#I THINK IT THE PIECE WAS CALLED CATHEDRAL

[thatfaerieprincess]

Hi if any of u remember or can find the post or the name of that one sculpture that's the bronze torso laying on its back and it's hollow with cathedral window arches cut into the chest and arm please send my way please please thank you I will love u forever

[cosmic-kiwi]

"A half century ago and more, scholars and essayists often traced the earliest hints of the American character to the arrival of settlers in Jamestown and Plymouth—a view that is less prevalent now. Yet American history had been unfolding for some time before 1607. The Spanish Empire penetrated deeply into the Americas during the long century that elapsed between the landfall of Columbus in 1492 and the first English settlements. The recent discovery of an old footprint in Mexico suggests that hominoids may have been here as long as 40,000 years ago—far longer than previously assumed. The New World is not always so new—what may be the oldest living thing on earth is a bristlecone pine tree named Methuselah, nearly 5,000 years old, in California. In other words, American history goes back very far—to what T. S. Eliot called “a time / Older than the time of chronometers.”"

'Where Does American History Begin?' by Ted Widmer

My favorite thing is that Europe is spooky because it’s old and America is spooky because it’s big

[blueiight]

theres this quote running around from jacob anderson where he talks about how historically black people have been removed from period dramas and how, as suggested by the interviewer (w/ blueiight embellishment ofc), the very few times black charas would show up in these period pieces theyd be side characters delegated to a raceblind narratively incoherent plot to placate an audience ashamed with / of the nuances of blackness. i rly like how he said louis’s character represents both a ‘black and very human story about a vampire… [Black people] do not usually have the opportunity to play such complex and fluent characters’. i think that brings to heart a lot of why this show has my heart, as an armchair historian and r.n. (dont ask what that stands for). u racebent characters in a way that coheres, situate ur black characters in a specific context, and the story never deludes us into thinking the mere existence of an interracial relationship is enough to end racism. in e2 louis literally says “fledgling sounds like slave, dont call me that” and e3 starts with louis telling lestat the history of dismembering runaway enslaved ppl & placing their bodies on the gates of of jackson square.. in his initiation to vampirism, louis is moved from the historically Black creole treme area he grew up in & is placed into lestat’s townhome in the very white, french, old quarter. vampirism as hes initiated into is a loving, powerful, cruel, and isolating existence for louis. bc of vampirism he is able to kill a racist person and not be lynched for it, hes able to echo the historical dismemberment on the alderman by placing his body on the st louis cathedral, but he is unable to kill racist groups & systems that initiate race riots. his connection to claudia in s1 is not so much by the oedipal, but by both their connection as lestat’s fledglings and as Black [creole] people placed in a part of the city largely alien to them both. this connection can be broken down even further. louis saw claudia as his joychild of sorts, ‘[his] redemption’ for his 5 years of pimping but a big part of her tragedy is that a child being made into a vampire cannot redeem anyone, much less redeem an individual from what was a historical inevitability. claudia is adopted into such a stature that she wouldve otherwise never reached by virtue of being made a vampire, but even then that is conditional. claudia is rendered inert from being anyone’s ‘wife’ forever trapped in the confines of immaturity as a ‘daughter’, only hoping at best to be louis’s ‘sister’ and isnt that resonant to bw.. she’s selectively infantilized both a child ‘meddling in the affairs of her parents’ , ungrateful, arrogant, and adultified - presumed powerful enough to ‘poison louis against [lestat]’ , taking on the role of louis’s ‘knight in vengeful white black’ .. the response lestat has to claudia is characterized by him continuing the cycle of abuse he once faced toward her and with a black claudia who was once a poor girl now adopted into this immortal luxury it takes on a racialized element. “bach is beyond you” and claudia bites back with “yes this french music is hmm. not made for these mongrel ears”. the absence of metaphor is striking!! literally the fact that this show does not shy away from the era its set in is why its so good.

[wandering-tides]

People always rank either Ei or Zhongli (or both) above Venti in power rankings. Like, who is the strongest archon? There are always two answers: Morax or Beelzebul. Never Barbatos.

I like to think otherwise.

This guy has cut mountains with his winds and thrown them so far away into the sea, made winter disappear and turned Mond into what it is today: from a barren rocky land that used to be filled with snow and raging blizzards into this green plain field with gentle winds where agriculture is so much easier then it ever was back then. I don't think people of Old Mond could have ever imagined for Mond to turn into what it is today.

But he still calls himself weak. And people took that to face value. And some still do despite it being proven otherwise by Nahida.

Venti said that an archon derives their power from ruling over their nation. But Nahida denies this later and says that archons gain their power through the faith of the people.

Clearly, Venti lied to us.

And if we go by what Nahida said,,,, Every freakin person in Mond has faith in the Anemo archon. They sing praises of him despite not having been in the presence of their god for 5 centuries. He has a statue and a Cathedral (who else has that?).

So, Venti is Strong.

Remember his gnosis is in the shape of a queen chess piece? Queen has the most freedom on the board. Venti's ideals are freedom. And his element is anemo. Anemo is the free-est element out there.

He might as well suck the air out of your lungs if he so wants to. He governs over it.

My point is, Venti is overpowered.

And let's not forget how that little wind wisp gained archon hood.

It was his desire to protect that helped him into becoming a god. When the nameless bard died, he felt the need to protect whats left. To protect what his friend died fighting for.

And its a pretty cliche concept out their about how a hero grows stronger, in any story. Its their need to protect. Right?

