#‘​charter boat? what charter boat?’

[january-summers]

Yeah I watched 98% of the entire series (so much PSA and extras) but I keep coming in late like:

I’m sorry who got court-martialed pre-series?!

Ha! Rooster Teeth literally means Cock Bite

Ohhhh, Texas knew what “happened” at Sidewinder even though it never happened because she was standing literally right there when Church was telling the story.

Wait, are Huggins and Muggins a reference to Huginn and Muninn, the magical companion ravens of Odin?

What else will I discover 20 years later next?

We could start a drinking game at this rate with the things that are slow to click in my brain re: RVB

[casualmondaycharters]

Sandbars and Key West Eco Tours: Heaven for Nature Lovers

Taking a Key West eco tour is all about getting out on the water. You can reach a few spots by car, and with a little exploring, you might find some gems in the Lower Keys. But nothing beats hopping on a boat and taking to the water to see what the Keys are all about. There’s no shortage of activities in Key West for the nature lover, so long as you’re not averse to getting a little wet! The snorkeling and diving here are phenomenal—we do, after all, have the only living coral reefs in the continental US. A Key West mangrove kayak eco tour is another great way to spot some wildlife. At Casual Monday Charters, we think one of the best ways to see the backcountry is with a combination Key West sandbar tour and eco tour. Here’s why.

[taradactyls]

22/11 Update

Come back tomorrow! I'm at over 9,000 words and have got a little bit to go of what's turned into another fluffy chapter, but I'm hopeful I'll get enough finished and edited that it'll come out this weekend.

Fingers crossed!

Progress Update: Trying to Tread Water

Here's your fortnight update, though I think we can safely say three weeks is the soonest I'll ever have a chapter out given my schedule.

I've been able to work steadily, so have a bit over 5,600 words currently (pending editing and cuts) so I'm going really well in that regard!

And for context of how extremely I underestimate how much I'm going to write for each scene, all of those 5,600 words, plus a bit more I've got to do, and the entirety of the last chapter, were in my notes as the first 1/3 of Chapter 40...

Yeah.

So this chapter is either going to be huge or I'm going to have to separate out some ideas and increase the chapter count again, lol.

But I'm used to doing that by now and no one has complained about me exploring things in too much depth yet, and I've gotten pretty good at making those sorts of adjustments quickly, so it shouldn't delay the chapter update.

*edit* Also finally got that Chapter 40 research post up!

❤

Other small updates:

Everyone in the household is over their colds and I've been getting enough sleep! I even got to go to art class yesterday morning and did a really expressive painting with mostly sponges. It was very good for releasing stress!

Actually, I'm just going to show it to you, here's my painting and the supplies I used:

[jarofstyles]

Sea View

Hello my lovely babies. Here is a sugar baby!H one shot. 

I hope you enjoy them. 

Check out our Patreon for early access and 100+ exclusive writings!

WC- 3.7k

Warnings- public sex/exhibitionism, unprotected sex, slight degrading but also praise kink, soft!dom H

---

The Italian sun was turning his skin golden. He knew that it was definitely time for a sunscreen application again, but the beams of warmth felt too damn good on his body to be assed to get up.

Besides- he had Y/N’s leg hitched over his as she napped in the familiar sunbeams he was soaking in.

After a particularly stressful week, Y/N had had enough. She chartered a yacht, called her assistant to defer her calls and woke Harry up from his meditation nap to pack his bags. They were on the private plane before he even properly woke up, but he couldn’t complain.

The water was impossibly blue, the weather was perfect and their boat was heavenly. He’d never been on a vacation quite like this. He’s actually been to Italy for a bit when he did an exchange program, but he hadn’t been able to just relax. He’d spent his time exploring and studying when he was here, picking up the language, learning the people, his surroundings. There wasn’t time to just… be

A week back in Italy with the best food, a private boat and villa and the most beautiful woman he had ever met, all expenses paid? He would be a fool to turn that down. All he needed to do was help her unwind. That meant hiding her work phone from her, massaging her shoulders, letting her sleep on him like she was now, and giving her every bit of affection and sex that she could possibly want.

‘You work so hard, darling. Deserve a break. I’ll take care of you.’ Was what he had told her when they boarded the boat, kissing her lips as he felt her hands grip his shorts. They had been particularly slutty this trip, something he really liked. His new brand of shorts were cut closer on the thigh, in a variety of colors. Y/N had appreciated them greatly.

It was after the first round of sex that day that Y/N requested they spend some time up on the deck. The warmth was welcome to her, he could tell. It was his job to relax her, to keep her sane, and he liked to think he did a pretty good job of it- both with his words and his cock. This time, though, he could tell she had been particularly drained from work and he made it his mission to keep her as relaxed as possible. Their drinks sat on the ledge behind them, condensation sweating the glasses. Y/N’s book was abandoned with a bookmark haphazardly placed in it, her cheek pressed against his bicep.

The concept of a midday nap for her was unheard of. Harry had been with her for a while now, and in his time knowing her he had never experienced it. That’s how he knew she was really exhausted. Fingers stroked the hair from her face with his opposite hand, simply observing her as she slept. A soft vulnerability was painted on her features as her guard was completely down. In her sleep, Harry could see just how sweet she could look. In everyday life, she was a very powerful and merciless businesswoman. She was wealthy beyond his comprehension and she had gotten to that point because she took no prisoners. She had to, in order to get what she wanted. He’d seen firsthand her cold demeanor and her stoic, practiced words when she was at work and they’d be interrupted.

No one besides Harry had ever seen the woman beg for anything. No one had seen tears drip down her face when she was overstimulated, no one had seen how mushy she got after an entire night of hot sex where he took care of her. Despite the fact that they switched around who was in charge and he very much loved being a good boy for her, Harry liked seeing her soften up for him. Being exposed to a side of one of the country’s most powerful people that no one else had gotten the chance to see? It made him feel powerful all in himself.

When their arrangement had started, she had taken the reigns for the most part. She’d needed to get comfortable with him, which had taken some time. The first night he had taken over control had been a bit of a power struggle, but she took to it well after getting a real taste of what Harry could do.

Being able to comfort her, even in moments like this, made him smile.

“I can feel you staring.” Y/N voice slurred against the skin of his arm, rubbing her nose against it as she shifted to tuck her face into his neck. “Rude.”

Harry’s heart warmed with the rays of the sun, turning slightly so he was facing her before gathering up her sleepy form in his arms. “How could I not stare? When the lioness is asleep, it’s the best time to observe the beauty.” Lips pressed against her warm forehead, letting her leg tighten around his waist. Looking down, he could see some of the bruises he had left on her silky skin. Fingerprints on her thighs, a few on her hips. A sense of satisfaction went through him as he felt her lips give a chaste peck to his throat, exhaling heavily. He had done this. He got to experience this woman fully.

“Lioness? I’d say Tigress, if anything.” Her sleepy laugh made him smile. “How long was I out?” Stretching her body out, she shook for a second before curling back up against his side. It did things to his heart that he didn’t want to talk about.

“An hour.” His fingers returned to her waist, rhythmically dragging up and down the curve of it. “Passed right out. You’re exhausted, love.” It was a bit concerning. Y/N handled pressure very well, stress even better since Harry had entered her life- but he could see some cracks forming before they’d left. “M’glad you took us here. You needed a break. I worry about you.” He spoke against her hair, knowing she didn’t like it when he worried.

“I’m okay.” Her voice was soft. “I… I remembered what you’d said about feeling a breaking point coming and doing something about it before you reach it. I was there.” Opening up wasn’t easy for her in the slightest, but Harry had been her confidant for a bit now. He never judged her, always stressed the importance of mental health along with her physical. “I just wanted to go somewhere we could just relax. It’s still hard for me.”

That much, Harry knew all too fucking well. Y/N was always wound up tight. She was coiled like a snake for most of her day. Being a woman in her position, unfortunately she had to be. She had to work twice as hard and be twice as defensive because men were awful and believed they deserved her position, her success more simply because they were men. It was sick and wrong but Harry understood why she had to feel on the guard all the time.

“I know it is.” The reply was soft. “But m’teaching you, aren’t I?” He was a very relaxed person now that he didn’t have to work at the bar. He was able to work on his music, do his yoga, bake his treats, and focus on this fucking gorgeous woman’s pleasure. For some, it wouldn’t be fulfilling. For Harry? It was a dream come true. He loved teaching her how to relax.

“You’re doing a good job.” Y/N chuckled, pulling her face from the refuge of his neck. “Got a pretty boy with equally as pretty words to help me with that.” Her own fingers came up to stroke the facial hair sprouting on his face. She was a very big fan of it, he was finding out. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and she seemed mesmerized.

“Just pretty?” He smiled, feeling her finger pop into his dimple. “I’d prefer… beautiful. Gorgeous. Ruggedly handsome, even. Sexy is acceptable too.” The quips were met with a laugh from the woman, face tilting up and catching his lips.

Harry was pleasantly surprised. Y/N was shy with her kissing at times. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it- she reacted with her whole body when he kissed her- but she didn’t initiate it too much. The opportunity was not going to be wasted. His mouth responded immediately, a happy hum leaving his throat. Fingers gripped her thigh and pulled her tighter against him as she shyly brushed his tongue against hers. Impressive. She was making a lot of the first moves, and he was ecstatic about it.

She tasted like orange juice, the mimosa’s from breakfast back on her tongue. Harry was taking in every bit of it, one hand curled around the back of her neck while the other kept her thigh against his hip, languid greed encompassing the kiss as he took a bit of the control away from her. There was that buzzing in his stomach, cock thickened as her body heat outshined the sun. In the middle of the boat, he didn’t have a care in the world other than keeping her satisfied.

“Mmm.. S’sweet.” He mumbled against her lips, going back in for more. “Open that pretty mouth f’me. Don’t be shy. I want everything from you.” He was going to milk this for everything he could. Her fingers slid into his hair, the manicured nails gently grazing his scalp and making him groan loudly. Chills flushed on his skin as he pulled her closer, cock pulsing in the shorts as he felt her arch into him. She knew what that did to him, the minx.

His tongue found hers before he sucked on it lightly, fingers diggling into her thigh as he pulled back just a bit. He felt her fingers tug on his hair again, trying to pull his mouth back to her own. It was refreshing to feel her need for him. “You’re starting something, darling.” He warned slowly. “M’not going to stop it if you continue.”

“Don’t.” Was her reply, pushing herself further against him. “We can do anything.”

Harry was surprised by her response. They definitely weren’t fully alone, but no one would come out on to the deck if they weren’t requested. Y/N had asked for privacy beforehand. The crew of the large boat stayed below deck… And honestly? Harry didn’t give a fuck if someone from another boat saw them. He was going to take this opportunity to pleasure his woman.

Rolling them over, he heard her squeak as he hovered on top of her. Eyes opened, the lusty haze making her grin as his body was backlit from the sun. He looked like her own personal angel. Swollen pink mouth and scruffy face, he was sent directly from wherever wet dreams originated from to be the one that took care of her.

“Filthy girl.” He whispered. “S’that what you want? Do you want me to do whatever I want to you?” He leaned his nose against her nose, brushing the skin as she nodded.

“Yes.” The word was breathy, unlike her normal cadence.

Harry grinned that filthy grin that made Y/N’s cunt clench around nothing, the promise of more in his eyes making her blink up at him. She had worked so hard, kept it together so well.. All she wanted to do was fall apart under him. Be dirty, take a risk for once in her controlled life. They’d fucked around many places, but she could see other boats not too far away. She knew it was risky.

“Oh, sweet fucking girl. You’ll let me tug this top off?” He questioned, tugging the cups of her bathing suit down slowly to give her a chance to say no. She didn’t. He pulled the fabric over her pebbled nipples, grunting in his throat as he took a look at her beautiful tits on display for him. “Hm.. Beautiful girl. That’s what you are.” Dipping down her body, he showed no hesitation taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

Sucking on the bud, he heard her gasp and fingers grip his hair as he methodically pulled the sensitive nipple into his mouth, brushing his tongue against it. So warm, her skin smelled like her body wash and salt from the ocean as he lathed his tongue over it again. Teeth brushed it ever so slightly as he pulled back, eliciting a gasp from her before he switched breasts with a satisfied groan.

Yes. This is what his girl needed. His sweet, overworked, filthy minded girl. His cock was dripping into his shorts, the risk of the situation and her need for him arousing him more than he had been in a long time.

“More.” She whimpered. The one word was enough to get him to pause, looking at her with his blown out eyes. Mournfully releasing her nipple again, his wet lips opened to speak to her.

“More? Are you asking for me to fuck you, pretty baby?” His low tone made her clit throb, nodding frantically as she felt him press his fingers against her covered cunt. The bathing suit did little to hide her arousal. He could feel her heat, feel the slickness of her, and he knew he needed to take her. Now. “Yeah? Y’want me to tug this to the side and slip right in?” He spoke against her lips, pressing a kiss there before moving to her jaw. “Want my cock tucked up inside you, nice n’snug?”

Fingers tugged the fabric to the side, leaving her slick cunt exposed to the ocean air. To him. She shuddered under him as she peeled her eyes open, watching in anticipation as his hand went for his shorts between them. Slipping them down just enough to expose himself, he grit his teeth. “Hm?” His voice prodded her. He was covering her body, sure, but it would be obvious what they’d be doing.

Her body jolted when he tapped the ruddy tip of his leaking cock against her cunt, nestling it between her slit while he got himself wet.

“Yes.” She had been reduced to a beg. Y/N was usually much more talkative, much more of a tease, but she couldn’t be right now. This was exactly what the woman wanted. She wanted Harry to take over and make her forget all of her troubles. “Please. Just do it.”

Harry didn’t need much convincing.

She was still a bit sensitive from their sex when they’d woken up, a broken whimper leaving her throat as she felt the tip press into her. It was embarrassing how wet she was just from this. The man had made it near impossible to not be affected by his presence and she was too tired to pretend she wasn’t.

Harry’s cock was thick and long and the perfect size to fuck her dumb. To make her mind shut up about anything other than how good it felt. After long days in the office, it’s exactly what she’s needed. It was no different now, eyes falling shut as her head rolled back, legs closifn around his hips to urge him deeper. There was no need to fake that she wasn’t greedy.

“Fuck.” Harry grunted, feeling himself bury into her. “You needed it again. My poor girl. Needed me to take care of you.” He pressed his mouth against hers again before slowly moving, grinding inside of her as her fingers tugged the hair at the nape of his neck. It was a tight, wet paradise being locked inside of her. Shallow thrusts, feeling her clench up around him, he slipped a hand under her head to hold the back of her neck.

“Needed me so bad that you’re taking my cock right in front of everyone. What a filthy, nasty girl you are. So desperate for my prick to be buried in that sweet little pussy all over again that… you don’t even care if you’re caught.” He was working her up. Dirty talk got to her. Stimulated her in a way that he knew she wouldn’t admit to loving when she wasn’t hanging off his cock, but when she was?

She ate it up. Every crumb.

Legs stayed tight around him as he moved slowly, so fucking deep that she could cry. This was what she needed. Harry was right. She was desperate and dirty and she didn’t care if people were even right next to them, she had wanted him to be inside of her more than anything. This was her escape.

