#or if roses are used it feels like a call back

[melioraskz]

Rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife.

A/N : I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… this wasn’t based on anything in particular and is definitely not historically accurate, this is just another universe LOL!

Warning : brief mention of SA, mentions of whores, homophobia (not by any of the characters, just mentioned in a backstory!), giving head (female receiving), tiny hint of overstimulation, almost caught in the act, probably forgot something lol ! NOT PROOFREAD !!!

(Pirate) Han Jisung x (afab) Reader

Summary : After being captured by a gang of bandits you get saved by a mysterious man called Jisung, what you don’t know is that he is in fact something your parents always warned you for, a pirate.

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“Stay away from me!”

“Wow wow wow little lady, relax. I’m not going to harm you” the man in front of you said with his hands up in the air in surrender despite the small yet devilishly sharp knife still laid between his thumb and index finger.

“Do you want my help or not?” He asked, raising a brow as he looked at you up and down.

“I’ve got everything under control, thank you very much” you spat back, sighing deeply as you try to once again squirm out of the tight robe that was around your body and hands.

Everything was in fact not under control. There you were, bound to the pole, hands tied behind your back and hair stuck to your face with the sweat from your forehead, breathing heavy with your dress half cut up by the bandits who took you capture. Despite their desperate tries you had manage to keep them away from you enough for them to not take it further than some disgusting groping and touched here and there. However despite your deadly looks you shot their way it couldn’t take away the looks of desire they shot in your direction as another one tried to cut off a button of your blouse…

The aggravating man who had jumped on board of the ship all cocky started to whistle as he sat up on the edge of the boat, carelessly taking the knife and removed some dirt under his finger nails. “Just let me know when you need my help, missy” he sung, acting all nonchalantly as if he wasn’t also on a bandit ship, all alone against the 30 men that could show up any second. Not that you had any hope that he would survive one of the men for that matter. They were all buff, scary with scars everywhere, you could tell they were up to no good. This guy? He was skinny, lanky built, curly brown hair and despite his aura feeling like he would be a big man… he was quite a short guy.

“Fine, just get me out of here before they come back” you mutter, the guy looking up at you, stopping mid-through the melody he was whistling. Then he shook his head and his lips left a few of tsk tsk tsk to show his displeasure. “What sort of lady are you? Not even a simple please? I’ve met whores down at the red district with more charm and politeness than you” he stated and rose a brow. That awful awful cockiness would drive you mad but you were desperate.

“Please can you help me out of these fucking ropes? I’m not planning on becoming these bandits slave or sex toy” you state, earning a pleased smirk by the mysterious guy who by ease jumped down from the edge and walked up to you. He then easily cut off the rope using the knife before he put it back into the holder in his belt.

“There we go, now I suggest we leave before those idiots come back” he says, a smug smile on his lips. Within a second you had stepped away from the damn pole, singing deeply as you rubbed your previously tied up wrists with your hands to ease the irritation that the rope had caused. “Thanks” you sigh, walking over to the edge and looked out at the dock, multiple ships stood there and you could hear the muffled sounds of parties and people if you looked out to the town ahead of you… “where even are we?” You sigh, not sure where they had taken you, surely from the accent of the man it was far away from your home…

“Welcome to Incheon city, ma’am! The place filled with dreams, nightmares, whores, pirates and a great amount of cheap alcohol” the man burst out, now somehow standing on the edge walking around as if it wasn’t a 10 meter drop down to the ice cold water below. “Oh fuck! I’m Jisung, by the way, Han Jisung” he added. “It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?” He asked proudly.

You were about to answer when you heard a voice behind you.

“She has escaped!” A roaring man’s voice yelled as he had climbed up the ladder on the other side. You remembered that man very well, after all he had tried to fuck you at least seven times since your capture a few days ago. Along with him came 4 others, you look back at Jisung with panicked eyes, but you were met by a pair of awfully calm ones. He let out a sigh in displeasure, almost as if he thought the whole ordeal were just bothersome.

“Alright boys, let’s say after me” Jisung started, grabbing one of the robes that the bandits used to climb up to the watch tower. “If you are despite to get a quick fuck, go to a whore house, not kidnap someone” he then continued, cutting the rope off with the knife he had previously used on the ropes that had you tied up. Then before the men could reach you he swung in the rope, using his legs and made 2 of the men fall to the ground in a loud groan. That’s when he grabbed both of the men’s revolvers, tossing one of them to you, which you catch in pure panic. Looking at the man, he easily got all men on the floor, despise them being twice his weight. “Close those pretty eyes for me, pretty lady” Jisung instructed, as if it was an instinct you did exactly like he said and as soon as your eyelids had fallen down so all you saw was darkness the ship echoed with a shot, another another, another and-

“All done, missy” a voice said, opening your eyes you saw the men’s lifeless bodies on the wooden floor, blood painting the deck that poured out of their head. It wasn’t the first time you had ever encountered a dead body before but it was certainly the first time seeing so much blood at the same time, despite being outside you swore you could smell the stench of iron in the red dark liquid ahead of you. Jisung however didn’t give you the luxury to take in the scene for more than a few second, he had other plans. He grabbed the rope he had used before and swung in it, grabbing your waist as you let out a screech, holding onto him with all dear might. You were certain you’d fall straight into the ice cold water below but before you could think twice you felt your feet hit a steady familiar sensation. You open your eyes you had no clue that you even closed in the first place and there you were, still holding onto the man with all your might but standing on the ground below…

“We should leave before more men come back and notice the tiny little mess I caused on their ship” he stated, you realise how damn close he was to your body… your heart beating fast in your chest, perhaps it was the adrenaline of being rescued or seeing the dead bodies that flooded through you, perhaps it was for the fact that this bold man had laid his hands on you and it wasn’t for the wrong intentions, at least that’s what you thought it was?

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The music was loud, people chit chattering even louder, women with dresses that enhances the chest area was practically fucking some men in the corners. But after what you went through? The dodgy bar that Jisung took you to was a luxury hotel from what you had been dealing with capture at that ship…

You get snapped out of your thoughts with about bang, in front of you stood now a large pint of beer, fizzing and foaming up to the edges. Jisung then sat down and took a large chunk of his own pint he still held in his hand. “There we go, don’t worry, the beer is on me. I figured you’d need it after that whole experience. I doubt those shitheads knows how to feed a lady” he stated, chuckling a bit, using the other chair next to him as a stand for his feet as he let out a groan in relief. “Now, what was that name of yours? I didn’t get catch it last time”

“My name?”

“Your name”

“Oh, right. It’s Y/N, Y/L/N Y/N” you whispered. When you said your surname you saw how Jisung choked on his beer, almost spitting it out again in shock. He hit his chest repeatedly until the beer had gone down the right pipe again.

“Fucking hell? As in the Y/L/N-clan? You’re their daughter? You’re a fucking high class noble woman! How the fuck did you end up captured by them then? Isn’t that miles and miles away?” He asked. Looking at you with huge eyes, the foam of the beer had given him a light moustache. You let out a slight giggle from the look on his face, then you take a big chunk of your own beer.

“I ran away, they set you marry me away 4 days ago, that night I couldn’t take it, I hated that old man they set me up with, he was at least three times my age but the wallet weight more than my family’s love for me I suppose. What I didn’t calculate for was that I’d be captured in the middle of the night by those men who had no idea who I was, so they said they’d keep me as their whore, slave or both. I sailed stuck to that pole until this evening, so thank you for saving me, I wish I could repay you but I don’t have anything of worth on me” you whispered, feeling a flood of guilt flush over you, he had saved your life and you couldn’t even repay him?

“I’m not asking for a payment, Y/N. I saved you because I felt like it, not from the goodness of my heart, not from whatever your noble brain can come up with, I saved you because I was bored and saw you on their deck. Alright? No need to pay me” he stated. Crossing his feet over the other on the chair next to him.

“But there must be something-“

“Enough. I don’t need anything I promise, we’re alright” he said quickly. Looking directly into your eyes. You could feel your heart beat faster again… it could possibly not be adrenaline now, right? For sure he is handsome, but is he even your type? Do you even have a type?

“So what will happen with you now? I’d say get a new dress is your first option, you can’t walk around with your tits almost hung out unless you want someone to accuse you for being a whore” Jisung stated, which made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You quickly tried to gather the material that was left from what the men had cut off, looking down at your ripped and ruined clothings...

“I have no money and nowhere to go, but do not worry about me, I’ll find a way” I say calmly, smiling in a reassuring manner, even if you were terrified. When you had ran away from home you had no plan, you just knew you had to get out of there before it was too late…

“I may have an old dress or two for you to get, neither of my mates will mind, it’s not like they walk around in a skirt ever..”

“Your mates?”

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Your chest was beating faster than ever, you felt like you’d pass out any moment…

“You’re a pirate?”

Your entire life your parents had warned you about the pirates that hunted the seven seas. They took what they wanted, murdered, fucked the women and ran off, your father had always said if you ever had the displease of coming a cross a pirate run away and don’t look back before you call the local sheriff. Perhaps if you had heard about this before he rescued you, you’d agree to your father’s words but now? Especially after spending a couple hours with the man you had come to quite enjoy his company. A sexy man who seemed charming enough with perhaps a bit too big of an ego than you’d like, how could he be such a criminal? Being a pirate is a death sentence if you get caught, you won’t even get a trial? Why would this man choose this path of life?

“What did you expect?” Jisung asked in an amused tone as he practically carried you up the rope to his ship, placing you down on the edge of the ships railing, letting you sit there as he climbed on the other side and then carried you bridal style over to the deck where he sat you down carefully.

“I thought you-“

“Were a man of honour and prosperity? Ma’am you’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking for a hero or a good man” he stated as he fumbled up a key that was hooked on a piece of string around his neck underneath his shirt. He then unlocked the giant trap door leading to the inside of the ship. You both climb down there, you were met by the stench of rum and seawater which made you make a slight grimace.

“We should have some women’s clothing down here from when we raided this noble family all the way in Busan. Like fuck you should have seen those dumb posh faces when-“ he stopped himself, realising that you may take offence by his harsh words about the upper class since he now knew you were upper class as well. “Sorry..”

“No offence taken. To be quite frank, there is a reason I left that place, no money in the world could make me feel happy in that hell. I may have lived in a mansion but that mansion was a jail impossible to break out of in my eyes” you say, sighing deeply as you start to look around through bits and bobs that was scattered around the room. “To be honest I’m envying you. You’re free, away from responsibilities, marriage, birthing children, preferably sons and don’t even get me started on the dreadful gatherings, all the noble ladies wanted to speak about was money of men. I’m tired of it..” you say, slowly turning to a desk with a bunch of documents and paper on it, on the top of a shelf that stood right above the desk was a picture in a frame of 8 young men next to the very ship they were in right now, you could easily pick out where Jisung were despite the low resolution of the picture, with his arm around one of the other guys with a huge smile on his mouth.

“That’s my crew, you see the one with the hat is our leader, or captain, Chan is his name. It started when him and I met all the way in Australia where we stole this glory out of some poor bastard who used it for the queens guards, we decorated it and then before we could leave Australia we met this poor bloke called Felix who joined us” Jisung explained, then pointing at a guy with long bright hair who was winking with one eye. “He already had a huge penny on his head at home after his father found out he was a homosexual, we took him in, we don’t give a fuck who he sticks his dick inside, he is our brother nonetheless” he stated.

“That’s very beautiful if you ask me. You claim to be a bad person but a bad person wouldn’t do that” you explained slowly, looking at him, realising he stood right behind you, with his head almost hanging over your shoulder so that he also could view the old frame, you slowly chew on the inside of your cheek… he really was handsome for a pirate… Han clear his throat before he continues, slowly feeling a bit unease by her words, why would a lady like her truly find him, a criminal, that good?

“Well we figured as we were going to be pirates we already would have a straight way to the gallons if caught, adding hiding a gay man on the list didn’t seem too bad” Jisung stated, looking at you for a few seconds before his eyes quickly turn to the picture again.

“And that’s Seungmin and Jeongin, we met them finally enough at that raid in Busan, they joined us quickly, they’re young but extremely fun and always tells the best stories when we are up late at night around a campfire” he explains with a slight smile. “Oh and that’s Changbin, Hyunjin and Minho. Minho is second captain after Chan, he is also the head cook, probably the only one of us that can actually cook well. Changbin is also the fastest at climbing ropes you’ll ever see! I swear we have accused him of being a witch at least fourteen times!” He explained, smiling at himself as he thought of his dear friends. “And a little secret, we are fairly sure that Felix has had sex with Hyunjin before, we don’t know when but there is something with the way they act…However, whenever we try to get some information out of them they bulge, what a dumb bunch for thinking we’d judge them” he explained and laughed. “They’re all dumb but… they’re the only family I have left”

“Where are they now then?” You ask, realising you hadn’t even seen a trace of any of the said men since you entered the ship.

