#malibu modern house

[sgtpeppersofab]

Los Angeles Living Room Open Inspiration for a large contemporary open concept light wood floor living room remodel with white walls, a standard fireplace and a plaster fireplace

[yxminotenshi]

Los Angeles Living Room Open Inspiration for a large contemporary open concept light wood floor living room remodel with white walls, a standard fireplace and a plaster fireplace

[moodboardmix]

Inland Lane Residence, Malibu, California, United States,

Courtesy: Sophie Goigneau,

Landscape Architect: Real Natives

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is what a $75M home looks like in Malibu, California. It has 12bd. & 14ba.

Lots of different seating areas.

Look at the bar and the étagère. All that glass, you KNOW they have a team of housekeepers.

Wow, look at that chandelier. 

Look at this kitchen. They must have chefs and look at the espresso machine.

Must be the main bd. So much glass and great views.

Color coordinated clothes in the closet.

This is nice, like a real theater.

Look at the projection room. 

Beautiful secondary bd.

Even the pool has a view.

Lovely- look at the ceiling of greenery.

Extensive gym.

Tennis, anyone?

https://www.redfin.com/CA/Malibu/27930-Pacific-Coast-Hwy-90265/home/6855699

[attitude-problemmm]

Hunt House by Craig Ellwood, Nov. 2024

[residentialmodernist]

[galerijaskc]

Exterior in Los Angeles Example of a large minimalist beige two-story concrete exterior home design with a gambrel roof

[dudes-love-dudes]

me and the naruto mutual have been having a little too much fun with our modern au

So in our au all of the uchihas live in one house in Malibu and Madara Obito and Sasuke are all stupendously whipped and Itachi's just trying to help out!!!!

[duffslut]

Million Dollar Man

Modern! Axl Rose x Reader

My Masterlist.

Word Count: 500

Warnings: Fluff!

You stared at Axl from the passenger seat, his blond hair flying in the wind and the sun kissing his skin, you two were on your way to his house in Malibu, he had finally taken a few days off during his band's tour.

- You look handsome. - You said and watched him turn his face to you, staring at you from under his sunglasses.

He smiled, making the turn that finally led to his house.

- Hi Dijon! - You bent down and picked up the chubby cat, kissing the top of his head.

- He missed you. - Axl said as you walked through the large yard. - I did too.

As soon as you entered the house, you threw your body on his bed, the sun lit up his room, bringing the house to life.

- Take a bath with me. - Axl said, leaning his body above you and kissing your mouth. - I'm so tired honey... - He mumbled and you gave him a few more quick kisses before getting up and pulling him into the bathroom with you.

- God, I missed this. - You said quietly, playing with the water in the tub, your body leaning against Axl's naked body, his tattooed arms around you. - You're my baby. - You turned around, facing him, his face wet and his hair poorly combed back.

- I love you sweet girl. - He said touching your waist underwater. - You're my babygirl.

Axl brought your body closer to his, sitting you on his lap and kissing your neck, repeating "You're mine" in soft whispers over and over again as his hands ventured over your body.

After a few fun hours in the hot bath with Axl, you finally went to get dressed, feeling a little tired but refreshed.

- Put on something nice, we're going for a ride. - Axl said and kissed your shoulder before heading to his closet.

You frowned a little confused because you didn't remember you two having made plans, but you were excited about the idea and went ahead to get ready. After putting on a white dress, you sat near the window to put on your makeup. The sun was going to set soon.

Axl was wearing the blue shirt you had given him, his blond hair still wet dripped a few drops onto his exposed chest, you watched him completely in love as he finished getting dressed. "To complete the outfit" - You said, giving him a kiss on the neck, leaving the mark of your lips with the red lipstick you were wearing.

- You look mesmerizing. - Axl said after you were ready, and you walked to his convertible.

While Axl drove at high speed as usual, with one hand resting on your thigh, you took a deep breath, feeling the sea breeze and watching the sky mix colors as the sun set.

Axl took you to a restaurant on the beach with an incredible Californian view, you had the restaurant just for the two of you, and the first thing you ordered was a bottle of wine.

[diazsdimples]

JAMES JAMES JAMES HERES AN OFFICIAL ASKING *BEGGING* YOU TO WRITE YOUR BUDDIETOMMY/EDDIETOMMY FIC THAT YOURE WXCITED FOR AND NOW YOU HAVE TO WRITE ITS THE LAW. IDK WHAT EMOJI IT WAS IF IT WAS EVEN ONE BUT 🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️🧗‍♂️

THATS 60 SENTENCES THAT YOU HAVE TO WRITE NOW. YOU GOT THIS BABY YOURE GONNA DO SO GOOD YOURE GONNA WRITE IT RIGHT? 😘😘😘

Here’s my favourite picture of Eddie Diaz for motivation 💜

I would do anything for Eddie Diaz, just you watch. LOOK AT HIM. Also I wrote 1.5k for this in one sitting, the beans are SO BACK!

Though he’ll never admit it, looking at Tommy is one of his favourite things to do.

If you asked an outsider, they would probably say that Buck’s the most attractive out of the three them, with his boyish good looks, bright blue eyes and bulging muscles beneath the obscenely tight shirts he wears. He’s got the cutest dimples in his cheeks that pop out whenever he’s got that mischievous smile on his face, and that alone regularly makes Eddie’s knees turn to jelly.