“No, my dirty girl just wants to soak me again. You want people to see how wet you get around me? How filthy and sticky you leave my cock every time I pull out? It goes right down to my thighs, you know.” His velvety voice was wrapped around her head. “You’re not happy unless m’balls deep inside of you. Greedy thing.” He crooned, feeling a bit more of her slick coating his cock. Fuck, he was obsessed. “ But this is a newer development. You’ve always like the idea of someone seeing but… they definitely can right now.”

It got to him, too. His dick was swallowed in her sweet relief, but he knew he wouldn’t last too long. Despite the slow thrusts, they were deep and a bit rough, moving her slightly when he bottomed out. Each thrust was rewarded with a squeak, a moan, a whimper. He was addicted to hear what noise he got next.

“They can see it, baby. If they turn their heads, if they look over, they can see you being fucked. Clinging to me, keeping me close. There’s no way they will be able to mistake it.” Despite the fact he eas covering her and his shorts weren’t fully down, the movements made it obvious. Harry’s always been into adventurous sex, always been into exhibitionism, but it was different here. It sent a heady zing right to his cock. Being a show off, an attention whore, he was in his prime.

“Harry…” she whispered, head tilting back as he bit down on the lobe of her ear. “I can’t. M’gonna cum if you t-talk like that.” She was going to regardless. The sweet press into her spot, his spot really, was perfect. There had been worry that maybe he wouldn’t be able to get her off at the beginning of when they met- no man had properly done it before- but he had exceeded all expectations. He was hers. She was keeping this man as long as she possibly could. He was perfection. Indulging in her like this was just one of the many reasons.

“You’d cum if I was silent. Your cunt loves my cock. Doesn’t she? Loves to be fucked in any way. On your knees, your stomach, riding me… but especially when people can see it.” He licked over her neck, the filth of it making her nails dig into the back of his neck. The stab of pain made him moan, moving a bit harder. It wasn’t fast, wasn’t hurried in the slightest. It was lazy and hot and so goddamn good.

“Yes. I love it. I-I want them to see.” She admitted in a slightly slurred voice, the pleasure already building up with his thrusts. Like sparks over her body. “Want them to watch. I’m gonna-“ she couldn’t finish the word, one of the thrusts stealing her breath.

“I know you want that, my filthy slut. Such a little whore for me.” He laughed, breathy and hot as he covered her lips back with his own. He was about to cum. He could feel her begin to quiver around him. “Going to soak my cock and let them see? So fucking dirty. Letting me fuck you out on this deck, not a care about anything other than getting filled. S’gonna make me cum too.” He looked at her with hazy eyes. The sweat on her forehead, the stickiness of their skin under the hot Italian sun.

All of this was erotic.

“Let go for me, angel.” He decided to pull out the language he knew she loved, nestled against her lips. “Voglio sentirti Bella ragazza. sempre così perfetto. Lascia che mi prenda cura di te, sempre.”

Y/N couldn’t stop it. The rasp of his voice, the Italian falling off his tongue, she came with an intensity she didn’t expect. Mouth falling open as he stole her breath, she finally expelled a moan as she came all over him. Slicked up, creamy and hot, she pulled him in and tried to push him away as the orgasm was worked through.

Harry wasn’t far behind, gritting his teeth as he cursed. His balls tight, he released the heavy load into her cunt, stuttered movement of his hips making him grunt with each finishing stroke. He painted her walls white, pushing it in deep as he groaned against her mouth. Breathing each other in, the movement stopped.

Y/N was full in every sense of the word, legs loosening but staying wrapped around him as her body loosened all its limbs. It was exactly the thing she had needed.

“You okay?” He asked softly, nudging his nose back against hers before pressing chaste kisses to the corners of her lips and the heated cheeks. “Did so good. Fucking perfect, as usual.” His praises made her lips quirk in a smile, returning a chaste peck before falling back to her blissed out features.

“Mhm. Perfect, actually.” Her response was a giggle, the relaxation back on her face. “But I’d like you to stay inside me for a bit.”

Harry rose a brow, trying to keep his softening erection at bay. “Will you behave? I need the nap now.” He needed a bit of time before going again- though keeping himself warm on her cock was a very nice addition to the day.

“Probably not. But I’ll let you sleep for a bit on my chest before I bother you for some more.” She replied, carding her fingers through his slightly sweat damp hair. His forehead fell against her shoulder, shaking in a laugh as he kissed the skin.

“Anything for you.”

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Turns out the Cleric is quite serious about religion

Context: I'm playing a deep gnome monk/cleric, who worships Umberlee. The Umberlee part never really came up, until last session. 

Me: So we're chartering a boat across the ocean? 

Fighter: Yup. 

Me: We're getting on now?

DM: Yes. 

Me: Great. I walk over to the side of the dock and upturn my entire gold purse into the ocean. 

Rogue: WHAT THE FUCK!

Me: I must pay tribute to the great queen of the sea. 

Wizard: Oh dear lord you worship Umberlee. This explains so much. 

*Later*

DM: You see one sailer is attempting to cut his hair with a knife. 

Me: Can I stare at him in a way to intimidate him to stop? 

DM: You do so, and he sees you. He is throughly creeped out by this. 

Me: You dare offer tributes to Sune while in the Stormgoddess's domain. 

Fighter: You know we never saw this side of [my character] before and I don't like it. 

*Later*

DM: So after this pirate skirmish you find the captain has fallen overboard. 

Wizard: Oh shit. Hey [My character] your a strong swimmer right? Can you rescure him? 

Me: And disobey the Wavemother's will?! 

Wizard: Ok, I'll figure something out. 

Me: Do not harm her sharks. 

Wizard: Of course there are sharks. 

*Later*

Rogue: Damn waves that high we are bound to capsize and drown. 

Me: And thus you've sealed our fate. As the Sea Queen demands.

Rogue: YOUR NOT SUPPOSE TO BE THE CREEPY ONE! AND HOW DO YOU HAVE ALL THESE TITLES MEMORIZED!?

Me: *Laughing* *Holds up the pages of wiki pages I've printed out about Umberlee* I've come prepared! 

[jmdbjk]

Are you sure?

August 14, 2023: I said this back last year:

Are Jimin and Jungkook going around the world Namjooning? In May they were in Japan. We know they were together in New York in July. And also in Connecticut during that same trip. And now they're cooling their butts off in the ocean down in Jeju? Where else have they been and we didn't know it? WhAt doEs it ALL mEaN? Are we getting some sort of vlog or Bon Voyage subunit at some point in the future? Is it for a subunit MV?

Last year, I knew saying all that might stir up some delulu controversy but I know there was a window of time in May when they could have snuck off to Japan. Someone supposedly saw them, and blabbed about it and that's why I had mentioned it last year. But that's it, only hearsay. It was enough to make me pay attention.

On July 12, 2023, Jungkook departed Incheon Airport for New York City to make appearances for Seven.

The next day, Jimin leaves to join him in New York (with a fresh full body wax that made his skin as slick and shiny as that terrazzo floor he's walking across):

Once in New York, the buzz about sightings of Jimin and Jungkook together began to heat up. First at a restaurant called Antoya where someone snapped some pics of them.

Then the next day the boat captain of the yacht they chartered blabbed about it and we got this from him:

That is this boat:

Another sighting in Connecticut, buying grocery store deli pizza.

Then Jimin goes back to Korea and Jungkook moves on to London for more appearances related to Seven.

On August 31, Jimin posted this on his Instagram:

It looks like it was taken while they were in New York state or Connecticut.

He posted these on September 28 on his Instagram and said Jungkookie drew a fish, we later find out directly from Jungkook that Jimin also helped draw but it was supposed to be a whale (awwww):

On September 29, Taehyung posted this sunset from Jeju on Weverse:

This is the same rock in one of the preview images for "Are You Sure?" Is Tae's pic above taken from the deck of the sailboat?

And on October 3, Tae posted these on his Instagram:

They were at a place on Jeju called Chai Cafe – Jjaidabang (짜이다방).

Chuseok holiday was Sept. 28-30 (Thurs-Sat.) last year. Did the three spend Chuseok weekend there? If so, what was the trip back in August for?

On November 21, BigHit sent out the notice that Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung and Namjoon had initiated the enlistment process.

We didn't know yet that the enlistment process had begun months and months earlier for Jimin and Jungkook because it was only right before they went in that we found out they'd be enlisting together under the accompanying military program or companionship enlistment. It was still a shock.

They knew they had to break it to everyone that they were going to spend the next 18 months together and they spent much of 2023 laying the foundation for that.

On November 23, 2023, Jimin and Jungkook depart Gimpo Airport together for Japan.

At this point, they can't or no longer care to hide or be discreet. That entire trip was riddled with sightings at the airports in Japan. Rumors of them staying at an onsen (hot spring) resort in Sapporo emerged when it was mentioned on a Japanese show.

Jimin posted these on his Instagram on November 25:

But what were they doing in Japan back in May, if we are to take the rumors of that sighting as possible too? Hmmmm. Don't know.

Well, now we know they were going where ever the mood struck on the spur of the moment and making it up as they went along. "Are You Sure?/Is this Right?" (however you'd like to interpret "이게맞아?)"

And we'll find out soon what sort of fun they had on all of these trips. Will Tae make a cameo appearance in the Jeju episodes? Will we see if they actually went "glamping" or if they were really trying to rough it? I can hear them now: "Is this right? wait, are you sure that goes there?"

They'll be on watercraft, and various types too: kayaks, sailboats, yachts...

The foods they will eat... will they include grocery store deli pizza in one of the episodes?

I wonder if they are eating seafood will they be catching it, cleaning it and cooking it? Again: "Am I doing this right? Are you sure? this doesn't look right. What do I do with these fish guts?"

And can't forget to talk about the drinking. The brewery they visited in Connecticut and possibly Sapporo... All I can hear from them here are the satisfied "ahhs" when they take the first taste.

Will we finally see MMA in their sleep?

All I know is they were very, very excited about it.

They promise it will be unpredictable as they embark on their journey without any plans, simply relishing the joy of traveling together. 

As I sit here thinking about them (as I often do), the past year (or two or ten) continues to bring into focus more and more their dynamic and relationship. All the unnecessary projections and narratives that people have placed and continue to place upon them...Jimin and Jungkook just continue being themselves and as close as ever through it all.

All of last year and even all the previous years, all of the things: the "twinning" in their style concepts for their solo work... the scenes of them from the Beyond the Star documentary... the passages in the Beyond the Story book about them and the GCFT trip... every time Jungkook mentioned Jimin, calling out to him during lives or spending time watching Jimin content, especially the post-NY/CT-naked-in-bed live that made us glitch:

2023 was not just another year of copying each other or strange coincidences. It was them preparing us for the inevitable.

All of it bringing it all into such sharp focus.

Anyway. All that rambling to say I have never wavered in my understanding of them as two people who were so very close, so very similar and so very important to each other.

And one more thing... what about this?

I thought it was coincidental that the bar pendent necklace that was sold at the Monochrome pop up was so similar to the one Jimin wore most of 2022...

Will we see the ring necklace as part of a merch line at some point in the future too?

[writingoddess1125]

Modern AU Buggy X Reader

Buggy x GnReader

Just fluffy Headcanon!

• Buggy is the leader of a budget theater group that he spends nights writing or getting his people to practice for local shows- during the day however he has his own Boat Charter company and a second business of a delivery company.

• Has Rhinophyma and Roseaca which is why his nose is so large and red. Hates it and has been to so many dermatologist to get it fixed- but due to blood flow and other things will have it for life.

• Has a deep anger towards his half brother Shanks- He feels like their mentor Gol D Roger's who owned a large shipping company when he died it should have been Shanks who owned the shop to keep the legacy alive. Buggy would have been willing to follow Shanks if he did this since he knew he cohldnt- But Shanks ended up just leaving town and Buggy trying to keep it together before it finally went belly up.

• Secretly wanted to be an actor but never got the chops for it due to his nose-

• When you first meet Buggy its at one of the plays, it's a fun improve night. While not many people are there you go with some friends since you found the tickets online.

• You're one of the few people that actually play along with the act and seem to be enjoying themselves. Instead of half drunk college students that got the tickets off groupon-

• He has you come down to the stage and does a whole improve act with you, Being such a good sport you end up helping him get the crowd more engaged.

• Buggy invites you to do shows with him which you agree to. Hum giving you his number in exchange

• Showing up every Thursday to the improv nights and you start becoming friends with his theater group. Noticing how Buggy seemed much happier as you got along with everyone-

• After a few months he works up the courage to ask you out on a date, which you gladly accept.

• At first he tries to take you to the most expensive places but when you express he doesn't have to spend money to show he lives you- He gets more creative and thoughtful.

• Walks through the beach, coffee dates, going to musicals together.

• His favorite are movie nights, He will show off his limited cooking skills aka Hot Dogs and a assortment of junk food while the two of you watch mostly terrible F Tier movies together.

- "Which one did you find?" You call out from the kitchen getting some soda for yourself and Buggy.

"It's called Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter {OP note: This is a real movie- absolutely awful}" Buggy yelled out, laughing at just the name as you jump onto the big couch and hand him his drink as he eats some chips.

"That sounds absolutely awful" You say, looking at the cheap movie cover and reading the back with a snort. Buggy nods, patting himself on the back for finding such garbage.

"It truly is, I've outdone myself" He says proudly before the two of you start the terrible adventure. Having to pause the movie at times for laughing so damn hard-

"This is so bad!" You say as you laugh and roll on the floor- Buggy no better. However he wiped the tears from his eyes as he caught his breath.

"While we can laugh at least he made a movie-" He pointed out with a shrug, you sitting next to him and raising a eyebrow at the oddly kind words from Buggy.

"What do you mean?"

"I always wanted to make a movie- But I doubt anyone would watch them.. they barely watch my shows" He muttered, his insecurities getting to him as he subconsciously touched his nose. You reaching over and grabbing his hand quickly, kissing his lips to snap him from his terrible thoughts.

"What are you talking about?! I think your shows are great and I know you'd do a fantastic job making a movie!" You proclaimed loudly with a smile, your Boyfriend turning and staring hard at you.

He stares at you- like youd said the craziest thing ever. You feeling a creep of worry going up your back at how he was looking at you

"What is your ring size?" He finally ask and gestures to your ring finger making you blush deeply red.

[ofmdrecaps]

10/05/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Matthew Maher's Birthdayl S2 Anniversary; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Samba Schutte: BTS; S2 Anniversary Fan tributes!; Stats & Trends; Truly Docked Events; OFMD Buys Boats - The Raffle News; Love Notes;

== Matthew Maher's Birthday! ==

Happy birthday to our fabulous Pete!! Happy birthday Matthew! We hope it is absolutely amazing!! Thank you to @adoptourcrew for spotlighting his b-day!

Check out their dedication video!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Tumblr

== S2 Anniversary ==

Happy S2 anniversary yall! It's be been one year since s2 came out! So much activity has been going on!