And Venti still wants to protect Mond- despite him saying otherwise. He shows up everytime Mond is in danger. Whether directly or indirectly, he always helps out.

So here is what I think. The reason why he calls himself weak.

Its because he is so strong, strong enough to scare Celestia. So Celestia has put him on some sort of leash. He can't use his powers in it's entirety. There is probably some sort of seal.

So Venti is weak.

Because he can't use all of his powers. Because he is chained to Celestia's whim.

Venti is weakest of the seven because he is the only one who has some sort of leash on him.

The god of freedom, chained.

Plus, it can definitely not be a coincidence that the defiled statue was of Barbatos, out of all the seven. Chained, hanging up-side down and corrupted.

And the fact that the abyss order was going to use Barbatos (chained) statue to create a machine to "topple the divine thrones of Celestia."

None of that can be a coincidence. Knowing hoyoverse, it definitely isn't.

So yeah. Venti is definitely not weak. He just can't use the full extent of his powers as of right now.

Venti is strong, but also weak. If he isn't chained- he is easily the strongest.

He can slice the mountains and throw them far into sea- if Zhongli throws a big peice of meteor on him, venti should be able to cut it in half too. if he has all his power on him that is.

I really hate it when people call him weak just because he said so himself. Especially when it's been proven that we shouldn't take his words to face value.

He is not like our sweet little Nahida, people.

[floylia]

THE FINE LINE BETWEEN GREED AND LOVE

— Kaeya x gn!reader

WARNINGS — Angst with a happy ending, blood, childhood trauma, self loathing, HAPPY ENDING TRUST

SYNOPSIS — When fear turns into confessions of love.

NOTE: I did a thing

Kaeya’s affection does not extend to you.

At least that’s what he convinces himself of.

For the years he’s known you, not once did he let his heart win. He let you delude yourself into thinking his affection was hatred. That his friendship came at a price. That he didn’t care one bit, because too much attachment meant losing himself. So he compromised—to put you at arm's length. To be near you but not have you, because people are not coveted the same way objects are. He wanted to have you, but he did not need you.

He knows the difference.

At least that’s what he thought.

The glint of his weapon scalds with the bandits’ flesh, piercing through skin and bones in the heat of the moment. Kaeya takes pleasure in the fear of his enemy’s eyes, but he makes this battle quick. He finds no time for amusement.

He scans the area, heartbeat pacing, breath quickening, before he spots you, leaning on a tree, a hand on your stomach with blood dripping from your temples. He bolts to you, sword forgotten before tearing a piece of cloth from his cape to stop the flow of blood. You barely see him, only feeling the weight of your body shift between dreams and reality.

“Stay with me. Don’t you close your eyes,” He calls out to you, voice breaking but you don’t hear. Your ears filled with statics alternating with nothing. The world is spiraling. It must be playing tricks on you, because you see Kaeya, eyebrows knit together, lips shaking, eyes glossy.

“Don’t cry. You shouldn’t cry.” You whisper and his tears follow.

It’s a foreign sight.

Not a captain revered by all. Not the city’s number one candidate as “grandson-in-law.” Not Klee’s favorite grown-up. Not a scheming bastard who gets a kick off of ordering you around despite your similar rankings in the Knights of Favonius.

But someone who cared.

Someone who feared.

Someone you may never see again as the world darkens.

—

Kaeya Alberich does not pray.

But he knows how to plead, put his hands together, and kneel on the floor of the cathedral despite his conflicting faith towards the divine. The word “please” has never tasted so bitter on his tongue. Fear courses through his adrenaline, piling on top of him like a blanket of snow, leaving him shivering like a coward–because that is what he is.

A coward who dares feel regret.

Two days. 48 grueling hours. 2,880 demanding minutes.

He has been waiting, dreading, and dreaming. When will they hear his pleas? He sounds like a madman.

“I told you to not cry. Why are you crying?”

He doesn’t realize the tears staining his face, but perks up at the familiar voice, your voice, who’s currently sitting next to him.

“You—“ He starts, eyes bulging, swerving from left to right, mouth wide, desperate to find the right words. He raises his arm, hands reaching out to your face—it’s shaking, he can’t control it—until he freezes. Doubt creeping in his mind.

Are you real or has he lost it?

You latch on to his hand, “Does the cavalry captain wished I died or—“

He pulls you in a hug. His head leaning on your shoulder, tears streaming down your hospice clothes.

“My clothes are going to be drenched in snot if you don’t stop being a crybaby.”

“I thought I lost you,” He takes a breath between sniff, his head still resting beside your neck, “I thought I’d lose you knowing I never had the chance of loving you.”

He said it. A sentiment that has echoed from the moment he felt your presence.

“You love me?” There’s hesitation with the way you asked your question. Kaeya is not ready for the rejection that should follow. But he’s come to terms with it. Mulling it over, until he’s accepted that loving does not mean having.

He shouldn’t be greedy. You’re alive, breathing and recovering. That itself is a gift.

“Kaeya, do you love me?” You ask again, this time with determination.

He tried nodding while buried in between your neck. He doesn’t have the courage to look up and face you—whatever expression you’re wearing to his confession—he doesn’t want to see it.

But you force him.

You look deep in his eyes. He’s afraid you’ll see his soul—see the uncertainty, fear, and pain he’s been bearing despite the flashy exterior he presents himself with.

If you do, he wishes you would accept that. All the broken parts that follow. Just like how his adopted father did all those years ago. Just like how Diluc did when they were children. Just like how Klee lets him become a good brother. Just like how Jean trusts him.