Tommy though. Tommy is handsome in an almost classical, old-timey Hollywood kind of way. Where Buck is softness and fuzzy around the edges, Tommy is all sharpness and angles. His cheekbones are so pronounced that Eddie often marvels that he doesn’t cut a finger when he caresses them. The cleft in his chin is a perfect shape, and Eddie’s thumb nestles in it like it was fit to size when he kisses Tommy senseless.

And now, looking at Tommy with the wind through his hair, a smile on his face, and a pale orange tank top that gives Eddie just the slightest hint of a nipple? Eddie wants to pull the car over and ride Tommy until he can feel him in the back of his throat.

He won’t do that though – they’ve just given the Chevelle a new leather interior and he’ll be damned if he’s going to ruin it already.

The drive to Point Dume is stunning. The sun glints off the ocean like light on a sapphire, blue and sparkling as the waves crash against the shore, and the high cliff faces on their right are large and imposing, making Eddie feel small.

The beach houses along the coast are large and luxurious – and will probably be non-existent in a few years if climate change has anything to say about it – and Eddie and Tommy entertain themselves by pointing out what style of architecture they’d look for if they ever retired to the seaside. Tommy likes the classical, almost ramshackle style of the older beach houses, whereas Eddie’s drawn to the sleek lines and metal beams of the more modern styles.

Not that it matters anyways, because on their firefighter’s salaries they’re lucky they can even afford to rent a place big enough for them and Chris, but it’s always fun to dream.

Tommy pulls over in Malibu and they each get an ice cream cone, leaning against the hood of the car while they eat.

Eddie’s not usually one for public displays of affection, usually seeing them as tacky, but he leans into Tommy’s side, humming as his boyfriend slings an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“Everything okay?” Tommy asks as he presses a kiss to the crown of Eddie’s head.

“Yeah,” Eddie hums, tucking his head under Tommy’s chin. “Just like being here with you.”

“You’re so sappy today, what’s gotten into you?” Tommy laughs.

It’s because I love you. I love you and I’m here with you and it’s perfect.

The words stick in Eddie’s throat, unable to come out. He’s been thinking them for a while now, but no matter how hard he tries, the moment never feels right to say them to Tommy. With Buck, they fell out of him as easy as could be. Like it was second nature, something he’d kept inside him for years and was finally able to say them aloud. But for some reason, Eddie feels like the first time he says it to Tommy needs to be on some grand occasion, with fireworks in the background and Buck watching as his boyfriends declare their love for one another.

Maybe, after today, they’ll finally break free from Eddie’s mouth.

Instead, Eddie pokes Tommy in the side. “Am I not allowed to show affection for you once in a while?”

“Of course you are,” Tommy replies, expertly dodging the nip Eddie aimed at Tommy’s neck. So, he’s got a bit of an oral fixation? Sue him. “I’m not complaining.”

Eddie stretches up to kiss Tommy’s cheek, before darting forward and taking a chunk out of Tommy’s ice cream. He wrinkles his nose in distaste as the bitterly cold flavour of mint explodes in his mouth and lets out an exaggerated gag.

“You’re an idiot,” Tommy laughs as Eddie takes a few hurried licks of his own ice cream, keen to replace the mint with something much more agreeable. “What did you do that for?”

“I forgot you like to eat frozen toothpaste,” Eddie grumbles in response. He lets out a quiet moan of appreciation as the softer, warmer flavour of rum and raisin coats his tongue.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the finer things in life.”

“I appreciate you and Buck, don’t I? I’d say that’s pretty good taste.”

Tommy snorts, reeling Eddie in for a breathtaking kiss. He’s minty and cold, his tongue sweeping across Eddie’s lips, making them tingle in its wake. A groan rumbles low in Eddie’s chest as Tommy kisses him, his hand firm against Eddie’s back.

“Touché, Mr. Diaz,” Tommy murmurs as he pulls away. “Sassy little shit that you are.”

Eddie grins and blows Tommy a kiss. He finishes the last of his ice cream in a few hasty bites, before flopping back into the passenger seat of the Chevelle.

“Come on, if we don’t send Buck a photo of the cove in the next few minutes, he’s going to think we’ve crashed and go frantic.”

Tommy snorts, knowing Eddie’s not far from the truth, and climbs back into the driver’s seat. There’s a soft look on his face as he gives Eddie a quick kiss before throwing the car into gear, and it makes Eddie feel as though he’s been filled with hot air.

The drive through the exorbitant neighbourhood that is Point Dume is probably one of Eddie’s favourites that he’s done with Tommy.

They probably look like a couple of weirdos as they cruise slowly past the lavish mansions, making pointed comments about the designs and the landscaping. Tommy even boldly announces at one point that if it were up to him, decorative cacti would be illegal. Eddie giggles as Tommy tells him about the times he was drunk as a teenager and had repeatedly fallen into the cactus outside his grandparents’ home. It had taken three separate occasions of his grandmother picking prickles out of his asscheeks before they’d taken Tommy aside and asked him to cut back on his drinking – or to at least watch where he was going if he was going to sneak back in.

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER ONE

Harlow

Sometimes I feel cursed.

Okay, well, not cursed exactly. But I’ve had my share of challenges in the nineteen years I’ve been on this planet. Well-meaning people—usually adults—have always told me to be thankful for my hardships. It makes you stronger. More capable. Independent.

I wish all that were true. Really, the events that have shaped my life just settle like silt inside me, tainting every thought, every action. Until I’m convinced misfortune has been braided into my DNA.