= David Jenkins =

Pirate Dad, David Jenkins has been very VERY ACTIVE today!

He even was kind enough to respond to some fandom fun! Note: I removed the users name and handle since they went private (I can only assume cause of people being jerks). Pro Tip: If you don't like something, don't be a dick about it. - David Jenkins

Annnnd Chaos Dad answered our friend @thought-balloon!!

Source: David Jenkins Twitter

= Samba Schutte =

Samba joined in the fun by giving us NEW BTS!!!

Source: Samba Schutte's Instagram

= Adopt Our Crew =

Our friends at Adopt Our Crew sent a lovely message in honor of the anniversary <3

Source: Adopt Our Crew Instagram

== S2 Anniversary Fan Spotlight ==

So many fans brought out some beautiful dedications for us as well!

= Emcolbs =

The lovely @emcolbs made such an absolutely stunning tribute to OFMD, Stede and Ed becoming mateys! Excuse me while I cry like a baby. You can get a copy of this for free to print out on em's Ko-Fi! Visit em on her various socials! Instagram / Tumblr / InPrint

Source: Emcolbs Twitter

= Illustory Art =

Our darling friend @illustoryart made this delightfully detailed and colorful tribute to OFMD for the S2 Anniversary! I can never get over the unique and adorable style of their art! Check Illustory art out on Twitter / Instagram!

Source: Illustory Art Twitter / Instagram

= Moss Groves =

Look at this brilliant dedication done by our so very talented @mossgroves! Their likenesses for Stede and Ed are second to none, and always bring such light and love to these two <3 Visit Moss Groves Linktr.ee for more of her exquisite work!

Source: MossGroves Twitter

= Ram Ranch =

Our fantastic friend Ram, has really knocked this tribute to OFMD out of the park. His work is always so stunningly lit, and detailed and seeing our boys as mateys makes me tear up just like Ed <3 Look at those butterflies! Please check out his other work on Twitter and Instagram!

Source: Ram Ranch Twitter

= Lumillys =

Another adorable and so incredibly creative dedication to OFMD was done by the dazzling @lumiilys! Check out this incredibly inventive pop up book Ollie made! You can check out his work on his various socials: Twitter / Tumblr / Instagram

Source: Lumiily's twitter 

= Jaskierx =

This sweet dedication to our show really hit me hard today so thank you Lyse <3 You always know exactly what to say.

Source: Jaskierx Tumblr

= A Muse of Fyre =

And another lovely tribute to S2 by our friend @amuseoffyre and their insanely awesome muppet Ed and Stede!

Source: Amuseoffyre's Twitter

Obviously there were so many lovely dedications! I just wanted to highlight some that really caught my eye and was able to get permission to share!!

== Stats & Trends ==

Our friends over at Never Left Podcast was kind enough to share that OFMD is still the 9th most popular show on max for the s2 Anniversary!

Source: Never Left Podcast Twitter

Also, our dear crewmate Lucy was able to catch #OurFlagMeansDeath trending for the S2 Anniversary!

Source: Lucy aka Butterscup95 on Twitter

== Truly Docked Events ==

Our friends over at Truly Dock Gatherings & Events have another event coming up on January 24, 2026! This time in St. Augustine, Florida!

"We are chartering a private sail which will include dinner, a pirate battle, and more! More details on the ticket page!"

Tickets: https://truly-docked-ofmd.ticketleap.com/truly-docked-2026/

Discord: https://discord.gg/b9Sv5u96uF

Source: TrulyDockedOFMD Instagram

== OFMD Buys Boats - The Raffle ==

More updates! Interested in the raffle? More info below!

Linktr.ee

Instagram

Twitter

Reddit

Tumblr

Facebook

You can sign up for email updates here!

Or Email them at ofmd.buys.boats@gmail.com!

Source: OFMD Buys Boats Facebook

Source: OFMD Buys Boats Facebook

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies! First of all! Happy S2 Anniversary!

I know this is a day late, sorry about that! There's been a lot of chatter over some of the things that David said yesterday-- some folks took it as OFMD was not getting an s3, some people took it as still quite hopeful! I gotta say, I'm loving how much it's given us all something to focus on again. We get to celebrate OFMD-- we get to speculate. I realize it's not a "hey s3 is happening!" but it's hopeful, and what is life without hope? It's kraken era, it's gravy basket, and HOPE is what pulls us OUT of those places! So go out and clown/honk and celebrate if you want to! Take every tweet from David as a good thing! If you don't want to-- that's okay too! But with so many months of "hey we've reached the end of the road" looming over us, it feels like a good thing to think there's going to "most if not all of us would do it again in a heartbeat". This fandom wears hope well, at least I think so. Alright, I'm already late so I'm gonna shush. I hope you all had a lovely anniversary, and the beginning of this week treats you with nothing but kindness lovelies. Take care of yourselves <3

[joelalorian]

Tides of Desire - Epilogue

*mood board by the lovely @janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff, smut, unprotected p in v (they're in a committed relationship). Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used). Chapter names are nautical phrases.

a/n: This tale has come to its nautical end, docking in the harbor of happily ever after for these two. I was stuck for a long while on quite how to finish this off and I'm relieved to have finally done it. Hope you enjoy and thank you for coming along on this high seas adventure with me!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Three months after the season ended, you pulled into a half-moon driveway, in front of a beautifully landscaped two-story home on three acres of land in the outskirts of Austin with every possession you owned tightly packed into your ride. You and Joel spent a lot of time together after the season ended, making certain that what you shared was much more than just a boat-mance. It didn’t take long to confirm that neither of you had any doubts left – what you had was as real as it got.

The Millers and Ellie were at the door and running down the porch steps to greet you before the car even stopped moving. The four of you shared deliriously happy grins as you got out of the car after the long drive from Florida.

“You made it!” Sarah greeted, throwing her lanky arms around your neck for a long hug. Ellie quickly followed suit, throwing her arms around your waist. Joel met your gaze, his chocolate eyes full of love and warmth at the sight of his favorite people so happy to see each other.

Breaking free from the young women, you turned to embrace Joel. His broad frame wrapped around you in a bear hug, squeezing just enough without hurting you. The scruff along his jaw gently scratched against your neck and cheeks as he peppered your face with kisses.

“Mmm, I missed you,” he breathed in your ear, the little puffs of air tickling the sensitive skin.

“I was only gone a week,” you laughed in response.

“Don’t care. It was too long, and I missed you.” Stepping back, Joel brushed his pouty lips against yours in a chaste kiss as the girls groaned teasingly. “Come on, let’s unload this mess so you can finally settle in and relax. Welcome to your new home, baby.”

It took only an hour to have you officially moved in with Joel and Sarah. Living the nomad lifestyle for the past several years had its benefits when it came to moving – you sold most everything that wasn’t a necessity or held some kind of sentimental value – and you were settled right into their home and lives without too much fuss.

After putting your things away – Joel cleared out half the space of the large walk-in closet and made other space throughout the home for your belongings – you settled for grabbing an ice-cold beer from the fridge knowing you’d fall asleep if you sat down.

The beer went down smoothly, soothing the dryness of your throat as well as the achiness in your bones from driving for so long. Joel leant back against the kitchen island, chocolate eyes drinking you in from head to toe like a man dying of thirst. A flash of heat swept through you, settling in your cheeks and ears. It had only been a week since you’d seen him, but the ache for him pulsed as if it’d been months.

“We’re heading to San Antonio, Dad!” Sarah called, tripping down the stairs with a small tote. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs to find you and Joel staring at each other, she shared a knowing look with Ellie. “Yeah, we’re gonna give you two a few days to get through the honeymoon phase. Glad you’re hear, Brit! See ya!”

Grinning broadly, Ellie added, “Don’t burn down the house and use protection, kids!” The young women were out the door, giggling madly, before either of you could respond.

The moment the door closed behind them, Joel pounced.

His need for you so great, he didn’t bother leading you upstairs to your newly shared bedroom. Instead, he took you right there in the kitchen, your body pressed forward over the counter as he practically ripped your shorts and panties down your hips. His own quickly followed, tee shirt coming off as well so it wouldn’t get in the way. Hand pressed into your lower back, Joel leant back, spit into his other hand to lube himself up, and watched as his hardened length sunk into your depths with a guttural groan.

“Fuck, sweetheart. How does that feel?”

Hips thrusting against your backside, thick cock going so deep and hitting just the right spots at this angle, you mewled in response. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure even as the counter’s edge dug into your skin painfully with each hard stroke.

“Use your words, baby. I missed your voice just as much as I missed those sweet little sounds you make.”

You twisted your torso a little to look at Joel over your shoulder. Holy hell, did he make the sexiest sight. A sheen of sweat already built up along his forehead, curls falling forward to stick to the damp skin with each movement. His face a mix of concentration and overwhelming pleasure as he stared back at you.

“Feels so fucking good, Joel. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

It didn’t take long for Joel’s thrusts to become sloppy, his need after a week apart left him teetering on the edge in short order. His body and mind had become so acquainted with yours so quickly that time apart was nearly unbearable. Bending over you, he murmured filthy things in your ear, causing a line of gooseflesh to rise along your skin, each word like a bolt of pleasure straight to your clit.

Within minutes, you came with a drawn-out shout of his name, taking advantage of the empty house to be as loud as you wanted. Joel worked you through it until the aftershocks became too much for him and he spilled inside you, your name a falling in an overstimulated whimper from his lips.

The pair of you stayed perched over the counter for several minutes, allowing your breaths and heart rates to return to normal as Joel’s cock remained inside you. When he finally softened and slipped out of your wrecked pussy, he stepped back and helped you stand upright on shaky legs.

Body trembling from the heady mix of exhaustion and the lingering effects of a mind-blowing orgasm, you let Joel lead you upstairs, your shorts and panties left forgotten on the kitchen floor. He tucked you into the bed you now shared – your mind still stuck on the fact that you now lived together – and climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around you so you could nap securely in his embrace.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into months as you adapted to Joel’s off-season routine and developed your own rhythm in this new life you shared with him. Ellie and Sarah would come and go as they pleased, spending time with friends and taking online courses to complete their undergraduate degrees, leaving the two of you on your own with the occasional visit from Tommy.

Much of your time in those first few months were spent learning the ins and outs of captaincy with Joel’s guidance. His home office contained a plethora of resources for you to read and review and he would quiz you on different aspects of the job. You were well on your way to being ready for the captain’s exam by the time you enrolled in a training course, which you took while Joel worked a few contracting side jobs.

Before you both knew it, another yachting season arrived, and you were back on a boat with your favorite people. Navigating an established relationship with the captain was a completely different adventure as the two of you figured out how to keep it professional yet still have time together. Needless to say, you stayed in Joel’s quarters most nights despite technically having your own assigned bunk with Tess again.

For the first time in longer than you could remember, you woke up happy everyday and faced your beautiful live with the gratitude it deserved. You were blessed to have the love of a wonderful man, a fascinating career, and the best friends a girl could ask for.

Life was good, really fucking good.

fin

[apomaro-mellow]

Runaway Royalty 4

Part 3

Since the hunt was on, the camp stopped sooner than they had planned, setting up so that they could hunker down and figure out just where to find the lost royals. Eddie was pacing around while the older members knocked around a few ideas. That if all three had truly been kidnapped, it might be by someone with designs on them. But there was also the idea that they simply ran away from their duties.

“If they ran, I bet they went west”, Gareth said. “They’d have enough coin to charter a boat and head off the continent.”

“You think they’d actually go that far?”, Harold questioned. “They’d get tired before reaching the coast.”

Steve was about to take offense to that when he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be one of the lost princes. So he kept his mouth shut. The less he said the better.

“Why are we even bothering with them?!”, Eddie threw his hands up. “Did it ever occur to you lot that once we have them, we’d have to transport them back to their castles? Is that what you want? To play escort to a bunch of pampered pups?”

“We can handle some uppity folk, right Jeff?”, Gareth turned the question to him.

“Oh, yeah, sure”, Jeff rolled his eyes. “They can’t be any worse than our Bandit Prince. You can give them the royal treatment.”

Eddie scoffed, arms crossed as he started to pace again, more furious this time. “I don’t want anything to do with them. Have you heard what they say about Prince Stephen? Spoiled rotten to the core. No thank you.”

Steve stood up straight at that. “I’m sure Prince Edwin is no prize either. If the rumors about him are to be believed.”

Robin kicked his leg. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“Let’s get our ears to the ground”, Greenley said. “Someone has to know something about them.”

There was a bit more talk, names thrown around - contacts, Steve surmised when someone told him to go to the river to fetch some water. He frowned.

“Why do I-ow!” He glared at Robin when she kicked him again. The problem was she wasn’t subtle at all. And his ankle was beginning to suffer from it.

“You got away not helping with camp last time”, Gareth said. “Everyone here has tasks to do. And yours right now is to get water.”

Steve frowned. But he remembered Eddie’s words about spoiled Prince Stephen. Someone had to get water for them. And he wasn’t doing anything else. So while he knew nothing about fetching water from a river, he was given a couple buckets and sent off. He got a good distance away from the camp when he heard someone approaching from behind. When he turned, he saw Eddie. The other man barely got out a ‘hey-’ before Steve turned his nose up and walked on, the river not too far ahead.

He could hear Eddie behind him, calling out and trying to catch up. Steve ignored him and stopped at the river’s edge. It ambled along calmly for now. It could probably turn to a raging current after rain.

“Hey, did you hear me calling you? What’s your problem?”, Eddie asked once he got to Steve’s side.

Steve’s head whipped to him. “My problem is-” His mouth hung open and then he snapped it shut. Because how ridiculous would it be for him to be offended on Prince Stephen’s behalf? So he had to switch gears as Eddie looked at him questioningly.

“I’m not looking forward to playing host to Prince Edwin is all”, he said as he approached the river to start filling the buckets.

“Oh. Are you not a fan of His Highness?”, Eddie asked.

“I haven’t really heard anything good about him.” Steve knelt down and let the current fill the first bucket. “I heard he’s always talking over others despite never having anything interesting to say. That he’s notoriously dim-witted too.”

“Well that’s something he and Prince Stephen would have in common”, Eddie said. “If the rumor mill is to be believed, he’s often slow on the uptake.”

Steve slammed the bucket down on the ground, sloshing some of the water and making it spill over the top. He knew that’s what people thought of him. And he knew that he wasn’t as academic as his brilliant sister. But it was still a sore spot that people equated that to being completely brainless. 

“Well then he and Prince Edwin would be a perfect match, wouldn’t they?”

Eddie was scowling now. “I don’t wanna have to deal with them any more than you do. But the pack has spoken.”

“Why did you follow me out here?”, Steve asked, exasperated. 

“Because I know you and your sister aren’t common travelers”, Eddie said, noticing the way Steve tensed up. “I don’t know what you’re running from, but it’s obvious you come from money. And I thought you might appreciate some help.”

“I’m fully capable of putting water in a bucket”, Steve said, going ahead and doing so with the second bucket. Then he stood up, grabbing both by their handles and lifted, hoping the alpha couldn’t see the way his arms shook.