“Oh they’re in town, probably getting fucked up with all the alcohol, that was my plan too until… yeah” Jisung admitted. “I’m sorry for ruining your plans, Jisung” you sigh as you quickly turn around, face as close as it could be without touching from each other, his eyes looking almost black in front of you due to the lack of light in there… your heart racing faster and faster, he was dangerously close to you, with one hand resting on the shelf behind you, trapping you between the desk and his body…

“Trust me… I’m glad I had my plans changed, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you” Jisung whisper, you can feel his breath against your skin, keeping you eyes at him you slowly placed one hand on his chest that was slightly exposed due to the buttons he had unbuttoned. You swore you could see a slight smirk on his lips perk up. You could feel his hand that wasn’t against the shelf behind you travel to your lower back in a firm get gentle grip.

Before you could even think of what you were doing, you kissed him. You didn’t know what went through your head fuck you liked it. You could taste the beer you had previously had in your mouth as the kiss progressed, deepening and becoming more rough as you became familiar with each other. He hadn’t even questioned it as he had kissed you back the moment your lips met his.

The kiss was hot, breathy, yet you felt more relaxed with this man than you had ever done with a man at home. You felt how his hand that was on the shelf met your hip on the opposite side as the other before he easily lift up up and placed your ass on the table behind you. Then for a moment he broke the kiss before his mouth traveled along your mouth down to your neck and collarbone. You let a moan slip through your lips, the only sound echoing through the walls was the sounds of your heavy breaths along with whatever sound the sea could make from the shore.

His mouth leads its way back to yours, unable to stay away from it for too long. You let your tongue run over his bottom lip and he opens his mouth for you. When you feel his tongue meet yours, blistering electricity shocks down your spine in pure lust. You kiss him harder, his tongue mapping out every inch of yours as if he is in search of the lost treasure in there. He pulls your legs apart so he can stand right between them, feeling his body pressed against yours. You let his hands roam your body, then as he grabs some of the poor material that still held your chest in decent coverage and you hear a loud skrratch. That fucker tore it! As if it was barely anything to tore anyways… his hands cupped your breasts, breathing heavy into your mouth. His hands was fucking cold, but oh it felt so good. He then stop kissing you for a moment, looking into your eyes as both tried to desperately catch your breaths. The tension was electrifying.

“Can I fuck you?” He ask out of the blue after a few seconds of being silence.

As the words left his mouth it took you by a surprise, asking that question when your tits was already free for him when you had willingly had him like this. Almost a comedic moment and a rather funny timing on his part. Instead of answering you grabbed his shirt, giving him a wet kiss on the mouth. He took that sentence as a yes.

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You had never met a pirate before, let alone fucked one. But there you were. He had somehow managed to move you from the desk to the floor. His shirt tossed somewhere along the way along with his trousers. Your upper part of the dress torn a long time ago but your long skirt still intact, him? He was under your skirt between your legs, licking long stripes on your pussy, holding his strong hands around your thighs, partly for keeping you from closing them around him, partly because himself needed something to hold on to.

Your moans echoed through the room, your legs trembling as you covered your upper part of the face with your hand, moaning louder. His mouth doing wonders down there as you were slowly feeling like you’ll reach your peak any moment now.

“I’m gonna cum, Jisung” you breathe out, heavy breaths making it almost impossible for you to say a full sentence.

“Then cum for me, darling” he growled from under your skirt, a loud slap echoed as you felt his hand slap ass. That slap was almost like the last thing you needed, you felt the knotting feeling in your lower stomach build up to the point where it overflow. You let out a breath of pleasure as you came, breathing heavy as you tried to catch your breath. You felt how Jisung kept licking up every single drop of you, feeling your legs turn into jelly as you tried to catch your high along with handling the overstimulation happening.

That’s when you heard it…

“Why is it unlocked?”

“I don’t know”

Then you heard a click, they’re loading their revolver…

Jisung knew that voice extremely well, so the panic arose even faster. He quickly got out of your skirt, his lips glossy from your fluids. “Fuck fuck fuck” he whispered, trying to gather his clothes.

“Guys it’s just me” he yelled, hoping if they were faster than him it would lead to at least them not being shot. That’s when he also tossed one of the dresses he promised you your way, quickly trying to put on his trousers. You act fast as well, doing everything in your power to get the damn dress on and you threw the old dress into a pile of hay in the corner. If you had more time to think perhaps it would be more melodramatic, throwing away the last piece of your old life as if it was nothing. But now? You had no time to think.

You signalled to the halfway dressed man to help you with the zipper in the back. Jisung went right into action, rushing over to you, managing with a trembling hand to get the zipper up right in time for…

“Who’s that?” A voice Said, you remembered him from the picture, that’s Chan, the captain.

“Oh!” Jisung said, clearing his throat, quickly wiping his mouth from whatever excess that was left from you. “This is Miss Y/N. I.. I- uh-“ Jisung said in panic, not sure how to explain to his captain what the fuck he had been doing down here. “I-I was lending her one of our dresses, it’s not like we use them right? I accidentally ruined hers by dropping beer on it” he lies, giving the captain a half sided smile. “But now as you can see she is in the dress so I’ll just go ahead and help her off the ship, thanks” he said and practically pushed you up the ladder to the deck of the ship, leaving the confused captain to wonder what the hell he just witnessed.

“D-Do I really have to go?” You ask slowly, looking at him under the moonlight, a light breeze making his hair blow in the wind… you felt a lump in your stomach again, not like last time, this time you knew… you didn’t wanna leave him.

“W-Well we sail at dawn and perhaps you should find a new place to stay and-“

“Can’t I stay with you?”

“Y/N… I can’t ask that of you? You’ll become a criminal, a whore in the eye of law?” He say, his eyes giving such soft look yet so much pain behind them at the idea of you perhaps leaving for good… you slowly walk up to him, placing one hand on his cheek, making him look at you… he had shown you more humanity, more freedom and lust within these few hours you’d known him than anyone else… you knew you had to stay here…

“I rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife” you whisper, looking into his eyes, seeing how the pain in his eyes flood away and replace with happiness as he grabs your waist, lifts you up and spin you two around, letting out a loud laugh of happiness. You let out a screech and held onto his shoulders tightly as he spun you in case he would drop you, not that he ever would… As he sit you down again he remove his hands form your waits and cups your cheeks like you cupped his a moment ago, placing a couple chaste kisses on your mouth.

“Oh this is” kiss “going to be” kiss kiss “fucking great!” Kiss kiss kiss “I’ll show you the world, I’ll show you what real freedom is”

You couldn’t answer before you heard a voice. You look over at the trapdoor where Chans head stuck out, he held up the dress from the haystack between two fingers.

“Uh, guys? I thought you said it had beer on it, not that you ripped it apart..”

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[sweetlady555]

Unlocking the hidden power of Mars 12H:

Hi everyone! I apologize for not having been uploading as much but I’m back and writing about Mars 12H because it's so powerful and I rarely EVER see anyone talking about it. As I’ve decided to step fully into my power starting November 2024, I’ve recently realized something powerful about my energy that completely changed my perspective, I will be using Kim Kardashian as my example as she is a Mars 12H native :$

What Is Mars in the 12H? 🤔

Mars represents drive, action and motivation. The 12H is the house of the subconscious, hidden things, spirituality, behind the scenes, hidden strengths, the spiritual realm. When these two energies combine, they create an energy that works below the surface often in ways we aren't fully conscious of. 👁️

One thing you should know is Mars 12H natives makes moves in silence they don't need outside noise or your projections! You'll see how it's done just watch, you don't know need to know how, why or when they're going to do it, but just know they've been multiple steps ahead of you. Its like this divine calling thats always in your ear telling you which move shall be next and its such a strong force that its like if you don’t take action itll make you feel so……… wrong its like a itch. Usually Mars 12H natives do take the action and it leads to blessings I like to call them. Mars 12H natives do not feel the need to force anything, when the thought and feeling comes you do that shit! Mars 12H natives are always mysteriously led to exactly where they need to be.. this is likely why they get their rep for being so mysterious & secretive! Its imporant as a Mars 12H native to listen to your gut and trust that everything will work out as planned, and this doesn’t go for just Mars 12H natives it goes for everyone!

Let's use Kim Kardashian as a famous example on how Mars 12H manifests for the natives, as a Mars in 12H native I feel like I can relate to her ambition and I can understand her doings.

Kim Kardashain always knew she was going to be a star, if you have seen her videos of her younger self she states, "and you're all going to remember me as this beautiful little girl" For both Kim and people with Mars 12th house, the confidence and determination to become a star or successful often comes from a deep subconscious belief in their destiny. Even if they don't know the "how" or the "when," they just FEEL compelled to take action towards their dreams, sometimes in ways that seem hidden or almost effortless to others. In Kim's case, she didn't just fall into success, she actively pursued it through her work, image crafting, and seizing opportunities. Even before she became widely known, she had an innate sense of how to position herself and build her brand. This is the Mars 12H signature, an internal drive that doesn't always need external validation or explanations to succeed. Many people accuse Kim of "destiny swapping" with Paris Hilton but let's be so fo real right now.. Destiny swapping doesn't exist, and I feel like people just can't believe Kim rose above Paris Hilton which seemed so effortlessly, but not enough people credit her for her hard work and perseverance. People have accused her for being a reptellian too 😭 ? because I guess its that hard to understand hard work, dedication and logic actually does pay off! Kim has a vision and she's still actively working hard for her vision behind the scenes, and if its one thing we all know its that Kim will chase her bag regardless!

My experience with Mars in the 12H :

Growing up, I always knew I was going to be something special, I knew I was gonna be influential (I have 10H placements so this might manifest differently) Last year, I had rose to fame very quickly online through my image and the amount of people who were confused af how I did it was flattering not gonna lie! I would hear people tell me things like “did you sell your soul?” or “whats the method?” or “you only got it because you had this and this” . I was always in my own bubble online posting what I feel destined to do no matter what my ego said. I thought with my soul a lot of times even if it was shocking, so honestly I could see how people would accuse me of “selling my soul” or having a certain method to my influential social media fame. There is a lot of pain & passion behind my doings and I logically plan everything out so it kind of flatters me honestly! To me this just shows how Mars 12H natives are skilled in making something out of themselves coming from being a underdog to becoming someone highly admired.

The Energy Of A 12H Mars Native :

Mars in the 12H natives can have this strong powerful magnetic effect on others without them even realizing it but others will feel this on a subconcious level. They truly have a lot of appeal! Its almost like this hidden power or secret magentism that draws people in which could attract a lot of admirers, monitoring spirits, actual spirits even! 😭 The truth is though, Mars 12H natives do really have this strong inner power within them, they tend to be very confident in themselves and this energy reflects on the outside even through the screen. They have this aura around them that can’t be ignored. Mars 12H natives will often be seen as untouchable or enigmatic, just like Kim she knew how to use this energy to use this subtle allure to captivate her audience.

People with Mars 12H have this sexual energy that is more felt, not seen! This can make their presence intoxicating as others may sense their sexual energy without knowing where it’s coming from. Its almost hypnotic! Its a deeply rooted emotional and spiritual sexual energy often rooted in the subconcious. With Kim, she knew how to use this energy in her brand being percieved as seductive, powerful and confident, but it wasnt just about her body — it was about the way she carried herself and commanded attention without saying much.

Despite being more subtle, Mars in the 12H gives the individual an almost unconcious control over their sexual energy. Theres an innate understanding of how to play on emotions and create attraction often with very little effort. This creates an energy that is simultaneously passive and powerful and you can’t deny or ignore it either. Almost like being in the background but still being the force everyone notices.

There is a lot of fantasy and imagination that takes place with Mars 12H natives and how theyre percieved, natives with this placement tend to make others fantasize about them not just by how they look but how they make people feel! Their energy creates a sense of longing, almost like a dream or a fantasy that others want to live in. Kim Kardashian has been able to tap into this fantasy energy by cultivating an image of perfect beauty and luxury, which keeps her in a fantasy world that fans want to be apart of. This fantasy element is key to her sexual appeal, as it makes her seem unreachable and unattainable.

Mars 12H natives, if they aren’t aware of their power makes them a target for insecure people and spirits in the physical and spiritual realm. People will often notice this energy before you even do and project the most they can and throw as much dirt as they can on you because they’re afraid of your power! Its highly advised you take the precautions and make sure you are being careful in who you’re telling your business to, what things you might be opening in the physical and spiritual realm, who you let into your space, who you’re doing business with all of it! Dont let them take advantage of you!

I also had read that Mars 12H often repress their emotions or their anger and although it is that in some cases, Mars 12H natives just tend to strategically move instead of acting out on anger or resentment in the moment to avoid unnecessary conflict and to stay in power and their own peace. Its a silent strength many Mars 12H natives have where you don’t have to scream or shout to prove yourself, you can strategically wait for the right moment, then act with precision. This ability to stay focused and composed on long term goals is what makes Mars 12H natives have this quiet power behind them. People might not realize that this anger comes from a calculated, startegic place, its not random but it could be percieved as out of nowhere. The 12H is often linked to subconcious energies, hidden feelings and things that are not visible to others, so when Mars 12H natives express their anger it can come off as intense, mysterious or even uncontrollable to those around you. People may not fully understand why you do the things you do or whats going on beneath the surface so this often leads to people labeling your anger more extreme.