Generational trauma, isn’t that what they call it?

I dig my toes into the wet sand and look out at the Pacific Ocean. It’s hard to feel cursed here, though. Malibu is a magical place, soaked in sunshine, with a surprising small-town feel. But its best quality is how far it is from Fresno. From home. From the events of last year.

The sharp wind whips through my hair and stings my cheeks. My best friend, Talia, and I wandered down to the beach hours ago after we’d unpacked our boxes and set up our dorm rooms.

Talia called me crazy when I waded into the frigid water, dunking my head under the salty waves like some kind of baptism. Maybe it was a type of cleansing. The ghosts of my past washing away with the tide.

If only forgetting were so easy.

“Hey, look what I found!”

I turn to see Talia walk up to me with something cradled in her palm. It’s a piece of green sea glass. “It was probably a beer bottle or something originally.”

Picking it up, I angle it toward the fading sunlight, looking at it from different angles, admiring its beauty. The power of the ocean is wild—transforming an ordinary beer bottle into something so beautiful. I wonder if it has the power to transform me, too. “What are you going to do with it?”

Talia shrugs. “Turn it into a necklace or something, maybe.”

Another gust of ocean Taliaze whips through me, and my teeth start chattering. “It’s almost sunset. We should head back to the residence hall.”

Exeter University West—one of the West Coast's most prestigious colleges—is right on the beach. When Talia and I applied last year, it was a long shot. A pipe dream. We both have decent grades, but nothing spectacular. So, months later, when we were both accepted, it felt like a miracle. Then when I scored a full scholarship, I finally started to believe my luck was changing.

Exeter is the escape I’ve been desperate for. A fresh start.

I look down the length of the beach and see a huge Victorian mansion perched on a cliff, overlooking the ocean. I noticed it when we first got to campus a couple of days ago. It’s hard to miss. The giant Gothic structure is painted a dark, crimson red with navy blue trim, and ornate woodwork that makes it look out of place on a modern college campus. I was probably here first, though, and the university just encroached gradually until the house and grounds were consumed by the sprawling campus.

It’s a creepy-looking house, though. No lie.

“Our residence hall is right on the other side of that weird house,” I say.

“Okay, let’s go,” Talia says, her bottom lip quivering. “I’m turning into a brine-flavored popsicle.”

The sharp wind continues to cut through us as we walk along the sand, getting dark quickly, and we’re two girls walking alone, so I’m on full alert—glancing behind us, my hand resting on the small stun gun tucked into my front pocket.

But the beach is empty—which is surprising, considering the amount of students on campus. It rained a little earlier, and it’s freezing, so maybe that’s why no one is here. But cold or not, there would still be a couple of people out here, at least, right?

“Slow down,” Talia pouts. “Your legs are longer than mine.”

I pause so she can catch up. “Have you noticed there’s no one else out here? That’s weird, right? I mean, it’s cold, but it’s not that cold.”

“There are people out here,” she says, pointing ahead. I squint, and sure enough, there’s a fire burning about half a mile in the distance, on the beach directly below the creepy house. I don’t know how I missed that, but to be fair, the beach isn’t straight—there’s a shrub-capped berm in the way, and the fire is partially hidden behind that.

“Oh, yeah, huh.”

Talia shakes her head and continues walking. “You are so blind. I keep telling you to go to the eye doctor.”

“I’m not blind.”

“Oh, really?” she says. “So when you walked up to that girl back in high school and started telling her off because you thought she was Veronica?”

I frown, trudging after Talia in the sand. Now it’s me trying to keep up with her. “Okay, but in my defense, they could be twins. I’d like to see the DNA report on those two.”

Talia stops and rolls her eyes at me. “The girl you accosted was three inches shorter than Veronica, and has glasses—which you also need.”

I blow out a breath. “Details. Whatever.”

With a scoff, Talia turns back around and we both keep walking. The beach narrows as we approach the fire, so we have to climb over the berm to get to the other side. It’s rough, and the shrubs are spiny, but we manage to make it down the other side.

“I’m remembering why we didn’t come this way originally,” Talia says. “The sidewalk was a lot easier.”

The sidewalk also dips between several university buildings, and in the dark, there’s no way I’m taking that route. I don’t want to say that, though, so I just shrug. “This way is shorter.”

Talia just pushes out a frustrated breath.

The closer we get to the fire, though, it becomes clear that something is sketchy. There are several people, all wearing robes with hoods, gathered in a half-circle around the fire, facing the ocean, chanting something.

Chanting.

What the…?

I reach out and grab Talia, pulling her back into a crouching position. We had to walk up and over, so we’re somewhat concealed by the random tufts of brush, but not entirely. And we’re only about thirty feet away, but thankfully, I don’t think we’ve been seen.

“Holy shit,” Talia whispers.

I blink rapidly to try and see through the murky twilight. There’s one guy, drenched, and completely naked, cupping his family jewels, shivering in front of the cloaked group.

“What are they doing?” I ask my tone low.

“It could be a frat, but the robes are weird. I think this is the Society of the Burning Crown,” Talia says with a note of awe in her voice.

I swallow. “What is that? Please tell me it’s a chess club or something.”

“Does this look like a chess club?” Talia hisses. She grabs my hand and pulls me forward, but I dig my heels into the sand. “Come on, we need to get closer.”

Closer? Is she insane? “Oh, fuck, no. Whatever this is, I don’t want anything to do with it.”

