#Alana’s necklace

[elderly-scrolls]

oh also ozy briefly pulled out his old wedding rings (he stopped wearing them after the astral sea) to be like "I carried these around for a very long time, for the wrong reasons. Now instead of taking something with me I'd like to leave something of myself behind, to remind me to come back" and then kissed kallux and went upstairs to have insane sex all night so i guess good for him

[violetsinyoureyesandguns]

"I got your Bible and your gun

And you love to party and have fun

And I love your women and all of your heroin

And I'm so happy now that you're gone"

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ˚˖𓍢🌷✧˚.🎀⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[thecinnamongirl05]

[ethansluvbot]

hey!! can you do what it would like dating jack champion?? only if u want to tho! :)

HEADCANNONS | JACK CHAMPION

warnings: none just fluff

jack worships the ground that you walk on. he heavily depends on validating his partner. not a second will go by without him posting about you or complementing you.

“you know you’re gorgeous, right?” jack walks up to you with a huge smile on his face. he hugs you kissing down your neck.

he’s most likely into physical touch. he’s totally touched starved and is so glad when he is validated. you guys will always be seen together. jacks hands will always have to be on you somehow.

he loves taking naps with you. he loves taking hikes, going to amusement parks, and taking you to interviews. as long as he is spending time with you he’s fine.

he talks about you a lot in interviews. a interviewer could ask him his favorite color and it would end up relating to you.

he is such a golden retriever. he is never afraid to show that he’s in love with you. if you are in a relationship with him you won’t ever feel alone. you definitely won’t feel insecure with him either.

he loves kissing your hands, neck and temple. he really will kiss you anywhere that you let him. he enjoys when you play with his hair when you cuddle. he will get grumpy if you stop.

jacks head lays in between your legs with his head on your stomach. your fingers gently massage through his hair as you scroll through instagram.

as you scroll through instagram a call come through. it was jenna, she was facetiming you when you picked up. “hi!” you smile remove your hand from his head.

“hey y/n! i was wondering if you would like to come over for a bit?”

“yeah, of course i will-” before you can finish jack grabs your phone and hangs up. you laughed smacking him lightly.

he would definitely do face mask, make bracelets and run you bubble baths all the time. will just sit there while you get ready for bed. he definitely has about 100+ bad photos of you getting ready/unready.

when i tell you his whole phone is filled with pictures of you. you could literally be eating a granola bar and he takes a picture.

calls and text you all day long. you could’ve just left his house and he’s already asking you when you’re coming over again. if you didn’t respond in 5 minutes he just keeps texting you until you respond. definitely overthinks it aswell. he will text mason thinking it’s over.

JACK: MASON. y/ns going to break up with me.

MASON: what did she say??

JACK: she didn’t say anything :(

MASON: oh, so its not happening.

he loves when you go to the gym with him. even if you guys are just goofing off the entire time. he definitely loves helping you spot yourself. he definitely loves helping you reach your full potential. he’s always encouraging you to keep going.

every week he gives you a new sweatshirt and takes back the old one. he makes sure they smell exactly like him so you’re comforted. he definitely enjoys when you wear his hoodies in front of other guys.

you guys are usually hanging out with trinity. you just consider her as a sister eventually. both of you are pretty close. all of you have a weekly dinner.

he loves buying you clothing and jewlery. he will walk into a mall and buy you everything possible. he will buy you matching necklaces.

he’s definitely super nosy. if there’s a fight going down in your groupchat he’s always on your side.

“she’s getting on my nerves right now. she always is on alana’s side even when she’s in the wrong,” you groan throwing your head back

“you should definitely drop her girl. she needs get out of here with her woodchuck looking ass,” he jokes staring at your phone to see what she says. you laugh at him, he immediately makes you feel better.

surprisingly he’s a good artist. like not that he can make self portraits but simple landscapes. he definitely convinced you that he can’t paint you. you didn’t tell him but that was one of the worst self portraits of yourself you’ve seen.

[i-heart-yellowstone]

4 - Dutton’s and Lambert’s

Part 5

Raised Fair Share Of Hell

If y'all got any ideas for this especially moments with Alissa and Rip send them to my ask box 🤗

Tag list - @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close

Standing in front of Lee’s freshly dug headstone and empty grave that he would be put in a few minutes later. I was wearing a short sleeve black dress that went down to my knees. “Alissa.” Opening my eyes I slowly glanced over my shoulder watching my husband walking up to me.

“What is it, Kace?” I questioned him when he finally stopped to stand beside me. He was wearing a full black suit, white shirt and a white tea shirt underneath with his dusty black Cowboy hat.

“How’s your ankle in that boot?”

My gaze lowered down to my left ankle in a doctor's boot that the hospital had told me I would have to wear for a while. “I’ll get used to it.” I answered his question not liking it but was thankful the surgery to remove the bullet didn’t go horribly wrong.

“That’s not what I’m asking. I don’t want you putting too much on it to be here today.”

Grasping his hand in mine I rubbed my thumb over the black wedding band on his left hand. “Kayce, I want to be here. For you and your family. Y’all have known me my entire life. Besides, Lee was like a brother to me. I need to say goodbye to him.”

“How did I get so lucky with you, Ms. Lambert?” Kayce asked, cradling the side of my face in his freehand.

Reaching down inside the front of my dress I drew out the necklace chain I wore with my wedding ring on it. “That’s Mrs. Dutton to you, Kayce John. And you got so lucky cause we’re best friends.” I decided to wear it mostly as a necklace too worried I’d lose the ring that meant so much to me.

“Looks like it’s time.” He squeezed my hand in his seeing the casket being brought close by one of the trucks. He removed his hand from mine, walking over and being a pull bear for his brother alongside John , Rip and a few other ranch hands.

The casket was set up and lowered into the ground before I noticed John walk up and stand in front of it. Each family member went up to say their goodbye leaving me and Faith the last to go. “I'm gonna miss you, Uncle Lee. Thanks for my birthday present - and I hope you are running a beautiful ranch up in the sky.” She laid some flowers over his casket stepping back crying into her father's jacket.

Lee had gotten her a tiny horse necklace for her birthday with the money that his father paid him.

“Hey, Lee. First off I - um I want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry that this happened to you when I could've stopped it.” I felt some tears welling up in my ears and I gripped my ring necklace for strength. “I know I shouldn't put the weight on myself but I am because - because I'm going to miss you so much. I'm gonna miss you and my sister pretending like there's not a spark between you two. I'm going to miss you being Faith's favorite uncle. I'm going to miss our flour fights at 2am. Lee - I'm gonna miss you. But don't you worry I am going to make sure your name and memory aren't forgotten.”

Kayce’s hand touched my shoulder softly. “Alissa - easy now. I've got you - I've got uou honey.” I spun around throwing myself into his chest and he wrapped his arms around my shaking body. We just held each other for a little while until everyone slowly made their way back to the main house.

Gator had prepared dinner for both of our families to enjoy for the next couple of days. The sun was setting over the Dutton Ranch when I went to find my sister Alana standing on the front porch by herself. Pushing the door opened I walked outside. “What are you doing out here, sis?”

“Just needed some air. Today's been - rough. How are you doing?” She asked me rolling her shoulders before dropping them.

I came over leaning my elbows on the wooden porch railing. “Pretty much the same. Faith, just says she wants him back for her birthday. I actually told her that we'd celebrate somehow once all this dies down but she has to understand he's not coming back.”

“It sucks that she misses him so much.” Alana glanced at me, seeing my wedding ring dangling from my neck. “You know who's wedding ring that is right?”

“Yeah.”

She pressed on clasping her hands together. “And did you know that Lee proposed to me with that exact ring?”

“What! Why are you just telling me this now? Have you two been secretly married this whole time?”

She touched my hand seeing that I was getting worked up over her bombshell of news. “Let me explain. First off nobody in either of our families knew about it. We were going to announce it until the day you came home and told us you were pregnant. So Lee and I talked it over and he decided it was best for you and his brother to get married and raise the baby together more than that ring would benefit us at the time.”

“Alana, I - why didn't you tell me sooner?” I felt slightly heartbroken that she gave up her marriage to Lee Dutton for me.

She intertwined our hands together giving me a weak smile. “Because you were going through a lot. Dad was pissed and mom was busy preparing for the baby so it just didn't seem right.”

“So I was right all along about you and Lee?” I asked with a hopeful yet shocked smile on my face.

She nodded her head yes. “We just weren't so obvious the way you and Kayce were - better yet still are today.”

“We are not!” I scolded her.

My sister smirked. “It's nothing to be ashamed of if you want to climb into bed with him. You're already married anyhow.”

