilet, Quart

R Raln, Rato, Relfe, Rell, Ri, Rill, Lady of the Rose, S Sarari, Sarth, Seate, Selet, Sen, Shaal, Skaari, Princess Some, Sned, Sparrow, Svend

T Table, Tadri, Tali, Taia, Tanno Grenich, Te, The Tea Lady, Tela, Telt, Teun, Thath, Thelle, Theline, Theln, King Therefor I, Prince Therefor II, Prince Therefor III, Princess Thisse I, Thradden, Tolle, Tolue, Trinelle, Trison,

U Udva, Ufovna, Uon, Ure, Uren, Usatri,

V Vellin, Veth, Vir

W The Wandering Man Y Yadla, Yere, Yarr, Yinn,

Misc Characters Who Have a Profile But No Name (and are not known predominantly by the below title):

Big-Eared Girl, Elthelene’s Husband, Elthelene’s Lover, Lead Handler, Red-Haired Boy, The Royal Watcher, X