He can’t be too greedy.

But isn’t living a “peaceful” life in Mondstadt despite his heritage, already greedy?

Fuck it.

“I love you,” It’s a whisper. He’s not sure if he said it out loud. Scared that he’ll shatter something sacred.

I love you so much that I’m scared. He wants to say, but he’s a coward. Again and again, he proves himself a coward.

“I love you too. Despite my doubts, I was afraid that i’ll never wake up and see your annoying, smug face.”

He swears he’s dreaming.

“I’m sorry, I’m a coward. I’m afraid that wanting you is greedy—“

You press a finger on his mouth, “That makes the both of us. But don’t think for a moment that you’re weak. You’re more than capable. Desiring something is not synonymous to a weakness. It makes you human. Everyone is greedy.”

Desiring something is not synonymous to a weakness. It makes you human. Everyone is greedy.

He smiles. Perhaps you’re right. He wants to believe your words. So he chooses to trust you. He needs to trust you. To hold onto something true, until his chains are broken and the weight of his lies are weighless

“Thank you,” He smiles for the first time in a while before he presses his lips on yours, “I must be the greediest man you’ll ever meet.”

[fraugwinska]

What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done.

I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!

TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI

Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.

You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.

You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.

Detached from the city you lived in.

Lost.

So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.

But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.

It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.

Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.

It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.

Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."

"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.

"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.

It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.

Just like him.

Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.

It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

Part 2 for closure

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

(Or, Alastor and That One Time He Got Drunk and Forgot He Tried To Make a Black Magic Agreement With a Radio Only For It to Come Back to Him in the Worst Way)

Masterlist

Pairings: Alastor x Reader (She/Her/OFC) as reluctant semi-soulmates via non-consensual deal (on both ends). No use of Y/N.

I understand he is aroace, but I couldn’t stop thinking about this idea so here it is.

Eventual smutty smut happening, but be kind dear god am I rusty.

_________________________________________

Exhausted was simply not what you were - you were so past that, your brain so fried out that you didn’t even know what word you were.

Because if you were seeing smiling figure-like shadows on the walls with long dark tendrils wrapping around your surroundings, and radio static from nowhere, then yea. You were fried.

But hey, it had been a crazy long weekend. You’d just spent the last 4 days cleaning up your hoarder of a great aunts shack in the Bon Temps bayou with the other scattered remainder of her family, rooting through about 4 unidentifiable rooms with confirmed animal carcasses and straight up trash-garbage piled to the ceilings. But since your mother died, any family connection at this point was appreciated, right?

‘Couldn’t be more wrong, but it’s too late now’, you think. It was way too late to back out now, you had something to prove. Your Great Aunt’s remaining son had called you ‘slicker’ because you lived in a town with more than one lighted intersection for Christ's sake. And because you used ‘whom’ in a sentence, that opened up an entirely new thrush of nicknames from your distant cousins. You wouldn’t be beaten down, you guys were almost all done with the cleanup anyway, the only remaining items being that of actual use or salvageable material. A couple family members had taken a few items home already, and since you weren’t particularly close with these relatives you weren’t about to ask for anything until-

Well until the little radio was brought out.

For some reason, the craftsmanship of this radio caught your eye. It was a beautiful dark wood, with intricate swirls carved around the speakers - the entire thing was shaped like a miniature church cathedral window. It was clearly vintage, basically a historical piece, you thought - and you did ask quietly if you could keep it. Your uncle fiddled with it to make it work but it needed some attention. It looked virtually untouched otherwise. It was a gorgeous piece, and it looked like it was a new acquisition to the deceased woman’s collection - there wasn’t a spec of dust visible on it. Your uncle figured it wouldn’t be able to pick up football (and also “why would I listen to football when I can WATCH it?”) he let you take it with you.

So you brought it back to your temporary home, the little motel at the outskirts of town (the only motel even close to the town) and set it on the little desk. And there it sat for 2 days before you finally dove in, trying to figure out what was going on with it. You had deduced it was likely the wiring, and after watching 5 or 6 videos on wiring repair on YouTube (good old YouTube) you were fairly confident a simple repair would take no time at all.

But things made in the 20s were a lot sharper, and more metal based, compared to the newer plastic models of recent years. So when you undid the back panel and attempted to unscrew a fastener around the side of the main component, you had successfully sliced your palm open on an errant piece of metal. And holy crow did it hurt AND gush blood immediately. Even though you had whipped your hand close to your chest almost as soon as you realised what had happened it was too late, there was a fair amount of blood that got on the inside of the machine.

Uttering curses, you’d rushed to the bathroom to grab a couple threadbare cloths and sop up some of the larger drops on the desk. Moving around the radio to the light, you had a clearer idea of where your blood landed. Palming one cloth in your wounded hand, your other one attempted to clean up the mess within the radio. Which is where you noticed the funny little symbols written on the inside of the back panel of the radio, which had lain facedown on the desk as soon as you had removed it. These little symbols looked like runes of some sort, unidentifiable to you. They almost looked like they were written out of blood themselves. It was clearly dried now, but the jagged nature of the strokes and brownish un-ink like material that was used to leave the symbols certainly looked like dried blood might look like on old wood.

You wiped your blood off the radio, and ran the cloth right over one of the runes, making it glow briefly with a green light. Maybe.

Well, that was what you thought you saw. But it was so brief you would have missed it with a well timed blink. The sun was setting, light streaming through the window in hazy little streaks, maybe you saw some prismatic effect? Or maybe, maybe you needed a shower and bed. Clearly if you sliced your hand open on a little radio you were tired. Sloppy coordination indeed. You reattached the back panel to the radio and decided to ignore it until you were in a better headspace.