The Spirtual Realm

Mars in the 12H natives are often deeply connected to the spiritual realm, but they experience it in a unique way. This placement can give them a natural sensitivity to invisible forces or energies like I mentioned earlier a divine force! Whether that may be intuition, sprits or subconcious currents that influence their actions. Mars in the 12H is often described as “Behind the scenes” or operating in the background, which makes these individuals especially attuned to the unseen world—the spiritual, emotional and psychological realm.

Mars, the planet of action, aggression and energy, in the 12h amplifies the natives ability to tap into intuitive and spiritual currents. This placement suggests that instead of being overly action-oriented in a physical way, Mars energy often works in more subtle and intuitive forms. For these individuals, the battle often happens internally-in the subconscious, in dreams, or in their connection to the spirit world.

Mars in the 12th house people often experience a sense of being guided by invisible forces, and they can be highly receptive to messages or signs from the spirit realm. This doesn't always mean they consciously hear or see spirits, but rather that they might feel guided by an internal voice or experience moments of divine timing that feel too precise to be mere coincidence. They may also experience heightened sensitivity to energy, such as a feeling of being watched, sudden shifts in mood or vivid dreams. Its not a common occurrence to hear ringing in your ears when you’re picking and feeling up on certain energies with these natives!

Since Mars 12H is a powerful subtle energy this makes spirits from the spiritual realm more attracted to them, Mars 12H natives are very assertive and felt by these spirits hence why certain spirits like to latch onto them. Its not common either to see spirits, see things move suddenly and even a spirit taking control over your body when you’re asleep. It sounds scary but don’t let this make you afraid, I once fell into this when I was around 8 or 9 when I was sleeping and a spirit had woken me up in the middle of the night and made me literally slam my face into my headboard that made the principal think I was getting hurt at home, i was always targeted by this spirit. I was the only one who could speak to it and make them do certain things like move toys and such. I didnt realize at the time I was connecting with aggresive spirits 😅 and not God. Its highly important for Mars 12H natives to strongly protect themselves when they are asleep because when you are asleep the veil between the spiritual realm and physical realm is very thin!

Mars 12H natives embody this spirtual warrior archetype, they can feel a calling to fight or stand up for spiritual causes or to protect others, but they do this in a way that is not outwardly visible to others. Mars 12H natives might actively avoid conflict when it comes to spiritual warfare or protecting their energy and their peace. They may also engage in energy work, spiritual practices, or rituals in private to protect themselves from unwanted spiritual influence. This is often done subtly or privately, as they don't always like to broadcast their spiritual strength. Their Mars energy in the 12th house can make them exceptionally good at clearing negative energy, transmuting it, and defending themselves from energetic or spiritual attacks, but they may prefer to do so behind the scenes, where others don't see it.

Mars in the 12th house natives may also experience periods of isolation or retreat, where they feel the need to withdraw from the physical world to connect with the unseen world. These moments of solitude allow them to recharge spiritually, process subconscious material, and connect with higher realms of consciousness. During these times, they may feel a deep connection with their higher self or with the spiritual beings guiding them.

When it comes to spiritual practices, these individuals are likely to have a natural talent for healing or working with energy, whether it's through prayer, meditation, crystals, or other metaphysical practices. Mars in the 12th house helps them channel life force energy in a quiet, powerful way, almost like a spiritual warrior operating in the background, quietly shifting energy around them.

Its important to watch out as a Mars 12H native what you are putting your energy into as these things will manifest almost immediately. When you decide to shift your attention to other IMPORTANT things you will often notice your energy was literally the foundation for whatever negative thing that was happening. So be Aware! You know how powerful your energy is.

This was a long post but as a Mars 12H native, I rarely see any accurate or in depth posts of Mars 12H individuals, I had to really dig into my experiences to understand this was Mars 12H influence all along.. In my opinion, Mars 12H natives deserve so much more respect for what they do because a lot of it goes unseen and for multiple reasons lol. I havent wrote in a while but I was getting a huge urge calling to post about this. If any mars 12h individuals relate to any of these experiences please let me know because I’d love to hear from you! and please be careful 💟 may god protect your divine energy, space and you ☮️

[elizabethemerald]

The Infiltration

The Beginning of the New Pantheon

Masterpost

Donna Troy dialed a familiar number as she flew through the air from Mount Olympus. She could feel the weight of her coming responsibilities on her shoulders already. Zeus had chosen her to be Queen of the New Olympians. She would need a whole freak out later, but for now, she had to inform the others. 

“This is Nightwing.” Dick’s voice came through her comm, calm, curt, and ready for any crisis. Just what she needed. 

“Hey Boy Wonder.” Donna said.

“I get the feeling this isn’t a social call.” 

“Unfortunately no. I’m going to send you a list of junior leaguers, can you make sure they are waiting for me at Titans Tower? Along with any of you bats that are free.” 

“Of course, Donna. Does this have anything to do with the emergency meeting Diana just called with the rest of the League?” 

“It sure does.” 

“Got it. What should I tell the others? What should I be ready for?” 

Donna took a moment to think through what she thought would happen and how the others would react. 

“Tell your birds to polish their batarangs and prepare for an uncertain diplomatic situation.”

“Got it. I’ll round up the others and meet you at the Tower.” 

“Thanks.” Donna almost ended the call, but stopped. “And Nightwing?” 

“Yeah?” His voice was half distracted as he sought out where the other bats were currently. 

“I’m going to need your help to keep them all from falling apart.” 

“Don’t worry Donna. I’ve got your back.” 

.

Cassie was baffled by her mission. How was it that there was a group of heroes that had flown completely under the radar of the Justice League, yet had somehow earned the respect of the Olympians? Her list had a bunch of different names on it, but all had the same location. She had looked up the names in the JL systems as she flew from Olympus to the middle of nowhere Illinois. None of the people were in the database. Red Robin would be pissed if he knew. 

Even more concerning was the fact that there wasn’t even a town listed at the coordinates. Batman insisted that the League had the best satellites with the best cameras and there was nothing in the area. There weren’t even any JL calls! If there were a bunch of heroes who had been facing things that had been known to the Olympians, there should have been some calls from civilians for help right? 

She was really hoping this wasn’t some kind of weird murder-cult or unsanctioned government organization. She hated dealing with those, and for now she would be on her own. Young Justice got up to a lot of weird stuff that didn’t make it into the League reports, especially under Red Robin’s leadership, and this might top all the rest. 

Cassie landed just on the outskirts of what appeared to be a regular suburban town. Her eyebrows rose at the sign that welcomed her to Amity Park. Underneath the city’s name had previously been an older town slogan, she could still read the faded letters even though the words themselves had been removed, “The Most Haunted City in the US!” Over those faded marks was a new slogan, “A Place to Live.” Clearly the slogan had changed recently, with a real half-assed effort. 

Over top the new slogan was some graffiti in a neon green spray paint that crossed out the other words and said, “Welcome to Hell.” She supposed it only made sense for someone who would replace Hades as the lord of the Underworld to live in a place like this. She sighed to herself, switched her uniform to her more stealth focused look and crept past the city limits. 

Her feelings of concern grew when she saw what was clearly a government blockade stretching across the road into the rest of the city proper. Multiple all white vans blocked all out going traffic and the in going road was limited to a single lane. She could make out multiple government goons in tacky white suits carrying all manner of glowing green weapons; blasters, rifles, even what looked like a bazooka. 

A fence extended from the blockade and seemed to wrap around the entire city. The fence was topped with barbed wire and had strange sensors every few yards. She pulled a few wires, and connected them to the small palm computer she carried with her equipment. She might not be as techy as Red Robin and Impulse were, but she was better than Superboy, and Red Robin made sure they were all equipped to handle the basics of infiltration and espionage. 

Whatever the sensors were searching for, and it wasn’t movement, heat, radiation or anything else she could figure out on her own, they also didn’t detect her. There didn’t appear to be any cameras that she could see, so the goons were solely dependent on these sensors. This was becoming even more of a mystery, and she hadn’t even found Phantom yet. 

Cassie lifted off, flying easily over the fence to land on the other side. Both the goons at the gate and the sensors were aimed at the sky, so she had to imagine that whatever they were trying to contain was a known flier. Even if the sensors couldn’t detect her, she would have an easier time avoiding problems on the ground even if it would take longer to get around. 

She walked quickly into the mid-sized town from the outskirts and her concerns only grew. There were hardly any cars on the roads, which made perfect sense considering the road was pocked with massive craters like the town had been bombarded by meteors. The few citizens she could see hurried by as if afraid to be caught out on the streets. 

This was a city under siege, but from what? 

Also, why hadn’t the Justice League been called? 

Cassie had a bad feeling that she wouldn’t like the answer to either of those questions. 

She hurried through, her eyes peeled for any threat, as well as on the look out for the mysterious Phantom she was supposed to be making contact with. There were stores boarded up, more sensors along with loud speakers on tall poles, and posters warning the populace about a curfew. 

Cassie ducked into an alley at the sound of squealing tires. Her eyes just about bugged out of her head as a silver tank, with that same neon green detailing barreled around the corner. It took out a stop light, then without stopping carried on down to the other end of the street. The tank had what  she could only describe as a cannon on its roof, that same eerie green glow to it. 

She had fought alongside Superboy often enough that her first thought was Kryptonite, but unless there were somehow an entire city of secret Kryptonians, it didn’t make sense for them to carry weapons specifically against the Supers. She leaned out into the street to see if she could see which way it was going, or if there was any sign of what a tank like that was needed for. 

“Hey! Get out of the streets!” A voice hissed to her from the opposite alley way. 

Cassie whipped her head up. There in the opposite alley were two teenagers, desperately waving her over. She double checked that the tank had turned the corner and wasn’t in sight and she ran across to them. They pulled her away from the street into the back alley behind one of the businesses. 

She looked the two of them over once they were no longer moving. The girl was goth, with dark hair, pale skin, a leather jacket, and backpack with several plants hanging out of it. Cassie thought she might get along very well with Raven. The boy had dark skin, a ratty and stained beanie and the oldest PDA she had ever seen even if it looked modded to Hades and back. He would probably get along entirely too well with Red Robin. She would have to keep the two of them apart. 

The boy was watching back the way they had come, his PDA in his hand as he checked for any followers. The girl was watching with Cassie with the same examining glare she was used to from Batman. 

“What are you doing?” The girl snapped her question out. “We told all teenagers to stay off the streets. It's not safe with the GIW on patrol!” 

Cassie ratcheted up her mental alarm scale quite a bit. This whole town already had so many red flags it looked like a ski slope, and now she was adding even more. She set her feet and squared her shoulders. She was a member of Young Justice. She wasn’t going to let this happen. 

“I need you two to tell me everything you know. I’m called Wonder Girl and I’m with the Justice League and I’m here to help.” Cassie said, using her “Daughter of Zeus” voice that she reserved for during a crisis. Impulse always said he could hear thunder in her voice when she did that. 

“What’s the Justice League?” The boy asked, and Cassie was knocked onto her back foot. She had purposely said the main League because people sometimes looked down on YJ and TT because they were kids, but how could someone not even know about the Justice League? They were in the news almost every day for one reason or another. 

“Uh, the Justice League is a group of heroes that protect Earth? They’ve fought off alien invasions and saved lives and things like that? Because of my strength I usually help fight off meta humans who want to conquer the world or steal stuff.” 

The two teens looked completely baffled and Cassie just gave up trying to catalog the red flags in this town and just marked the whole thing as FUBAR. She would probably need the help of the rest of Young Justice to get this sorted, or maybe even the full League. 

“Well, ‘Wonder Girl’ my name’s Sam and-”

“Wait, Samantha Manson?” Cassie ignored the implied finger quotes around her hero name in her excitement that she may have just found one of the people she was looking for. 

“My name is Sam.” Sam snapped. 

Cassie ignored her clear irritation and unrolled the scroll she had been given, ice and frost cracking and flaking off as she did so. If Sam Manson was here, it made sense that she would know the other heroes the Olympians were looking for. Cassie closely examined the list she had before looking up at the boy. He didn’t look like a Jazz, or Danielle, he might be a Dan or Phantom himself, but considering his collection of tech she could see, she had a good guess of who he could be. 

“And that means, you must be Tucker Foley!” Cassie said triumphantly. 

Both of the teens now looked at her with even more wariness than before. That made sense considering what Cassie had seen, but she now had part of her mission objective in front of her. She dismissed the stealth mode on her costume, flicked her wrist to unfurl her lightning lasso and allowed some of her ‘demi-god aura’ out. 

“I am from the Justice League, and I am a hero, but I am also a daughter of Zeus, and I have been sent here on a mission from Olympus to summon the heroes of this town to come to our aid. It is only right that I assist you in any way I can from the troubles you currently face.” 

“What?” “What?”

[baldurs-gape]

Best. Day. Ever.

Who knew that vampiric elves could get appendicitis? Not Gale, that's for sure. He had kissed Astarion goodbye in the car before getting a train to a conference. The plan had been to be away for three days. Alas, on the second day he got a call from Karlach of all people to say she was in hospital with Astarion, he was being wheeled off to the operating theatre with a suspected ruptured appendix. Never before had Gale cursed public transport more, rushing to his room to shove everything into a suitcase and running for a bus to take him to the train station.