“More hands make for a lighter load”, Eddie said, taking one of the buckets from him. “I didn’t mean to imply that you’re incapable.” This close, he could tell how Steve’s scent went from something sour to something light. It was something buttery and sweet.

“Do you think there’s a true chance of finding them?”, Steve asked.

Knowing his determined crew, they’d make a dogged attempt. There was a good chance they found at least two of the nobles. But Eddie wasn’t about to say something so specific that would get Steve asking about the third.

“I think the royal guard will find their lost wards first. What are they good for otherwise?”

They walked back to the camp and Eddie handed one of the buckets off to someone whose name Steve hadn’t learned yet. He also took Steve’s and Steve felt a bit miffed that the other man carried both off with ease. The sounds of laughter caught his attention and it was none other than his sister in the middle of it.

“Didn’t know your sister was such a fan of Princess Robin”, Harold said through tears of laughter.

Robin beamed while Steve glared. 

“I just think the kingdom is in good hands with her”, Robin said. 

“Is it just because she’s your namesake?”, Eddie asked.

“Now how would that work? She and I are like the same age”, Robin said, squeaking when Steve pinched her side.

“Yes, she’s your name sake”, Steve said through gritted teeth. “Because you were born a few months after her.”

“Does that mean you were named for the princess’ brother then?”, Jeff asked.

“No, Steve here was named for our mother’s previous lover”, Robin joked.

This time when Steve pinched her, he did it openly. His ears burned at the laughs at his expense but it was better than anyone catching on. He hadn’t thought about coming up with a fake identity. His nickname would have been enough of a cover. It became a little less inconspicuous when he was traveling with his sister who hadn’t gone with an alias at all. They really should have spent more time thinking of fake names for themselves.

“Excuse me while I speak with my sister in private”, he said before grabbing her by the arm.

Once they were a good distance from everyone, she pulled her arm away from him and glared. “What’s going on with you?”

“We need to keep a low profile. And you’re chatting yourself up with these people?”, he hissed.

“They’re the ones who brought up Princess Robin. And I’m not going to lie about myself.”

“When you run away from home it’s kind of a package deal”, Steve said.

Robin crossed her arms and cocked her hips. “So I can’t like a royal because people will suspect I’m her? Don’t be silly, Steve.”

“Someone’s going to start making connections if you keep singing your own praises.”

“And you badmouthing Prince Edwin is any different? Keep doing that and people are going to start wondering why you’re so biased against him. Almost like a scorned lover.”

“I can’t be a scorned lover when we were never lovers.”

“Look, they’re not gonna put their greenest members on such a grand scheme”, Robin said, her posture relaxing. “We’ll probably be given chores around the camp. And they can’t find us out there if we’re always here.”

Steve’s tensed up posture began to relax as well and he let out a sigh. “You might be right…”

“Might be? I’m as bright as Princess Robin. And as we all know, her intellect rivals the greatest minds in history.”

“You’re also as insufferable as the princess, whose own brother has described her like a buzzing gnat”, Steve said, turning to walk back to camp.

“And how would you know what the prince thinks, hm? Suspicious~”, Robin teased as they came upon the others. “What’d we miss?”

Eddie held out a cup of sticks. “We’re all drawing straws to see who gets to go into town with Rick to meet up with his contact.”

“They don’t like big groups”, Rick said, his long hair graying on both his head and his beard. “So I can only take two with me.”

They all drew without looking and most opened their hands without much fuss. But there were stakes involved for three of them. So when Steve caught a glimpse of color on Robin’s, he knocked into her, causing her to drop her stick.

“Sorry, clumsy me”, he said, pretending to drop his as well. He picked them both up, switching in the process.

Most didn’t pay attention but Robin could tell what he did. Her face pinched and he stared at her hard, hoping she didn’t say anything.

“Looks like it’s me”, Steve said, announcing his draw.

“And me”, Eddie added, showing his own. 

“Well get ready young buck”, Rick said to Eddie, then looked Steve up and down. “And doe. The next town is a few miles away. We need to get there before sundown.”

Steve nodded and this time Robin pulled him off to the side. “Why did you do that?”, she whispered harshly.

“Because between the two of us, I’ll draw less attention.” Robin had changed neither her appearance nor her name. And they were sure to draw up posters searching for them soon.

“I can’t let you go alone with two alphas!” Robin’s eyes held a very real fear for him and Steve remembered that he had wanted to go alone. He didn’t know how he could have been so cruel as to leave her without a word.

“I’ll be fine. You’ve seen Eddie, he moves like a fish out of water. And Rick looks like a gentle shove would knock him out.”

“Still”, Robin took her dagger from her side and handed it to Steve. “Should they or anyone else have any ideas.”

Steve took it and within the hour, he, Eddie, and Rick were all making the trek to the nearby village. Rick did most of the talking, telling him about his contact. Said he was a real piece of work but also knew more about anything than anyone he’d ever known. Steve didn’t absorb most of it. He reminded himself that Robin was safer in the camp than she was roaming about town. Prince Edwin’s disappearance also weighed on him.

Not that he cared for a man who hadn’t even kept up regular missives with his betrothed. But what had happened to him. He and Robin had run away, but was it possible that the prince had been taken? If so, by whom? He knew it didn’t concern him anymore. Still, if there was someone out to get the royals, that was all the more reason for him and his sister to keep their heads down until they settled somewhere safe.

Part 5

[simply-ivanka]

At the end of the movie Shawshank Redemption Andy was sanding on a piece of junk boat up on the beach. He has gotten away with a lot of money. Why didn't he just buy a good boat that he could use with some of that money?

Andy actually explains it in the film.

In the scene where he tells Red about Zihuatanejo, he shares his dream for a new life where he can “open up a little hotel right on the beach, buy a worthless old boat and fix it up like new, and take my guests out charter fishing on it.”

(The explanation is in this scene.)

It’s a rather simple dream but it speaks exactly to Andy’s character.

Sure, he could just buy a new boat. The $370,000 he stole from Warden Norton is about $3.48 million adjusted for inflation. So he has more than enough money if he wanted to go that way.

But buying a new boat is not his style.

Andy prefers to earn his dreams.

He’s a patient man who respects the value of putting work into his life. And ultimately he believes in renewal and rebirth over everything.

He also needs a mission he can invest his energy into.

Whether that’s carving a chess set from scratch, or building the best prison library in New England, or helping other men graduate high school, or carving a tunnel through his prison cell wall, he needs to be working towards a goal he can be proud of. And restoring a “worthless old boat” by hand is just such a project.

That way, when he takes his guests out fishing, he can take pride in the work being all his own.

(Andy always prefers to invest his time and effort into his projects. In the film he’s a rich and intelligent man, regardless of the fact that he’s a convict. He has money and connections and could easily try to buy and bribe his way out of most difficulties - yet he insists on all his victories being DIY, rather than taking the easy path of using wealth and power. In fact, as a prison inmate he once spent what would be nearly $200 today on a rock hammer without even blinking so he could make a chess set. For the same $200 he could have easily just bought a high-end chess set through Red instead.)

Andy needs to know that it’s his toil and effort that have made the important moments in his life possible, and that the moment of happiness he creates are something he has earned.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 11/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE

TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

                “A fishing boat?” Bradley asks, pulling a face. “Really?”

                “You said you wanted to be in the Navy. Are you scared of a little seasickness?”

                “No. I just…”

                “Understanding and appreciating our food, from where we harvest it, or take it, is all important. Learning what fresh really looks like is also very important when it come to fish and seafood hmm?”

                “Oh yeah, I guess that’s true,” Bradley says, thinking of Johan’s ability to look at fish and simply pick the best pieces.

                “Also a week in Greece is not the end of the world hmm?”

                “Okay, you deliberately made it sound like I was going on a fishing boat in the North Sea, not a… charter boat for a week in Greece.”

                “Hmm. You will earn your stay. But I think you will enjoy the change of scenery.”

                Bradley had no idea how Leandro knows him so well, but he finds himself the sole chef on a charter yacht for a group of six tourists. They’re American, and once they realize he’s also American they stop speaking slowly and loudly, chat happily to him while he cooks. He fishes and dives with them during the day, makes breakfasts and lunches and then cooks what they’ve caught that day. He doesn’t recognize any of them, but when the week ends a couple of them tip him heavily, even though he tries to insist there isn’t any need. Then one of them passes him a business card.

                “If you ever consider setting up shop back home, look me up. I’d be interested in supporting you. And eating more of your food.”

…            …            …

                “Holy shit. Bradley Bradshaw.”

                “Yeah. Hello again…”

                “You’ve met already?” Jake asks, looking between Bradley and who must be his sister. She’s maybe a few years older, hair the same color but longer, tied back in a plait. Bradley finds himself automatically nodding, although he’s also hoping that her surprise is that he’s at her front door, and not because she’s starstruck. She hadn’t seemed at all perturbed when he’d met her on Saturday with the film crew trailing him. Turning up with her brother shouldn’t be any more alarming, surely?

                “Yeah, at the Farmers Market in the weekend,” Bradley starts. “I tried the chili jam, it was really good. Bought a few jars.”

                “Oh cool. Well, then I don’t need to introduce you. Well, her name is Maria if you need a reminder. I call him Leo because Bradley Bradshaw sounds made up.”

                He’s glad Jake has provided a name, and he notes Maria’s eyebrows shoot up and god, he’s been enjoying Jake’s complete disregard for Bradley’s fame, whether it’s real or contrived he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think Jake would care, if he did know, but it’s also really nice not having any expectations put on him from the person he’s with. The last few days have been great, reminding him of his younger years in Europe.

                “Leo is the name my Italian family call me. Short for Leonardo.”

                “I definitely prefer Leo,” Jake says, grinning at him and he follows his lead in taking his shoes off, putting the bags of ingredients and previous iterations of sauce down. “Keep forgetting your name is actually Bradley Bradshaw…”

                Maria makes a high-pitched sound Bradley can only guess is a choked off laugh and he grimaces and shrugs his shoulders, tries to convey that he’s doing the best he can and Maria is just looking at him and shaking her head, her eyes wide as she looks between him and her brother.

                “Um, yeah, okay, hi again. Jake said you were after some help with… tasting things. Right. You’ve been… trying to feed him,” Maria says, now looking at Jake. “Wow…”

                “Yeah. He’s pretty decent. Not as good as grandma, or even you or Olivia, but he hasn’t killed me yet.”

                Bradley clenches his jaw to stop himself from laughing outright, his eyes not leaving Maria’s face, and she looks equal parts mortified but also like she’s also trying not to laugh again. She makes a little high-pitched sound and Bradley has to pretend to cough as a burst of laughter makes its way out. She definitely knows who he is, had known on Saturday when he’d been walking around with the film crew but she’d been very chilled and laid back, hadn’t even asked for a selfie.

                “What chores need doing? I can go and do whatever it was you were planning on doing and instead you can help Leo with his new recipe… I like your cooking, but I am kind of over tasting the same thing over and over and you expecting me to be able to taste the difference,” he says to Bradley. Bradley looks back at Maria who has covered her mouth with both her hands and closed her eyes, had her head tilted back like she’s hoping the ceiling has answers.

                “Thank you, I’ll try my best not to poison your sister…”

                “Oh god…” Maria says from behind her hands.

                “Thanks. Appreciate it. Maria, you okay?”

                Maria wipes at her eyes, waves away Jake’s concerns saying it’s the pollen making them itch and hands Jake a piece of paper with writing on it and he tucks it into his pocket.

                “I’ll be back.”

                Then he’s kissing him, his thigh slotting between Bradley’s and he finds himself almost being dipped and he knows he’s flushing bright red, wonders if that was Jake’s whole aim, trying to embarrass him. It’s over quickly, although he’s not sure if that is a good thing or not.

                “Don’t be mean,” Jake says to Maria, and then he’s tugging boots on, grabbing the same cowboy hat Bradley remembers him wearing on Saturday.

                “When am I ever mean?”

                “Only every day of my life,” Jake says with a grin, but then he’s tipping the hat and Bradley bites his lip as he watches him stride back outside. Hmm.

                “So, you’re Leo. I had no idea he was bringing you around.”

                A little reluctantly he stops watching Jake stride off, and he turns to find Maris watching him, eyes amused and he smiles.

                “Yeah. I gathered he hadn’t told you when you said holy shit first thing when you opened the door. He and I met years ago, in Italy. He said he told his sister?”

                At that Maria’s lips twitch and Bradley starts feeling a little uneasy.

                “Did he say which one?”

                “Uh. No?”

                “Has he mentioned exactly how many sisters he has?” Maria asks, and she’s folding her arms and leaning back, watching him and Bradley feels like he’s being tested. That’s fine. If he can survive the Gallo family he can survive Jake’s sisters. Why he feels like he needs to survive or befriend Jake’s sister isn’t something he’s going to examine too closely but… he likes to think he’s a nice guy when he isn’t stressed out.

                “Not exactly? But… three? I mean, I know he’s the youngest. And there’s a sister with kids because he babysat them on Monday night.”

                “Sandra.”

                “And then his sister who he told about meeting me in Italy? And that isn’t you?”

                “Hmm. He only told me about meeting you in Italy on Sunday, so… it was probably Nicola when it happened originally.”

                “Okay. So. Jake just mentioned an Olivia, so… four? That’s my best guess. Four.”

                He can’t even imagine having four older sisters, having Violet is bad enough, although he calls her cousin he sometimes wonders how much closer they’d be if they were actually siblings. She’s his best friend.

                “Nope. Five. You’re missing Amanda. She’s Nicola’s twin.”

                “Five sisters. Holy shit.”

                “What about you? Big family?”

                “No. All the stuff about me losing both my parents is true. I’ve got a big Italian family that informally adopted me though…”

                “So he met you, and you bumped into each other on Saturday and now you’re…”

                She doesn’t finish the sentence and he’s grateful, although the look she gives him clearly spells out exactly what she’s thinking. She grabs some of the bags at his feet and jerks her head for him to follow her.

                “So you’ve told him your name, he’s just…Oh my god… he has no idea who you are.”

                “You think so? I kind of like it,” Bradley admits and Maria’s shaking her head.

                “Oh, he’ll have no idea. He’s smart, but he’s also fucking oblivious. Also I’m judging you. He adds sauce to nearly everything…”

                “Yeah. I’ve noticed.”

                “Well, he had really bad reflux as a baby. Like… he needed an operation to fix it type bad. He was such a picky eater as a kid, drove us mad. We got around it by pretty much putting sauce on everything.”

                “Oh…” Bradley murmurs, and he’d wondered. He sets out the ingredients and the little containers of sauce saved from his previous attempts.

                “Yeah. Obviously he’s an adult now, he doesn’t have to add sauce, but if he has the choice?”

                “On it goes. Right. Okay…”

                “Yeah. You okay with that?”

                “Of course. He’s not making me eat it. I’m not…” he shrugs helplessly, wants to try and say he’s not the uptight and angry chef that that TV producers like to portray him as. Sure he has a temper, but it’s definitely not as bad or as frequent as they make it seem. He also knows he's got something of a resting bitch-face. At least that's what Vi calls it.