She manages to drag me several feet forward, but only because fighting her could draw attention to us. So far, we’ve managed to go unnoticed, and I’d like to keep it that way.

We crouch down again, and I try to quiet my breathing. It’s not likely they can hear anything over the roaring ocean, or their weird chanting, but I’m not taking any chances. If I could stop breathing altogether, I would.

Someone from the half-circle approaches the fire. I can’t see their faces, but I’m guessing by the person’s size, and broad shoulders, it’s a guy—and he’s probably the leader. He has a long, metal-looking rod in his hand that he shoves into the fire.

“Okay, we’ve seen enough,” I whisper. “Let’s go.”

Talia just waves me off, her gaze fixed on the odd ritual in front of us. Whatever this is, I get the distinct idea that Talia and I aren’t supposed to be witnessing it. And I would love to honor that.

The chanting continues for a couple of minutes, then Lead Guy approaches Naked Guy and says something to him that I can’t hear. Whatever he says is swallowed by the sound of the roaring ocean.

In response to what was said, Naked Guy nods once, then turns to face the ocean, and falls to his knees. His shoulders curl forward, exposing the length of his spine, and I watch as his thin frame vibrates violently against the cold.

Lead Guy takes another step forward, his hand jutting out like a surgeon silently requesting his scalpel. Someone from the circle removes the rod from the fire and places it in Lead Guy’s outstretched hand.

My breath is held, my gaze cemented to the scene as I watch Lead Guy pull his arm back—almost like he’s doing it in slow motion. Is he going to hit the other guy with that rod? Is this actually happening right in front of me?

As Lead Guy’s arm juts forward, and the tip of the rod makes contact, Naked Guy screams out in pain, the sound echoing off the cliffs surrounding us. He’s being branded. The barbaric act is so shocking and so unexpected, that a scream is ripped from my own throat, and I lurch forward.

“Shit, Harlow!” Talia hisses, pulling me back.

I shove my hand over my mouth to silence the whimper that bubbles up from my throat. It’s too late. They see us. Every hooded figure is turned toward Talia and me, and their leader—God help us—is already crossing the sand, closing the distance between us…

HIS EYES ARE A COLD, Dark Brown. That’s the first thing I notice as the leader of this group stalks toward us, shadows from the moon playing across his masked face, half-hidden under the hood of his robe.

Intensity radiates off this guy, his large body moving with confidence across the sand. When he stops right in front of us, I gulp. He looks like a bouncer, ready to toss us out of a club.

Talia and I are standing side-by-side, but when he speaks, he looks directly at me. “Leave. Now.” His voice is muffled by the mask, but it's deep and harsh, and sends a shiver of fear down my spine. “Go back the way you came.”

I’m already half-turned, opening my mouth to tell him, “Yup, no problem, we’re already gone,” when Talia grabs my wrist, stopping me.

“Hold on,” Talia says, looking over his shoulder at the other robed figures. “What are you guys doing out here?”

The guy’s jaw clenches tightly as he drags his gaze away from me and settles on Talia. Behind the mask, his eyes narrow, and if we needed evidence that we don’t belong here, there it is. Right there. That deadly stare.

“Talia,” I say, practically pleading. “Let’s go.”

She doesn’t hear me, or she’s deliberately ignoring me. Either way, she steps up to Lead Guy. “If you don’t want people watching you, then you shouldn’t be doing this—” She waves wildly at the scene in front of us. “–out in public.”

“This is a private beach,” he answers through gritted teeth. “And you aren’t welcome here.”

I grab Talia's elbow firmly and dare a glance at Lead Guy. “We’re leaving.”

I don’t love the idea of taking the sidewalk all the way back to our residence hall, but it’s either that or walk straight through this creepy-ass ritual. Mmm, no thanks. Hard pass.

Talia struggles against me, but I manage to keep my grip. “You can’t tell us what to do!” she practically yells at the guy. “We’re just walking along the beach. You’re the ones doing sketchy shit.”

Oh, damn. He inadvertently triggered Talia's defiance. I’ve known her since middle school, and she’s always been strong-willed, even to her own detriment. Tell her not to jump off the bridge, and she’s going to do it just to prove she can.

Right now, though, my job is to make sure we don’t end up as the topic of a true crime episode.

“Talia,” I say firmly, yanking her in the direction we just came. She digs her heels in, but I manage to move her a little—enough to encourage me to keep pulling. “Let’s leave the nice Jedis alone.”

I hear the stranger grunt as we walk away, and I feel the weight of his gaze pressing on me until Talia and I reach the top of the berm. I release Talia and quickly make my way down the other side of the small hill, then head up the beach, toward the sidewalk. It’s a steep climb, but I make it in record time, Talia trailing behind me.

“Slow down,” she says, annoyed.

I shake my head and pick up my pace. “We shouldn’t have seen that,” I say.

“Oh, who cares, Harlow? They shouldn’t have been out in the open if whatever they’re doing is such a secret.”

I stop abruptly and turn to face her. “The beach is empty.”

I’d noticed that earlier, but I’d assumed it had something to do with the rain. Now, I wonder if people had gotten the memo that something was going down tonight, and had deliberately stayed off the beach.

Lord.

We stumbled onto something we weren’t supposed to see, and I can't help but wonder what the repercussions of that might be. None, I hope. We left, and hopefully, that’s the end of it.