Radio abandoned, you went and started to clean yourself up and get ready for sleep. But when the lights in the bathroom started to flicker, only to stay on slightly duller than before, paired with a strange static that scratched the inside of your eardrums, you decided to end your shower quicker than ever. Exiting the bathroom, you were chilled to realise that the main room had the same ambient experience waiting for you. And if you focused on the moving shadows from what you hoped were passing cars (electric, judging by the lack of engine noise) there was a solid larger mass lingering on the wall with the dresser and broken TV. One that looked like it had a smile, and glowing red eyes (from a car's tail lights, duh!). Yes, yes. Tired. SO tired.

Calling the front did not help, since the static was so loud when you lifted up the receiver you slammed it back down. Your own cell phone was still charging on the side table, flashing the little dead battery symbol to let you know you needed to be more responsible with your charging habits in the future. It could be another 15 minutes before it was ready to turn on.

So, obviously tired, it was time to attempt to sleep. Hopefully. If you were lucky. It wasn’t enough that the bayou was creepy all on its own, the evening took a sharp turn into scary-town after you started messing with the little radio.

Pyjama-clad and ready to sleep you decided that the hallucinations were exactly what you thought they were - hallucinations and nothing more. Nothing spooky, or supernatural, or dangerous.

But you had been wrong before.

It was the initial crashing sound of the motel room door hitting the wall that woke you up first, screaming male voices really kicking your brain into high alert as you scrambled out of bed. Ending up in the corner facing the opposite corner where the door was, you took in what was happening. 2 men, yelling at you for whatever you had - but you were screaming louder than they were, scrambling for anything in your grasp - just that stupid, fucking radio - but judging by the hot impact of a projectile hitting your chest they were not thrilled you weren’t immediately cooperating. Hand clenching around the radio’s cord you hit the corner and slumped down to the floor, lungs burning and immense pain taking over your consciousness. As your mind faded, you could hear the two men bickering, freaking out over the turn their burglary took. Oh, you being shot was an accident? Stellar. Your vision became hazy, it even looked like shadows were overtaking the men as their arguing turned into painful screaming. Whoever came to your aid was simply too late, though you could appreciate the gesture as you died.

You always thought that you would end up looking down at your dying body when the time came, but from the forceful pull downwards your soul felt, it was clear the afterlife had different plans for you.

Now you weren’t really sure what the hell, like actual, literal, hell, was going on. The impact you felt from your sharp tug into the afterlife, landing on a very detailed rug at what looked like the lobby of a hotel was one thing. The tiny radio following your fall shortly after, merely denting a corner of the wood with a loud thunk was another, cord still clenched in your hand. Oh good!

Dazed, you were immediately hoisted up and hugged - yes hugged - by probably the tallest women you had ever met, and the fastest talking one as well. Rambling about “welcome”, “hell rehab”, something or other about redemption - honestly the look of relief you gave the shorter woman who approached and reined in the other made her smirk as she introduced them in a much clearer manner.

Vaggie and Charlie. Vaggie was a resident of the hotel with her girlfriend, the owner and operator of this ‘Hazbin Hotel’, Charlie, both working at redeeming the souls of sinners and getting them into heaven. There were 2 residents, Angel & Sir Pentious, who were not present, a Janitor Nifty (currently wiping your landing spot with a cloth) the bartender, an angry bird-cat man Husk, and the host (also missing) Alastor. Your open mouthed confusion clearly made Charlie snap into attention (finally) because she finally morphed into a being that was capable of conversation.

“So, new to hell?” She inquired.

Well. Duh. “Um yes. I think I was just shot? Am I actually dead?” You asked, hopeful this was a very vivid nightmare.

“As a doornail!” She exclaimed, chipper with positive energy, “Not that doornails are dead, they don’t have souls like you or Angel but really-”

“Yes. You’re dead. And a sinner, which is why you’re here.” Vaggie cut in, patting Charlie on the back. Charlie smiled brightly and nodded at you.

“Yes, and here you can redeem yourself and hopefully make it to heaven! I have faith in our program.”

Oh god this was too much. The sound of a door opening and closing was faintly heard in the background, but that didn’t stop you from being a speedy spiral into mania.

“So. One, I’m dead. Two, why am I in hell I am pretty sure I was a decent human? I didn’t go to church, sure, but I had very little control over my working schedule. Three, is it supposed to be so freaking loud down here? I’m-“

Intense breathing interrupted - yes, breathing. It was the janitor, her one eye staring at you while she lifted the little radio. ”This is diiiirty” she semi-sang. A horrific giggle was lingering under her breath. You grimaced at her behaviour and dropped the cord immediately, avoiding any contact by proxy with this creature. What a creepy little -

“Did that come with you?” Charlie asked, looking confused as you answered with a nod. “Strange, usually possessions don’t follow a soul into the afterlife…” She trailed off, finger tapping her chin with a frown. Everyone turned to look at the manic janitor essentially vibrating with the radio in her hands.

“Interesting! What has inspired us all to gather this fine evening?”

”Alastor!” Charlie greeted an individual behind you. ”This might be our newest resident…she’s just arrived!” Her hands wildly gestured from you to whoever was behind you. You could see the shadow of the person on the floor, stretching into a long figure that looked vaguely familiar. You were certain your eyes were burning a hole into the carpet beneath the shadow. If the shadow was this frightening what exactly was behind you? The shadow appeared to smile wider as you stared at it.