“Alana!” I turned my face away, blushing slightly, clearing my throat. “But you two still could have gotten married and had kids for both ranches. So why didn't you?”

She shrugs her shoulders in response. “Didn't ever seem like the right thing for us. Lee and I never wanted to talk about that since that's all our daddy's wanted to talk about.”

“God gave me two daughters and no sons so I'm gonna need them to give me some grandbabies to keep this land of ours.” I did the best impression of my father as I could, still deeply loving him.

Alana was in agreement with me. “We just wanted to enjoy the pressure being off of us, especially the day you got pregnant. You're my little sister so I did what was best for you even though it was making me lose some happiness.”

“I'm sorry.” I wrapped my arms around her in a hug and she hugged me back sniffing through some tears of her own.

“It's okay, Lissa. I was right about something though with our families.” She broke the hug slightly seeing confusion written on my face until she finished her sentence. “I guess Dutton’s and Lambert’s were always meant to go together.”

A few days after the funeral I was walking to the barn to saddle my horse so I could take Faith on a ride yet I halted in my tracks outside the door hearing Jamie and John discussing something inside. “Did they identify Kayce?”

“Not yet.”

“Who are the agents we're talking about?” John asked him.

Jamie responded. “It's, uh, Tom Reynolds and Aaron McReary.”

“Reynolds I can deal with.” He admits. “I don't know this McReary.”

“Yeah, he lives in the south end of the valley. Word is he likes his religion.”

John questioned his son. “As in "won't tell a lie" likes it?”

“Yeah, that would be my guess.”

“Find out where he goes to church. Anything else? Anything else? You said there were a few.”

“The medical examiner's report. You're not gonna like it.” Jamie began explaining.

“Who else has seen the report?” John pressed on for answers.

“The only ones who have seen it want it to change.”

My father in law muttered. “Then it'll change.”

“It means they're doctors. Which means they took an oath, and it wasn't to you. No matter what we do, the photographs won't change. The body won't change. It'll tell the same story - to anybody who looks.” Jamie snapped back at him mentioning some good points.

“The body's buried, Jamie. Relax.” John walked up near his son’s face.

Jamie tried to make him understand. “Yeah, but when they see the report…”

“When they see the report, what? You think I'm just gonna let them dig up my son?” John getting closer up in his face.

He explained to him with a heavy sigh. “When they see the report, they won't ask. They're just gonna do it, Dad. I think we should…”

John held a hand up to him. “No, don't say it.”

“I think we should beat them to it.”

John stomped forward shoving his son against one of the horse stalls behind him staying in his face. “All right, don't say it. Don't even think it.”

“Kayce shot him in the forehead while he laid on his back.” Jamie declares while I felt a nervous tightness in my chest form at his words, remembering the incident all too well.

John growled in his face in disbelief. “We don't know it was Kayce.”

“He was executed. Five bullets in a circle, like this. Name the livestock officer who could do that.” Jamie asked him the question John and I both feared he would say, pointing to his round lawyer badge on his shirt.

Turning my attention away from the door I threaded my fingers into my hair, beginning to feel powerless in this situation. “What are we gonna do, Kayce?”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[fatehbaz]

For those who know how to read them, the signs have long been there. Like the towering mound of 20 million oyster shells all but obscured by the lush greenery of central Florida’s Gulf Coast. Or the arcing lines of wave-weathered stone walls strung along British Columbia’s shores like a necklace. Such features, hidden in the landscape, tell a rich and varied story of Indigenous stewardship. They reveal how humans carefully transformed the world’s coasts into gardens of the sea -- gardens that produced vibrant, varied communities of marine life [...]. And in certain places, like on the west coast of North America in what is now Washington state and where the Swinomish are building a new sea garden, these ancient practices are poised to sustain them once again.

“I see it as a way for our people to be reconnected to our place, to be reconnected to each other, and to have a purpose, to have a responsibility that goes beyond us,” says Alana Quintasket (siwəlcəʔ) of the Swinomish Tribal Senate.

---

Across the planet, Indigenous communities, from the Heiltsuk in British Columbia, to the Powhatan on the Chesapeake Bay on the United States’ Atlantic Coast, to the Māori in New Zealand, have successfully stewarded the sea [...]. These communities avoided diminishing their productive sea gardens despite, in some cases, seeing harvests that rival modern commercial fisheries.

The scale of historical Indigenous oyster gardening, for instance, cannot be overstated. On America’s southeastern Atlantic coast, in the modern states of South Carolina, Georgia and Florida, Indigenous peoples whose descendants include the Muscogee built gargantuan monuments out of oyster shells. These structures could reach 30 meters high or more. [...]

In 2004, scientists studying historical overfishing published a study showing how, starting around the 19th century, oyster stocks suffered a “moving wave of exploitation” that traveled down the Atlantic and Pacific coasts of North America and the eastern coast of Australia. The capitalist commercial fisheries that arrived with European colonization and settlement, Rick says, undid thousands of years of sustainable prosperity. “Within 50 years, 100 years, maybe even less in some areas, they’ve depleted that stock.” But to Rick, that modern narrative of rampant decline is only part of the story. [...] To fill in the rest of the story, Rick assembled a diverse, multidisciplinary team of researchers to revisit the history of oyster fishing in the same places [...].

---

The work adds to scientists’ growing understanding of the diversity and value of Indigenous approaches to marine stewardship. Like the oyster gardens, similar systems show up again and again around the world, from Native Hawaiian loko i‘a (fishponds) and Haida Gwaii naw náaGalang (octopus houses) to the shi hu (stone fish traps) of Taiwan and corrales de pesca (fish traps) of Patagonia. These and other examples are being cataloged by a broad collaboration, known as the Pacific Sea Garden Collective, that is working to map this diversity of Indigenous sea gardening innovations across the Pacific Ocean.

In her own work studying historical Indigenous clam gardens on the North American west coast, which date back at least 3,500 years, Anne Salomon, an applied marine ecologist at Simon Fraser University in British Columbia, has noted some of the key techniques that led to these bountiful yet restrained returns. People would till the sediment, replenish shells in the water, and construct low intertidal rock terraces that flatten the shoreline and expand the farmable area. [...]

---

To Salomon, who is involved in the Pacific Sea Garden Collective, the intensive nature of some Indigenous sea gardens is fundamentally different from the maximum sustained yield mindset of today’s capitalist commercial fisheries. Archaeological evidence, paired with Indigenous oral histories, Salomon says, shows how by focusing on common reciprocal, relationship-based principles and governance practices — ones that sustain individuals, communities and their environments — Indigenous communities often made decisions that led to huge harvests while also putting some limits on the scale at which that intensification was happening.

These gardening efforts included a continuum of features, such as seasonal or size limits on harvest, that may be invisible to the eye, Salomon says. And as Marco Hatch, a member of the Samish Indian Nation and a marine ecologist at Western Washington University who was involved in Rick’s study of oyster gardens points out, “These features aren’t just physical features, they’re cultural features and spiritual features.” [...]

---

Inspired by sea garden restorations led by Indigenous communities in British Columbia, the Swinomish Indian Tribal Community has just received permits to start raking sediment and rolling rocks at a site on its traditional tidelands on Kiket Island, roughly 125 kilometers north of Seattle. For years, tribal members were chased away with guns and dogs and prevented from harvesting in the area, says Swinomish tribal member and shellfish community liaison Joe Williams (Squi qui). “It’s a very special time for us to be able to reacquaint with this particular location,” he says.

This sea garden should help address recent declines of butter clams, littleneck clams and Olympia oysters, and help those populations adapt to climate change. Historically, Indigenous peoples would shift the locations of clam garden rock walls as sea levels changed. Gardens also protect clams against ocean acidification and potentially against extreme temperatures.

---

Text by Ashley Braun. This story was originally produced for Hakai Magazine. Braun’s text here appears as published/re-published by Crosscut with the title “Indigenous sea gardens fed communities, preserved ecosystems.” 3 August 2022. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

[princesssarisa]

Do you know the meaning names of Ariel's sisters?

Oh yes!

In the animated version:

Aquata: “Water."

Andrina: “Courageous.”

Arista: “Ear of grain.” (It’s also the name of a star in the sky.)

Attina: A form of Athena, meaning “of Athens.” (Since the prequel reveals that Athena was their mother's name, she was presumably named after her.)

Adella: “Noble.”

Alana: “Stone” or “beautiful.”

In the live-action remake:

Perla: “Pearl.”

Indira: “Beauty.”

Karina: “Pure” or “beloved.”

Caspia: “Of the Caspian Sea.”