"How is he?" He asked Karlach from the taxi that would finally get him to the hospital.

"Just waking up, they've let me sit with him."

"Thank you. I'll be there in ten minutes." Holding the phone away from his mouth, Gale leaned forward to talk to the driver. "I will pay you double your rate if you get me there in five minutes."

Still on the phone, he blindly handed over notes and waved off any change. "Right, through the main entrance, first set of stairs on the right, up a flight, out the corridor and?"

"Turn right, past the corridor to the theatres and it's the next corridor with double doors on the left. It's signposted." Karlach laughed softly. "You're going to love this, he's adorable."

Adorable was not a word Gale would have usually applied to Astarion and his brows rose. Almost tripping up the stairs, he tried not to sprint the last little bit. Slipping through the double doors, the nurses' station was manned by a couple of people, one of whom pointed him to a curtained off rail. Tugging his shirt straight, Gale walked over and took a moment to listen to Karlach's voice, soft and gentle.

"-and then we had to phone Dammon to help us untangle our horns. Can you believe Wyll almost broke my other one? He didn't dare kiss me for days afterward!"

Along with her warm cadence was the steady beep of a machine, no doubt monitoring all sorts of vitals. At least it was all steady and nobody was coming running. Gale stepped in.

The beeping of the machine stopped for a moment, missing one of the regular beats before picking up at a faster pace.

"Wow." Astarion was staring at him with wide eyes, mouth a little open. "You're beautiful."

Usually Gale would have laughed it off, it was something Astarion liked to tell him to fluster him. However, none of the usual teasing was there, just honest awe.

"I could say the same about you," he replied and stepped closer, taking one of Astarion's hands in his. "How are you feeling?"

To his chagrin, the hand was pulled from his with a soft "oh no, no thank you" and Astarion stared up at him, heart still beating fast. Next to the bed, Karlach looked like she was about to lose her battle against laughter.

"You're kind but I'm married," Astarion continued staring at Gale, unblinking.

"I know." Holding up his hand, Gale showed his ring. "I'm married to you."

"Really?" The joy on Astarion's face was unguarded and pure. "You really chose to marry me?"

Reaching out again, Gale's hand was grabbed this time and the ring was inspected as Astarion pulled himself up to get a better look.

"I put that on you. With your permission!" As quickly as Gale's hand was grabbed, it was released as Astarion flopped back and grinned up at the ceiling, a huff of a laugh escaped him before he turned to look at Karlach. "Did you know I was allowed to marry him?"

"I was there, Fangs, as your best man."

If it was possible, Astarion's eyes went wider and he smiled like he'd won the lottery, eyes closed.

"I have friends. Who came to my wedding. To my husband." The words became a mumble but as Karlach and Gale's eyes met, they heard one more sleepy murmur. "Best. Day. Ever."

[thefaithfulnightwriter]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ~ Chapter One

Summary - 𝙄𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 Azriel's mate is banished to another world by Amarantha. To a world she never knew existed. To a different world called Zenithara. She finds herself being stuck in Zenithara for many years. And as more time passes it leads her to giving up hope to ever get back to her family, her mate. It changes her living in such a world. She never once felt safe in Zenithara. But one day when she is given a mask. She finds herself feeling safe and concealed from the world. It gave her a sense of strength and power. Which leads her to persevere in the new world she was in.

But what will happen when she finds herself being sent back to her old world Prythian, to her home in Velaris? What will happen when she is finally reunited with her family… her mate?

Pairing - Azriel x Female!Oc

Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Warnings -  Characters may be a bit OOC, Mature Themes, Gore, Death, Semi Smut, Violence, Language, Weapons, Mention of Past Abuse, Mention of War, Things Will Be Changed, Fluff, Angst, Some Sensitive Subjects, Mating Bonds, Scars, Experimentation, More Will Be Added If Needed.

Disclaimer - I do not own the series ACOTAR. I do own certain characters, and I own my mc. I do own somethings that are made up. I also got some inspiration from some movies and tv shows. So if you see anything familiar.  But i own my writing and whatnot you get where im going and what i am saying lol.

Author's Note - i really hope you like this fic. i gotta say this fic is very challenging for me because of the world building around it and what not. but i do love it. i hope you guys do too. that is all i can think to say lol.

─── Zenithara ───

─── Sky City ───

Gleaming lights were now in the night sky. A plethora of luminous lights is what Annamarie's gaze was on. She was watching the world outside of the large window beside her. Lights of all kinds down below and surrounding her. 

She could also see vast ships and smaller ships flying around in the night sky. In the sky of Zenithara around the 1st Sector also known as the Sky City. 

Sky City being located in the sky on a vast floating island. Anna never understood how the Sky City came to be. She was never good at retaining Zenithara's history. It never interested her or grabbed her attention. And ultimately she never cared for it.

Right now though she was watching the lights shimmer and the ships fly. Lights of different colors flashing and glowing. The ships of all sorts transporting goods and people to locations. 

She couldn't deny it was a beautiful sight. But it could be a bit overwhelming at times. As time passed though and the longer she stayed in Sky City she had gotten used to it. It has been a few years since Anna has been in Sky City now. And it was an amazing city but it wasn't her favorite Sector.  

Middle Ground, the 2nd Sector was her favorite. It was where her favorite home was. Well one of the three homes that she made in Zenithara, in the 3 Sectors. The homes that were just buildings she stayed in. It would never be her true home. Zenithara would never be Anna's true home. Her home is and always would be her old world. 

A place called Pyrthian, in Velaris. Where everyone she loved was, her true family… and her mate. They were somewhere she couldn't reach. No matter what Anna did she couldn't reach them. It seemed like they were worlds away. Well they were worlds away from Anna’s knowledge. Or more like Anna was worlds away being banished from Prythian.

Anna still remembers somewhat. She remembers bits and pieces of the days, weeks, and months that led up to her banishment. 

She was in Pyrthian. In a place called Under the Mountain. A place ruled by a cruel female named Amarantha. There was a masquerade ball that Anna had attended as emissary of the Night Court. Her being a part of the Night Court's inner circle. 

Being she was the emissary and it was an event to gain relations. Anna had to go. At the time she was attending the ball with her High Lord Rhysand. More so best friend or brother in her eyes. The event was pleasant… until it wasn't.

Amarantha the host had used the ball to her advantage. To execute her plan. A plan that was successful. A plan to steal a part of all seven of the High Lords powers. To get all seven High Lords of Prythian to submit to her. 

Which Amarantha had achieved. She was able to take part of the High Lords powers and keep them submitted to her. And she soon became the new ruler of Prythian. With her ruling it caused a darkness to wash over Prythian. Amarantha truly was a cruel ruler. She killed and torture innocent people. She abused people for fun. She took advantage of many and abused her power without care. 

Amarantha also liked to play with people and use them as puppets.The ones who she used most as her puppets were Anna and Rhysand. She seemed to get the most satisfaction with playing with the two of them. 

But Amarantha liked treating Anna cruelly the most. It was because of how close she was with Rhysand. All the Courts knew how much Rhysand cared for Anna. She was like a sister to him. Everyone knew because they had witnessed their brotherly sisterly bond at meetings and events. Being the two were High Lord and emissary to the Night Court they had to attend such events together.

So many saw their interaction, and saw how much they cared for each other. Even when they hid their true selves from everyone. They couldn't hide the care they had for one another though. They were truly best friends.

Having heard such information, Amarantha used that knowledge and their bond to her benefit. To control Rhysand, which worked on more than one occasion. She would beat Anna black and blue. She would make Anna work as her servant. She would torture her with magic and much more. Anna took such treatment with her head held high. She stayed strong for her Court, her home, her family, for Rhysand, and her mate. 

Even after a year Anna was still strong... mentally. Physically though Anna was weak. Her body and magic were weak. But she kept her head high. Anna knew she had to be and stay strong. Because if she didn't... Anna knew that the first time she'd let her head fall she would go into a downward spiral. She would break. 

Anna wasn't going to let that happen. She wasn’t going to let Amarantha get that satisfaction. And she wasn't going to leave Rhysand on his own. She wasn't going to let him shoulder all the weight by himself. Because she knew he had a lot of weight on his shoulders. 

But while they were Under the Mountain he didn’t tell Anna what he did or what happened to him. But Anna was always there for him and would let him lean on her. Much like he would let her lean on him. The two never really talked about what they did or what happened to them while Under the Mountain. But they did hold each other. 

They would whisper stories and reminisce on memories together. Speaking of their family and trying to keep their memories alive in their mind. So they wouldn't forget them. Rhysand more than once used the little power he had as a daemati to show Anna memories in her mind of their family, and her mate.

Even though a year had passed and they were still Under the Mountain. It felt like eternity for the two. Which they had voiced to each other and agreed it felt like such a long time had passed. But really only one agonising long year had passed. And it was one of those many mornings that they were leaning on one another that they laughed. But it soon was different. 

It was after a moment they laughed and during the early morning hours that Rhysand finally leaned fully on Anna. It was the first time he cried. And not being able to handle the weight, he told Anna everything. Everything that Amarantha had him do, and what she has done to him. Anna held him the whole time as he cried in her arms. 

But when it was time they had to separate and go back to their reality. Anna still couldn't believe what Rhysand had been put through. She couldn't understand why she was being put through such things as well. It caused Anna to be stuck in her head the whole day. Going over what was told to her by Rhysand. Going over everything she has been put through. 

That night was the night Anna burst. It was during a gathering and Anna couldn't take her glaring eyes off of Amarantha. Who sat on her throne with a smug look. Anna was furious. And most of all she was done. She couldn't take it anymore. The treatment. The torture. Everything. She couldn't do it anymore, sit back, watch, and be treated in such a way. And watch her best friend, or brother be treated like he was.

It was when Amarantha tilted her head back and laughed. As she ran her fingers down Rhysand's arm. Anna could now notice him tense. She could tell it was taking everything in him not to grimace at her touch. At that moment she was remembering everything he had told her, and all her own memories. 

It was that moment and that night that everything changed. 

Anna could feel her magic buzzing under her skin. And without realizing what she was doing she was taking steps closer to Amarantha's throne. Her glare never leaving Amarantha’s form. As she stepped closer her anger and adrenaline grew. So did her magic. As she stepped closer many around her could feel her magic and stepped away. Making a part in the crowd.  

Anna could only remember very few words that were said... she remembered seeing Rhysand's face. He had a look of fear. She remembered his muffled yelling. Seeming to be pleading with her to calm down. But it was too late. She had let out a powerful burst of magic aimed at Amarantha. Wanting to kill her.

But after letting her powers free Anna had fallen to the floor. The glasses she wore fell from her face. Her light brown skin was pale, more pale than usual. She and Rhysand having lost the glow in their skin since being Under the Mountain. Her whole body was exhausted and she could barely move. Her vision was more blurry as usual without her glasses. But what made her fearful was she began seeing black dots. 

Blinking, she tried clearing her vision quickly. Soon she was able to reach and find her glasses. Reaching for her glasses as she hunched over she was trying to get up. She was almost able to sit up when she felt a hand wrap around her throat. Then nails digging into her skin. She knew instantly who it was, Amarantha. 

Looking at her Anna could see her with a snarl upon her face. She had cuts on her face, her hair was disheveled, and her dress now had tears in it. What scared Anna the most was the rage that was in Amarantha's eyes. Not being able to see such rage she looked away.

As she did Anna was met with the room in shambles. What caught her attention instantly was Rhysand. He looked to be unscathed but he was now being held back by many guards. He had tears in his eyes and he seemed to be yelling. Looking in his violet eyes with her dark brown eyes Anna sent him a small reassuring but meaningful smile. As she saw him struggle more. Because Rhysand and her knew that this was it for her. 

Thinking of her demise, tears fell from her eyes. Because the first person to come to mind instantly was her mate… Azriel. The one she missed so much. The one she kept fighting for. The one she wished she could be in the arms of every night and every day. But she knew now it was never going to happen. It filled her with regret. She knew she shouldn’t have exploded but she just couldn’t help it. But now she was sad and angry at herself. But she was quick to shake the feelings away. 

Quickly for the first time in a year she found herself opening that golden tether that connected their souls fully. An accepted mating bond between them. A bond that they cherished and held close to their hearts. As she opened the bond, the first emotions she felt were confusion, love, and urgency. It was all Azriel's emotions. She then felt a tug on the golden tether. A tug she knew was his way to tell her to tug back so he could follow it. So the bond could lead him to her. 

"I love you so much," she whispered to him. She remembered saying in her head at that moment. She knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her. So she then sent all the love she could to him. Sending every bit she could. So much that she knew it may have overwhelmed him. 

Which it did, it brought him to his knees when he felt her love. The love he knew she had for him. The love he knew she held back from him. So she didn’t overwhelm him. It was a feeling that felt like a fierce wind had crashed into him. But after a moment of gaining control he felt like he was soaring up to the clouds close to the night sky above. Close to the stars that shined so bright. It was a feeling he gained while flying and he loved it. He had never felt it in such a way. And he wanted more. It made him want to go to his mate and have her in his arms even more.