“Hmm!” Alastor, you supposed, responded. “What an exciting new development why - Oh!” Something had caught his attention. He walked towards the janitor, and you glanced at the back of his figure as he walked past you towards the tiny creature. He was tall, very tall, and slender. There was an ominous presence around him, even the nature of his clothing was fashioned in a way that seemed off. It was unnerving. Broad shoulders tapered into a very slim waistline, his jacket flared out behind him in a style reminiscent of a different time. Head to toe red and black, which was also just…something else. But the other patrons also had an interesting approach to their wardrobes as well, save the 2 women. Maybe that was just…how it was here.

“Now where did you find this delightful little item, Nifty?” He said, his profile coming slightly into your view. Dear god, terrifying. You couldn’t even begin to describe his appearance. Chills ran down your back, and suddenly you remembered you were still in very thin pajamas.

“Eh-hehe a dirty radio sir!” She answered, thrilled with herself. “it came with our new guessst” her eye switching from the tallest, creepiest creature you had ever set your eyes upon to your gaze. You swear you could hear the bones crack in the man's neck as he fired his gaze to yours. You were trapped.

“Is that so?” He began to slowly walk towards you, the room filling with a static hum similar to what you felt in the motel room, your skin tingling as he got closer. It was getting harder to hear the others try and talk to the approaching figure, the hum was getting louder.

“And what,” he started, “are you doing with my Radio, my dear?” His eyes were radio dials at this point, sharp jagged teeth glowing alongside them as his head tilted in an inhuman manner, the cracking from before louder than before.

What? Oh for fucks sake. Fuck your backwater, bayou-residing, rude, nasty, hoarder family-

As your eyes rolled back into your head, your body went limp and you hit the foyer carpet. Hard. For the second time that night

**

Part One : Part Two : Part Three : Part Four

[9w1ft]

fam…. wow, what a year.

in the summer, i went to karlie’s birthday show, and on the way back i stopped through santa monica and pacific palisades just to soak in the rich kid ambiance, and well, no, actually, i wanted to check out jennifer meyer! because, well, idk. inspiration struck. it’s such a fun kaylorverse brand! and i thought, if enamored enough, i might be convinced into buying a tiny heart ring or charm or something, but they had just gotten in one of something recently and when i saw it i immediately knew i would be talked into it.

…so i picked up this tiny necklace from jen meyer. for obvious reasons.. i couldn’t help it! it spoke to me!!

fast forward to a handful of weeks later and taylor is… wearing evil eye jewelry! several pieces! more than several pieces!! even an evil eye stud!! and i come to deduce later on that the first time she wore the bracelet was the day before karlie’s birthday concert. which is a true coincidence that i love, because, it’s the day @taylorrepdetective and i happened to arrive in LA. and so today, reflecting on the eye theory as i do, i was thinking today about how my life changed shape, because of all of these things.

for april 18th is, as you may know, eye theory day! the day @swift-79 and i finalized and i posted the og eye theory post, back in 2019. also known as the eyepocalypse, discovereye, the start of many things.

today marks the four five year anniversary. it’s pretty wild that we’re still kickin it five years in! and it’s become a sort of tradition for me where i like to post a little something personal in honor of the day. so allow me to continue this one gratis.

second part of my story is that a little over a year ago now, i went to opening night of the eras tour with @theprologues and the day after the concert, on my way back, i stopped through scottsdale and walked through all the boutique shops and souvenir shops and picked up a trinket. a ring that called out to me, for…obvious reasons.

i mean, how could i not?? to commemorate a wonderful trip to meet a dear friend, and for all the eye theory things that happened on opening night!

and it’s been a year since then and i’m one of those people that just doesn’t take jewelry off, so it’s been on my finger for all this time. it was a snug fit, and silver, so it both wasn’t coming off easily and wouldn’t be leaving a green ring on my hand or anything, so i have kept it there. for a little over a year now.

but the other day someone was asking me about it. and i was like oh, i got this in arizona and so i went to adjust it to show it off because the center stone was off to the side and when i twisted it i noticed a mark on my finger, an indent, for having worn it so long.. and i sorta laughed to myself because, you know, there is an indentation. in the shape of an eye.

so i decided to take the thing off for a sec and let my finger breathe and so i take off the ring and notice— the shape of the ring has changed.

what once was centered, has now fully to morphed and warped the right side. 🙈🙈 c’est la vie.

i only write this out to say that, it had me thinking. about all the fun we had for this fourth fifth (!) turn around the theory, all the dear friends i have met, all the tour outfits, the accessories and merch?!… all of the little connections we have made over this… thing 😆 it had me thinking about how there are always going to be these fun little moments in life where the universe winks at you and, and how if you can manage it, it’s a charmed way to live, really. reminded me of the time i lost karlie’s gem on my swarovski evil eye bracelet at rep tour tokyo! that is to say, when the going gets tough, it can still be fun. if you work to give yourself permission. as one might say…there are cathedrals everywhere for those with the eyes to see 🥴

it didn’t really occur to me until this week just how close the release date is to the eye theory anniversareye ☺️ and i’m not sure what this countdown is for but it’s running out so close to when the op was posted five years ago so i decided to post around now :) not to say any of it was anything more than accidental. but hey, laughter is the best medicine, is it not?

so omnom, i say! omnom!

and so today, on ts11 album release eve,

i implore all of you (and myself) to open our hearts juuust a crack,

and keep on the lookout for the gold nuggets that are going to be there. assume taylor will perjure herself a bit during this trial, relax, allow yourself the enjoy what we get, like nobody else truly can.

and so eye enter into evidence…

literally a bajillion things let’s be real like oh my god

our tarnished post of eyes, my indentations, shaped like…occulations,

our talismans and charms.

the tap, tap, tap of me selecting bert memes, my veins of bloodshot pink.

all’s fair in love and���

poetreye.