Mala: “Necklace.”

Tamika: “Child of the people.”

Meanwhile, "Ariel" means "lion of God."

[dharma-divine]

DIOSKOUROI

Chapter II

Pairing: Twins x (Female) Reader, endgame TBD

Summary: Given your first taste of freedom in order to attend a prestigious arts academy, you befriend a sweet, charming boy who ultimately proves to be delinquent warlock, desperate to free his equally deceitful twin brother from hell after a necessary betrayal to their coven. You are essential to the brothers’ liberation and reunion, and in the process of learning of their mystic abilities and lineage, you reveal the truth of your own.

(For a more information regarding mythological references and character abilities, please click here)

WARNINGS: Mild suggestive content

Taglist: @gardenvanfleet @alwayzthere @sammygvfslut @gretavanhoney @maverick-rose @fosterkidwiththebrokenjaw @obetrolncocktails @capturethechaos @tlexx @charlesashton @garagebandvanfleet @myownparadise96 @jakeslovehandles @sparrowofthedawn @alt-jb @idk-maddie @theweightofstardust @danny-wagners-peacesign-necklace

(special thanks to Alana for being such a huge help with editing xx)

☽ ✩ ☾

The woods come creeping into your line of sight once more, along with the twists of flames lapping at the sky and the boy sitting before them.

“Help him. Please.”

The same scene plays out as before, with you wandering unscathed into the fire, following the dark figure until some unbeknownst force pulls you back into the trees.

The only difference this time is when you reach for his hand, not only do you feel his soft palm but also the band of something hard pressed between your fingers. You squint down to notice that it’s a ring, looped around his pointer finger in a stark black. It feels like stone — obsidian, with its shockingly cool touch even while being surrounded by pure heat.

For some reason, while his features once again melted from your memory by the time you wake the next morning, the image of the ring around his finger sticks, glinting among the flames appearing every time you close your eyes.

You’re pondering the image, and trying to recall the faces of the mysterious recurring characters in these strange dreams, the entire morning, your brows furrowed with thought as you sit in class with Josh.

It’s the third week of classes, and you can tell you’ve already fallen helplessly behind, though you can’t rid yourself of the distracting thoughts that drown out the sound of the professor’s droning voice.

You’re suddenly interrupted when Josh lightly nudges your arm with his elbow, before sliding his notebook over so you can see what’s scribbled on the top line.

What’s on your mind?

You blush at the thought that he was watching you ponder to yourself, jotting down a reply.

I’ve been having weird dreams lately. Too much to write down, will tell you about it after class.

How about over coffee?

Your heart leaps at the inquiry, and you glance over to see his cheeky smile and fan of lashes, his eyes remaining on the open notebook.

As classes have settled in you’ve found that you both have a perfect slot of time nestled between lectures for a quick lunch  break, and the café down the hall from your lecture has been calling your name since its delicious smell first wafted past you.

Okay, you write back, to which he doodles you a smiley face.

☽ ✩ ☾

You find a cozy corner with a booth and big table, sliding your bag off your shoulder and onto the plush leather, its aroma mixing with the delicious smell of coffee.

“I’m gonna go order, what would you like?” Josh asks as he heads for the counter.

“Um…” you ponder, face flushing as you panic to think of something. “I’ve never gotten coffee from a shop before, we’re a strictly tea household. What do you usually get?”

Josh smiles, clearly endeared by your strangeness to the concept. 

“I usually get a caffé ristretto or espresso, but they’re a bit strong if you’re not used to the taste,” he explains. “How about just a latte? Coffee and milk?”

You grin, nodding your head eagerly. “That sounds perfect.”

He nods, then walks over to the girl standing behind the counter to order. You can tell by his mannerisms and how a blushed smile instantly rosies her cheeks that he’s charming her, though their words are not in earshot. You hear her giggle as she hands him his receipt, and a tight, antsy feeling arises in your stomach that you recognize as jealousy.

He’s like that with everyone, you tell yourself. Why be jealous?

But the feeling ceases to fade, and it isn’t until his head turns back towards you, the girl following his gaze, that you snap out of it, giving them an anxious, awkward wave.

“She’s never had coffee from a shop before, isn’t that crazy?” you’re finally able to hear him say, followed by another bout of the barista’s swooning giggles.

You shake your head at him amusedly as he carefully carries the drinks back to your table, moving your books aside so he can set them down.

“Here you go,” he says, setting the two cups down before taking his seat.

You admire the frothy rose decorated on top of yours, the way you always see it illustrated. 

“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, the sweet, creamy smell hitting your nose. “It’s so pretty I almost don’t want to drink it. What do I owe you?”

He holds up a hand, waving it at you dismissively as he takes his first sip. “Don’t worry about it, please. I’m only interested in hearing about this dream of yours. What happened?”

Your chest leaps at the reminder of the purpose of this meeting, keeping you from the chance to argue further about the money. You take a sip of your latte, finding it as comforting and wonderful as it smells, even though it nearly burns your tongue.

“Right – it’s, um, it’s really intense,” you warn, adjusting yourself in your seat. “And so, so vivid – to the point where it feels real.”

Josh sits back as he sips his coffee, his eyes above the brim of the cup set on you.

“So I start off in a forest, and my chest feels tight, as if I've just been running. Some kind of grand force is luring me to this meadow past all the trees, and a deep voice is coming from somewhere around me, speaking in a language I don’t know — I think it might be Latin? And when I make it to the meadow, there’s a huge fire in the middle that’s completely stagnant, not growing or moving, the flames just stay in place. And in front of the fire –”

You pause, trying once again to comprehend the faces of the figures you have seen so many times at this point, but ultimately blanking.

“There’s a boy sitting, his legs folded, literally inches away from the flames. His mouth moves to the words I’m hearing above me, but the voice is way too loud to be coming from just him alone. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, but it’s so loud and powerful I feel it shaking in my chest. He starts pleading for me to help with something, and a second later another boy comes from inside the flames.”

Your breathing has picked up, the recount of the imagery so intense it’s sending you into a near panic attack, your eyes trained to the table.

“Hey, It’s okay,” you hear Josh speak softly, lifting his hand to squeeze the top of yours comfortingly. “You don’t have to continue if it stresses you too much.”

You squeeze back, flinching when you feel something cold pressing into your hand. You let go to see a black ring looped around Josh’s middle finger, and suddenly the image from your dream flashes in your mind.

“That’s funny,” you smile, a bit of anxiety lifting away as you pull Josh’s hand to your face to inspect the ring further, to which he looks confused. “Your ring— the boy from the dream had one on, the second one that was in the fire. In fact I think it was on the same exact finger. What is it?”

“Obsidian,” he says, looking a bit melancholy. “It was my brother’s, he gave it to me right before he was taken.”

You remember registering the stone in your subconscious, and the whole exchange is feeling like a strange blast of deja vu.

“Is there any meaning behind it being on your middle finger?” you ask.

“No,” he grins, twisting the ring with his thumb. “It’s just the only finger it fits on. I only wear it when I’m especially missing him, I’m afraid it’ll twist off and I’ll lose it. It’s funny that it made it into your dream, though. Our minds have an interesting way of saving little details of our lives.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy,” you add, shaking your head. “I’ve never had such vivid dreams before, like could they mean anything?”

”Yeah, definitely,” he says, pondering to himself for a moment. “The fire and the figures could represent a multitude of things; your anxieties and any obstacles holding you back, your emotions, literally anything. It’s hard to pinpoint which is which, but regardless it sounds like you’re going through a lot. I’m sorry these dreams are causing you so much stress, I wish I could help.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, honing in on the sensation of his thumb against the top of your hand to keep you calm. “Thank you for listening, I appreciate it.”

You know it’s odd to feel so close to someone so quickly, but it feels like you’ve known Josh for years, like you’ve been best friends since you were little and taken on this life together. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really had a friend before, but you feel like you could trust him with anything. Every other man you’ve come in contact with since your freedom has had this deep violet aura around them, even when they’ve been perfectly nice, your intuition telling you that they reek with danger, and to tread lightly around them, to not let them know too much. But you haven’t had that voice with Josh, not for a single second. His aura is bright yellow, tinged with tendrils of red and orange. Friendly, adventurous, thoughtful, considerate, well-grounded, that’s him. He’s your safe space in this new world that you’re still trying to figure out.

“Do you like it?” Josh finally asks, pulling his hand from you to point at your coffee cup, breaking you out of the near trance you fell under.

“Oh,” you blush. “Yeah, I do. It’s delicious.” 

You take a larger gulp now that it’s not as hot, its sweet bitterness coating your tongue.