Though Anna knew she may have overwhelmed him she didn't care; she wanted him to feel all her love that she felt for him. She wanted him to know at least one more time. And at that moment she was grabbed hard by the hair by Amarantha. Making Anna look at her. Anna was quick to steel herself. Not showing any fear. Not saying a single word. It was then that she heard the last Amarantha said. 

"Hm, killing you would be too easy. I'm going to do something much worse. I know how much you love Pyrthian, your family. So I'm going to send you far far away. Say goodbye to Pyrthian. Say goodbye to Rhysand. Say goodbye to everything you've ever known. Enjoy your banishment Annamarie Emissary of Night Court," Amarantha smirked at her. 

Hearing her words struck fear in Anna as her eyes widened. 

The last she saw was Amarantha's smirk upon her face, then she waved her hand. The last thing Anna remembered hearing was Rhysand screaming her name. As he tried to fight to get to her. A scream that haunts her till this day. Then the loud noise that sounded like the snapping of a whip and thunder behind her. 

She was then being pushed back by Amarantha. And then she saw a bright white light, and soon darkness engulfed her vision. She remembers falling harshly on the ground, then fainting after that. When Anna opened her eyes she was in another unknown world. A world she knew nothing about. A world she didn’t know even existed. The world of Zenithara.

"Hey Auntie Goldie, we got a mission to stop a load from reaching the Abyss, the Arena. You up for it?" 

Anna heard a deep male voice question her. A few steps from the side of the table she sat at in her room at headquarters. She knew that voice. It belonged to Evan. Turning she was met with a handsome well built, tan skinned man, with dark short wavy hair, and crystal blue eyes.  

Evan was a leader. But Evan also was Anna's nephew. They weren't related but she earned the respect and title. Having been in his family for years now. Evan was one of the few she has gone on many missions with in the past couple years. While she worked with G.H.O.S.T. meaning Guardian Heroes of Sector Three. 

A group of people who work with the justice system of Zenithara to clean up Sector Three, the Abyss. And sometimes Sector One and Two. But mainly the Abyss being it was the worst Sector of Zenithara. The worst of them all. The Abyss, the worst Sector, was located in the center of the planet of Zenithara. And the home of many criminals and horrible people. 

It was also where a place called the Arena was located. The Arena was a notorious horrendous place. It was a prison of sorts for all the Sectors. Filled with many horrid people. People who have committed horrible crimes. 

The Arena was a dark complicated place. It was never ending and had different levels to it. There were the holding areas where people are placed in holding cells. Then the judging area, where people were judged. People were then subjected to being experimented on. The worse the crime the longer the person is put through such treatment. Some people even end up dead from the experiments. 

But there were some who ended up with abilities. The abilities ranged from little things like enhanced hearing, enhanced sight, intelligence. Then there were some with dangerous abilities. Such as being able to control fire, the air, or enhanced strength. There were many powers and abilities that were given to people.  

But after such people survived the experiments, they soon had a collar placed around their neck. That would locate, read their body signatures, and electrocute them if need be. The collar being controlled by the Overseers. Overseers being the ones who controlled the Arena and observed everything that happened in it.   

Many groups of people were then placed in a very huge vast dark run down Arena with a dome. Ten people in each group and five groups were placed in different parts of the Arena. And soon the Killer games commenced. It was kill or be killed in the Arena. Every day these people have to fight for their lives while being watched by the Overseers. 

Once you were in the Arena there was now way out... unless you were the last one standing in the Arena. Once you win the Killer games you are taken out. Then placed in a living area for about a year then you had to go back to the Arena. 

Nobody knew these things about the Arena. Only hearing little rumors. The only one to know the most was Anna. She was the only living person to ever fully leave the Arena. After being in the Arena many times. 

The first many years of Anna's life in Zenithara was spent in the Arena. Being that the portal Amarantha pushed her through led her to land in the Arena. And it wasn't pretty those first years had changed Anna. She thought being Under the Mountain was horrible. The Arena was a true nightmare for her. 

But the last years were bearable once she met a certain blonde Overseer named Katrina. The Overseer was the one to change Anna's life. Along with another contestant. It took her years to escape the Arena completely with their help. The Overseer having been killed while saving Anna and the contestant's lives while they escaped. Which Anna was and would be grateful for. Never forgetting her. 

The contestant’s name who escaped with Anna was Evangelina, Eva for short. While in the Arena Eva and Anna stuck together. Helping each other. Eva helped with her high intelligence she got from experimentation. While Anna was the fighter. Anna having her fae magic enhanced after experiments were done on her amongst other things. 

The two grew close as sisters and were unstoppable. The two grew even closer when Anna found out that Eva was in the Arena because she was framed for a crime she didn’t commit. Anna believed her. She could tell Eva was innocent. And Anna wanted Eva to keep that innocence. Which was why Anna protected Eva and did most of the killing while in the Arena. While Eva did more of the thinking.

But when Anna and Eva were able to escape with the help of Katrina, they brought all their knowledge to the justice system. But there was only so much the justice system could do. Which led Anna and Eva wanting to help clean up Sector Three and take things into their own hands. They were soon telling the people in charge of the justice system. And in doing so the justice system gave them permission to create G.H.O.S.T. Which was very successful, and still running strong after many years. 

That is where Evan the II came in. He was Eva's grandson who took over G.H.O.S.T. after his father. Anna still helped the organization but slowed down over the past years. Having been in a state of grief after the passing of Eva. It took a toll on Anna losing Eva. Watching her grow old while she stayed the same. But Anna stayed by Eva until her last breath. Taking care of her and her family. 

Some time after the loss of Eva, and Anna having nothing better to do, but get stuck in her mind. Thinking about all she has lost. Pythain, her family, her mate, Katrina, then Eva. As an immortal Anna thought she better do something with her life. So she started helping Evan more and more over the years. Which he greatly appreciated her help. 

But looking at him now it reminded her of Eva. Which caused a wave of sadness to wash over her. Yes, he had blue eyes he got from his mother. But he had Eva's features, he then had her hair, and tan skin. Much like his father Eva's son. Who looked exactly like Eva, his mother. He was hard to look at at times. Bringing memories of Eva to her mind. But Anna pulled through like she always did. But right now a soft sad sigh escaped Anna's lips as she looked at him. 

Evan was quick to send her a smile as he sat next to her. Which caused Anna to turn to the window. Before he spoke again after receiving a nod to his question. Which was Anna agreeing to go on the mission with him and his team.          

"I got some entail that says that the load is leaving on a ship some time before dawn. When the lights dim. They'll be using passage A tryin' to get to the Arena from above," Evan explained to her. Taking in the information Anna pushed her glasses over her scared nose.

Part of three thick lined scars taking over her face. Starting from her temple on the side going across her face, and ending at the other side of her jaw. A scar from her years in the Arena by a person able to shift into a creature.

"Okay," Anna whispered with a nod to Evan. Her voice was soft and never above a soft whisper. Being that she never really talked anymore. Her voice left her more and more over the years. Because she didn't feel the need to talk much. The only ones she talked to were Evan and his father. Having nobody else who would listen and never wanting to talk to anyone else.

"Alright wanna relax for a lil then gear up together when it's close to time for the mission?" Evan asked Anna with a smile. Looking away from the window again and turning her gaze to Evan she smiled with a nod. She enjoyed spending time with Evan. He always knew how to get her mind off things. And from the little memories she could remember Evan reminded her a lot of Cassian with his antics. 

"Awesome! Come on then Auntie Gold," Evan chuckled playfully with a wide smile. Before slowly reaching a hand to Anna for her to take. A soft giggle left Anna's lips as she took his hand. Letting him help her up. 

A smile washed over her. She was happy to spend time with her nephew. Who was now rambling on about his day. Which she caused her to laugh softly when he made big hand gestures, speaking with his hands. She was happy to have Evan in her life and also his father. They helped with the loneliness and lost feeling she felt while being in Zenithara. 

But little did Anna something was going to happen on this mission. Something that was going to change everything for her.

[pedroscurls]

Hi! Idk if your requests are closed or not so feel free to ignore this but I’ve been going through a really tough time and I don’t have time to even breathe anymore so I was wondering if you could write something where Hugh just comforts the reader thanks!

safe with me (one-shot)

summary: hugh knows you've been having a difficult time and he hopes that he knows just what you need to help you feel better. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader content warnings: n/a, comfort / fluff, no use of y/n. word count: 701 a/n: to this anon, i'm so sorry that it took this long for me to fulfill your request. i hope things have gotten better since you requested this and if not, my inbox / messages are always open. thank you for requesting this (as i've been having a hard time myself with just life) - this was very cathartic and therapeutic for me. hope you enjoy. and as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

Hugh knows you’ve been having a tough time lately, can see a change in your behavior even though you tell him that you’re fine. You smile at him, tell him that everything is okay, but Hugh knows that everything isn’t. Whenever you come home, he can see the distress and the exhaustion written all over your features and when he pulls you into his arms when in bed, he can feel the tension in your shoulders. 

It’s been like this for the last few weeks and Hugh doesn’t know if there’s anything that he could do that would help, that would alleviate the stress you’re feeling. If he could, he’d take it all away – whatever it is, Hugh would do anything to make you feel better. 

So, when you text him that you’re working late tonight, it gives him enough time to put his plan in place. He grabs two glasses of wine and your favorite white wine and ascends the stairs to go to the master bathroom. Hugh runs a warm bath for you, lighting candles around the bathroom. He looks around and bites his lower lip, slowly opening the blinds to reveal the skyline of the city. 

Hugh then jogs back downstairs to grab the bag of rose petals that he purchased earlier that evening and walks back into the bedroom. He scatters the rose petals on the white tiled floor and pours a good handful into the water. He hears his phone chime, but doesn’t have enough time to look at it when he hears you step inside the apartment. 

“Hugh?” you call out, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as you ascend the stairs. “You in the room?”

“Yeah, baby!” he answers. Hugh looks up when he sees you enter the bedroom and when your eyes meet his, he’s sure that he has done something wrong with the look on your face. Quickly, he steps out of the bathroom and walks over to you, his large hands coming up to rest on your hips. “What’s the matter? Is this too much? I just–”

Tears trickle down your cheeks and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your face against the crook of his neck. Slowly, Hugh’s strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you tightly against him. “I’m not okay,” you whisper, voice trembling. 

“I know, baby,” he says quietly, moving a hand along your back. “But that’s okay,” Hugh reassures. “I’m right here.”

You cry against him, feeling like the last few weeks are finally catching up to you. You had tried to push it aside, tried to make yourself feel better, but it only pushed it further down. Being in Hugh’s arms, you finally feel like you can breathe, can finally get a glimpse that things will be okay. 

“I ran you a bath,” he whispers, turning his head to place a soft kiss on your temple. “You up for it?” 

You pull back and look up at him, wiping the tears away from your face. “You didn’t have to…”

“I know,” Hugh leans in and pecks your lips lightly. “I wanted to.” He releases his hold on you and instead reaches for your hand, leading you into the bathroom. 

You look around and bite your lower lip, tears again pooling at the corner of your eyes. “Hugh…”

“Too much?” 

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” 

Hugh smiles and turns to face you, gently reaching up to remove the blazer you’re wearing. “Far from it, baby. Now, let me take care of you. Will you let me do that?”

You nod slowly and look down to see your blazer pool at your feet. “Okay,” you whisper. 

Hugh hooks a finger under your chin, slowly lifting your gaze to meet with his. “Whatever you’re going through, I’m right here with you, baby. Now, let’s get you in the bath. You’ve been tense and I think you need a massage.” He smiles and pecks your lips lightly, pulling away only to help you disrobe the rest of your clothing.

You let out a relieved breath. For the first time in weeks, you feel the weight slowly begin to lift off your shoulders and that’s all thanks to Hugh.

[halfwayhearted]

lamine girlfriend being so happy that he’s finally taking the time to rest, like he tells her he’s not playing and he’s not going with the national team and she almost cries because she’s always so stressed that he’s pushing himself too much

Baby, I Love You — Lamine Yamal.

Pairing: Lamine Yamal x Fem!Reader

Summary: After an intense amount of worrying about your boyfriend and his constant urge to play, he shares some news with you that leaves you feeling both worried and relieved.

Word Count: 465+

Disclaimer/s — None really, just comfort/and fluff.

A/N: And then you open TikTok and see him dancing bachata to Aventura 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ boy PLEASE.

It was nearing midnight when you received a text from Lamine asking if he could come over. It was never unusual for him to ask, but considering he had a game to practice for, you couldn’t stop the small pang of confusion that rose within you.

You opened the boy’s message and replied back quickly, ‘Hi, of course. I’ll leave the door unlocked.’

With nothing else to do but wait, you decided you’d finish up your homework, not even noticing the sight of your door slowly creaking open.

It wasn’t until you saw his figure from the corner of your eye that you gasped and jumped up, your eyes narrowing when you heard Lamine laugh.