                “Hmm. Thought so. Anyway, Jake doesn’t cook. He’d never watch a cooking show. Doesn’t like reality TV at all… If you wanted to keep it on the downlow you could. I don’t think he’d accidentally stumble across you. And I can keep my mouth shut.”

                “I don’t want to keep it a secret from him or anything. He knows it’s my job. And he knows my name…”

                “Okay. So… not to be super crude but you’re just, uh, hooking up right?”

                “I mean… yeah.”

                “Well. If you decide you want something more than hooking up with him, you’re going to have to spell it out, be really obvious. More obvious than you think you need to be. And I have an idea for showing just how oblivious he can potentially be…”

TWELVE

[hudsonlowesbills]

You you all have your favourite historical figures but do you have a “well I might have to charter a plane and boat and go to an isolated island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean just to read their newest biography” level favourite historical figure?

That’s what I thought.

Sit down.

[watchyourmouthorgetslapped]

Did anyone notice that Pope wasn’t present during the Ji-error kiss in S4E1? This is the scene where JJ celebrates the fact that he finally has a place to call home (Poguelandia 2.0) and all of the pogues are there except Pope. I find it kind of strange that he wasn’t there for such an integral scene. Pope’s absence also sticks out to me because he was in almost every scene leading up to this one. Now, there are three reasons why I believe he wasn’t present:

1. Pope was at school or somewhere studying, which would make sense because he’s the only one who has plans to continue his higher education.

2. JD couldn’t film that day for whatever reason.

3. It was intentional for the plot.

Focusing on the third reason, it makes no sense for Pope to not be in this scene because he was the one who came up with the idea of Poguelandia 2.0. He suggested that JJ buy a new boat and start a fishing charter. It would have been great to see his reaction to JJ dancing on the dock expressing pure happiness. Also if they wanted to show that Ji-error is endgame and Pope has completely moved on with Cleo, he would have been standing with the others cheering them on (could have deaded JJPope right there).

However, that’s not what happened. Paired with the fact that the pogues are at risk of losing the property in part 2, I think this would be a great opportunity for JJ and Pope to work together as a team.

[asthedeathoflight]

A gentle sound (the rolling in the graves)

“Where are you going?”

If Ajax was startled by Cowgirl’s sudden question, she doesn’t show it. Disappointing. Cowgirl had been so sure she hadn’t noticed that she was being followed. Rude, also, to let Cowgirl follow her all the way down to the marina without even saying hi. 

“None of your business,” she says, not looking back at Cowgirl.

Ouch. An uncounterable point. It’s lucky Cowgirl doesn’t really care what is or isn’t her business. Ajax has been disappearing after dinner for a few weeks now, and Cowgirl is going to find out what she’s been up to if it kills her. 

“Mm,” Cowgirl says, “There’s nothing down here. Unless you’re stealing a boat. If you’re stealing a boat you have to let me name it or else I’m telling Cleon.”

Ajax rolls her eyes so hard she has to stop walking for a second, which makes a perfect opportunity for Cowgirl to jog the extra few steps to stand next to her. Ajax gives her an unimpressed look. 

“I’m not stealing a boat,” she says flatly. 

“Great! Then you won’t mind if I come with you.”

“Knock yourself out,” Ajax says. She turns away from the path that goes down to the docks and opens a gate to a stairwell that leads down to the shore. She doesn’t wait to see if Cowgirl is following her. 

“Um,” Cowgirl says, peering down the worn, algae-slick stairs. “Ajax?”

Ajax makes a noise like she’s listening but would rather not be. 

“I didn’t really dress for this.” She had worn her most fashionable boots, which were not her most walking-on-slippery-rocks-down-by-the-water boots. 

“Wow,” says Ajax, who had worn grippy shoes, “What a shame. Guess you’ll have to turn back.”

At this grave insult to her honor, Cowgirl decides to begin picking her way down the stairs to hurry after Ajax. She can’t quite move at top speed, seeing as she has to avoid pools of water and patches of seaweed that Ajax stomps right through. Ajax is walking slightly slower than usual, though, so Cowgirl isn’t too worried that she’ll be left behind. 

She is a little bit more concerned when she looks up and sees that Ajax is headed beneath the pier, where a forest of pilings stretch into an endless gloom. 

“Ajax,” she hisses. “Ajax!”

Ajax pauses a moment just within the shadow of the pier looming over them, turning back to look at her. “You really don’t have to come,” she says, sounding kind of amused at whatever face Cowgirl was surely making.

Like hell she’s turning back now, though. If she tries to ask Ajax about it later she’ll just get all smug and say ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ Which was just unacceptable. Cowgirl will just have to keep going. It’s the only way to preserve her dignity. 

“Just wait up,” Cowgirl grumbles.

The pier stretches on so far that Cowgirl can’t see the light on the other side, thick wooden planks holding up boat chartering offices and marina administrators and fish market stalls. She’d run amok on the top side of the pier plenty as a kid, but it had never occurred to her to try and go under it. She feels a little uneasy being under it now, at the mercy of the tide coming back in, even if she knows they aren't in much danger of being trapped. 

It’s just so unsettling down here, the sound of the waves echoing strangely and the light of the fading sunset reflecting off the water. The further they venture from the edge of the pier the more uneasy Cowgirl becomes. There’s something about the way the echoes of the water fade out into an eerie tuneless humming that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. 

Except. It’s not the water at all. As they walk, the sound grows slowly louder, until Cowgirl can hear that it’s someone singing. They’re not really carrying a melody, but the sound floats over the water, folding back onto itself as it reverberates in the air around them. It’s beautiful. It’s like the time Cowgirl got to go on a school trip to the opera and the soprano’s voice seemed to make the whole room sing, but better again by half. It’s almost like-

Cowgirl stops walking. It’s almost like they’re below the high tide mark, at twilight. And someone is singing. 

Cowgirl is eighty-five percent city girl, but she spent a summer with her cousins in Massachusetts as a kid. She knows the kind of places you’re not supposed to go alone after the sun sets. She knows the kind of things that live in them. 

“Ajax,” Cowgirl says, trying to project an aura of everything-is-fine. 

Ajax pauses and turns back to look at her. She doesn’t look even a little bit afraid. Her eyes are very dark in the dim light. 

“Ajax,” Cowgirl repeats, with what she thinks is an admirable attempt at keeping her voice level. “There’s a siren down here.”

Ajax blinks at her. “Yes,” she says, slowly, as if Cowgirl is the one who’s slow on the uptake. “I know.”

Cowgirl would like to amend her earlier statement about finding out what Ajax is up to even if it kills her. She would actually like very much to live, if anyone is listening. 

“Oh my god,” she says, abandoning her attempts at acting calm. She thinks that advice is actually for bears, anyways. “Oh my god, you’ve been fucking mind-whammied. By a siren. And now you’ve dragged me down here to feed me to it. I can’t fucking believe this.”

Ajax looks deeply unimpressed at this theory. “I actually remember telling you you didn’t have to come. Multiple times.”

“Reverse psychology. You knew I’d get suspicious if you seemed too enthusiastic. Oooh, this is diabolical. I never expected it from you, which is why its the perfect betrayal.”

“...Anyways,” Ajax says, “Sirens don’t eat people. I’m here to feed the siren popcorn, actually.”

At this, she gestures with the bag of popcorn that she has, admittedly, been holding this whole time. Cowgirl hadn’t considered it relevant to their journey. 

“There was just a boat sunk by sirens in Mallorca,” Cowgirl exclaims, “I saw it on the news!”

Ajax frowns. “I never said sirens don’t kill people,” she amends. “But they don’t eat ‘em.”

“Great!” Cowgirl laughs. “That’s so reassuring!”

Ajax’s frown deepens. “Humans kill each other all the time! I don’t see why it matters! You don’t have to come if you’re gonna be weird about it.”

She turns back around and keeps walking. Cowgirl looks back at the entrance, and then at Ajax’s retreating form. It’s. Well. The siren doesn’t have the element of surprise. And she shouldn’t leave Ajax alone with it. And, more importantly, like fucking hell is she going to go back to the others to tell them Ajax has been fucking around with a siren and Cowgirl didn’t even go look at it. 

Cowgirl isn’t really sure what she expected a siren to look like. She’d never really asked questions after the old guys who worked the fishing boats told her to never ever go by the water at dusk, and especially not at low tide. That was how they got you. Something about the land between high- and low-tide being neutral territory. Cowgirl didn’t really care about the details of who they were. She was perfectly happy just not being gotten. Or, well, she had been.

There’s a girl sitting on a rock, kicking her bare feet in the water, staring out at the waves. When Cowgirl sees her, her first thought is that the siren has already found another victim and they’re off the hook. But as girl turns around to look at them, her face breaking into a grin of too-sharp teeth, the humming abruptly stops. 

Cowgirl stops a comfortable distance from the siren, but Ajax - who does not practice proper wildlife safety measures - walks right up to her. Cowgirl just stares at them. The siren looks distressingly normal. She’s wearing an oversized tee shirt and cut-off denim shorts, and only the amount of salt crusted on both looks remotely out of the ordinary. She just looks like any girl their age, with pretty brown eyes and a bob of unruly hair. 

“Yo,” Ajax says, offering her the bag of popcorn, “Got your shit.”

And, well, she had just lit up when she saw Ajax. Cowgirl knows all about girls who light up when they see Ajax. 

“Thank youu,” the siren says, with an odd sort of warbling voice, like a character in a musical who can’t decide if they’re supposed to be singing right now. 

“Cowgirl,” Ajax barks. Ah, shit. “Starin’ is rude.”

Sheepishly, Cowgirl crosses the final couple feet to stand next to them. “Hi,” she says. What’s the protocol here? Sirens aren’t fey, right? She won’t get dragged into the water forever if she’s rude, or anything. 

“Helloo,” the siren says. There’s a quality to her voice like a parrot, like she’s copying a sound she’s heard. The timing is just a little bit wrong. “I’m Rembrandt.”

And Cowgirl can hear in the way she shapes those vowels, the little bit of Brooklyn lilt she puts on just that one word, that it’s a name Ajax gave her. 

[jjmaybankswh0re]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 ~ 𝐎𝐁𝐗 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂

Blurb ~ Kalani "Lani" Alora is a 16-year-old Kook born into wealth and expectations, but she's nothing like her perfect family. While her parents push her to fit into their polished world, Lani feels suffocated by the luxury and pressure. Her heart belongs with the Pogues, the real ones who know what it means to survive without trust funds. In a world of opulence and privilege, Lani is ready to break free, even if it means defying her family—and risking everything she’s ever known. Welcome to the Outer Banks. Paradise? Not for everyone. ~

Character description: Kalani "Lani" Alora is a fiery 16-year-old with long brunette hair that falls in waves, framing her sun-kissed face. Her green eyes sparkle with mischief, while freckles dust her tan skin, a reminder of the time spent under the sun. With a button nose and plump lips, her features carry a natural, effortless beauty that contrasts with the polished world she’s expected to fit into. She’s bold, rebellious, and unapologetically herself—someone who doesn’t shy away from breaking the rules or challenging the expectations placed on her.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, reckless behaviour, mature themes, emotional strain.

Master list

PART 1:

Word count: 11,165

They say the Outer Banks is paradise on Earth. Sure, maybe if you’re a tourist sipping Mai Tais on the beach or some Kook lounging in your second home, pretending life’s just one big country club. But for me, the so-called “paradise” feels like a gilded cage, all shiny on the outside but suffocating once you’re stuck inside. My name’s Kalani Mae Alora, but everyone calls me Lani. I’m 16, wild, reckless, and everything my family wishes I wasn’t.

I’m a Kook by birth. Figure 8 born and bred, raised in a mansion bigger than most people’s dreams, with parents who have more money than love to give. My dad, Douglas Ford Alora, is a big-shot real estate mogul. My mom, Amara Rose Alora, is the state’s top lawyer—because of course she is. And then there’s my older brother, Riley. The golden boy. The pride and joy. He’s everything they want: polished, preppy, and a grade-A asshole. The kind of guy who thrives in the Kook world, where your worth is measured by your wealth and your yacht size.

And then there’s me—the family disappointment. The rebel. The one who refuses to fit into their picture-perfect world. They want me to be a polished pearl, but I’m more like a jagged seashell—rough, untamed, real.

The truth is, I’m not cut out for their world. I don’t belong at their stuffy country club parties or in their suffocating circle of self-congratulatory egos. Honestly, I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a rusty spoon than spend one more minute with the Kooks. They’re all the same—entitled, fake, and so damn boring.

My heart? It belongs on the Cut, with the Pogues. My friends. My real family. The ones who know what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck, who don’t have trust funds to fall back on but have loyalty in spades. We’re the scrappy, sunburned kids from the south side of the island, where people work their asses off fishing, chartering boats, and doing whatever it takes to survive. They don’t judge me for being a little reckless or having tattoos hidden under my hoodie. They get me. Even Kie, who’s technically a Kook like me, would rather be with us than in the shallow waters of her old world.

But my parents don’t get it. They don’t get me. To them, I’m just a problem to be fixed. I skip school because sitting in a classroom feels like being locked in a cage when there’s an entire world waiting outside. I party because life’s too short to sit still. I drink and smoke and stay out for days because it feels like the only way to breathe.

My mom and dad don’t see the good grades I somehow manage to pull off, or the way my friends count on me when things go south. No, they only see the tattoos I’ve hidden from them (for now), the nights I don’t come home, and the way I refuse to bow to their rules. They threaten me all the time—boarding school, getting kicked out, even one of those wilderness camps for “troubled teens.” But their threats are empty, just like their understanding of who I am.

Coming home always ends the same way: screaming matches that leave the walls trembling and me storming back out, slamming the door behind me. And you know what? I’d rather be anywhere but here. On the beach. In the water. With my friends. Living.

It’s a cycle. A vicious, messy, exhausting cycle. And yet, I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Because out there, with the Pogues, I’m free. Out there, I’m not Kalani Alora, the letdown daughter of the island’s most powerful family. I’m just Lani. Wild, reckless, and alive.

Tonight is the night of the annual Kook party, Midsummers. AKA the one thing I dread most. I stand in the kitchen, my arms crossed, fuming, while my mom stares me down from across the island.

"Kalani, I’m not telling you again. You are going. End of story," she says, her voice dripping with that tone that means she’s done arguing. The same tone she always uses when she’s acting like she’s the one who knows what’s best for me.

I roll my eyes so hard I’m pretty sure they might fall out. "Mom, people less than 3 miles from here still don’t have power, no running water, nothing. And we're going to Midsummers? Do you not see how tone-deaf that is?" I can’t believe this is even a conversation. Hurricane Agatha tore through the island last week, and Figure 8, of course, had its water fixed within hours, not like the Cut where they’ve been waiting for days. The Kooks are all living in luxury, while the Pogues are stuck in a wreck. And all mom cares about is this stupid party.

She narrows her eyes, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Seriously, Kali? I suggest you put on a party face if you want to live." Oh, great. "The dress I picked out for you is upstairs, go shower."

I let out a deep sigh, muttering under my breath as I storm off toward my room. This night is going to suck.