[bluejackals]

post-chunkban pt2

continuation of this. word count 1202

notes: I think the european cathedrals inspired images and plagues in myhead

---

But where would that leave him? Alone on this cold cliff, purposeless again, without even the lump of hope sitting in his throat that Parrot meant it when he said he wanted Wifies as his best friend. Yes, Wifies might have Ken, and Ken is warm and wonderful and loyal down to the bone, but this is someone who doesn’t know what he is who says he wants him. This is Parrot, whose eyes are the sun, and Wifies can’t give that up. 

The strength—and perhaps also shame—of that revelation sinks him to his knees, right there on the rock. He looks up at Parrot, who is so bright it hurts Wifies’s eyes. 

For whatever reason, Wifies’s tear ducts have never been removed. Maybe it made the escape rooms feel more real to the viewers, if his eyes could water and he could cry. 

So he cries now—unwillingly, shamefully, truthfully. The tears scorch his face before being torn away by the wind. No, he’ll never be able to give the sun up. 

“I can’t,” he says. A confession to the figure staring down at him in all his shame. “I can’t.” 

Can’t tell him, can’t kill him. Would he be doing this if he knew?

“You have time.” The words sink into his veins. He shivers. Time, time, time. It feels like he’s always running out of it. 

He can’t be truthful with Parrot, but he can do this—make his way to him. Even if he has to crawl on his knees.

He manages to stand a few feet away from Parrot, ignoring any residual aches from the stone. It feels like layers of him slough off with the grit of the rocks as he does. Parrot’s eyes follow him the whole way.

Wifies takes the feather. 

It’s like flipping a lever. Parrot’s wings relax and he lets out a colossal breath and the morning light hits Wifies in thick, gauzy beams. Wifies has to blink a few more times, both to adjust his eyes and to clear away any residual from the crying. It helps to clear his head too. 

“Hey,” Parrot says. 

“Hey.” Thankfully, Wifies’s voice doesn’t crack. 

Parrot rolls his shoulders. “So. Um. Do you have any questions?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I don’t know that much about any of this. I don’t—I guess if you don’t mind explaining what that was?” Wifies is very curious. This is knowledge untouched by anything from his past; this is knowledge he can swallow whole. 

“Sure. Wanna sit?” 

When Wifies nods, Parrot rummages around in his inventory and pulls out two white carpets, setting them on the cliff and pinning them down with stray stones. Wifies takes the one further from the cliffsides. 

There’s a crunch as Parrot bites into an apple with a thoughtful expression on his face. He looks calmer—not forcibly calm like he’d been yesterday, not impassively calm like he’d been just now. Wifies realizes he also feels calmer. The churning in his stomach has reduced to lapping waves, barely present. 

“Mm. Okay. I—when I say I, I mean avians—shed feathers all the time. Those random feathers don’t really mean anything on their own.” 

To prove his point, Parrot rattles a wing. A lone piece of fluff falls out. “See? I obviously don’t moult all of them all at once, or else I’d look stupid and I wouldn’t be able to fly.” 

“Like an actual parrot,” Wifies observes. 

Parrot chuckles. “Yeah. But anyways, feathers that are freely given have significance. There’s a bunch of rituals with different meanings and stuff that are used when giving feathers. So ‘what just happened’ was one of those.”

“Which one?” The question tumbles out of Wifies’s mouth. He’s having fun learning this. Maybe too much fun. It feels like too much fun. “Sorry, I—”

“No, that’s a good question,” Parrot says. “You should get to know that.” He takes another bite out of his apple, throat bobbing when he swallows. “There’s not really a set name for it, I guess. I’ve been calling it the ‘Beginning’ ritual in my head. The feather given is one of the smaller ones because accepting it is accepting the beginning of something, whether that’s an alliance or a promise, and it’s done at dawn because that’s the beginning of a new day. It’s pretty self-explanatory. I’ve done it a few times.”

He tucks the finished apple core away. “I only use it for promises and relationships. There are other ways to make alliances that aren’t this serious.” A small smile. “I mean, you saw how dramatic that was, right? And I had to time it perfectly.” 

“But it was beautiful,” Wifies says. Beautiful and terrifying. 

“It’s meant to be, yeah,” Parrot murmurs. “But I’m glad you liked it.”

“I did. A lot.” He means it. Then his curiosity nudges him towards another question. “I feel like ‘Beginning’ implies a next part,” Wifies muses. “Are there related ones?”

“Yeah. There’s at least two more parts. The feathers given get bigger and bigger. People who get really serious will go up to a primary.” 

An unasked question materializes, hanging in the air between them. Will you? Will I?

Parrot’s headwings drift towards his face like free-floating curtains, then abruptly snap back. “I’ve…yeah. I’ve gone that far. I’d—I’d do it again.” He stares at Wifies. “If it felt right.”

Maybe that lightness Wifies felt after the ritual was the removal of Wifies’s ability to maintain a neutral resting face. He must’ve shown some kind of question in his expression. “That’s…thanks for the information.”