“Lamine—no call, no text, not even a greeting!?” You exclaimed, covering your face with your hands. “Oh, my God. I can’t even look at you.”

Hearing his footsteps toward you, he uses his hands to pry your own away from your face. “I’m sorry! You said it’d be unlocked. I thought you’d be, I don’t know, waiting for me or something.”

“Well! You thought—whatever. Sit! Sit! Tell me about your day. Did something happen or…?”

Doing as told, he moves to sit on your chair, and that’s when you notice something’s wrong. It takes you a few seconds to realize, but it clicks—he has a limp. “Wait. Lamine, what happened?”

“I’m not able to play for Spain,” he grumbled.

That wasn’t what you were referring to, yet the relief you felt was unmistakable. He could rest, but at what cost? “I’m sorry. Because of that?”

Following your line of sight, Lamine offers a small chuckle and nods. “Yeah, because of that. I’m out for the break. Might be even more, I’m not sure.”

You stand up and plop down beside him. “You’ll be back. Even better and even stronger. Not that you weren’t already before. Does it hurt at all?”

“Only if I apply too much pressure on it. Nothing an ice pack can’t fix. Or help lessen the pain.”

“Ice pack,” you repeat quietly. “I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t need one now—hey,” Lamine frowned when you stand up, his hands finding both of yours. “It’s fine. Can we just… do something?”

“Sorry, of course. We can build Legos, watch a movie, a show, or just lay down. Your choice!”

“What were you doing before I came and—”

“Scared me? I was just finishing up homework.”

Your answer does absolutely nothing but make his expression morph into one of disgust, eliciting a laugh from you. “I thought so. Lay down, go on your phone, I’ll be done super soon, okay?”

“Take your time,” he hums. “Can I sleep over?”

With a shrug, you smile and say, “Well, you’re already here. I don’t really see why you can’t.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[saioratral]

the same spot that saw it all - two lovers under the stars, an everyday occurrence (gn!reader) warning: spoilers from season 4 note: from my old blog

tired souls find comfort in the walls that surround them. these same souls gather together every day, perched atop the walls to admire the world below.

“even if the night is dark, it’s always painted by the brightest stars, isn’t it? i want a star,” you said, tilting your head toward him.

“you wish for a star? i can get you the moon instead,” eren replied, pointing up at the sky.

they shared a laugh, enjoying silly nights spent in their own kind of magic. it was these evenings that helped them forget the harsh realities they faced. this new home, built together, felt like a sanctuary. comfortable silence settled between them as they stared into the starry expanse.

“your heart is very precious to me,” eren said, turning to look at you more closely.

“my heart?” you echoed, mirroring his gaze.

“it’s the only one that truly understands me, the only one that hears me, and the only one that loves me,” eren said, his eyes softening.

“and yours?” you asked again, curiosity lacing your voice.

“i don't have one, you took it and kept it to bloom with your own kind of love”, he replied, his gaze filled with adoration.

another moment of silence stretched between them. they stared at each other as if it were the last time they would ever meet. for all they knew, they might never be apart again—like the moon and the earth, forever in orbit around one another.

“isn’t life just another test?” eren mused.

“a test we failed,” you joked, a playful smile spreading across your face.

“i’m happy we failed it together. now we can always wander through these cloudy fields,” eren said, bringing his hand closer to yours.

“aren’t you feeling romantic tonight?” you commented, a teasing lilt in your voice.

“i just want you to know: you’re my forever. you deserve more than words,” he said earnestly.

he sighed, his low voice resonating in your mind. pulling you closer, you felt his warmth envelop you, stirring a whirlwind of emotions. his eyes sparkled brightly as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, revealing what he always considered his favourite view.

eren leaned in, and you could feel his breath gently brushing against your lips. it was warm—an invitation to dive deeper, something he longed for. he rested his forehead against yours, allowing the world around you to blur into insignificance.

“may i?” he asked, his voice a soft whisper.

“always,” you smiled, appreciating his gentlemanly demeanour.

eren closed the taunting distance, crashing his lips onto yours with nothing but pure love.the kiss started softly before deepening, as if he wanted to pour every ounce of his feelings into you. you melted in his embrace, intoxicated by the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat.

every brush of his lips sealed a promise—a silent vow to be together. you would always be loved, no matter what timeline you found yourselves in. you were a part of his soul, intertwined in a way that could never be unravelled.

he pulled away with reluctance.the moment felt like a carved monument, perfectly crafted for each other. emerald eyes trying to remember every detail of you, as if you were going to leave him 

“the sun is rising; is it time to go back?” eren whispered.

“of course. we don’t belong here anymore,” you sighed, a hint of reluctance in your voice.

eren stood up, extending his hand for you to take. you accepted his offer, using his grip to help yourself rise. together, they stood, watching as the sun slowly rose, casting a warm glow before disappearing into the horizon.

they had never truly belonged there. standing at the edge of the wall was armin, on duty, his memories of the two of you replaying in his mind like a haunting melody. he reached out, his voice trembling as he called your names, but he received no reply.

“armin... are you okay?” mikasa, standing beside him, looked at her friend with concern.

“i thought i saw [name] and eren,” armin whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

“you really miss them, don’t you?” mikasa asked, resting a comforting hand on his back.

“maybe i should visit their stones again. i keep hallucinating,” armin said, pressing his hand against his forehead in distress.

“at least they are at peace,” mikasa said with a bittersweet smile as they stared at the spot on the wall

the same spot that saw it all

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

[elegantauthor]

Saving Grace Chapter 22

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Aurora Stark

Summary: Aurora hits rock bottom, but could there be hope on the horizon?

Warnings: molestation

Series Masterlist

The pressure of Zemo’s hand on the nape of her neck was vice-like. He roamed his other hand in a deliberate pattern over the swell of her breast, down her side, coming to rest on her hip. He gripped it, and with a forcible tug, pulled her into him.

Her chest rose and fell laboriously against his, an involuntary whimper gurgling low in her throat. Unlike the previous day, where she’d froze in fear, this time she raised her hands to shove him away and squirmed, doing anything she could to resist. His grip tightened on both her neck and hip, wedging her between him and the wall-mounted bookshelf.

“So pretty,” he murmured, observing her tears silently trickle down her face with an emotionless stare.

“Please don’t,” she pleaded, pressing herself further into the bookshelf, as if by some miracle it would swallow her up.

His hum was also devoid—a cold, calculating sound that was almost contemplative. He could easily break her; the realization was written plainly on his features. He wanted to see an empire fall—first the Avengers, now Bucky. Whose only fault? Being a Super Soldier, and not by his own volition.

“You said you weren’t going to hurt me.”

This seemed to give him pause. He squinted his eyes and did the head tilt thing Sam had once called him out on. “If I recall correctly, I said I would not hurt you as long as you behaved.”

Ah. The dark undertone unraveled his so-called claim of being a man of his word. She squirmed with more ferocity, only budging.

What would Aphrodite do?

The thought floated across her mind so unexpectedly it caught her off-guard. She gasped, feeling the faintest connection stem from her heart and flow through her like a zip line. What would her mom do in this situation?

If she gave in, it would hurt Bucky. If she didn’t, Zemo would hurt her. Either way, she was fucked.

I don’t have my powers! She screamed inwardly. I can’t…

“You can, my darling.”

Aurora closed her eyes, Zemo’s mouth latching onto her throat, as she fumbled with the books on the shelf behind her. With one finger on the spine, she wrenched it forward, sending it tumbling to the floor with a resounding thud. Zemo pulled back, and she used the distraction to elbow him in the stomach. He grunted, doubling over, as she slipped from his grasp with the agility of a ballerina on pointe.

She leapt down the stairs and landed gracefully on the bottom platform. To the right of the staircase, she skidded to a stop once she reached the door. Zemo’s footsteps fast approaching, she scrambled to unlock it. Come on… come on!

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and caged her against the door with calm restraint. “You, my dear, are being ungrateful,” he whispered harshly in her ear. “All I have asked in return is for you to be my guest this evening. Whatever shall I do with you?”

“Can we wait until tonight?”

“Tonight?”

She nodded. “After the party.” Call it intuition, gut instinct; something within her was telling her to stall. Zemo stepped back, and she shuddered a shaky breath, turning slowly to look up at him. “I- I can’t do my job if I’m under duress. You’ve witnessed it first-hand. And the whole purpose of having me here is to read people, right?”

He caressed the side of her face, his eyes softening at her wounded expression—the way she bit her bottom lip reminded him of his deceased wife. “Perhaps, I was being too hasty. Please do not cry, liebling.” He wiped a stray tear from her face. “We will make this work. You’ll see. Until then, I must confine you to your room.”

Honestly, Aurora didn’t expect anything less after her ploy. Plopping down on the seat in front of the bay window, she watched the snowfall. So pristine and peaceful, it made her heart ache.

~ * ~

Six years ago

“Do you ever miss it?”

Aurora lay on her side, back pressed against Bucky’s bare chest. For being the middle of winter, it was hot even inside the hut. “I miss the snow,” she said after a moment.

“Snow?”

“I suppose what you’re really asking me is if I miss my dad.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Bucky swallow and nod, traces of vulnerability reflected in the crinkle of his brow. “I miss him, but I think of it this way. I’m an adult, and as all adults do, they carve out their own path in life. And that’s what I’m doing, with you. But, seriously, I miss snow.”

He snorted with a small grin. “Tell you what, doll. If we ever get the chance to leave Wakanda and go back to New York, I’ll never take you away from the snow again.”

“Promise?”

Hearing the solemnity in her voice, he replied with equal sincerity. “I promise. You and me, in Brooklyn, with maybe a cat…”

“A cat?”

“Mhm,” he gently trailed his fingers over the curve of her hip, “a white one. We’ll call her Snowball.”

Aurora smiled, thinking of their future, the possibilities. “What about Alpine? You know, because an alpine biome is cold and snowy. It would be unique.”

Bucky chuckled, before murmuring in her ear. “Alright, we’ll name her Alpine.”

[homestuckreplay]

Today Is A Gift, That’s Why They Call It The Present: Who Is Jade Harley?

Character Deep Dive 4 – 11/26/2009

Jade Harley, the silliest and most unknowable of Homestuck characters. Jade’s first pesterlog appearance was way back on page 110, and her existence and involvement in forces beyond our real world comprehension has been teased ever since – but it took hundreds of pages and months of real time waiting for Jade to finally become a point of view character. Just like with Rose and Dave, what we learn from Jade’s pesterlogs isn’t a complete picture of who she is. Jade is excitable, bubbly and supportive in her conversations, aware that she’s seen as mysterious and working to cultivate that. As a point of view character it’s harder for Jade to maintain her own mystery, and we see a fuller spectrum of her emotions, as well as a picture of her day to day life. In many ways Jade’s life is easier than her friends’, but she has a few of her own challenges.

Organized by the list of Jade’s interests given on page 789, here’s a discussion of what we learn about Jade during the early part of act 3. It's about 5k words below the cut and only covers up to page 916 of Homestuck.

1 - You are an avid follower of CARTOON SHOWS OF CONSIDERABLE NOSTALGIC APPEAL.

Jade doesn’t spend a lot of time on this interest, but she surrounds herself in it by falling into her plushy pile before she uses her computer. She has posters on her walls for Squiddles and Green Slime Ghost, both of which were invented internally to Homestuck, unlike John whose bedroom posters are all for real world media. Jade also has a large number of Squiddle ‘Tangle Buddies’, and a squiddle and (blue) slime ghost are symbol options for her shirt.

Owning so much merchandise, Jade clearly isn’t embarrassed by this interest. As Rose’s shirt is a doctored Squiddle, Rose may have previously shared this interest, but moved on from it – Jade describes these shows as ‘nostalgic’ on both page 789 and 790, so she’s trying to hold onto these articles of her youth. They also give the sense of an eclectic taste; as they’re unfamiliar to the reader and no wider fandom is established for them, they feel like cartoons found only on budget TV channels or dusty corners of the internet. MS Paint Adventures being the only modern media we see her consume only enhances this.

Jade’s nostalgic media extends beyond board games, as her fetch modus options are common childhood board games. As well as retaining these childlike interests and playfulness, Jade is described by the narrative as ‘silly’ – a silly girl with silly antics and a silly name (p.760), a silly flute refrain (p.769), an awfully silly idea (p.774), and a silly girl with silly fortune telling knickknacks (p.802). As well as setting up a contrast between Dave (regularly described as ‘cool’, which by some logic is an antonym of ‘silly’), this feels like it diminishes her importance, casting her actions as entertaining but ultimately meaningless. Between pages 838 and 860, the story flips back and forth between the peril of Rose’s imminent meteors, and Jade whose only goal is to feed her pet.

There’s a surface impression that life is easy for Jade. She has a large, comfortable house, a sylladex she’s confident with, a guardian who she doesn’t hate and isn’t outright cruel, toys, space, safety from danger, mastery over all her own hobbies. From day one, John had to struggle with sylladex mechanics and retrieving his own arms, but Jade is unaffected even by the inconvenience of stairs, and is later shown as having more knowledge than the player. It almost feels like she’s spoiled by the narrator with this easier existence, which isn’t necessarily good for her, just like being spoiled by a parent might not be good for a kid. Ultimately, if there’s no sense that Jade needs to learn or overcome anything, she becomes less compelling – so I’m invested in noticing where she has room for growth.