When I walk in, the dress is laid out on my bed like it’s some sort of treasure. It’s pale golden yellow, the fabric shiny but not too in-your-face. The top has a ruched sweetheart neckline—whatever, nothing special. The waist is tight, and then the skirt flows down to the floor with a slit on one side, which is probably the only thing that even slightly grabs my attention. It’s nice enough, but honestly, it’s just another dress to me. A dress I’ll wear because I have no choice, and I'll pretend it’s okay when it’s not.

It’s pretty though. Like, really pretty. But there’s no way I’ll admit that to my mom. At the foot of the bed, there are a pair of white heels—square-toe with an ankle strap. I pick them up, inspecting them like they're somehow supposed to impress me, then set them back down. But then my eyes catch the flower crown resting next to the dress. It’s made of tiny white and yellow flowers, tied together on a brown vine, with a soft white ribbon in the back. It’s cute, I guess. Kind of summery and soft, but definitely not my style. I was expecting something much more “Kook-y,” but this isn’t terrible. I have to admit, it’s kind of nice.

I don’t even know why I’m surprised. My mom is obsessed with making me into some perfect little Kook, and I don’t fit in. I just don’t.

I head into my bathroom, which, let’s face it, is way too fancy for someone like me. It’s huge. So huge, I swear they built it just to make sure I’d never want to leave. It’s "coastal," of course, but not the cool, laid-back vibe I’m used to. No, this is more like a showroom, with white wood, light blues, and grays plastered everywhere like they want to remind me that we have money. The shower’s big enough to fit a small army. Don’t even get me started on the freestanding tub by the window. Like, who actually needs this much space to get ready in the morning? It’s a joke.

I strip off my clothes, looking at myself in the mirror. Staring at the tattoos that my parents can’t stand, but I love. I’ve got a few of them—one on my left wrist, my elbow, under my boob, my hip. I’ve even got one behind my ear and on my lower back. They’re all small, except for the one on my elbow, the one with the words my granny used to say all the time: “Live with fire.” I got it in honour of her last year. She’s gone now, and this tattoo is the only reminder I have of her.

At 16, I’m pretty sure the last thing my parents expected was for me to have 6 tattoos. They only know about the one for granny. They freaked out at first, but after a while, they gave up trying to control me. I know they haven’t seen the others, and I’m not in a rush to show them either. But that'll be a fight for later.

I’ve spent the last week on the HMS Pogue—surfing, chilling with my friends, hanging out at the beach. The tan from my bikini’s a perfect match for the dress I’m supposed to wear tonight.

The warm water in the shower is a welcome relief as I step in, letting it soak through my hair. The overpriced shampoo my mom insists I use smells like coconut and vanilla. It fills the bathroom with this sweet, sickly scent as I work it into my scalp. I rinse it out, then do it again, scrubbing harder this time, just wanting to wash away everything that’s bothering me about tonight.

I just wish I didn’t have to play their game.

Once the shampoo was fully rinsed out of my hair, I grabbed the conditioner. It's that same overpriced stuff my mom buys, and it still smells like coconut and vanilla—sickly sweet and way too luxurious for someone like me. I rake it through the middle and ends of my hair, working it into each strand, making sure every last one gets coated. I don't want any frizzy, tangled mess when I step out of this shower. My hair’s long and thick, so I clip it up with a claw clip, securing it out of the way while I let the conditioner soak in, doing whatever magic it's supposed to do.

I stand under the hot water, letting it cascade down, feeling the weight of it on my shoulders, drowning out everything for a minute. It’s easy to get lost in this. To just be here, in this bathroom that feels like it belongs to someone else.

Next, I move on to my body. I grab the Tree Hut shea sugar scrub. It's the plain one, nothing special, but it smells warm, comforting, like something I could wrap myself in. I scrub it all over my skin, from my shoulders down to my toes. My skin feels soft and smooth, and the scent is almost like a second layer of me, like a little bit of peace before the chaos of tonight. I rinse it off, feeling the roughness of the sugar scrub melt away with the water.

Then comes shaving—legs, my downstairs area, and my armpits. It’s something I do on autopilot, but I can’t help but think about the things I’d rather be doing. The water’s starting to cool a little, but I don’t care. The routine is almost soothing, even though my mind’s a thousand miles away.

Once I’m done with that, I grab the silicone body scrubber, a little worn but still good for scrubbing away the day. I use my body wash—the one that smells like fresh linen, like the kind of clean that’s almost too perfect. It’s like running through freshly washed sheets on a hot summer day. That clean, crisp, airy scent fills the shower as I lather myself up, and for just a moment, everything feels quiet. Not perfect, but quiet. Something I can hold onto, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

I stand there, letting the warmth of the water relax my muscles, but I know the storm’s waiting for me once I step out. The party. The dress. The Kooks. It’s all just another part of this world I’m stuck in.

Once I was done with my body, I carefully unclipped my hair from the claw clip, letting it fall around my shoulders, feeling the conditioner slowly slip from the strands as I washed it out. The water running through it felt like silk, the smoothness of my hair almost surprising me after the mess I had to deal with earlier. I stood there, running my fingers through it, making sure every bit of the thick conditioner was gone, until my hair felt soft and weightless, almost like it was floating. I ran my hands over the ends, making sure nothing was left behind, and it felt so good to have my hair feel that smooth again, free from all the tangles and the heat of the day.

After a few more moments under the water, I made sure I was completely rinsed off—no soap residue, no conditioner, nothing left behind but fresh, clean skin. I turned off the shower, stepping out into the steamy bathroom. The cold air hit me, making me shiver slightly, but the big white fluffy towel I grabbed was comforting as I wrapped it around my body, hugging myself into the softness. I reached for another towel to wrap my hair in, twisting it tightly to soak up the water.

I walked over to the sink, looking at myself in the mirror. My reflection was a mix of wet hair, slightly flushed skin, and the remnants of the tiredness that was starting to show on my face. I grabbed my toothbrush, squeezing a bit of toothpaste onto it, the minty scent hitting my nose as I started to brush. I scrubbed my teeth in slow circles, letting the minty taste fill my mouth as I stared at myself in the mirror. My thoughts wandered, flickering between tonight’s party and the mess of everything that came with it.

Once I finished brushing, I set the toothbrush down and moved on to my skincare. I grabbed the exfoliator first, the gentle beads scraping at the dead skin on my face. I massaged it in small circles, focusing on my cheeks and jawline, feeling the grit of it, the way it sloughed off all the build-up. It always felt good, almost like I was erasing the day from my skin. After rinsing it off, I grabbed the facial wash, the coolness of the gel soothing my skin. I lathered it up, pressing it into my face and working it into a light foam, careful around my eyes. It smelled fresh and clean—nothing overwhelming, just pure. I rinsed that off too, splashing my face with water until it felt like it was completely cleansed, refreshed.

As I wiped my face with a towel, I felt the tension in my shoulders slowly start to release. But I knew it wouldn’t last. The second I walked out of this bathroom, the whole night was going to hit me again. The dress, the heels, the Kooks. I wasn’t ready for any of it. But for now, I was clean, and that felt like a tiny victory in itself.

I walked out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, my bare feet sinking into the plush rug as I headed for my vanity. The towel around my body was pulled snug, a comforting layer of warmth against the cool air from the AC. I pulled the towel off my head, letting my damp brunette hair fall in messy waves over my shoulders, droplets of water soaking into the towel still wrapped around me.

Reaching for my phone, I connected it to my Bluetooth speaker and shuffled my "Getting Ready" playlist. The opening notes of "Chanel" by Frank Ocean filled the room, the smooth melody wrapping around me as I started the process of transforming myself for the night. I set my phone down and grabbed my blow dryer, sectioning my hair and working through it methodically. The warm air flowed through the strands, turning them from wet to soft and fluffy. I ran my fingers through each section as I worked, making sure nothing was left damp.

As much as I hated the idea of Midsummers, there was something satisfying about this part—the routine of getting ready, the self-care, the rare moments of just focusing on myself. For a little while, I could forget the chaos of the world outside and pretend that tonight wouldn’t feel as fake as every other Kook event.

Once my hair was completely dry, I set down the dryer and took a moment to assess it in the mirror. My natural brunette colour had these little golden streaks from all the time I’d spent in the sun, and I knew they’d look even better once I added some waves. I decided to go with something a little softer tonight—nothing too overdone because, honestly, I just wanted to feel like myself. I started by curling my hair into loose waves, letting the brunette strands fall in soft, effortless cascades down my back. It’s that kind of messy-but-pretty look, like I spent hours on it when I really didn’t.

For the top, I pulled back a section of hair into a half-up, half-down style, securing it with a clear elastic so it looked neat but still natural. To add a little something extra, I braided a small strand of hair on one side and tucked it into the pulled-back section. It’s subtle but gives it just the right amount of detail.

The rest of my hair flows freely, the curls catching the light every time I move. It’s simple but sweet, and it feels like me—a little undone but still put together enough to face the ridiculousness that is tonight.

I walked over to my bed where the dress was still laid out, golden and glowing softly in the warm light of my room. I carefully picked it up, the fabric slipping through my fingers like water. Stepping into it, I pulled it up and adjusted the straps on my shoulders before reaching for the zipper at the back. It slid up easily, the dress fitting perfectly, hugging my waist and flaring out gracefully down to the floor.

The slit on the side was higher than I expected, revealing a hint of my tan leg as I moved, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I turned to look at myself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the sweetheart neckline so it sat just right. The pale-yellow colour looked good against my sun-kissed skin, even though I’d never tell my mom she was right about that.

I tied the flower crown into my hair, the soft white and yellow blooms sitting perfectly on top of my styled waves. Taking a step back, I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked... nice. Not like the Kook princess my mom probably wanted me to be, but not like I’d just rolled off the HMS Pogue either. It was a weird mix of both worlds, and maybe that’s exactly where I was meant to be.

I fastened the flower crown into my hair with a few small bobby pins, carefully adjusting it until it sat just right. The tiny white and yellow flowers felt soft and delicate against my curls, like the one part of tonight’s outfit that was actually me. I took a step back to look in the mirror, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. It was pretty, I had to admit, but that didn’t make the whole Midsummers thing any less of a circus.

With a sigh, I sat back down at my vanity, staring at my makeup bag like it might magically do the work for me. I don’t wear full-coverage makeup—ever. Foundation feels like a mask, like one more thing to hide behind in this world where everyone already pretends to be something they’re not. Tonight wasn’t going to change that.

I started with concealer, dotting it lightly under my eyes, just enough to brighten things up and erase the shadows of too many sleepless nights spent thinking about everything I can’t control. My beauty blender bounced softly against my skin, blending the concealer until it melted into nothing. No one needs to know I’ve barely been sleeping; that’s between me and my reflection.

Next was blush—a cream one that I dabbed onto the apples of my cheeks. It was this warm, pinky-orange shade, almost like the colors of a sunset. I blended it out until it looked natural, just a soft flush that played off the tan I’d earned from a week spent on the HMS Pogue, under the sun with my real family. The blush wasn’t just makeup; it was a reminder of who I was, of where I belonged.

I picked up my eyelash curler and paused for a second, staring at it in my hand. It’s funny how something so small can make such a difference, but it does. I carefully curled my lashes, making sure not to pinch my skin. A few quick swipes of mascara later, and my lashes were dark and lifted, but not overdone. I hate when makeup feels heavy, like it’s weighing you down. I wanted to feel free tonight, even if everything else about Midsummers felt suffocating.

Finally, I finished with a pink lip gloss. It was glossy and soft, not too bright, not too bold—just enough to make my lips look like they’d caught the last rays of the golden hour. I pressed my lips together, catching the faint scent of vanilla as I did. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

I leaned back in my chair, studying my reflection in the mirror. My makeup was simple, natural—exactly how I like it. Light enough that I still felt like me but polished enough to survive the sharp gazes and fake smiles of the Kooks. If I had to play this role tonight, at least I’d do it on my own terms.

And that’s the thing: this whole routine, this whole night, it’s a balancing act. A way of making my mom and dad happy without completely losing myself in the process. It’s exhausting, but I can fake it for one night. After all, I’m good at pretending when I have to be.

I stood up from my vanity chair, letting my bare feet sink into the soft carpet as I walked over to the shelf where my perfumes were lined up, a little too perfectly. Each bottle had its own memory, its own story—birthday surprises, Christmas mornings, or those rare moments when someone got me exactly what I liked without me having to say it. My fingers hovered over the collection before landing on the one I always reach for: Good Girl Blush Elixir by Carolina Herrera.

This perfume is my signature, the one I can’t live without. It smells like everything I want to be—soft but bold, with a mix of rose, vanilla, and patchouli that feels feminine but not too sweet. It’s the kind of scent that lingers, the kind that turns heads. I uncapped it, giving the nozzle a little test spray into the air before aiming it at all the right spots: my wrists, the front and back of my neck, behind my ears. I even gave myself a couple of extra sprays, letting the mist settle onto my skin like a finishing touch. It was intoxicating, warm, and comforting all at once.

Once I was done, I grabbed the white purse sitting on the edge of my bed. It was simple, but it worked—a little clutch just big enough to hold the essentials. I tossed in the bottle of perfume, some deodorant (because these things always drag on), gum, my phone, and my lip gloss. I zipped it up and slung it over my shoulder, pausing for a moment to take it all in.

I walked over to the full-length mirror that stood in the corner of my room, its frame carved with delicate floral details that matched the rest of my overly curated, "perfect" Kook bedroom. I looked at my reflection, taking in the golden dress that clung to me in all the right places, the flower crown perched like a soft rebellion against the polish of the whole look, and the subtle glow of my makeup.

For a second, I almost didn’t recognize myself. Not because I looked so different, but because I looked like I belonged—like I could fit into this world of Midsummers and champagne toasts and whispered gossip. But deep down, I knew better. I wasn’t one of them. This was a costume, a role I had to play.

I smoothed the skirt of my dress, took a deep breath, and tried to push down the knot of nerves twisting in my stomach. "Alright, Kalani," I muttered to myself, my voice steady but low. "Let’s get this over with."

I stepped into the white heels that had been waiting at the foot of my bed, the straps cool against my skin as I fastened the tiny buckle around my ankle. They weren’t anything too fancy—square-toed with a simple design—but they did their job, adding just enough height to make me feel a little more elegant, even if I hated how much it screamed Kook princess.

I took a few steps in them, testing the waters. They were surprisingly comfortable, but still, they reminded me of all the reasons I hated these events. It’s like every detail—down to these stupid heels—was designed to show off, to shout, “Look at us! We’re perfect!” I wasn’t about to trip or wobble, though. If I had to play along, I’d do it on my own terms, confident and unbothered.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror again, I glanced down at my reflection. The heels gave the golden dress an extra edge, the slit in the skirt showing just enough leg to make it look effortless—like I hadn’t spent the last hour pulling myself together. The flower crown softened the look, a subtle reminder to myself of where my heart really was.

I shifted my weight, the faint sound of the heels clicking against the hardwood floor as I turned to grab my purse. They felt like armour in a way, a final piece to complete the picture my mom wanted so desperately to paint tonight. But as far as I was concerned, the moment this party was over, these heels were coming off, and I’d be back where I belonged: barefoot on the HMS Pogue, salt in my hair, with people who didn’t care if I looked polished or perfect.