But ever since the incident last year, my mind has been stuck in survival mode. It feels like everything and everyone is a potential threat. So I doubt I’ll stop worrying about this whole thing anytime soon.

It’s taken a mountain of therapy just to get me to this point–willing to leave my hometown and start over somewhere new. And, honestly, if it weren’t for Talia, that never would have happened. In my darkest moments, she was there, guiding me and encouraging me. She’s the one person in my life I can rely on.

But her impulsivity can get her into trouble, and I feel like I’m always trying to rein her in. Even when we were kids, I was saving her from herself. Trying to get her to think before she tumbled right off that proverbial bridge.

“You have to admit, that was amazing!” Talia says, clapping her hands excitedly. “Shit. I never thought we’d get to see something like that.”

I keep walking. The faster we get to the residence hall and off this dark sidewalk, the better. “A guy was getting branded. What’s amazing about that?”

“I’m pretty sure we just witnessed the initiation ceremony for the Society of the Burning Crown.” She’s walking behind me, and I don’t need to see her face to know she has a smile stretched across her face. I can hear it in her voice. “No one gets to see that. Unless you’re a member, obviously.”

I stop and turn around to face her. “That—what we just saw—was super shady. Branding, violence, anything like that is strictly against the university’s policy.”

She looks lost. “Okay, and? What does that have to do with us?”

“Are they going to be worried we’ll tell someone about it?”

Talia snorts. “You’re afraid they’re going to come after us? They aren’t the mafia, Harlow. They don’t give a shit about us.”

Secret societies are like cults in my mind—and cults can do some pretty crazy shit to keep their secrets hidden. I should know—my mom has been in a cult for the last eight years. She joined when I was eleven—just skipped right over to Florida, leaving me to live with my grandmother. That’s the kind of power these types of groups wield.

Talia grabs me. “Harlow, you’ve got to stop worrying so much.” I sigh. “I’m trying, but it’s not easy.”

Her expression softens. “I know, but everything is going to be fine. How were we supposed to know, right? We were just—” She motions casually “–walking along the beach.”

“Yeah. You’re right.”

But as we walk back to the residence hall, an uneasy feeling gathers in my stomach. The whole idea behind coming to ExU was to blend in. Start over. Stay away from drama. Classes haven’t even started yet, and trouble has already rooted me out.

We get to the building fine—thank God—and I swipe my key card. I’m on the second floor, and Talia is on the third, so we part ways on the second-floor landing.

“See you tomorrow!” Talia calls out, walking up that last set of stairs to her floor. “And stop worrying!”

I just roll my eyes and open the door that leads to my floor. It’s going to be tough to fall asleep tonight—but not because I’m worrying. I know the second I lay my head down to sleep, all I’m going to see in my mind’s eye are a pair of electric brown eyes…

The next morning, I’m barely awake when my roommate, Emily, taps me on the shoulder. “Um, Harlow. Are you awake?”

My eyes are practically sealed shut—how could I be awake? Moaning, I roll over onto my side and face the wall. “No,” I say, pushing my voice through the gravel in my throat.

Last night, just as I predicted, I got zero sleep. As I lay in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, last night’s events were on repeat inside my head.

Was there something I could have done differently? Inside the safety of my thoughts, I’m always braver than I was out there on the sand—and I say something snarky and clever back to Lead Guy. It’s different every time, but he’s always taken aback by my clever response.

I finally fell asleep around five, just as sunlight started bleeding into the night sky.

But my roomie is an early riser—or so she told me yesterday. And that obviously still holds, even though classes don’t officially start for another two days.

“Okay, well, there’s a note or something here for you. I’ll just put it on your nightstand.”

A note?

I wonder if it’s from Talia. Usually, she’d just text me, but if I’m not answering then she might resort to a handwritten note.

The door clicks shut as Emily leaves, and I flip over onto my back, stretching until I feel a pleasant sting spread across my shoulders. Then I blink and pick up my phone. It’s only eight in the morning. My God. Where on earth could Emily possibly be going this early?

Sitting up, I yawn and glance at the note she left on my nightstand. It’s a black envelope with my name scrawled on the back in all caps—not Talia’s swoopy cursive. I open the envelope and pull out a piece of black cardstock. There’s a symbol on the front. It’s a crown, embossed in gold, flames erupting from the tips

.

Oh, shit.

Didn’t Talia say the society we encountered last night was called the Society of the Burning Crown?

I flip the card over.

Preference Ceremony  

Ten O’Clock  

Rush House

Uh.

I immediately text Talia with a photo of the invite, followed by a full screen of question marks.

Talia is in my room within fifteen minutes, sitting on my bed, cross-legged, looking at the invite from every possible angle. “Well, it looks legit,” she says, scratching the gold embossing.

“What’s a Preference Ceremony?” I ask.

Before arriving on campus, Talia did a ton of research about the university—history, culture, clubs, party scene…any information she could get her hands on. Maybe she ran across a website that mentioned it.

“Never heard of it,” she says, tossing the invite onto the bed next to her. She picks up her phone, types something in, then starts scrolling. “There might be something online about it.”

I do my own search on my laptop, but there’s nothing. All I can find on the Burning Crown is general information that’s been posted on a random forum dedicated to secret societies.