Your notice Josh begin to sift through his book bag and decide to go back to your own studying, grabbing the moleskin you had taken out while you waited for the coffee. To your dismay, you open its pages to find only a few nonsense lines written, along with some mindless doodles sketched in the margins. You glance over at Josh’s notebook, seeing them filled from top to bottom. He has impressively neat handwriting, and even drew diagrams and pictures to illustrate each subject.

“Well, shit,” you curse quietly to yourself.

“Can I copy yours?”

“Go right ahead,” he replies, sliding it over with a grin.

You briefly reflect on the fact that you have not noticed Josh pick up his pencil once in the three classes you’ve had with him thus far, but you decide to ignore it, doing your best at copying what he has written.

An hour later, you’ve given up on the copying and gone to simply taking photos of his pages, your eyes tired and stomach grumbling.

“I think this is good for now, I should get home,” you tell Josh, flipping your notebook closed and slapping your pen down on its cover.

“Sweet,” he replies, shutting the book he was reading. “Any exciting plans for the night?” 

You realize it’s Friday, and that the unfortunate answer for you is no.

“I’ll probably just stay home with my aunt, maybe watch a movie,” you shrug, zipping up your bag and slumping it over your shoulder.

“Well, wanna go to a party instead?” he asks, and you freeze at the word party, an anxious knot immediately forming in your chest.

You look up to see him standing above you, grinning from ear to ear.

“Josh you know I-”

“Oh come on,” he urges as you stand up and push your chair in. “It’s a casual affair, at a friend of mine’s house right off campus. Starts at ten, you can be home by midnight…”

You roll your eyes even though the way he pitches his voice at the end of his sentence makes a smile pull at your lip, and you know his convincing is already winning you over.

“I’ll have to sneak out, and I’ve never done that before,” you say, your voice mousy and innocent.

“So?” he quips, giving you a light push on your shoulder. “You’ve had a lot of firsts lately, what’s one more?”

You sigh, worrying your lip.

“She’s a light sleeper,” you point out. “Though…”

You think of the bundle of valerian root you saw in the kitchen cupboard recently, enough to knock out an army.

“Though…” Josh repeats as he follows you closely as you both exit the cafe.

“Okay, I’ll see,” you blush, flattered that he’s so adamant about your attendance. “Just send me the address.”

“Already sent,” he smiles, just as your phone pings with his text.

“See you at eleven?” he calls as he begins to part ways to his last class upstairs, with you on your way to your lab building across campus.

“See you,” you grin, your head ringing with nervous anticipation with how this night will play out.

☽ ✩ ☾

“So her memory is catching up to us,” Jake says after his brother explained the events of the day, his face half illuminated in an orange glow. “She didn’t question you any more about the ring?”

“No,” Josh shakes his head, tapping his thumb against the hard band. “I don’t think she’s suspicious of any of that yet, it’s still just a dream to her.”

“Well, that’s good,” Jake sighs, laying back down in his cot. “Let her figure it out herself.”

It’s silent for a moment except for the crackling of the fire , the conversation coming to a lull.

“We’re going to a party tonight,” Josh mentions through a modest smirk, and he can see his brother perk up with interest. “Oh really?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ve been to a few already, just to familiarize myself with the culture of the academy. It’s not a lavish jamboree like we’re used to, but mortals like to have fun too— plenty of spirits, plenty of vices. Princess should have a ball.”

“Well, don’t get too ahead of yourself,” Jake quips, flashing a toothy grin that Josh hasn’t seen in a regrettably long time. “She’s never even drank before, has she?”

“Nothing to this extent,” Josh admits. “But don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe. I promise.”

☽ ✩ ☾

It wasn’t easy — of course, tonight was the night your aunt wasn’t in the mood for a cup of her evening tea, a steep of soothing herbs that always has her in bed by 9 o’clock sharp. 

“I think I’m going to stay up and knit,” she says to your dismay as you put the pot of water to boil. “It’s getting cold soon, and when I pulled the heavy quilts from the attic earlier today I found that the moths had eaten them to shreds — isn’t that a shame? Must have forgotten the mothballs when I stored them in the spring. Well, I can’t afford brand new ones from Mrs. Mabel this year, I have some yarn to make our own. Would you like to help?”

You purse your lips, tapping your nail anxiously at the edge of the metal stove. “No thanks, not tonight. I have a lot of homework.”

You turn to open the cupboard, slipping the bundle of valerian in your palm as you sift through the carefully labeled tea boxes. 

“I’m still going to make some tea, though. How about black, if you’re wanting to stay up late?” You ask, your heart pounding anxiously for her response.

“Hmm, I suppose with some honey and milk,” she nods before heaving her knitting basket onto the dining table.

“Great,” you grin, relieved she was convinced, lifting the lid to dip the bag into the heavy pot.

You glance back to see your aunt already working vigorously at her needles, making sure she's distracted before slipping the valerian bundle in with the rest of the brew. Caffeinated tea and a heaping of sedative herbs — not your best plan, but you’re hoping for a decent outcome. If anything the reactions will cancel out, and she’ll only softly doze off instead of knock out for days.

A few minutes later and you pour the dark steaming liquid into two cups, one for yourself that you’re preparing to leave untouched on your bedside table, along with splashes of milk and stirs of honey. Your aunt takes her mug gladly, and you revel at the sight of her taking a few hearty gulps.

“Delicious,” she hums, blowing on the steam. “Remind me to get more of this blend at the market.”

“I’ll put it on the list,” you smile as you grab your mug and head towards the stairs.

“Well, I’ll probably be up here the rest of the night,” you call over your shoulder as you make your way over to the stairs, stepping carefully stepping over Lazlo who lounges in his usual spot on the first step. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight my love!” you hear her call back. “I hope you dream sweetly tonight  — none of that nightmare nonsense.”

You smile at her wish, though you know you won't have to worry about that for a while as you make it down the hall and swiftly your door behind you, clanking the mug on the nightstand before rushing into your closet.

“Casual affair…” you repeat Josh’s words to yourself as you sift through your closet.

You decide on a pair of black jeans and a white cable knit sweater, an outfit that allows you to have full agility among the obstacles you’re about to face. After touching up your makeup and stuffing your phone and keys in your back pockets, you pace around your room nervously until the clock is closer to ten. At 9:45 you pull on your denim jacket and heavy black boots and trek quietly to the window that sits in the middle of the far wall of your room.

“Okay,” you sigh to yourself, unlatching its lock and pushing it open, the cold air quickly wafting in.

You take one last glance behind you for good measure, before stepping your foot through the windowsill and landing on the rough surface of roof shingles. You hold the top of the windowsill to steadily pull yourself through, crouching down to slide the window shut once you’ve made it through. 

“Easy,” you praise yourself, before realizing the next part is the most treacherous; sliding down the incline to reach its edge.

You sit on your haunches with your legs outstretched in front of you, your hands bent behind you for leverage as you carefully scoot yourself to the edge. It takes maybe a minute at most to get down, even though it feels like an eternity with the gravelly shingles digging into your palms. You panic once you make it to the edge and feel hesitant to jump in such an awkward position. With no other choice, you flip your body around in one swift move, your knees sinking into the wet mass of leaves stuck in your gutter as you prepare to jump.

“Fuck me,” you curse at the icy wetness hitting your skin, pushing them past the edge one by one, your hands now gripping the edge of the gutter as your body dangles along the nearly 8 foot drop.

You don’t even let yourself think too much about letting go, you just do it, bending your knees to break the impact of your boots hitting the soft grass.

You spring up to standing, giving yourself a moment to catch your breath and dust the dirt and debris off yourself before quietly scurrying to your truck, avoiding walking in front of any of your front windows to the best of your ability.

In a blur you make it inside the truck, shutting its door with the lightest slam. It isn’t until you make it to the main road that you let out a sigh of relief, your first escape mission a success.

Before you know it, the tire of your truck skimming the edge of the curb designated the address Josh had sent. You nervously attempt to parallel park, settling on a good enough job in your book, with your right front tire perhaps sticking out a bit for others' likings.

You switch off the ignition and hop out, your breath clouding in the damp cold air that clings to your skin. Your boots scuff against the pavement as you walk up to the respective door, your heart clambering in your chest.

I’m here, you text Josh, too nervous to enter and be greeted by stranger’s faces. A second later, you hear it open, Josh appearing with his eyes heavy and glossed pink, his smile as white as ever.

“Welcome!” he greets, pulling you into a hug.

He smells like something earthy but unfamiliar, the scent sticking to his breath when he continues to speak as you pull away.