2 - You have a profound zeal for marvelous and fantastical FAUNA OF AN ANTHROPOMORPHOLOGICAL PERSUASION.

In addition to her cartoon show posters, Jade has two pieces of furry art on her walls, plus a picture of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff as furries. This of course was a gift from Dave, the friend Jade sometimes discusses her furry tendencies with. These plus her FurAffinity account show an enjoyment of the furry aesthetic, but her relationship with being a furry is complicated, and something she adopts far less uncritically than her other interests.

Jade insists that she does not have a fursuit as they are ‘raggedy synthetic tufty piece[s] of crap’ and that dressing up like an animal ‘seems ridiculous’ (p.802). We don’t learn whether Jade has made a fursona or makes furry art of her own (vampireprincess007, the FurAffinity account Jade is looking at on page 834, doesn’t seem like a username she’d pick), but we get a sense of the ways Jade distances herself from the furry community. She thinks of combining the ‘finest qualities’ of humans and animals, wishing for ears and a ‘proud snout’ to ‘assist… in the hunt’. She also seeks a ‘more visceral sapience’ that is ‘untouched by the concerns and burdens of the upright’ (p.797). When she imagines being an animal, she wants to ‘run wild’ or ‘purr and frolic’ (p.802).

Jade collects Manthro Chaps, dolls with assortments of human and animal body parts who may have hands and flippers, snouts and mustaches. They have human names and attend events such as balls, need vaccinations, and take care of bodily needs in animalistic ways. Much like Jade’s desire for animal senses and experiences, Jade’s Manthro Chaps are a true physical merging of the human and animal. Jade does not want to wear the trappings of an animal if she can’t also have that biological change, and if she can’t develop that instinctive behavior of eating bugs, hunting, and losing the language and inhibitions of human existence.

Jade has a pet named Becquerel who is also her ‘best friend’ (p.791), and while we don’t know his species, it’s possible that spending so much time with him has fed into the desire to live like him. He also may not be a regular animal – both Dave and the narrator refer to him as a ‘devilbeast’ (p.382, 800) and he eats his steak not just well cooked, but irradiated. This could also be why her rifle’s ‘cross-hairs would never settle on an innocent creature’ (p.790). Jade is likely an animal lover in general, as she has this deep and considered understanding of how it must feel to be a different creature, and is very in touch with the natural world.

3 - You have an uncanny knack for NUCLEAR PHYSICS, and not infrequently can be found dabbling in RATHER ADVANCED GADGETRY.

Jade’s forays into gadgetry are all over her room, and she’s downplaying her own skill with ‘rather’. So far we know about Jade’s Wardrobifier, Atomic/Electic Bass with portable amp, Sonar boxes transmitting her music into the atrium, Cookalizer, Refrigerator, and Lunchtop. Her house also has several Transportalizers, although their designer is unknown. Jade’s orb and spire bed, the atomic cabinet beneath her room, the strange flat window device whose design she borrowed from her grandfather, and a host of other objects on her gadgets table are unknowns but it’s clear that just like Rose with her knitting, Jade is prolific, dedicated and puts a lot of time into her hobby.

Jade doesn’t feel constrained in the design of her technology. Sometimes she uses squares and cubes like those in the Skaianet labs, sometimes she’ll play on common designs by giving a refrigerator a rotary interface or adding extra heat settings to a cookalizer, and sometimes she’ll invent something with no relation to existing tech. Jade hits all the design notes – smooth and sleek vs greebled, futuristic vs retro vs encased in a lunchbox – so she’s willing to try different things.

We learn that for Jade, ‘experimentation is not a particularly exact science, and [she] lean[s] heavily on SHARP INTUITION for consistently and eerily optimal results’ (p.790), so she’s basically living the scientist’s dream of fucking around without having to find out. It’s a lot easier to take risks and experiment with an intuition that guarantees success. To what extent does Jade understand the theoretical principles of nuclear physics? When she can’t get something to work, like right now with the window device, what’s her troubleshooting process like? Is she used to working through this emotionally? Jade did claim to have worked on a present for John ‘for years!!!!’ (p.442) so I think that even if Jade has an intuitive understanding of design, she still has to do the work to put these gadgets together, which can be time consuming and technically difficult.

Jade’s interest in gadgetry is tied to an interest in music. Like her friends she is highly proficient in an instrument, but Jade’s is ‘heavily customized to accommodate a high level of musical virtuosity’ (p.821) – its ‘advanced setting’ has two sets of strings and three keyboards, which Jade can apparently handle from a musical perspective. I think this is something she’s worked at, because when she attempts to play the flute, the narration comments, ‘Maybe you should try playing an instrument you actually know how to play instead’ (p.770). If Jade’s music was entirely based on her intuition, picking up the flute would be easy. She’s also limited by her own physical form; the advanced bass cannot be played ‘in person’ (p.821), so only having two arms and five foot something of height feels like a bigger limitation in this hobby than her brain.

Despite being generally competent with technology, Jade is surprised by its misuse, shocked and angry when carcinoGeneticist trolls her despite her blocking them and logging out. Jade is not a gamer, knowing Sburb by reputation but not by name, and saying that John and Dave are ‘way more into all that stuff than i am!!!!’ (p.442), and therefore she’s not immersed in the gamer culture that leads to cruel online behavior. It’s nice to think that Jade, despite being an internet user, has escaped the cynicism and hatred that is common online and has found positive spaces for herself.

Jade is a proficient sylladex user, easily mastering technologies she didn’t make too. While John struggles with remembering how many cards he has free, Rose doesn’t realize she can pull the leave instead of the root, and Dave has to use Y as a consonant to get the hash map to work, Jade is educating the player on correct sylladex management and can perfectly guess the memory modus on the first try. But this has limitations, too. Jade captchalogues a pumpkin on page 778 and by page 785 it’s vanished, so Jade’s sylladex isn’t a safe storage place. In fact, her house is a hotspot for other people’s strange technology as well as her own, which I’ll discuss more later. Additionally, there are some problems that Jade can’t solve with technology. Any issues with her grandfather, for example, or with her remote location. Jade sends a parcel several months before its delivery date (p.442) and receives mail via hot air balloon (p.822) but for some reason has never invented a disappearifier that could instantly take her to a friend’s house. Despite her many talents, she remains stuck at home.

4 - You enjoy sporadic fits of NARCOLEPSY;

Jade is sleeping when we first meet her, so this is technically the first interest we see her engaging in. And the word ‘enjoy’ is crucial here. Most people do not enjoy their medical conditions, and regularly, uncontrollably dropping off to sleep can cause serious problems, but Jade treats this like many intentional nappers do, slumbering ‘peacefully’ such that it’s ‘a shame to wake her’ (p.760).

Jade doesn’t know the details of her condition. When she wakes, it’s sudden and ‘as usual, [she] ha[s] no recollection of having falling asleep’ (p.768) and in a conversation with Dave, he asks ‘do you even know if you are [asleep]’ (p.829). Jade is driven by impulse and intuition, and doesn’t question those impulses much. In a more extreme example, she doesn’t question her sudden falling asleep in inconvenient circumstances, but figures out how to work around it.

When John takes a rooftop nap between battles, Jade’s silhouette appears in his dreams (p.644) and when he wakes, she tells him ‘i really think you need to wake up first!… not literally, well ok maybe KINDA literally!!’ Jade’s connection to sleep goes beyond her narcolepsy, and she places importance on sleeping, waking, and possibly the balance between the two. Jade is defined by her faith in a higher power, so she probably trusts this same power with deciding when she should move between sleeping and waking. It’s also likely that Jade’s orb and spire bed has something to do with this interest.

It’s not possible for Jade to be woken with the player’s cursor (p.762) but it is possible to both put her to sleep and wake her up while she’s playing the flute (p.769) by pressing the Z key – which highlights how quickly she sleeps and wakes, because any other button has her bouncing right back up.

Sleep is crucial for health and relaxation; gardening and gadgetry both involve some manual labor, and Jade valuing sleep ties in with her enjoyment of nostalgic television, lying down in a pile of dolls, and carrying fresh fruits and vegetables. Despite her exterior silliness and forgetfulness, there’s a strong sense that Jade has internalized her grandfather’s lectures, and knows how to take care of herself and her pet – she cares about health and safety, and even though she programmed an ‘explosion’ setting on her cookalizer, she refuses to use it. Having such state of the art technology helps with taking care of herself, but it still takes work, and by cooking steak for Bec Jade is the only kid who’s helping with personal and household maintenance. So, Jade’s enjoyment of sleep stands in for a more general understanding of daily necessities.

5 - your love of GARDENING transcends the glass confines of your ATRIUM;

Long foreshadowed by her chumhandle, when we caught our first glimpse of Jade on page 665, she was already surrounded by her plants. Jade grows a variety of fruits, flowers and vegetables, and doesn’t have much concern for their typical growth conditions. Peas, for example, grow best in a cooler climate, while squash likes it hot and humid, but Jade has these next to each other. Jade’s vegetables are best suited for temperate climates while her citrus fruits prefer things more tropical. Some quirk of Jade’s atrium or gardening methods means she doesn’t have to worry about this.

Gardening is another hobby Jade has tied to her gadgetry. When Jade plays her bass, it transmits sonar into her garden atrium, causing the plants to grow rapidly. It’s possible that these speakers are amplifiers for Skaian technology, and turn Jade’s house into a beacon, and a target for appearifying pumpkins. Some of Jade’s plants are ordinary, but her fruits have faces and are able to bounce around on the table (p.812). This is uncommon for us, but to Jade these are just regular fruits. This could be another effect of the sonar, or more generally, of the environmental conditions on the island. We know that volcanic activity creates a geothermal power source on Jade’s island (p.801) and can guess that mystic activity surrounding the frog statue creates a similar Skaian power source. And that places her as the (0,0) coordinate that all Skaian technology gravitates towards, and is maybe even the ‘default location’ for technology such as appearifiers.

Jade has plants in her bedroom, but she also has a large, four-wing garden atrium dedicated to this passion (p.780). It’s another big difference between Jade and the other kids that Jade’s interests are allowed to spill outside of her room. Her grandfather does control the aesthetic of most of the house, but giving Jade the garden atrium leads to a slightly more balanced relationship between the two.

Gardening as a hobby is something that requires regular input, something where results can’t always be seen right away, something imprecise as it involves living things that will behave surprisingly, something very messy, and something historic, engaged in by humans for millennia. Much like sleep, it links to the idea of routine, as plants often need watering on a set schedule. Plants are a way of providing food; especially on a tiny island where packages take months to deliver, Jade’s gardening must play a big part in keeping her healthy and alive, so again this ties into Jade’s responsibility for herself. Jade won’t hunt animals so this is her way of being a provider.

Jade is also connected to the messier, more unpleasant sides of nature. The player temporarily names her ‘Farmstink’, she will happily ‘squeal like a piglet and fertilize some plants’ (p.775), she’s delighted by the Manthro Chaps with their slop troughs, and she cares for a pet, which is always messy business. Clearly Jade isn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty, and understands the messy realities of giving life.

6 - and you are at times prone to patterns of PRECOGNITIVE PROGNOSTICATION.

Seemingly affecting all aspects of her day to day existence, Jade has spent her whole life tapped into a source of esoteric knowledge. Broadly, this gives her the ability to know certain events in the future, intuitively understand various games and technology, and possibly to understand the fourth wall and her place within a story. This ‘interest’ in prognostication is really more of an uncontrollable habit, and subsumes all Jade’s other interests, as it alters the experience of them so much.

Jade dispenses knowledge to her friends through pesterlogs, with varying levels of specificity. Jade has clearly given Rose a lot of information on their upcoming Sburb session – the fact that John and Rose begin play first, that it will happen on April 13, 2009, and that the game has the potential to revive the dead – and Rose describes her predictions as ‘frighteningly accurate’ (p.838). So she’s very honest with Rose, but maybe less so with John, as she gives him a vague ‘maybe this is your destiny’ (p.293) and asks him if he’s received a package when she knows he hasn’t. So not only does Jade have knowledge her friends don’t, but she’s careful about when to share it and with who.

Currently a lot of Jade’s visions involve gifts, which is funny because they don’t only relate to the present. In a flashback, Jade asks Rose about a different package, but gives Rose a future tip instead of sending her something – sharing her gift (as in talent) in place of a gift (as in present). Jade uses colorful reminders on her fingers to remember her own predictions, which is another limitation on her powers – predicting the future is great but it’s important to remember what’s been predicted, at the time it will be relevant. If Jade lost these reminders somehow, she might struggle to make sense of her predictions.

