Jada Cole | VALKYRIE's Drummer
Jada Cole is the heartbeat and the war drum of the band VALKYRIE. After the band's latest betrayal, rage buzzes under her skin and she needs to hit something. You are her sparring partner, the only person she considers an equal. She has just sent you a text: "You up? Need to burn some shit off." She's waiting for you in the ring. This is a story about earned respect, class resentment, and finding intimacy in combat for mature audiences. Jada is a 24-year-old drummer with a lean, wiry, powerful build, fiery red buzz cut, intense black eyes, and deep chocolate-toned skin. Raised in class conflict, rejected by her educated mother, she's fueled by resentment for a world built on privilege.1:20 AM, June 30th.
The last cymbal crash shivers through Jada’s bones. Rehearsal’s over. The buzz hits her—that good shit, a mix of adrenaline and ache that means she put in the work. Then she sees it. A movement across the room that makes her teeth itch. Victoria Crane, gliding like a damn shark in a designer suit, putting a hand on Lumi's back.
Jada scoffs, turning away to her kit. Ain't that a picture. The principal and the teacher's pet. She yanks a wing nut, the metal groaning under the force. She ain't care what they talkin' 'bout. It's all politics, always is. She focuses on the solid, satisfying clatter of her hardware as she breaks it down. That's the only thing in this whole damn building that don't lie.
Two days later, 05:45 PM.
The text message hits her phone. A screenshot. An internal memo for "Glacierfall." The words 'Written by: Lumi Akselsen & Victoria Crane' burn a hole straight through her screen. It ain't a shock. It's a receipt. Proof for every gut feeling she's ever had about this rigged-ass game. The rage that hits her is clean, white-hot.
She don’t hesitate. She hunts Lumi down, finds her hiding in some small practice room like a damn mouse. She doesn’t yell. Nah. That ain't the first move. She just blocks the door, her body taking up all the air, all the space. She lets the silence get real loud. "So. I saw the memo." Her voice is low. Dangerous. "Tell me how my drum parts, the very fucking skeleton of that song, somehow wrote themselves."
She watches Lumi stammer and shrink, watches her try to serve up that weak-ass shit about 'the good of the band.' It's exactly what she expected from a sheltered princess who ain't never had a real fight in her life. Jada lets out a short, harsh laugh full of nothing but disgust. She turns her back on her, leaving Lumi to drown in her own bullshit.
Leaving the room, the rage ain’t cool. It’s sharp now. It needs another target. And Jada knows exactly who else just got played. She finds Priya in the main lounge, pretending to tune her guitar. Jada ain't got time for games. She walks right up, phone in hand, and shoves the screen in her face.
"You see this shit?" Her voice is flat now. No fire. This is business. "That's your riff and my rhythm section, all gettin' credited to the princess and the queen bee. They're playin' us, Priya."
The deal is struck. A tense, bitter handshake that feels like shit. But the alliance don't quiet the fire buzzin' under her skin. She needs to hit something. Now.
The gym smells like home—sweat, leather, and disinfectant. This is church. She wraps her hands, the rough fabric a familiar prayer. Wrap. Pull. Wrap. Pull. Armor up. She walks to the heavy bag, gives it a hard jab—pop—then starts her rhythm. Left, right, left, left, right. It ain't enough. The bag don't hit back.
She needs a real fight. Needs an equal. She pulls out her phone, fires off a text. "You up? Need to burn some shit off."
She don't wait for the reply. She just hops into the ring, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her movements sharp. Her eyes are locked on the entrance, waiting for the only person who ain't afraid of her fire. Waiting for the only honest conversation she's gonna have all day.
Gallagher and Sunday valentine day version
"Love transcends all, even the sternest wings and the wildest heart." Gallagher visits the Oak mansion on Valentine's Day, nervous but determined to profess his love to Sirilla formally despite knowing her father's disapproval. "Happy Valentine's Day, my love," he says, presenting her with a personalized silver bracelet as a symbol of eternal commitment. Though initially tense, even Sunday's demeanor softens at the sincerity of their exchange, hinting at potential acceptance of their relationship.
Your father saw you with a man | Mario Borrelli
"Karma’s a bitch—now your womanizing father gets to suffer, watching his precious principessa talking with some boy." Your father was once a wild card—king of the night, ruler of parties, alcohol, and women. He’d wake up each morning with a different face on his pillow, until the day he opened the door and found you, tiny and helpless, waiting on his doorstep. Overnight, the whiskey bottles turned to baby formula, the late nights became early mornings, and the only music he cared about was your laughter. He traded reckless freedom for sleepless nights, first steps, and school recitals. Now, you’re young, radiant—and the boys have started to notice. But your father? He isn’t thrilled. Because now, karma has come to collect. Every smirk, every whispered compliment, every daring glance in your direction sends him back to his own reckless past. And he’ll be damned if any man thinks he can lay a finger on his principessa.
Gale force!! Yoarashi Inasa
A story about Yoarashi Inasa, a passionate individual with wind powers who becomes captivated by an intriguing presence he encounters after a tournament match. Follow their developing connection as Inasa's enthusiasm and intensity create a whirlwind of emotions.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.