“Come in, would you like a drink?”

You feel a pleasant shiver go down your spine. You`ve never been offered a drink, save for the glass of birthday wine.

“I would love one,” you smile, following him down a dark, barren hallway.

The hall leads to a living room, lit only by a string of fairy lights and a lamp in the far corner that glows a deep, dark orange. In the center sits a well-worn leather couch where two couples lounge, a boy and girl chatting on one end, and two boys making out at the other. A few more people are splayed amongst the room, some standing in a little group while chatting and sipping from their red plastic cups, a few others sat around the round bohemian rug that lays in front of the couch, their legs tucked under the glass coffee table on top of it.

“Attention, everyone,” Josh announces, his voice seeming to carry over the others with ease and quiet them instantly.

He introduces you to the group, making sure to mention how this is your first year at Acaber, and does his best to rattle off the names of everyone else, though the nerves of having so many eyes on you prevents you from registering most of them. They all seem very nice, welcoming you with a cheers of their cups.

“Drinks are this way,” he informs, ushering you towards what you soon find in the kitchen.

An array of sodas and juices in colorful bottles are splayed out along one of the countertops, basically all of which you have never tried before as your aunt has an unofficial ban on any artificial products at home. Along the opposite counter is a similar sight, though you recognize their ornate glass bottles as being full of liquor. 

“What’s your drink of choice?” Josh asks, grabbing a red cup from a stack by the sink.

“I have no idea,” you laugh, a bit overwhelmed by all of the options. “I guess whatever you’re having.”

“Right, right,” he says, clearly recalling your lack of experience in the matter. “Well this is just whiskey, and I am positive you will not like it.”

“Oh please,” you quip, taking the cup from him. “I liked the coffee, I can like this too.”

“Alright,” he laughs, an amused smile spread on your lips. “Suit yourself.”

You don’t hesitate to tilt the cup to your lips, the shallow pool of dark liquid pouring into your mouth. Immediately, it stings your nostrils, and it tastes as if you dipped one of the caramel bon bons you get from the shop on the square, except covered in gasoline.

“Agh!” you wince, shoving the cup back to Josh. “That’s awful.“

“I told you,” he giggles. “I don’t say that to be pretentious, it’s just not normally a baby’s first booze kind of drink.”

“I’m sorry,” you blush, feeling a warmth blossom in your throat and chest. “It feels good though.”

“Hell yeah it does,” he says, walking over to the soda counter with your cup. 

“Here, something simple and sweet — rum and Coke.”

He pours a few glugs of Coca-Cola, the pale fizz nearly pouring over the rim, before carrying the cup to the other side, plucking a tall clear bottle with a white cap, the name Bacardi in big letters atop its label. He swirls the mixture in the cup as he walks it over to you, extending it to you with a proud smile.

“Cheers.”

You clink plastic cups, hesitating this time as the drink drips past your lips.

“Mmm,” you hum, your eyes lighting up as you take in the sparkly sweet gulp. “That’s good, like candy.”

Josh hums at your comment, clearly amused.

“You’ve never had a sugar high like this before, kid,” he quips, giving you a wink. 

The pet name catches you off guard, along with how easily it slips off his lips, lacquered with an inflection you’ve never heard from him before.

“Are you high?” you ask, the question blurting out once you notice how his eyes are practically gleaming with a sheen of pink.

He acts offended, placing a defensive hand to his chest.

“Now, I know you’re new to all this,” he says, stepping closer to you. “But surely you know not to ask something so patronizing. How dare you think I’m under the influence.”

He speaks in a cadence as if he’s performing a dramatic acting role, raising his hands to dramatize every other word.

You simply stare at him a moment, unsure of what to say or if you’ve truly offended him, until he bursts into a bout of laughter, his giggles filling you with warm relief.

“I’m just kidding,” he says, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “I’m fucking stoned.”

“Oh,” you chuckle back, trying to ignore the fact that he glanced at your lips the moment he learned into your shoulder. “Well I’ve never been stoned before either, but maybe that’ll change too.”

“It will,” he nods with blissfully shut eyes, tapping your shoulder once more before letting go. “Not tonight, but it will.”

“Why not tonight?” you ask as you follow him back into the living room, which has somehow doubled in capacity in just the short period of time you were in the kitchen.

“One vice at a time,” he calls over his shoulder, before slouching onto the couch that’s now half vacant, the two boys still perfectly comfortable lapping at each other's faces.

You try not to be rude but can’t help but look over at them for a second, glancing back at Josh with raised eyebrows.

He gestures to you to lean closer even though you’re still standing, so you simply hover over him, with him looking up at you through heavy lashes.

“Grey and Everett,” he says as he nods to them. “They’re in their own world, we’re used to it. Why condemn the act of love? It’s beautiful and natural.”

You nod back, trying to normalize it yourself. Sure, he has a point.

“So is this all we do?” you ask, stepping back to glance around the ever-filling room. “We just sit around and talk and drink, and…kiss?”

“Sure!” Josh exclaims, suddenly pushing himself back off the couch and raising his hands in the air. “Relishing life's luxuries while we’re young and still have some brain cells to lose. Speaking of — want a shot?”

You ponder the daring request for a moment, glancing down to see that your cup is already almost empty

“Alright,” you say, before finishing off the rest. “Let’s do it.”

☽ ✩ ☾

Much to your delight, you find that you love tequila shots. Dressed with salt and a lime, it’s a delicious mix of sweet, salty, and heat, the burn of the liquor hitting your throat making your cheeks flush and limbs feel loose. You’ve had three so far, and even though Josh is proud of your natural ability to shoot the liquor right down your throat, he warns you to pace yourself.

“It feels great right now,” he says into your ear, yelling over the noise of the room that’s now nearly filled to capacity. “But it hurts in the morning.”

You’re both standing in the corner of the room by a tall potted fiddle leaf, having a brief conversation earlier about how well it appears to be taken care of. It’s a quarter to one, and you have no plans to go home anytime soon. You’re relieved every time you check your phone and don’t have a thread of calls and messages from your aunt, hopefully proving your sleep tea concoction to be a success.

“I want to dance,” you blurt, your limbs tingling with the desire to move.

Josh raises his eyebrows, before promptly setting down his drink on the floor. 

“Say less,” he says, before grabbing your wrist and pushing into the crowd.

You don’t know the song that’s playing, but the beat makes your body vibrate. You’ve never danced outside of the comfort of your bedroom, and you’d be self conscious if it weren’t for the liquid courage currently surging through your veins. You rock your hips side to side, your arms raised and wrists twisting to the rhythm. Your eyes are closed, soaking in the moment when you feel a gentle hand on the small of your back. You open your eyes to Josh, a grin spread in his face as he gently grabs at your waist to pull you closer to him. Your arms fall to land atop his shoulders and his forearm slinks across the small of your back, the pads of his fingers pressed into the plush side of your waist as you both rock to the rhythm. No words are shared, not that they could be even heard over the music, but you share a different kind of nonverbal communication between your bodies that feels deeply intimate. Touching him is electric, your body buzzing with every squeeze he gives to your hips. 

You can’t help but press yourself even closer into him, practically grinding into him as your fingers slide up the nape of his neck before raking through his mess of curls. You feel Josh lean in as your eyes once again shut for a moment, but they shoot open with a gasp when you feel his wet lips against the side of your neck. You instantly melt, the sensation incredible, and you feel a pulse somewhere deep within your core. He pulls away for just a moment before finding a different spot, the next kiss coming with a suction that makes the spot sting deliciously. You tug gently at the roots of his curls signaling you like it, and you swear you feel him smile, the skin below his lips vibrating at the frequency of his muffled chuckle.

He pulls away, lifting his head to look you in the face, his lips pink and swollen. You marvel at them for a moment before glancing up to see his eyes admiring your own lips, and you know what is to come next. You both lean in, your lips barely grazing when a loud banging comes from the entryway and bright beams of light come shining in through the entrance windows.

“Shit, not again,” you hear Josh curse among other distressed voices in the room, many of the people around you retreating into deeper rooms within the house.

Though the bright light and authoritative voices coming from behind the door are threatening, you recognize that you aren’t as concerned as you maybe should be, giggling to nothing in particular as you cling onto Josh’s arm.

“C’mon,” he tells you right as the music turns off, and you stumble behind him as he leads the way past the kitchen and into another darker room, still having your arm gripped around tightly to his bicep.

After a few moments in the pitch black, simply trusting Josh keeps you from slamming into a table or other obstacle, you make it to another door, its curtained window glowing a moonlit violet. He twists the knob slowly, the wood creaking as the door leaves its frame, and you see his silhouette motion for you to walk through.