“Listen to this,” I say. “The Society of the Burning Crown is a secret society, founded in 1890, on the campus that is known today as Exeter University West. Rush House is the society’s headquarters and sits on the edge of the university’s 124 acres.” I turn my computer, so she can see the photo that’s been inserted between the paragraphs. It’s that creepy Victorian house on the cliff. I pull my computer back and continue reading out loud, “Little is known about the inner workings of the society, but the rumored structure is a larger membership known as the Circle, and a smaller, ruling class, known as the Omen boys. The Omens are the direct descendants of the four founding members.”

Talia scrapes her teeth over her bottom lip, thinking. “Hm. Does it say anything about what a Preference Ceremony is?”

“Nope.”

She lifts her hands, slapping them back down on her knees. “Welp, I suppose we’ll just have to find out then!”

I shake my head. “No way.”

Talia frowns at me, her delicate features scrunched up and contorted. She never really looks ugly, though. She has a pert little nose, high cheekbones, and long, dark eyelashes that are 1000% real. The girls in high school always hated her for that.

She shoves her bottom lip out in a pout. “Oh, come on, why not? It’ll be an adventure.”

“Yesterday, that guy was pissed that we’d stumbled on their…whatever that was. Then this morning, they slid an invite under my door?” I press my lips together. “If that’s not weird, then I don’t know what is.”

“Maybe they just want to make amends,” Talia offers. “You said yourself that they might be afraid we’ll tell someone. So maybe this is their way of, I don’t know, smoothing things over.”

I pick up the envelope that the note came in, reading my name over and over, almost as if I stare at it long enough, it’ll give up its author’s secrets. It just makes me more uneasy, though, if anything.

“How do they even know my name? And why just give me an invite?”

My tone is rising, and Talia must sense how tense I’m getting. She knows the year I’ve had, and how desperately I just want to have a normal freshman experience. Quiet. Boring. No drama.

She reaches over and places a hand on my arm. “Harlow, it’s okay. Societies like this have their hand in everything, and if someone steps foot on their campus, they usually know about it. It’s not personal to you.” She shrugs. “And you probably got the invite because you’re closer to the building entrance. Why bother sending two invites when they know we’re together?”

It’s a paper-thin theory and doesn’t even make sense, but I cling to it because believing there’s a deeper meaning would seriously threaten my mental health. And the whole idea behind starting over is not over-analyzing every little thing. Or so my therapist, Dr. Cunningham, says.

I take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. Doesn’t matter anyway, because we’re not going.” I snatch the invite up off the bed and rip it in two.

Talia lunges at me, her green eyes wide with horror. “Harlow, what the fuck?” She grabs the two pieces from my hands and tries to fit them back together. “We have to go. No one gets invited to these things. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

I lean back against my pillows. “You know how I feel about cults, Talia. Don’t ask me to do this.”

“It’s not a cult. It’s a secret society. There’s a big difference.”

I push out a sigh. “That’s disputable.”

I know her, though. If Talia wants to do something, she’ll do it, no matter what I say. And I can’t let her go to something like that alone—it’s way too sketchy.

“Maybe they want to apologize for last night? And if we don’t go, then they might see that as an insult.”

I make a face. “Apologize? The guy from last night didn’t look sorry. He looked pissed.”

“Okay, let’s compromise. We’ll go, see what they want, and if there’s anything shady happening, then we’ll leave. Easy. No stress.”

No stress. I practically snort at that. I’m already stressed.

I think about it for a second, then take the invite from her hands, shoving both pieces into the black envelope. “Fine, we’ll go under two conditions.”

“Okay, shoot,” she says, and I can already see she wants to squeal with excitement.

“One: we find out what they want, then leave.” I hold a finger in the air before she can respond. “Two: if they even hint at trying to recruit us, we bail right then and there.” Talia opens her mouth to argue, but I stop her. “Ah! We leave immediately.”

She deflates a little, but I think she knows this is the only way I’ll do it. And the envelope has my name on it, which gives me a little leverage. She could try to go without me, but there’s a chance they’d turn her away at the door.

Talia leans back. “Fine. Deal.”

I nod, satisfied. But deep down, I have a sinking feeling there’s more to all of this than a simple apology. Something much darker…

[terrence-silver]

What kind of bedroom would Terry have

---

I present to you: Ennis House's brutalist, concrete block bedroom!

With the sole exception that I'd make Terry's actual bed in the 1980's into something more eccentric and luxurious. Less typically utilitarian. Something with actual arches and canopies. Something grand and slightly intimidating? Something with a gothic, period type flare? Maybe something like this?

Present day, though, in his Malibu seaside mansion where we're first re-introduced to him, I'd opt for more open concept spaces. Modern minimalism. Clean. Pristine. Lots of whites. Pale colors. An abundance of natural light and glass as opposed to his dark, gritty, gothic (Slightly maximalist?) bedroom of the 80's. Never more furniture than is needed --- in fact, only the bare essentials. A hub meant to rest the eyes and the soul and arranged by precise Feng Shui, without distractions, wholly decluttered, with colossal windows where everything seems pleasantly transparent. Perhaps symbolizing him supposedly turning a new page and his dwelling and sleeping spaces intending to reflect that, being as orderly, clean cut and put together as his life was intended to be. And I do envision something as stark and almost as intentionally and meticulously bare as this, with a vast vista overlooking the ocean. It's only perhaps a little too empty for comfort. De-personalized.