Wifies has a very, very good guess of just who has one of Parrot’s primaries. But it would be beyond rude to ask Parrot, so he thanks the heavens that he doesn’t have that loose of a tongue.

“Do you have any specific questions now?” Parrot asks. “Since you know some basic stuff.”

“Hmm. Actually, yeah. What’s the proper way to store this? Or wear it? I’ve seen people with earrings. Is that how it works?”

“It’s up to you,” Parrot says. “A lot of people just keep the first feather in a pocket somewhere on them so it travels with them through respawns. Turning the later feathers into jewelery is more common.” 

“I’ll stitch it into my jacket cuff, if that’s okay?” 

Parrot blinks, then smiles. “Yeah, that works. That’s a pretty innovative way of doing it too. Remember, it’s first and foremost supposed to be a gift to you, so you can do whatever.”

Right. The feather is Wifies’s. He doesn’t have that much to his name—a painful history, a prong of the trident he and Ken used in there, the clothes he wears. But now he has this as well. Something warm blooms in his chest. It’s his. Just like the trident fragment. And Ken might be happy to hear about it, because Ken always tells Wifies he should have more things. 

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, Parrot.”

Parrot nods. “Thank you too, Wifies.”

Wifies blinks. “For what?”

“Being you.” 

It’s so—Parrot. It’s a little corny and honey-sweet and Wifies’s stomach does what can best be described as a floppy somersault. Parrot didn’t say “thank you for being Wifies." It makes all the difference.  

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

Chapter 30 Rough Chapter Preview

((ooc: here have this entire segment!))

 “What....what is this place?" Asha breathed. 

“My guess is as good as yours,” came the star’s voice as his eyes settled on a partially collapsed statue behind them. One that if was still whole, would have easily rivaled Rosas’s biggest cathedral in size. “I’m not one to leave loose ends after bad encounters. But I thought it’d be best if we spent some time down here to convince your little ‘acquaintances’ that we hadn’t survived the fall.” 

Shivering, she half-heartedly wrapped her wet shawl around herself. “Did you know this was down here?”

“Oh, you mean the city?” He shook his head, “I didn’t. The only reason why I found it was because I felt something coming from here.”

“You felt something?” Her eyes darted from the star to the collection of dilapidated buildings that stood before them. 

He nodded “A calling.”

“How exactly does one feel a calling?” 

“Same way how one manages to conjure a large air bubble that’s strong enough to keep you alive down here. That’s how.” He gestured to the walls of said air bubble before turning his eyes to the darkness outside. “But I suspect it’s coming from a malfunctioning artifact or a distress beacon of sorts.” 

A distress beacon? It had been how the injured Atlantean general had summoned the stone serpentine. So the idea wasn’t too far-fetched. But from here of all places? 

“You know it’s funny you say that,” she started as she felt herself slightly shiver. The coldness of her still-wet shawl had done her no favors. “My Saba once told me of a legend from when Rosas was still young, a fisherman used to sail the Salcona river. After narrowly surviving a boat accident he claimed that he’d heard strange voices coming from the bottom of the river.”

“Voices?” His light pierced the darkness as it briefly illuminated the ground below, revealing the bits and pieces of stained glass that had been embedded within what she could only assume was once a beautiful pathway. 

“Yeah. Strange ones. They said it drove him so mad that he swore to dive to the bottom of the river…No one ever saw him again,” She whispered, eyeing the sparkling shards of the ground that led towards the heart of the sunken city. 

“You don’t think there are survivors here, do you?” Impossibilities of survival aside, How was anyone to be rescued from something like this? She’d tried to not think of the hopelessness of the situation crushing the survivors as they’d desperately searched for any sign of

“I wouldn’t bet on it. But It’s not as outlandish as you think,” He’d shifted closer, holding his hand towards the bubble’s wall. “I’ve heard of astronomers having hidden underground tunnels that allowed them to travel all over the kingdom in dire situations. Factor in their food supply, powers, extended lifespan, and technology, and anything is possible.”

“But that can’t be right- Rosas was founded on a completely new island! This city can’t be a part of its predecessor.”

“And yet it just so happens to be full of those same astronomical symbols,” the star interjected before leaning towards her. “A little too coincidental don’t you think?”

She nodded, her eyes lowering to her feet as she contemplated his words. 

If what he said was true then that would mean that Rosas had never left the ashes of its predecessor behind just like the historical records had claimed.

But how could that be? Surely someone would’ve pointed out the error sooner! There was no way the scholars nor her father would’ve allowed such untruths to be propagated to future generations. 

“BAAAA” came Valentino from beside her as he gestured for her to look forward.

“What?” She asked. “What is it? Do you see something?”

He shook his head, before pressing it to the walls of the air bubble as if he’d wanted her to follow suit.

Of course, doing something like that initially seemed ridiculous to her under the fear of possibly popping the bubble, but come to think of it, this wasn’t any normal air bubble, right? So maybe she could get away with a few sudden movements…But her reservations had been quickly put to rest when she’d felt the low vibrations of something that she could only deduce was sound coming from the nearby city. 

Quickly, she pressed her ears towards the bubble’s side, making out the sounds of Bells and chimes softly ringing in the darkness. But why would they be ringing?  

“Asha-,” came the star’s voice as something swam past once more, nearly startling her. “What are you doing?”