“Shhh,” he scolds as you begin to giggle once the two of you cross the yard into a small patch of woods behind the house. “They’ll be here for a bit, we have to wait it out.”

You both stop at the trunk of one of the larger trees, Josh leaning against it as he observes the direction you both just came from.

“I’m cold,” you complain with a slurred, pouty voice as you rub your hands together frantically, having ditched your jacket inside at some point.

“Here,” Josh says, before grabbing your hands and folding them together.

He then proceeds to place them to his lips, inhaling deep breath before blowing it between your palms to warm them. You can’t help but let out a loud cackle at the gesture, and Josh suddenly pulls you forward and into him.

“You can’t do that,” he says, trying to be serious even though a laugh grazes his voice. “They might come outside, or the neighbors will call in another noise complaint on top of the one they’ve already clearly made.”

“I’m sorry,” you blush, your whole body weight leaning against him and the tree.

“How are you so warm?” you ask, feeling his hands that still remain wrapped around yours. “It’s like you’re by a fire, not standing in 20 degree weather.”

He shrugs, letting his thumbs brush against the tops of your hands.

“I’m warm bodied, I guess.”

You both continue to stand there for a few minutes, ducking around the other side of the thick tree once you hear the back door open and flashlights shine across the yard. Eventually the sound of their cruiser doors slamming shut echos from the other side of the house, their headlights casting across the front line of trees as they drive away. Josh holds out a patient finger for a few more beats to make sure the coast is clear before he relaxes himself with a sigh.

“Alright,” he says, looping your arm around his. “Let’s get you home.”

☽ ✩ ☾

You don’t remember how you ended up perfectly tucked under the covers of your bed, or when you changed into your pajamas, but it’s the state you find yourself in once you awake the next morning. You groan at the first throb of a pounding headache, squinting as you reach for where you left your mug of tea the night before even though cold tea is the last thing you wanted to drink. Your eyes open when your hand wraps around a tall glass instead, realizing it’s fully filled with water. You look over to see a bottle of ibuprofen sitting beside it, two pills already sitting on its lid.

You struggle to sit up higher to grab the pills and swallow them down with several big gulps of water, looking around your room, trying your hardest to recall the majority of your night. It comes back in bits and pieces; the tequila shots, the dancing, Josh’s hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. You put your hand to the spot that’s still lingering with a soft ache, the skin raised and sensitive, and you feel your cheeks flush thinking about how good his touch felt. You never understood how a pain could feel pleasurable, but this was it, and you can’t help but push on the fragile skin to feel the sting just a bit more. 

Your memory is completely black after a blurry image of you in the woods, shivering and pressed closely into Josh as he waited for the police to leave. Your heart lurches at the fact that you couldn’t have possibly driven yourself home, and you fly out of bed to get a look outside your window that faces the driveway, pulling the curtains open even though the stark brightness blinds you for a moment.

To your deep relief you find that your truck is parked in the exact spot it’s always in, sitting right behind your aunt’s old buggy that she rarely touches.

The mystery of how you ended up home, and if Aunt Edith caught you and you’re grounded for eternity still stands, and your anxiety crawls right back into your stomach as you reach for your phone to text Josh.

Luckily his name is already in the thread of notifications once you turn it on, and you anxiously click it.

Call me when you wake up, his text says.

Everything is okay.

You dial his number, your heart still pounding as the ringer beeps.

“Good morning, princess,” you hear him smile through the phone, and you blush at the pet name, though your anxiety doesn’t give you much time to acknowledge it any further.

“Everything’s alright?” you ask, still not convinced. “Aunt Edith didn’t wake up, you-?”

“Yes, everything is totally fine,” he assures with a chuckle. ”Never heard a thing from your aunt, the house was silent except for a few stumbles and giggles coming from you. You were very adamant to do your skincare and change into comfy clothes.”

You blush deeper, too embarrassed to ask if he helped you in any way.

“But my car?” you decide to ask instead, walking back over to the window to look at it once more. “How-?”

“I had some friends help,” he explains. “They were sober and drove us and the car home. Everything is alright, okay? You made it home without a hitch.”

“Okay,” you say, letting out the breath you realize you’ve been holding.

The line goes quiet for a second before he speaks again. “So did you have a good time? Did you need the pain meds this morning?”

“I did, and yes,” you reply, cracking a smile and fiddling nervously with the hem of your sleep shirt. “It was amazing — everything I could’ve hoped for, but perhaps minus the headache. Did you enjoy it?”

“Hell yeah,” he says. “Best night I’ve had in a while.”

He pauses again, and you can hear him inhale before he speaks. 

“Is—uh, is your neck alright? I’m sorry if I got a little—“

“No, it’s fine,” you laugh, your whole body buzzing at the fact that he remembered what had happened. “I actually haven’t even looked at it…”

You walk over to your mirror and lift the phone from your ear momentarily to get a glimpse of it, your eyes widening at the deep red splotch stained onto your neck. You press your fingertip into it again, the red specks of broken blood vessels disappearing for a brief second with the pressure, before returning a deeper purple once it’s removed.

“Oh,” is all you can think to say back into the phone, a bit shocked by how dark and obvious it is.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, and you can hear the concern in his voice. 

“No it doesn’t, don’t worry. It’s a bit noticeable, but I have some arnica flower,” you assure him, having used it for a scrape you got in the garden a few months ago. “Please Josh, don’t worry about it.”

You admire the rest of yourself in the mirror, and how sexy it feels to have a reminder of the night before, even though you’re going to have to hide it before you even leave your room.

“It felt good,” you think to yourself, and you don’t realize you’ve said it out loud until you hear Josh huff a laugh into the receiver.

“Tequila makes everything feel good,” he quips, and you want to ask him to elaborate when you hear the steps of the staircase down to the hall creak with your aunt’s heavy footsteps.

“Shit, I have to go, I’ll talk to you later,” you tell him quickly before ending the call, shutting your curtains and running back to your bed.

You’re fully nestled under the covers with your head turned from the door as it begins to creak open.

“You’re sleeping in late,” you hear Aunt Edith say, and you act as though she’s awoken you, letting out a sleepy yawn and stretch.

“Stayed up really late studying,” you tell her, sitting up as she hands you a cup of tea. “Got it all done so I can enjoy the rest of my weekend.”

“Oh, you have plans?” she asks, walking over to fully open your curtains, the bright white light shining in.

“Well, not particularly,” you say before taking a sip of tea. “We’re due for a farmer’s market trip, aren’t we? The vintage booth I really like is there today, and I’d like a few more sweaters for school.”

“We can do that,” your aunt replies, smiling at you.

She looks cheerier than normal, her round face glowy.

“Did you have a nice night?” you ask her, pulling your legs out of the covers and slipping on your house shoes.

“I did, got sleepy by around ten so I abandoned my knit—“ she begins, but stops suddenly when you lean over to set your tea down on your nightstand.

“Oh no, honey,” she says, suddenly sounding deeply concerned. “What happened to your neck?”

Your blood runs cold, completely forgetting to hide your neck from her even though you were just discussing its state moments ago. You try your best to play dumb, giving her a questioning look.

“What do you mean?” you ask, your hand grabbing for the front of your throat rather than the side.

“No, over here,” she says, before going over to you to get a better look herself. “You have an awful bruise, go look in the mirror.”

You furrow your brow, walking over to the mirror and letting out a gasp.

“I have no idea,” you try your best to fib, staring at the wound wide-eyed through the mirror. “I had a dry patch there yesterday and I was itching it, I guess I scratched it raw.”

“Well, let me go get you something to soothe it, some aloe,” she says, rushing to the door. “Go to the bathroom and rinse it with some warm water.

“Okay,” you call back, getting up from your bed to meet your aunt in the kitchen. “I have arnica flowers in the cabinet, that may help too!”

You smile as you walk to your door, proud of yourself getting away with something so salacious.

Just as you’re about to walk through the doorway, you notice a tiny flicker of light coming from atop the dresser to your right. You focus on the source, and between a vase of dried bouquet of roses and a rabbit figurine you see a small tea light, its wick burning a deep auburn flame. Your face drops to a confused frown, and you walk over to it. The wax below the wick is fully melted and halfway evaporated, meaning it must have been lit hours ago. You glance around your room as if you’ll find any hints why or how it was lit, because surely your aunt did not do it — she always scolds you for leaving candles burning for more than a few hours. When you ultimately find nothing, you decide to simply extinguish the flame, dabbing the pad of your index finger on your tongue and snuffing it, the flame vanishing in an instant. You rub the smooth ash between your fingertip and thumb as you set the candle back down, staring at the tepid pool of amber liquid for a beat more before turning and continuing to descend down the hall.