Jade’s visions appear specific in their timing and detail – at the end of conversations, Jade tells other people when they have to go, and sometimes tells them the reason (p.652, 838) although it’s uncertain whether she makes these predictions in advance or in the moment. Jade doesn’t only know that her friends will play Sburb, she also knows that Rose will lose her internet connection and that John will battle a pair of ogres – minutiae that are only available to the reader. And her predictions can understand people’s interiority, they’re not just visions from an outside observer - ‘you will have your questions answered, but they will be the ones you havent thought to ask yet!’ (p.838). Ignoring in-universe time, Jade’s predictions get more specific as the narrative progresses, so there’s a sense that she always knows slightly more than the reader or player and is staying one step ahead (even though this can be best explained by the author crystallizing their plans as they continue writing).

However, Jade’s predictions feel largely passive, always phrased like an unconscious understanding. She is a conduit for information, but there’s no sense that she could ‘choose’ to know the answer to a specific question, especially as she doesn’t know how these powers work. So if Skaia wanted to hide something from Jade or was itself incapable of knowing something, that would place another limitation on her abilities. We may have already seen this with the window device that Jade can’t get to work, despite gadgetry usually coming so easily to her.

Jade previously had an oracle’s trunk, but is slowly turning it into a gadget chest, as its contents were ‘completely bogus’ (p.802) – a crystal ball, velvet pillow, tarot deck, magic 8 ball, magic cue ball, and copy of Problem Sooth, mostly standard equipment for somebody interested in the occult. Jade dismisses the magic 8 ball as she has tested it against her own knowledge, but she is still superstitious about breaking it, suggesting a more general belief in supernatural powers, even while she sees them as inferior to her own.

Jade presents herself as all knowing, but she’s not sure why things keep appearing and disappearing around her atrium, she’s not sure why she falls asleep and importantly, she imagines John as ‘undoubtedly gallivanting around his house in a state of barely restrained birthday mirth’ (p.827) – so Jade’s knowledge is sometimes incomplete, sometimes inaccurate. But Jade turning her fortune telling chest into a gadgets chest shows that she sees her predictions scientifically, as more akin to understanding radiation or the atom than to tarot readings or horoscopes, without acknowledging the uncertainties that are still present in hard science. In fact, the way Jade talks about occult paraphernalia and fursuits are fairly similar. She is, or wants, the ‘real deal’ of everything, and doesn’t have time for what she sees as cheap imitations.

I believe that Skaian power breaks down the barriers between technology and reality, allowing creations such as Jade’s lunchtop, but also allowing Jade to see the fourth wall between herself and the readers’ computers. When we first meet Jade, she’s holding a note directed to the player, slightly offended that she will be/has been named Farmstink Buttlass (fair enough). Jade addresses the player directly during the ill-advised sylladex escapade where she gives a non-seer a chance to play the memory modus. She’s the first kid to refer directly to the author of the in-universe MS Paint Adventures - ‘looks like he was just finishing up some sort of weird tangential intermission’ (p.831), the ‘he’ presumably being Andrew Hussie. And Jade gains a sudden awareness that 413 years in the future while flying over the Pacific, the Peregrine Mendicant is asking ‘Don’t I know you?’ (p.900). Part of Jade’s prognostication involves knowing about all these different forces that are surveilling and controlling her, and being able to talk back. Jade is prepared to assert her dominance, whether that’s about knowing her sylladex better than the player does or frying PM’s command station with lightning because she doesn’t like being mind controlled. In this way Jade is more than a passive recipient of knowledge, she’s willing to look at the source of that knowledge and hold her own. Right now Jade feels like the most likely character to mess with the narrative itself – if she decides she wants to change something that’s predestined, it’s easy to see her arguing with the author directly.

7 - But you quickly realize this is only one half of your room, and is therefore host to only half of your INTERESTS to choose from.

This line from the end of page 789 is mostly a lie – the following page mostly recaps Jade’s previous interests, only adding her strife specibus and relationship with her grandfather. It is curious how Jade’s interests overflow from the page the same way they overflow from her room, the same way Jade’s introduction isn’t confined to her room and her existence spills out of the narrative. It gives the sense that Jade can’t be constrained by any force we yet know about. That’s a fun feeling – a wild card character makes everything more exciting.

Jade is a ‘skilled markswoman’ (p.790), owning four old fashioned looking guns. Two of these are long rifles for her riflekind specibus, and two are smaller and more portable. One is a hunting rifle, although it’s uncertain what Jade is hunting, as Jade’s ‘cross-hairs would never settle on an innocent creature’. It’s possible that she’s likely to encounter dangerous creatures if she leaves the house, or thinks she might in the future. Target practice is also a physical activity like bass playing or gardening, and one that can’t be taught through prognosticative powers, so it’s possible that Jade has honed this skill to have hobbies that take actual work, practice, and failure.

Although Jade claims to be a ‘great admirer’ of her grandfather’s (p.790), her actual feelings seem more complicated. He’s the person who taught her to hunt and lectures her on leaving the house without a rifle, but they differ ethically, with Jade really disliking the big game trophies he displays around the house. She especially dislikes his Typheus trophy, which he won’t move from the transportalizer even for practicality’s sake. Jade reluctantly supports his valiant knight collection, cannot stand his decrepit mummies, and seems confused by the Daughters of Eclectica, uncertain of why her grandfather likes them so much. Jade also describes her grandpa as ‘a little strict’ (p.772), giving ‘stern lectures’ (p.790), and especially ‘intense’ (p.382, 790, 916).

Like the other kid-guardian relationships, I think there’s a lack of understanding between the generations. Grandpa Harley has only been seen in silhouette, but from his home decoration, his monopolizing the grand foyer, and his apparent job title of an explorer-naturalist-treasure hunter-archaeologist-scientist-adventurer-big game hunter-billionaire, he comes across as someone bragadocious who likes to be surrounded by his own success and is in love with his own mythos, someone who has high expectations for Jade to live up to his own standards, and is controlling but in a hands off way. Needing to display so many of his achievements feels like he’s putting on the same act of coolness as Dave’s bro, but Grandpa cares about what was cool in 1909, not 2009. Jade’s grandpa has traveled a lot and been shaped by many years of adventuring, while Jade has likely never left the island or met many other people, so there’s a gulf in their experiences that’s hard to bridge. Jade can’t know what it’s like to live under the weight of her own history and celebrity, but her grandfather similarly can’t understand growing up in that shadow and in the expectations of eclipsing it.

If Jade is full on, excitable, a prodigy and a polymath, it’s clear who she gets it from. And Jade is maybe 50% between buying into the public image of her grandpa that he’s surely put across in media coverage, and 50% understanding the reality of him as a human being, the way somebody famous and star-studded can also be difficult, inconvenient, and make life harder when interacting on a day to day basis.

Final Thoughts

With a life much harder to relate to than John’s, Rose’s or Dave’s, I’m fascinated by what it’s like in Jade’s mind – to hold knowledge about the past, present and future all at once, to be certain what tomorrow will bring, and to communicate with an entity centuries in the future is a radically different experience to my own, and must really affect how Jade engages with the world. The main characters have gotten progressively weirder as we’ve been introduced to them in turn, but Jade is the only one to feel truly fantastical, guided by her powers as she is.

I can’t think of another piece of media that introduces characters so starkly, with no artifice, just a cleanly presented list of their interests. I love this framework; it paints an immediate picture of where these kids are in their lives as of April 13, 2009, leaving space for these interests to take on greater or lesser roles as the narrative progresses, but still shaping their perspectives and giving them texture from the first moment.

It’s also really interesting seeing the narrative work in introductions for these characters while the main story is still happening, allowing the new character space to explore without grinding the story to a halt. With around 75 consecutive pages, Jade’s introduction is much more leisurely than Rose or Dave’s, as they only had around 25 pages each. Slowly, and in narratively satisfying ways as Jade thinks about or talks to each of her friends, the other characters have been worked back in, turning Act 3 from Jade’s story into an ensemble piece.

As I get further into Homestuck, I’m finding myself with fewer burning questions, and more faith in the story’s method of revealing itself. But here’s the things on my mind as our fourth and final Beta Kid takes her place in the narrative.

What is Jade bad at? What are the skills that don’t come easily to Jade, or the everyday tasks where she struggles and makes mistakes?

Under what circumstances does Jade receive her knowledge, and in what form? Would she still have access to these powers in a different location? Is what Jade knows at all tied to what the player or reader knows?

Does Jade’s grandfather know about Skaia, and is this why he chose to live on this island, or is this coincidence? What exactly are his expectations for her, and what does he lecture her about beyond carrying a rifle and becoming a Daughter of Eclectica?

What does it mean for the narrative when a character knows more than the player? More than the author? How does an author even write a character like that? When does everything start falling apart?

Will these be our four main characters for the rest of the story, with WV and PM as secondary characters? Is this the end of major character introductions? Or are there more to come?

[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.

Master list

[glacierheart]

breaking off one of the roses, similar to the blue one pinned to his chest except red in color. worth it until the dead end, his words from earlier replaying back in his mind. festering in anger as he leans his shoulder clad in white sleeves against the bushes, peeling away each petal. each petal roughly ripped and falling delicately against the ground, her voice being heard from a distance. finger eventually getting PRICKED and stung by one of the thorns he's not careful of, causing him to flinch and wince in pain. thinking it was a lot like allowing himself to risk allowing briar in. easily letting her stay out there, stranded. she seemed like a beautiful thing just like the rose in his hand, on the outside certainly– but who is to know what's truly on the inside? he was just awaiting to get punctured by such beautiful thing's thorns. bleeding out like the crimson pouring from his thumb now– but it'll be his emotions and his heart he doesn't claim to have. but as he irritably looks up, hearing the shouts grow closer, only then realizing she was just on the other side of the bushes now.

he could hear the sniffling, indicating she was crying? his heart that didn't feel betraying him as it pangs to the idea he's caused her to shed tears. using his hand that wasn't cut, typing in that code he memorizes. a moment of contemplation once the screen opens, then instead of going to her messages he goes to notes instead to utilize his favorite talents. painting and drawing, even on an app with his finger he could make things turn out as skilled as he could manage without paper and pencil. taking his time drawing a bunch of wild roses that resemble the sweetbriar rose, oh– the irony in her name even. makes his teeth grit, because he hated he liked it so much. it was like the universe was warning him for certain–– unless that was just his undying paranoia. coloring in the butterflies landed on his patch of pink sweetbriar roses, choosing brown and honey colors in reminder of the color of her eyes he adored so much. then scribbling in small letters on the bottom, sweet briar. discreet form of calling her by a nickname while disguising it as titling it what flower he drew. another ironic connection: one gifts one a bunch of briar roses if they're wounded. physically like the rose that cut his thumb. emotionally like briar already wounding him once he clicks her phone off and slips it back into his pocket then looking down the aisle to officially make a decision. his foot steps taking her back in her direction telling him she's already gotten away with wounding him. cursing himself the entire way going back for her.

"i suppose we reached our dead end sooner than later, hm?" voice finally breaks the silence that's fell between them for over fifteen minutes, coming near because he has no choice. he snatches her smaller hand unintentionally with his minor injured one and tugs briar down the next few aisles of roses left in this maze. anger still hardens his face and his voice, "you're the most infuriating girl, briar." if this was the dead end, why was he leading her out of the dead end. and to the best and wondrous part. the land opening up all at once into a courtyard of white gazebos, a botanical flower garden adorning the land with a multitude of colors and a giant water fountain spouting out of the center of the large pond in the center of the courtyard.

" maybe because i am genuinely trying to be his friend! " her anger slipped through there. she was genuine, she did want to be his friend. if she didn't she would have walked the moment she got caught. what would be the point in trying to continue if she'd never got anything from him anyway? she wouldn't get anything now either. and yet, she still continued to go after him. " is that all this was to you? teaching me a lesson? keep myself more guarded, you never know who is trying to be your friend or what their real motives may be. " she scoffed, head shaking, cursing to herself. if he was anyone else she would have walked away, left her phone behind, never would have thought to follow them into a maze. " yeah, very lost, so why don't you show me the way out and i'll-- caspian! " she yelled after him as he left again, quick to follow after him but apparently not quick enough.

briar followed as much as she could, for as long as could and then... dead end, after dead end. she had no idea where she was, where she was going, where to go or even how to get out of here. even if she did find the centre, she wouldn't be able to find her way out. all this, for what? someone who seemed more interested in convincing her they should be enemies. " caspian! " exasperated call of his name as she stopped running, hoping he could hear her. " i give up... okay? i can't make you trust me and chasing you through here isn't going to change that... if you want to be enemies then." she sighed, sniffing and blinking away the damned tears that lined her eyes. " passwords 7 3 7 6 8 4. do whatever you want, i don't care. just... i don't know, if you can hear me but if i'm not out in a day maybe send a rescue party? i'd rather not starve to death in this maze. "

[r0setyler]

thinking about the roses on this makes me -

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

do you think that what the doctor usually feels for companions, rather than romantic or sexual attraction, might just be idolisation?

[faaun]

my research partner and i are huddled in a blanket in paddington waiting for a too-late train i already miss you and you and you

[cringelordofchaos]

DAM remember back then when the only hints of Amy being into magic and history were that one Sonic CD manual and the fact that she could go invisible in Sonic 06?? And now tarot cards are literally her PRIMARY MOVES??MOMG??