“Kalani, come down! We’re taking a family photo!” My mom’s voice rang out from downstairs, sharp and insistent. I groaned, loud enough that she probably heard it, stealing one last glance in the mirror. The dress shimmered faintly under the soft light, and the flower crown sat perfectly in place. It was fine—whatever. Good enough.

Turning away, I walked out of my room and into the hallway. The heels clicked against the hardwood floor with every step, a sound that echoed louder than I wanted it to. It felt weird, almost unnatural, like I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t, clacking my way down this house that still didn’t feel like home.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I spotted her—my mom—standing at the bottom, her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a line that said she was in no mood to argue tonight. Her eyes locked on me immediately, scanning me like a hawk. It wasn’t a look of admiration or even casual approval; it was inspection. Like she was checking for flaws, making sure her carefully curated daughter looked the part, up to her unspoken standards of perfection.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, gripping the banister as I descended. The closer I got, the more I could feel her gaze, like a spotlight I didn’t ask for. I hated this—hated how I felt like some kind of doll she could dress up and parade around to make herself look good. But I bit my tongue, let the heels carry me down each step until I was standing in front of her.

She gave a small, tight-lipped nod. “You look... nice,” she said, her voice clipped, like she couldn’t bear to admit that I might actually look good.

“Thanks,” I said, my tone flat, the sarcasm barely masked. I adjusted the strap of my purse, already counting down the hours until this whole ordeal would be over.

My mom was standing there, dressed to the nines in an elegant royal blue gown that hugged her figure perfectly, the kind of dress that screamed wealth and status. It shimmered slightly in the light, and as I got closer, I noticed the intricate beading and embroidery running along the fabric, small, delicate details that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe combined. She had on a matching set of jewellery—a diamond necklace that caught the light every time she moved, earrings to match, and, of course, her giant wedding ring that could blind someone if the sun hit it just right.

I stopped midway down the stairs, my eyes locking onto her accessories, and then it hit me. Jewellery. I completely forgot about jewellery. My face must’ve said it all because my mom’s eyes narrowed slightly, like she knew I was about to stall.

“Oh—uhm, hold on. I forgot to put on my jewellery,” I blurted, my voice slightly panicked as I spun on my heel and started heading back up the stairs. My heels clicked against the steps in a rush, the sound echoing through the massive hallway.

“Kalani,” my mom called after me, her tone sharp with a mix of annoyance and warning, but I didn’t stop.

“It’ll only take a second!” I called over my shoulder, practically sprinting back into my room. How could I forget something so obvious? I mean, sure, I wasn’t thrilled about this whole charade, but if I was going to be forced into the Kook spotlight, I might as well do it right. There’s no way my mom would let me live it down if I showed up looking “unfinished.”

I darted over to my jewellery box, a sleek, mirrored thing that sat on my dresser. I flung it open, the tiny compartments stacked with earrings, bracelets, and necklaces.

I grabbed the gold necklace with the small sun pendant, one of the few pieces of jewelry that actually felt personal. The sun pendant had a tiny white opal in the middle, catching the light in this soft, shimmery way. It wasn’t flashy, but it was beautiful, understated—exactly what I needed. I clasped it around my neck, letting the pendant rest perfectly against my collarbone.

Next were my earrings. I had three piercings in each ear, and I quickly popped in the gold hoops for the first two. The first hoop had a small dangling diamond that sparkled whenever it moved, and the second had tiny diamonds encrusted all the way around. For the third piercing, I put in simple diamond studs—small but bright, like little drops of light against my skin.

For my rings, I went with a mix of delicate gold bands. Nothing too overwhelming, just a few spread out across my fingers in that perfectly imperfect way—skipping some fingers and stacking others just enough to keep it interesting. They were simple and elegant, adding a little extra something to my look without feeling over the top.

Finally, I moved on to bracelets. On one wrist, I clasped a gold tennis bracelet—thin, sleek, and timeless. On the other, I layered two dainty gold bracelets. One had a tiny charm on it, barely noticeable, and the other was just a smooth, minimalist band. Together, they felt balanced, subtle, and, dare I say, classy.

I took one last look at myself in the mirror, adjusting the necklace so the pendant sat perfectly in place. My jewelry wasn’t overdone, and it definitely wasn’t “Kook extravagant,” but it felt polished and put together. This was my version of ready.

With a deep breath, I grabbed my purse off the bed again and turned toward the door. My heels clicked softly as I made my way back out of my room, this time fully prepared to face my mom’s critical gaze and the chaos waiting downstairs.

I walked down the stairs, and as soon as I stepped off the last step, I was met with the familiar impatient expressions of my mom, dad, and Riley. They all looked like they were ready to pull their hair out waiting for me to get my act together. I felt that familiar pressure in my chest.

“Sorry,” I muttered, and honestly, I was. I never liked rushing, especially when I felt like I was being pushed into a version of myself that didn’t feel like me at all.

“Come on, Kalani, we need to get the family photo. The photographer’s waiting for us outside,” my dad said in that authoritative way he always had, ushering me down the stairs with a firm hand on my back.

My heels clicked loudly on the hardwood floors as I made my way down, the sound a little too sharp and hollow for my liking. The click-clack followed me all the way through the grand hallway and out the door. The cool night air hit my face as I stepped outside into our huge backyard, which stretched out toward the ocean. It was a view I’d never get used to, but it always felt like a reminder of how different I was from my family.

The backyard was decorated with hanging string lights that twinkled against the dark sky. The soft glow looked almost too perfect, too curated—like everything in this house. It was the kind of backyard where everything had a place, where even the air felt like it was designed for Instagram photos. The photographer stood nearby, ready to capture every perfect moment, and I could already feel the forced smiles taking over.

The photographer directed us into position, telling us where to stand, how to angle ourselves, and where to place our hands. The flashes of the camera went off in rapid succession, and I couldn’t help but feel like this whole thing was just a performance. The whole family photo, the posed smiles, the way they insisted on making everything look so… perfect.

My dad and brother were in suits—my dad in a dark, sleek black one that screamed "power," and Riley in a more relaxed, but still tailored, light gray one. It was hard not to feel like I was the odd one out in this perfect little picture they had created. My dress, my jewelry, my smile—none of it felt like me. And yet, here I was, standing perfectly still, forced into a moment I knew didn’t represent who I was or what I stood for.

The photographer snapped more photos. One of the whole family, then a few of just me and Riley, some with just my mom and dad. But in all of them, I knew one thing for sure—none of us were really here. Not really.

An hour later, we arrived at the Midsummer party, and I immediately felt the familiar weight of it all. The party was a spectacle of excess—a perfect embodiment of the Kooks’ obsession with showing off how much money they had. It was set on the sprawling waterfront grounds of the country club, where the place practically glittered under a canopy of fairy lights strung through towering oak trees. The lights were warm and inviting, almost magical, but all I could think about was how they reflected off the polished marble floors of the patio, making the place feel like a showroom, not a home.

Elegant tables were scattered across the lawn, their white linen cloths perfectly draped, with cascading floral centerpieces that practically screamed luxury. Servers, dressed in crisp black-and-white uniforms, glided between the guests like they were part of the décor, offering champagne and perfectly arranged hors d'oeuvres. The laughter was polite, the kind that was almost too rehearsed, and the soft clink of crystal glasses mixed with the live band playing in the background, their music flowing like the tide against the nearby docks.

I could already feel the weight of this night pressing down on me. As we walked in, I couldn’t help but notice the Cameron family near the entrance—just a second away from my family’s wealth and, I swear, their closest competition in this weird little game of “who’s richer and more glamorous.” Ward Cameron, Rose Cameron, and their kids, Wheezie, Sarah, and Rafe.

Wheezie was just 13, but she already had that look—the one that said she was going to be just like her older sister, Sarah. Sarah and I were the same age, but we were never on the same page. I used to get along with her, back when I thought being friends with her would help me fit in. But that was before the whole Kook/Pogue divide hit me like a ton of bricks.

The air between me and Sarah was thick with tension. Kie and Sarah used to be best friends—used to, being the key word. That’s when I thought I could be part of their world, too. But things fell apart, like everything with the Kooks always does. And now here I was, walking into another perfect little moment, watching them pretend everything was fine, knowing full well it never would be.

I looked over at Riley, who was already making his way toward Rafe Cameron with his usual “I’m one of you” swagger. I wished I could be that detached, that easygoing about this whole thing. But instead, I felt like I was slipping into a role I never wanted—like I was just another cog in their polished machine.

As we made our way deeper into the crowd, I tried to keep my distance, but it didn’t take long for the inevitable interactions to begin. Topper was the first to spot me, his signature smirk already plastered on his face as he leaned against a nearby pillar.

"Kalani," he said, the way he said my name made it sound almost like a joke. "Nice to see you actually made it." His eyes scanned me up and down, lingering just a little too long on the soft flow of my dress before settling on my face. He was always like that, like he could never fully decide if I was beneath him or if he should pretend I was someone he liked.

“Topper,” I said, forcing a smile, trying to keep my tone neutral. "What's up?" I wasn’t in the mood for his usual small talk, but he was the kind of guy who just had to fill the silence with something.

He chuckled, taking a sip from a glass in his hand—was it whiskey? I couldn't tell. But whatever it was, it was making him that much smugger. "I don’t know why you bother with these Kook parties," he said, taking another long drink. “You know you don’t belong here, right?”

My chest tightened, but I kept my posture straight, pretending it didn’t affect me. "And yet, here I am."

Topper raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed by my lack of a reaction. "Hmm. I’ll give you that." Then, without another word, he walked off, probably to find someone else to annoy or charm.

I let out a deep breath and tried to move past the awkwardness, but of course, Kelce was there to fill the silence. He clapped me on the shoulder like we were best friends, even though we definitely weren’t. "Looking good, Kalani," he said, a little too enthusiastically.

"Thanks, Kelce," I muttered, trying to dodge his gaze, but he wasn’t done.

"You know, I bet you’re more fun when you’re not being all... Kook-y," he said with a grin, clearly trying to joke but coming off a little too eager.

I felt the blood rush to my face. Kelce was the type of guy who always thought he knew everything, especially when it came to people’s lives. And maybe I hadn’t been as good at hiding things as I liked to think. "I’m not really in the mood for your jokes tonight," I said, walking past him quickly. I could feel his eyes on my back as I moved away. He didn’t get it. They never did.

And then there was Riley, my older brother. He was talking to Rafe now, laughing at some joke I didn’t care enough to overhear. Rafe had always been a problem, but tonight it felt like he was more of a shadow than usual, lurking around the edges of everything. He was dangerous in the way that you could never be sure what side he was on or what game he was playing.

As I made my way toward the edge of the party, I couldn’t help but notice that the tables were littered with half-drunk glasses, abandoned champagne flutes, and half-empty cocktails. The temptation was unbearable. My throat felt tight as I scanned the crowd, looking for an easy target—someone who wouldn’t notice, someone who wouldn’t care.

I found it quickly—a half-drunk glass of something pink, a sweet little cocktail with a tiny umbrella sticking out. It was sitting alone on the edge of a table, the owner nowhere in sight. Without a second thought, I picked it up, took a quick sip. It tasted like sugar, something fruity with a sharp kick. I felt the warmth spread through me almost immediately, and I couldn’t help but sigh. It was like the world around me softened, the harsh edges of the night going blurry. For a second, I felt good, not so out of place, not so suffocated by everything I couldn’t stand.

I didn’t even think about where the glass had come from, who it belonged to, or how many people had touched it before me. I just took another sip, and then another. The feeling, the way the alcohol settled in my chest, made everything a little easier. I didn't care about the Kooks, about Topper, about anything. For once, I was just floating.

It was easy to get lost in the moment, to let the party's chaos carry me away. But just as quickly as the high hit, I realized how deep I was in it. I had to keep it together—keep it all together—because if anyone noticed, it could all fall apart. I didn’t want to be that person. But at the same time, I didn’t want to be the person I was supposed to be either.

I set the glass down, feeling the familiar sting of shame creeping up my neck. The night was just beginning, and I already knew I was going to need more to survive it.

I turned away from the drink station quickly, shaking off the buzz that was creeping in. I didn’t want to think about it too much. I wasn’t going to let myself slip—not here, not now. I knew how to play the game—keep my cool, stay in control. Even if it meant lying to everyone around me, including myself.

But as I walked across the lawn, I spotted Sarah Cameron by the drink station. She was laughing with a few of her friends, looking every bit the perfect Kook in her dress. She noticed me almost immediately, and for a moment, our eyes met across the space.

It wasn’t that I hated Sarah—honestly, we just didn’t click anymore. We’d been close once, back when everything felt simpler. When Kie and I hung out with her, before the weight of the world had shifted and split us apart. Now, it was like we were in two different worlds, drifting in and out of the same spaces, but never really connecting.

"Hey, Kalani," Sarah called out with a smile, her voice easy and warm. It wasn’t fake—just… distant.

"Hey," I replied, offering a tight smile of my own, but I could feel that strange distance between us. I wished we could go back to how things were before it all fell apart, but it wasn’t like I could pretend everything was fine. Not anymore.

Sarah’s eyes scanned me up and down, a flicker of something passing through her gaze. "You look really nice," she said, her tone genuine. "The dress suits you."

I felt the weight of her words, and for a second, I almost wanted to thank her. But something inside me held me back. She was being nice, but that old sense of betrayal—of everything we used to have slipping away—was still there, lingering between us.

"Thanks," I said quickly, brushing it off with a half-smile. "You look great too."

Sarah nodded, her smile softening, but she hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was a reminder of everything that had changed. The old closeness we’d shared was just… gone now.

"So, are you enjoying the party?" she asked, trying to make conversation, her tone still light.

"Yeah," I lied. "It’s fine."

She nodded again, glancing over at the crowd, then back at me. "I know things were weird between us for a while," she said, catching me off guard. "But it’s nice to see you again. I hope you’re doing okay."

I looked at her, really looked at her. She wasn’t trying to start something, or stir up drama. It was just... two people who had shared something once, but it had fizzled out. Her words felt sincere, and for a second, I almost wanted to say something back. To acknowledge it, maybe even apologize for how things had turned out. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

"Yeah," I said quietly, my gaze dropping to the grass at my feet. "I’m good."

Before Sarah could say anything else, I turned, heading back toward the side of the yard, away from the crowd. I needed a moment to breathe. It felt like everyone was looking at me, judging me, even though I knew they weren’t. I couldn’t shake that feeling of being out of place, though.

As I walked, I spotted a table with a few half-drunk glasses of champagne sitting on it. Without thinking, I reached for one of the glasses and took a sip. The sharp tang of the alcohol hit my tongue, and I didn’t care that it wasn’t mine. The rush, the warmth spreading through my chest, made me forget for a moment that I was still stuck in this strange in-between world.

Riley must’ve seen me, because he was suddenly at my side, his hand on my arm, his face serious.

"Hey, what’s going on?" he asked, his voice low. "You okay?"