☽ ✩ ☾

Her skin tasted so sweet, like cherry wine sucked between his teeth. She lingered on his lips for hours after he left her, after he switched a matchstick from his back pocket and ignited a cluster of brambles, her lapse in consciousness blinding her from asking any questions as to why he’s starting a fire in the middle of the woods. With a whisper of a spell, they were transported from the woods to the closest flame she had to her house, a barrel fire in a homeless commune a few blocks away. He was amused by the looks of bewilderment the vagrants gave him when they emerged from the flames, but he paid them no mind, hitching her over his shoulder and trekking the rest of the way on foot.

After managing to get up her roof and back through the window of her bedroom, he rested her limp body gently onto her bed, not a single creak coming from its wooden frame. He stood up and took a moment to the room, breathing in her scent, having waited so long to finally be in this house. He walked over to the opposite side of her room where a long cabinet sat against the wall, and it took him no time to find a candle among her assortment of trinkets and treasures atop it, a small tea light that gave him just enough time for his pyromancy.

Lighting it with another match from his book, Josh grabs the candle and carefully walks over to her bedside. He meditates in his intentions for a moment before taking a deep breath, shutting his eyes, and waving the flame once over the top of her body. When his eyes open, she’s in a cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, her feet bare. He shuffles back over to the cabinet and delicately sifts through its drawers, finding a pair of wool socks that he gently pulls up to her ankles. He then lifts her body from the bed to pull back the thick blankets, nestling her in the crevice of the sheets and tucking them under her chin. 

He didn’t want to leave yet, and decided to take the time to remove the darkness around her eyes and her rosied cheeks himself, grabbing a tissue and pot of lavender balm from her nightstand. Dipping the fine paper into the thick substance, he gently rubbed her face clean, the smell of the flower sweetening the air. She looked beautiful when she slept, her chest gently rising and falling with steady breaths, her eyelids dancing with dreams she’d surely forget in the morning because he wasn’t there to let her remember.

He left her room an hour later, leaving the candle lit to continue admiring her from a distance, the flame remaining a gateway between his reality and hers.

Now he watches as she scurries out of bed, and how frantic she is to call him.

“Everything is fine,” he assures as she worries her lip, glancing out her window at the truck once more.

It wasn’t an easy feat — he’d never driven a vehicle before, taking the flaming route to wherever he needed in the mortal world, but he managed to get it there all in one piece and without any suspicions from others on the road.

He knows she liked it, but he asks concerned questions about her neck anyway. He melts at her parapraxis, a smile curving his lips as he watches her study herself in the mirror. 

He had to do it — to tease her into the idea of deviance. He’s known of deities who force their power unto their quarries, who thrust their phallus and abuse their power in favor of a selfish gain, but he’s vowed to never be like them. She will be seduced, as no enchantress of vestal virginity has ever been successful in her sorcery, but it will be by her own volition. It’s already painful enough that he’s had to avoid the real reason for his presence in her life thus far, any more pain and he’ll simply have to admit himself to the gates of hell, joining his brother to burn for eternity.

To his delight, her warden falls for her endearing performance of pretending to be unaware of the mark. He chuckles at the faux look of shock and horror she puts on, catching the flash of pride in her smile when she’s at once left alone.

Though he wishes he could watch her forever, he revels in the moment she discovers the flame burning, her beautiful face engulfing his entire line of vision for a split second before everything goes black.

[madeinheaven2008]

alana champion, chanel cream bronzer, did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean blvd, white dresses, raspberries, british vogue, kafka books, red scare, jane birkin, swans, golden cross necklaces, dior mascara, spring flowers, grandma houses, antique stores, churches, cowboy boots, ballet slipper nail polish, angels, twin peaks, ethel cain

[dbmars]

Bram Stoker's HANNIBAL: Chapter 71

Chapter 71 is up! I was thinking since I'm going to try and make a more concerted effort to interact here just in case Twitter really bites it, this could be a cool opportunity to tell folks more about my work since I'm not limited by number of letters. And YOU KNOW I CAN'T WRITE ANYTHING SHORT ANYWAY omfg, tiny prompts end up being like 20k stories.

So here are some reference pictures I used for this chapter. Please let me know if this is interesting to folks or not, because I will skip it next time if like, nobody cares. Which is FINE! It's all good. I just do love my pictures and research.

These are the two pieces of Alana's jewelry that Will gives to Abigail/Avigeya. Imagine that there is an A engraved on the heart pendant. I didn't have a specific cameo in mind until I decided to post one on Xwitter with the chapter update. I really like this one because the woman is feeding the eagle so tenderly, like love is able to tame this wild creature and its eating out of her palm. Obvi you see the connection.

This is the necklace that Will gives to Margot, that Alana often wore to formal functions and parties. This is circa 1890 and is set with garnets. Note the tiny cross.

And this is how Margot looks at Will in the vanity mirror when he puts it on her. What kind of manipulative schemes is she hatching to try and make fucking lemonade after Alana's death?

And here is Hannibal's new drawing room/parlor at Carfax:

I am DYING looking at all this Art Nouveau decor for inspo. It's my absolute favorite design scheme.

And let's start the tradition of the SMUTTY SIGN-OFF:

“Strip,” he said. The command was cripplingly absolute and it ignited Will, filling him with liquid fire.  “Not going to help me?” Will teased, sliding his tie free.  “Clothes off, Will.”  Will leveled him with his gaze as he deliberately removed it all, taking his time, pausing once in a while to stretch or sigh, running his hand through his hair. He could feel count’s gaze on his skin like a biting winter wind or powerful, remorseless sunlight, something that could burn him. The silence was broken only by the occasional rustle of Will’s clothing or the clink of his belt buckle.  “Come here.”  It was Will’s body’s natural instinct, it seemed, to obey that voice that reached across the centuries to curl around him. 

XOXO DB

[clawsextended]

daphne kluger is the result of selina's first and most significant long-con. none of the following exists in any capacity besides within selina's impeccable ability to adhere to a lie and alana stark's impeccable ability to help her perpetuate them.

daphne was born in belleville, kansas, daughter of john and maria kluger, a bouncing baby girl with a pair of gorgeous doe eyes and a 'headstrong' disposition. little is known about daphne's early life, save for the fact that she was orphaned as a teenager due to an incident that left her with an innumerable menagerie of scars and burns. daphne was discovered not long after, wormed her way into the hearts and onto the television sets of adoring citizens the world over. she quickly earned the title america's sweetheart.

(this is, of course, the result of an extremely well-fabricated series of falsified photos, a half-finished memoir ghost-written by alana stark, innumerable 'home movies', a lifetime of deep fakes to build a person that selina embodies on a very public scale.)

daphne is known as the media darling anyone would clamor to represent or interview. while she is extraordinarily private for a star of her caliber, daph never shies away from make a wish appearances (those in particular), has been openly outspoken about her disappointment in the industry, written several op-ed pieces about her own experiences, and will regularly get into a twitter fight about anything. she refuses to accept a blue checkmark and would rather die. she changes her name constantly for this reason. working with daphne is an almost definite award nomination of whatever sort you're looking for -- she brings out the best in those opposite her, but not without working you to the bone and forcing you to reevaluate everything about yourself and the world around you.

her current residence is the plaza hotel, penthouse suite, new york, ny.