How about when he goes back to his old ways and changes manors once more and he ends up in that forested looking estate where his weapon collection is stashed? The place where he invites Chozen for dinner? The color palette of that home is infinitely different; lots of dark wood, tall shelves, labyrinthian hallways that seem a bit tight, black marble panels, blackout curtains and heavy draperies, a sense of everything being more closed off from all sides, brooding fireplaces and his bedroom is likely to take on a more moody tone by extension too. What I imagine is a lot of modern elegance, a foreboding palette, dim and seductive lights and the overall sense of excess privacy dominating the premises as opposed to before, especially the bedroom, giving off the impression that the place is secluded, overlooking a private, walled off patch of woodland he owns. If anything, Terry's the opposite of someone posturing to be open and rehabilitated in this stage.

[acotars]

books read in 2024

⋆ ⭒˚.⋆ january ⋆.˚⭒ ⋆

one dark window (the shepherd king #1) by rachel gillig

the murder on the links (hercule poirot #2) by agatha christie

pageboy by elliot page

house of sky and breath (crescent city #2) by sarah j. maas

rogue protocol (the murderbot diaries #3) by martha wells

cult classic by sloane crosley

malibu rising by taylor jenkins reid

the beauty of your face by sahar mustafah

exit strategy (the murderbot diaries #4) by martha wells

animal farm by george orwell

everyone in this room will someday be dead by emily austin

carrie soto is back by taylor jenkins reid

a court this cruel & lovely (kingdom of lies #1) by stacia stark

the rules do not apply by ariel levy

poirot investigates (hercule poirot #3) by agatha christie

yellowface by rebecca f kuang

every heart a doorway (wayward children #1) by seanan mcguire

house of flame and shadow (crescent city #3) by sarah j. maas

read: 18

* · ✦ · * february * · ✦ · *

beautyland by marie-helene bertino

bride by ali hazelwood

network effect (the murderbot diaries #5) by martha wells

fugitive telemetry (the murderbot diaries #6) by martha wells

faebound (faebound #1) by saara el-arifi

the raven boys (the raven cycle #1) by maggie stiefvater **

read: 6

.✦.· *. march .*· .✦.

interesting facts about space by emily austin

penance by eliza clark

the book that no one wanted to read by richard ayoade

pride and prejudice by jane austen

unlikeable female characters: the women pop culture wants you to hate by anna bogutskaya

the shame by makenna goodman

greta & valdin by rebecca k. reilly

read: 7

✷ · ✶ · ✧ april ✧ · ✶ · ✷

this spells love by kate robb

out on a limb by hannah bonam-young

gwen & art are not in love by lex croucher

a lady's guide to scandal by sophie irwin

the friendship study by ruby barrett

the boyfriend candidate by ashley winstead

the pumpkin spice cafe by laurie gilmore

business or pleasure by rachel lynn solomon

how to end a love story by yulin kuang

this could be us (skyland #2) by kennedy ryan

the honeymoon crashers (the unhoneymooners #1.5) by christina lauren

we could have been friends, my father and i by raja shehadeh

how to stop time by matt haig

how to fake it in hollywood by ava wilder

with love from cold world by alicia thompson

funny story by emily henry

love radio by ebony ladelle

old flames and new fortunes by sarah hogle

just for the summer by abby jimenez

don't want you like a best friend by emma r. alban

love interest by clare gilmore

the exception to the rule (the improbable meet-cute #1) by christina lauren

worst wingman ever (the improbable meet-cute #2) by abby jimenez

with any luck (the improbable meet-cute #5) by ashley poston

last call at the local by sara grunder ruiz

happily never after by lynn painter

the ex talk by rachel lynn solomon

i kissed shara wheeler by casey mcquiston

the love wager by lynn painter

morning glory milking farm by c.m. nacosta

will they or won't they by ava wilder

read: 31

.　° * ☆ may ☆ * °　.

when the sky fell on splendor by emily henry

on earth we're briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong

blizzard by marie vingtras

bright young women by jessica knoll

the age of magical overthinking: notes on modern irrationality by amanda montell

the flatshare by beth o'leary **

read: 6

⋆ ˚.⋆ june ⋆.˚ ⋆

not in love by ali hazelwood

the way of kings (the stormlight archive #1) by brandon sanderson

words of radiance (the stormlight archive #2) by brandon sanderson

read: 3

. · ☆ . july . ☆ · .

edgedancer (the stormlight archive #2.5) by brandon sanderson

blue iris: poems and essays by mary oliver

woman, eating by claire kohda

oathbringer (the stormlight archive #3) by brandon sanderson

a novel love story by ashley poston

chlorine by jade song

how to read now by elain castillo

please stop trying to leave me by alana saab

beautifully broken life by catherine cowles

the god of the woods by liz moore

edgedancer (the stormlight archive #3.5) by brandon sanderson

the dead and the dark by courtney gould

a most agreeable murder by julia seales

the murder of roger ackroyd (hercule poirot #4) by agatha christie

read: 14

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁august ݁. ⊹ ₊ ݁.

the bluest eye by toni morrison

more, please: on food, fat, bingeing, longing, and the lust for "enough" by emma specter

the ministry of time by kaliane bradley

system collapse (the murderbot diaries #7) by martha wells

emily wilde's encycolpedia of fairies (emily wilde #1) by heather fawcett

emily wilde's map of the other lands (emily wilde #2) by heather fawcett

catalina by karla cornejo villavicencio

roadside picnic by arkady strugatsky and boris strugatsky

read: 8

·.★ ° ·. ✶ september ✶ .· ° ★.·

the most by jessica anthony

rhythm of war (the stormlight archive #4) by brandon sanderson

we were the universe by kimberly king parsons

read: 3

.• ★ ₊ ݁. • october • . ݁₊ ★ •.

creation lake by rachel kushner

small rain by garth greenwell

spells for forgetting by adrienne young

normal people by sally rooney

there there by tommy orange

read: 5

.·　✶ november ✶　·.