I just shrugged, trying to act like everything was fine, even though it wasn’t. "Yeah, I’m fine."

Riley looked at me for a moment longer, like he could see right through me, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just gave me a small, almost resigned nod, as if he knew what was really going on.

And for a second, I felt seen. But then, just like that, the moment passed, and the world kept spinning around me.

I didn’t want to be here. But here I was.

But something caught my eye almost immediately.

JJ.

I stopped in my tracks, squinting through the crowd. Was that... him?

He stood at the edge of the patio, fiddling nervously with the collar of his shirt, wearing a black suit and a bowtie that looked about as awkward on him as a fish out of water. I walked over, pushing my way through the crowd.

"JJ?" I called out, raising my voice to be heard over the noise.

His head whipped around, eyes wide with that familiar cocky grin that was more for show than anything.

"Kalani, what's up?" he said, his voice a little too loud and obviously trying to sound casual.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, giving him a once-over. "You look like a waiter, not like yourself."

He laughed, shrugging with that nonchalant ease I’d come to expect from him. "Yeah, well, I'm here to deliver something. John B needed to give Sarah a note. So, here I am—waiter JJ, at your service."

I raised an eyebrow. "A note for Sarah?"

JJ pulled out the crumpled paper from his pocket and handed it to me, looking around the party like he was trying to make sure no one saw him. I opened it, and my eyes skimmed the scrawled words:

Meet me at bag drop - Vlad

I looked at JJ, confused. "Who’s Vlad?" I asked, my voice low.

JJ just shrugged again, his eyes darting across the room, clearly nervous. "John B wouldn’t tell me. But I’m telling you, Kalani, John B’s definitely mackin' on Sarah Cameron. No doubt about it."

I blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. Mackin'? John B and Sarah?

"Seriously?" I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. "You’re telling me John B is hooking up with Sarah Cameron?"

"Yup." JJ nodded, giving a grin like he was proud of the gossip he just dropped.

“Your serious?” I say, handing the note back to JJ.

“Dead serious.” He says with a nod, taking the note and putting it back in his pocket.

I look at JJ for a moment, unsure of how to respond. His face is all scrunched up in that mischievous way he gets when he’s trying to be sly, and I can’t help but smirk. Of course, JJ would be involved in something like this. "So you’re really doing this, huh?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Pretending to be a waiter at the Kook’s fancy party just to get a note to Sarah?"

JJ shrugs, looking around like he’s making sure no one’s watching. “Hey, someone’s gotta do it, right? Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?” he says, flashing a grin that doesn’t exactly match the nervous energy swirling around his eyes. “Besides, John B owes me one. This is gonna be fun.”

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, fun. Just try not to get caught, okay?"

“Caught?” He scoffs. “Please, I’m practically invisible in this suit.” He adjusts his bowtie, puffing out his chest like he’s some kind of undercover agent. I just shake my head, already imagining the mess he’s going to cause.

Before I can say anything else, he’s already slipping into the crowd, blending in with the other Kooks, who are too busy with their champagne flutes and fake smiles to notice the trouble brewing. I turn away, the sound of the party rising up around me again.

I just want to be anywhere but here. But there’s no escape tonight. Not when my family insists on dragging me through their charade, pretending like everything’s perfect.

The next few minutes pass in a blur of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. I find myself wandering the edge of the yard, away from the crowds, just trying to catch my breath. That’s when I see it—a table set with half-empty glasses of champagne. Without thinking, I grab one, taking a long, deep sip. The alcohol burns down my throat, but for a second, it’s a relief. The warmth spreads through my chest, a nice contrast to the ice-cold feeling that’s been eating away at me all night.

“Kalani,” a voice calls out, snapping me out of my haze. I turn to see Riley standing behind me, a concerned look on his face. “What are you doing?”

I try to act casual, but I can tell he’s already seeing through me. “Nothing,” I mutter, waving my hand dismissively. “Just needed a drink.”

He eyes me for a long moment, his gaze intense, and I can’t help but feel like he’s seeing something I’m not ready to show. But after a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he just steps closer, his hand gently touching my arm, like he’s trying to ground me.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, his voice low.

I nod, even though I don’t feel okay. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... just not feeling it tonight.” I glance down at my heels, feeling like they’re the only thing holding me up at this point.

Riley doesn’t push me. He just stands there for a moment longer, his presence a silent support, before he steps back, nodding once. “Alright, well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

I watch as he walks off, swallowed up by the crowd, and I’m left alone with my thoughts again. For a brief moment, I feel like I can breathe again. But then, I hear it—a loud laugh, followed by shouting.

I turn, and that’s when I see JJ. He’s being chased.

It’s chaos—Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and a few others are barrelling after him, pushing through the crowd like they’re on a mission. JJ’s suit jacket flaps as he tries to sprint away, a wild grin on his face like he’s somehow enjoying this.

I glance around, trying to figure out what’s going on, but before I can piece it together, I see Sarah. She’s watching the scene unfold, a small laugh escaping her lips as she talks to a few other people nearby. I don’t know why, but I feel a little guilty—like somehow, this mess is my fault, even though I had nothing to do with it.

I glance back at JJ, still dodging the group chasing him, and can’t help but shake my head. Whatever chaos this night’s going to throw at me, it’s only just beginning.

I freeze when I hear JJ’s voice—loud, brash, unmistakable—cutting through the hum of conversation like a knife. I turn just in time to see him being hauled out by the security guard, who’s doing his best to look authoritative but failing miserably as JJ’s antics draw more attention than anything else happening in the room.

“Look—hey look man! I got legs, I can walk myself. Can you see that, brother?” JJ’s voice is grating, defiant, but there’s a weird sense of humor in it too, like he’s playing some sick joke on the entire party.

The crowd around us stirs in shock, gasps echoing through the air. I can see some of the Kooks shaking their heads in disgust, tsking under their breath. My parents aren’t far behind, their expressions a mixture of confusion and irritation.

I don’t know why, but I feel my stomach drop. The scene is embarrassing—so embarrassing—but I can’t look away. I know JJ’s out of place here. He’s not even supposed to be here.

The security guard pulls JJ right past me, and for a second, our eyes meet. His grin is wide, almost too wide, as if he’s enjoying the chaos he’s causing. I can tell he’s acting out, getting under the skin of everyone here just because he can. He’s never been one to shy away from drama, even if it means making a spectacle of himself.

“Alright, I really appreciate whatcha did back there, but let me just walk myself out,” JJ says to the security guard, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The guard doesn’t respond, just yanking on his arm in an attempt to hurry him along.

As they pass, JJ stops at a table, and I can’t help but feel like I’m witnessing some strange, surreal moment. He pats an old man on the shoulder, someone I barely recognize but who’s definitely a fixture at these Kook events—Mr. Dunleavy, I think his name is.

“Oh! Mr. Dunleavy, I see you got your drink,” JJ says with exaggerated cheerfulness, looking completely out of place in the fancy surroundings. The old man just looks at him, clearly bewildered, and nods, unsure of how to respond to this drunken interloper.

“Good that’s really nice for ya. I’m actually gonna down that-“ JJ, not waiting for an invitation, grabs Mr. Dunleavy’s whiskey glass. Without a second thought, he lifts it to his lips, downing the entire contents in one swift motion. The way he swallows it with a satisfied grin on his face almost makes me laugh, but I hold it in.

JJ slams the glass back down onto the table with a dramatic thud that echoes across the patio, drawing even more stares from the guests. The security guard, still holding onto his arm, continues to drag him through the crowd of Kooks like a stubborn bull being led to slaughter. JJ groans loudly, probably feeling the burn of the whiskey, he just downed, followed by an enthusiastic "Woo!" that cuts through the hum of the party, making heads turn.

“I really appreciate the discretion, Darel, ya know?” JJ says, slurring slightly but maintaining his cocky demeanour. The security guard, Darel, looks utterly unamused as he pulls JJ past a table of laughing guests.

“It’s okay, everybody! Do not panic,” JJ calls out to the crowd with a huge grin plastered on his face, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music. He throws his arms wide, like he’s hosting some twisted show. “Let’s leave it to the men and women in uniform, huh?” He claps his hands together as if this is some grand performance, his words laced with more sarcasm than sincerity.

A few of the Kooks laugh nervously, unsure of whether they should be entertained or appalled. I’m not sure which one I feel.

JJ, still soaking up the attention, scans the crowd until his eyes land on Rose Cameron. He points at her across the yard like he’s spotted a celebrity in the crowd, a wild grin spreading across his face.

“Rose!” he shouts, waving a hand at her, as if he’s the life of the party and everyone should be on his wavelength. “You look like Lady Liberty!”

Rose, wearing a spiky gold crown that indeed looks eerily similar to the Statue of Liberty’s, looks both confused and mildly flattered, unsure whether to be offended or impressed. Her eyes widen a little in surprise, but she manages a polite smile and a small wave, trying to keep her cool.

The crowd’s attention is now fully on JJ, some people chuckling nervously, others shaking their heads in disbelief. This is a scene straight out of a bad reality show, and I can’t help but feel embarrassed for everyone involved.

I catch a glimpse of my mom and dad, both of them visibly tense, their faces a mixture of frustration and confusion. I can already tell this is not the kind of drama they wanted at their perfect little party. I feel a pit form in my stomach, a sense of dread creeping over me as I realize that no matter how hard I try, I can’t escape the mess of my life. It’s everywhere, even here, even tonight.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my palms sweating as I stood there, staring at the security guard who still had a firm grip on JJ’s arm. The crowd had quieted down, some of them looking at me, waiting to see what I would do next. My parents’ disapproving stares were like daggers in my back, but I couldn’t back down. Not this time.

"Let go of him!" I snapped, my voice tight with frustration. The words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care.

Behind me, I heard my dad’s quiet, warning “Hey,” but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t care about his tone right now. I just couldn’t stand seeing JJ getting dragged through the crowd like that.

"You can’t just boot him out!" I said, louder this time, directing my words at the security guard, who had stopped walking but still had a firm grip on JJ’s arm.

My mom’s fingers dug into my arm, pulling me back a little, her presence almost a physical reminder of the Kook world I was always forced to be part of. I knew she was about to intervene, probably with some polished apology and a few well-placed smiles, but I couldn’t let that happen. Not now.

"Excuse me, ma’am?" The security guard asked, his tone polite but firm, like he had dealt with spoiled brats and their tantrums a thousand times before.

"I invited him here," I said, my voice coming out even more steady than I felt. I didn’t care if it was a half-truth. JJ wasn’t some random guy crashing the party. He was a part of my world too, in his own messed-up way.

Behind me, my parents’ voices overlapped, both of them whispering at once. "Kalani, stop it," my mom said sharply, her voice tight with worry.

"Stop," my dad muttered, his tone lower, but no less insistent. He was probably afraid this would spiral into more drama than they could control. But I wasn’t stopping. Not now.

"I’m a member of this club," I said, my hand outstretched, gesturing towards myself as if the words alone could somehow fix this situation. As if that would make everything okay, make JJ’s presence here less of a threat to their precious image. But it didn’t.

The security guard paused, his gaze flicking to my parents, who were now standing behind me, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this was going. His grip on JJ loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go completely. The tension hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

"Kalani, please," my mom tried again, her voice low, but I could hear the desperation in it. She wanted this night to be perfect. She wanted nothing to disturb the image they had so carefully cultivated. But I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t going to pretend everything was fine when it wasn’t.

I stood my ground, staring at the security guard, who was still holding JJ like he was some unruly guest.

I watched as JJ shoved the security guard off of him with surprising ease, sending him stumbling into a small group of Kooks, who gasped and looked at him in confusion. JJ, as always, was unbothered. He barely even paused, turning to the security guard with a casual, "Sorry about that," before his attention shifted back to me.

"Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixons, Lani," he called out to me, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pointed at me. My stomach churned—Rixons was a run-down shack by the docks, the last place my parents or any of the Kooks would ever set foot. But that was exactly what made it the perfect place for us. For the Pogues.

He glanced over at Pope, who had been working behind one of the food stands with his dad all night, and waved him over. "Pope, you as well, all right?" JJ shouted, already backing away, his excitement growing.

"Rixon’s cove. Let’s roll!" JJ finished, lifting his arm in the air like a triumphant leader, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. The way he always made everything sound like some kind of rebellion was a little ridiculous, but honestly, it was part of what made him so... JJ.

Pope, still standing there frozen, blinked at JJ, probably unsure if he was serious. But I knew the look. I had seen Pope wrestle with his conscience before, torn between doing the right thing and the pull of the chaos we always found at Rixons.

JJ wasn’t waiting for an answer. "Alright, Lani, come on!" he shouted again, a playful challenge in his voice. He raised his arm, wrapping it around his wrist like he was trying to make some kind of statement, and then grinned at me. "Workers of the world unite! Throw off your chains!" he shouted, quoting some random revolutionary slogan he probably read on a T-shirt or in a book he barely understood.

It didn’t matter what he said, though. The invitation was clear. JJ was already planning the next adventure, the next way to escape this fake world of perfection that we had to keep pretending we belonged to. The night was still young, and as much as I tried to ignore the consequences, I found myself looking at him with that familiar urge to leave everything behind.

The tension in the air was thick, my parents' voices rising behind me, but I didn't care. My mom's hand reached for my arm, her grip firm as she tried to pull me back.

"You can't hang around these kids—" My dad's voice cracked through the chaos, but I couldn't take it anymore. I yanked my arm out of my mom's grasp, my heart pounding.

"I'm sorry," I muttered under my breath, though I wasn’t sure I meant it. The words sounded empty. I could hear my dad yelling after me—"Hey! Hey!"—but it only spurred me on. My mom's voice echoed in my ears too, a warning, but I kept pushing past the crowd, making my way toward the edge of the party.

John B, JJ, and Pope were already making their move. John B was standing just a few feet from JJ, his eyes scanning the crowd, but I didn't care. My eyes were locked on JJ, and as I sprinted toward him, I could feel the weight of everything I was leaving behind—the judgment, the expectations—falling away.

JJ saw me coming, a grin spreading across his face. He didn’t wait for me to reach him. Instead, he started walking backwards, arms outstretched like he was calling me to him.

And just like that, I was in his arms, throwing myself at him. JJ caught me easily, lifting me up off the ground with a laugh, spinning me around like we were the only two people who existed. I buried my face in his shoulder, laughing too, feeling the rush of freedom in my veins as he twirled me around.

For a moment, everything was perfect—no fake smiles, no Kooks, no pressure. Just us. Just the Pogues. We were escaping the world we didn’t belong in, even if only for a few hours.

JJ set me down, still grinning, his hand brushing my hair out of my face. "Thought you'd never get here," he said, his voice warm with amusement. "Welcome to the escape, Lani."

I smiled back at him, shaking my head, but I couldn’t stop the excitement from bubbling inside me. "You know I can't stay away."

As we turned to walk away, I could hear the faint sound of my parents still yelling behind me, but it felt like it was coming from another world. JJ, Pope, and John B were already ahead, moving with purpose toward Rixons. I caught up with them, the night stretching out before us, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was where I was meant to be.

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