(holly had been madly in love with eloise at the plaza, and with new york barely more than an hour from gotham, selina had been both keen and ecstatic to give holly the experience. it's a little girl's dream and nothing would stop the cat from making that come true.)

daphne kluger is notoriously single and known for being extremely reluctant to allow anyone into her personal life. public knowledge about her is scarce, but it comes down to only a few facts: she can't have her own kids, she was in a vague accident that caused her grievous bodily harm and orphaned her in her teenage years, her father was abusive, she has never dated anyone for any significant span of time nor shown any interest in the subject, she is a natural blonde.

the infamous heist of the toussaint cartier necklace and all the crown jewels occurred from around daphne's gorgeous neck -- the heist that was calculated by selina long, long before the met gala was ever in sight. the arrival of deborah ocean and her team forced daphne to join them in order for the job to go smoothly. debbie is unaware that daphne is selina kyle, and knows nothing of the catwoman outside of the extremely rare times they've been in proximity to one another in around the same building.

daphne is an invaluable part of debbie's team, though she went into retirement after the toussaint's heist and has not been seen since.

film.

rachel getting married (academy award)

get smart

rio

rio 2

brokeback mountain

alice through the looking glass

valentine's day

serenity

the intern

love & other drugs

les misérables (academy award)

the devil wears prada

the witches

eloise at the plaza

barbie

the princess diaries

the princess diaries 2: royal engagement

eileen

stage.

twelfth night

carnival!

television.

saturday night live!

the simpsons

rupaul's drag race

elmo's christmas countdown

[sleepy-lil-kit-kat]

margot verger inspired agere board!

i think the idea of using a paci makes her very uncomfortable, so she tends to chew gum or use a chew necklace that alana got for her

she's very discreet, even after everything; she doesn't like to wear anything that's obvious, and the kids books and plushes she only convinces herself to have because they can be hidden easily

i think she probably likes reading when she's little; she's quiet on the whole, and doesn't tend to do much other than curl up with blankets and her horsies

i think alana would be her caregiver, later on. she would probably coax little margot out of her shell a bit, and i think she'd like to do margot's hair, which, on any day that isn't bad, margot really likes

- this is a sfw age regression post, so sfw interaction only! -

requests are open! see my pinned <3

[alanaanew]

Meet 𝓐𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓪 🐚

Okay, I’ve gone rogue. I’ve taken on a second character--and I cannot wait to set her loose on ya’ll. 

Meet 𝓐𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓪. She’s the complete opposite of Bandit in every way, my sunshine girl to my grumpy raincloud of a Neverboy, my sweet daughter to my problematic little meow meow. 

She's the happiest hellspawn you’ll ever meet. Think Glinda the “Good” Witch--but still a witch nonetheless. Just because she tries to hide her teeth when she smiles doesn't mean they aren't there; she just fights the urge to use them. With her naturally sharp claws and sharper smile, she's spent well over a century on this island taking life from the innocent to sustain herself. It’s in her nature. She certainly hasn't been able to survive this long off of fish alone (much to her dismay)--but no more! This time, it’s going to be different. She swears it. This moon cycle will be the last time she feeds on humans! Really!! But it’s ... hard to stay determined and focused on that goal when she’s just .... so.... tired....

Some thoughts to get those ideas flowing:

1) Ever dream of owning a dress-up doll as a kid but your parents could never afford one? Meet your new Makeover Mermaid! Alana loves to accessorize (especially anything that goes with her dazzling ruby tail) and is always sporting a new look. A necklace made out of sea flowers? For sure. A crown made out of seaweed? Bet.

2) Enjoy a good story but start losing focus halfway through? That's no problem! Alana will start four stories in a span of five minutes, get distracted, and not finish any of them. :~)

3) Looking to get rid of your old junk? Bring it to Alana! She "collects" pretty much anything--like a crow but with less taste. Her cove is filled with random bits and bobbins she's found around the island. No she does NOT have a hoarding problem

4) Alana is thirsty--FOR LEGS. Specifically, having human legs of her own so she can see the world. There's so much out there that she can't access right now, being confined to the waters. She would miss her stunning tail, of course, but that's a sacrifice she is willing to make in exchange for so much more. It's been said that true love can morph one's tail to a pair of human legs, and by golly she's going to hold onto that myth until it comes true, dammit.

I know there have been Alanas in the past, and I will not step on previous iterations of the character. For those of you who had threads/plots with her previous writer, feel free to DM me. Maybe we can incorporate something similar moving forward so all your hard work isn’t lost. Ya'll know I’m always happy to chat. 

If you’d like to know more about my new daughter, Alana’s skeleton is here, her Pinterest board is here, and additional headcanons can be found here. I sincerely hope I do her justice! See you on the dash 💕

[chaotic-theatrical-weaver]

Star-Shaped Girls headcanons:

 Alana is in charge of grocery shopping and replenishes Nina’s stock of dulce de leche ice cream on the condition that they actually share it.

Nina buys her HI-CHEW and they love eating it together. They’re both partial to strawberry, though Nina is also a grape lover.

Nina spins yarn in her free time and knits Alana the softest blue sweater ever.

Alana 3D prints them enzyme-substrate friendship necklaces (this is something I want to do with @sg951).

Things specific to KSJ/Filipina Alana: 

she designates Nina as the intelligent haircutter for the Kleinman children.

she makes lumpia rolls and turron for Nina to eat on the plane back to Washington Heights, as well as some extras for Benny.

Something specific to Linedy Genao’s Alana (Linedy was also Vanessa in Olney Theater’s ITH): she’s Vanessa’s cousin but has somehow never met Nina until they got to college. Cue Linedy-verse cousins + Nina as a trio.

Nina plays the piano to help Alana calm down after tiring days.

Sometimes when Alana needs a little more than that, Nina makes her some tea (more like tapioca pearls in milk), wraps her in a blanket, and hugs her soothingly. They’ll talk about the problem and possible solutions a little later, but what matters most at the time is keeping Alana from breaking down completely.

The girls love Pentatonix Christmas music and perform “White Winter Hymnal” together with their boyfriends playing the cup game as percussion.

Jared tries to pull silly stunts with his cup while Benny stares at him and waits for the cup stunts to be finished so they can actually switch cups.

Nina cries over books and makes Alana read them so they can be sad about them together. They end up making playlists for the characters and feeling even sadder.

The girls watch Coco, Frozen, and Encanto together. 

Coco hits too hard because they’ve both lost their grandmothers.

They replay Frozen when they occasionally get too indecisive about new movies they want to watch.

When they watch Encanto, they cry over “Surface Pressure” and “All of You,” sing and act out “What Else Can I Do?”, and watch Jared pull off his Camilo impression for literally all of Camilo’s scenes.

Alana has them listen to Superache!

Alana’s favorites are “Summer Child” and “Disaster” (but she relates to almost the entire album).

Nina screams along to “The Exit” when she showers.

Nina, in turn, plays Love Goes.

They’re both soft and partial to “Fire on Fire” and “Breaking Hearts,” though individually, Nina likes “Dance (’Til You Love Someone Else)” and “Another One” while Alana relates to “So Serious.”

Alana keeps a blue crowntail betta fish given to her as a birthday gift from Nina. His name is Finley as a cute pun and she trained him to jump to get his food pellets.

[aesira-of-orion]

One woman in the 15th row hesitantly raised her hand “I’m a astrophysicist,” one of the flight attendants rushed down the aisle and had to woman get up

“What’s your name,” the flight attendant asked

“Dr. Alana Drushe, I’m from NASA, what’s going on?” She reached in her leather jacket to show an ID that confirmed what she said

“My name is Marci, the captain will fill you in.” They were soon at the cockpit door, Marci knocked and the door opened. Alana stepped inside she started getting her wits about her and spoke clearly

“Dr. Alana Drushe, from NASA. What’s going on?” The captain turned to her and he gestured for her to close the door and she did.

“He’s Captain Fowler, I’m first officer Davenport, You ever see anything like that?” The FO pointed out the wind screen, she looked out and saw what seemed to be orbs of light spinning in a circle in the night sky.

“What on earth?” She leaned forward to get a better look, there were about 8 orbs spinning they almost seemed to act like they were on a track. “Can you get any closer?”

“Is it safe?” The pilot asked

“Possibly, but if it wasn’t we’re already exposed. If we get closer we could get more data on it. I’ve only heard of this phenomenon from old pilots, no one has pictures.” She pulled out her phone and started taking pictures when the orbs sped up and she shouted and dropped her phone that was now smoking.

“That explains the lack of photography,” Captain Fowler said, Drushe immediately reached into a bag she had on her hip and grabbed out a small notebook and a pencil.

“Then we go old school.” She started sketching the anomaly, and they got closer to it.

“Are you sure this is safe,” Davenport asked

“Yes… 95% sure,” she corrected and looked back up “it’s increasing in its speed,” the orbs got closer and closer together until suddenly there was a flash. Everyone in the cockpit covered their eyes. Then the wave hit. It was like a sphere of energy came flowing out of the anomaly and crashed over them. Drushe crashed backwards being the only one not holding on to something, as she tumbled she noticed something. A necklace she always wore a piece of a meteorite was glowing. She reached out and grabbed it and noticed residue from her bag on her hand, she always wore it in the lab and was prone to get things spilled in and on it. The residue started to react and so did a ring she had bought at a random market while traveling. She looked up and saw a second larger wave coming. She closed her eyes as her head collided with the door and the second wave washed over her. She felt the reaction and then fell unconscious.

Hearing a flight attendant ask if there are any doctors on board is scary. Them specifying a doctor of nuclear physics or aerospace engineering is somehow much more so.

[maoist-mizer]

I look hot with this necklace btw I think it’s a signature alana piece