:(

read: 0

· ⊹ * · december · * ⊹ ·

two can play by ali hazelwood

happy medium by sarah adler

read: 2

⋆ ˚. ⋆ ✶ reading goal: 103/100 ✶ ⋆ .˚ ⋆

add me on goodreads !

[oneforthemunny]

what were each of the eddie’s bachelor parties like?

older!eddie didn't have much of one besides a night at the hideout with gareth, jeff, dustin, steve, mike- all his old friends drinking and celebrating. he's home by one am honestly bc he's drank tequila and he got horny and missed you lol.

cowboy!eddie didn't have one really bc they went to the courthouse lol. ended up having like a celebration after that at a bar with all their friends so I guess that kinda counts.

mafia!eddie and you had a destination wedding (I've decided it lol) and so he flew everyone out for two weeks before, paid for everything ofc, and the had a really nice dinner. probably a party at the property he rented with both parties.

rockstar!eddie had a similar one. you both went to the malibu house but split up and went to different clubs. eddie, the bad ass rock and roll asshole, ended up just bummed out. he went to his old stomping ground strip clubs and other clubs but it just didn't hit right. ended up going to the club where you and your friends were, crashing your bachelorette and fucking you in the vip.

janitor!eddie honestly was so nervous the night before (not bc he was worried about marrying you, more so the ceremony and embarrassing himself in front of your family) so he and his boys had like a dnd type kick back party at jeff's house (bc he had to stay there anyways, you were sticking with the traditions of not seeing each other before the wedding lol) and they did it bc they knew eddie loved being an dungeon master and it helped him relax.

modern! and bouncer! and dom! I don't really see them getting married tbh.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

When I first saw this ultra modern 2010 home in Malibu, CA, my first thought was, "who is going to clean all of this metal and glass?" But, then when I saw the $57.5M price tag for the 5bd, 7ba home, I realized that if you can afford that much, you have a staff. Look at this place.

Approaching the entrance.

Here we are at the glass door. Oooh, look at the house statue.

The entrance hall.

See what I mean about the glass?

This is crazy. I don't even know how to navigate this home. The description says it's "feng shui inspired."

It's very open concept with the family/living room and kitchen combo.

Very modern kitchen with a wall of cabinets that goes from the kitchen to the living room. Open and airy, there's another sitting area with doors to a patio.

It all overlooks the Pacific Ocean.

All sorts of stairs and ramps lead to other floors.

Small corner sitting room that comes to a point.

We appear to be approaching another living area.

There's a rounded bedroom with a view of the ocean.

And, look at this. The Japanese soaking tub makes it look like you're in the ocean.

More catwalks and stairs.

Another bedroom suite with its own terrace.

So many levels.

Each bedroom is private with a terrace.

Gee, is this the good life, or what?

Wow, look at the setup in the music room.

Beautiful. I wonder if the outdoor art conveys.

Look at the private beach.

The home is gated with a security system.

.83 acre lot. I'm thinking maybe they didn't put in a pool for all that money, b/c the ocean is right there? But, still. A pool & the ocean are 2 very different things.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/41800-E-Pacific-Coast-Hwy-Malibu-CA-90265/16493848_zpid/?

[thislovintime]

Photo 1 by Nurit Wilde, photo 3 by Ann Moses.

“Steve [Stills] hung out with Peter Tork a lot because they were friends from before. Stephen was very frustrated that he didn’t get to be a Monkee. It’s true. Peter was a real sweet guy. He was the Monkee that hung out with us. The party went back and forth between Peter’s house and Steve’s in Malibu. The clique was Buddy Miles, Peter Tork, Crosby, Steve and right after Monterey, they hooked up with Hendrix. We all lived at Peter Tork’s at one time or another.” - Miles Thomas, For What It’s Worth: The Story of the Buffalo Springfield (1997)

“[T]hen I said [to Bob Rafelson], ‘Listen, I know another guy that’s a lot like me and he’s probably a little brighter, and he might be a little bit quicker and funnier.’ […] I called him [Peter] up. He said, ‘I’ll come down.’ And two days later, I found out that he had gotten the job and he called me to thank me. It was funny. I was amused that he took it because he was kind of a hipster.” - Stephen Stills on recommending Peter Tork for The Monkees, 1988 interview quoted in Canyon of Dreams: The Magic and Music of Laurel Canyon (2009) (x)

“I lived with Peter Tork of the Monkees for about six or eight months after the [Monterey Pop] festival, and Stephen [Stills] used to hang up at the house. Peter and Stephen were good friends.” - Buddy Miles, Modern Drummer, September 1988 (x)

“Buddy and I were pretty fond of each other, actually, for a while. I haven’t seen him in 30 years or something. We used to have a grand time playing together. [...] Buddy played on a few of my cuts, when I did… I can’t remember exactly which ones right now. I think it would be a song called ‘Tear the Top Off,’ ['Tear The Top Right Off My Head'] which didn’t get onto any of the regular albums, but came out on some of the collected oddities and leftovers albums and CD’s that came out later.” - Peter Tork, 2007; Rolling Stone, 2019