“Listening,” she answered, briefly sparing him a glance. “Do you hear that? It’s the sounds of bells and chimes ringing and I think it’s coming from the city!” She exclaimed as he blankly stared at her. “I’ve always known that water isn’t a vacuum, so sound could travel through it. But for the bells and chimes to be ringing so continuously like this…that must mean that something underwater is making it move! But the real question is…what?” She started to pace the bubble, which was frankly, a near-impossible task given the bubble’s rather small size. But that hadn’t stopped her from asking “Is it the current or something else? Maybe it’s connected to the calling you felt! But…why?”

His brows furrowed as his hand pushed his hair back.“You really want to know?”  

“Of course I do!” she exclaimed, unable to hide her smile. “Don’t you?”

“Well…” he, the self-admitted reckless and insane star, hesitated. The expression on his face was wavering. “I suppose so…”

“Suppose so? Cepheus we literally just made the greatest archaeological discovery of this century!  This is a once-in-a-lifetime achievement that could be the answer to all of our questions involving the order and its strange absence!”

“Or, it could be dangerous,” his voice lowered as the light within his hand flickered.” You don’t know what’s down here.”

A part of her couldn’t believe that of all the things they’d done, this was where the star drew the line. He’d been so troubled about the order’s strange absence, yet he seemed reluctant to explore the one place that could give him answers. Granted he did have a point, as up until now, the most she’d ever assumed was down here was nothing more than fish and scattered bones. 

But that hadn’t stopped her from being curious, not when the existence of the buildings that challenged Rosas’s history had so proudly touted the symbol she’d seen from the astronomer’s order.“True, I don’t. But I guess it’s a good thing I have you then, don’t I? You’re probably scarier and way stronger than any apex predator that roams the ocean.”

“Apex what?” 

“Apex predator,” she repeated. “You know, a carnivorous animal that resides at the top of the food chain!” she explained as a small idea formed within her mind. 

“Am I an Apex predator?” he asked, curiously pointing to himself as he leaned towards her. 

“You?” she looked around the small bubble thoughtfully. Flattery had always done wonders on nobles, now she wondered how well it would work on a star. “Well, I mean you remorselessly maul people three times your size with sheer brutality, without taking any damage.” she shrugged. “Yes. I think you’d comfortably classify as what they’d call an apex predator.”

The star beamed, “Ha ha! Wait-,” he paused as his smile faltered. “You’re complimenting me-,” His eyes narrowed at her suspiciously, “who are you and what have you done to Asha?!”

She rolled her eyes before pointing to him accusingly. “I mean I could be asking you the same question. You didn’t use any magic whatsoever in that fight for someone who’s so highly pro-magic.”

“Touche,” he conceded. “But don’t think flattery is gonna convince me to take you down there.”

“Well it’s not really flattery if it’s the truth now is it?” she asked smoothly as she leaned towards the star.

“....Fair point,” he shrugged, before clearing his throat. “Alright then, I guess we can look around for a little bit. IF-”

“If?” she repeated.

“-You promise to stay close to me. The pressure at this depth is very unforgiving. So It’s best we stick together for now.”  

She nodded, unsure of how she’d be able to do anything else given the limited space the bubble provided.

Nearing the city, Asha’s eyes took in the pieces of columns, buildings, and broken statues that littered the ground, offering a mere glimpse of what she could only assume was once a beautiful courtyard.  

“There are so many statues here,” she murmured, briefly pausing to listen in to the sounds of the surrounding bells.

“Of course there are,” he sighed. “To a star, there’s no greater form of praise than a beautiful artistic piece that’s fashioned after them. You should see the palaces that some of the alpha stars live in. It’s full of human art.” 

“Do you recognize any of these then?”

He shook his head without hesitation, as they swam past several collapsed statues that could have easily rivaled the castle in size. 

“How about these?” she asked, pointing to another.

To her dismay, his voice promptly answered with a somewhat unenthusiastic, yet decisive “No.” 

Setting aside her confusion for now, she continued looking around the desecrated town square, not seeing anything particularly noteworthy until her eyes caught sight of something glittering beneath the edge of the star’s light.

“Wait!” she halted him before pointing to where she’d spotted the glittering object beneath them. Obediently the star guided his light towards the direction she’d pointed in, quickly revealing the location of said object to be within the hole of a large building that had partially collapsed. 

Excitement once again filled her at the sight of the astronomical symbols etched into the building’s stone roof as she shivered and asked, “D-do you think that’s the order?”

He gently shook his head. “The order was far larger than one building, but from what I’ve heard they did have a location in the heart of the kingdom, which was very close to the castle.”

The castle? She’d looked around for any sighting of said castle but had come up empty. There wasn’t much to go off of whether or not this part of the city had been near the heart of the kingdom nor if this building had been a part of the astronomer’s order, but something in her mind had told her that it was at least worth exploring.

The star nodded to himself as he peered into the dark depths of the building. His mind surprisingly made up as he cracked his knuckles. “Well, I suppose now is a time as ever to make life-altering mistakes while embarking on a pointless albeit fascinating search.”

“Life-altering what?” Asha spat as he smiled at Valentino.

“Go on Valentino we’ll be right behind you!” he gestured towards the dark pit beneath them. 

Valentino, understandably bleated in protest as the star frowned. “What? What do you mean by no?” Valentino shivered before bleating once more as the star gasped. “Ah right, I keep on forgetting that you earth creatures are weirdly addicted to oxygen. Me personally? I’ve always been more of a hydrogen and helium guy, not that I need them of course-”

“Wait,” she grabbed his hand, gently pulling him back as she thankfully put a stop to his strange rambling. “Before we enter. Promise me that there will be no more riddles, no more games. I just want transparency.”

“Transparency,” the star repeated, looking genuinely confused. 

“Yeah you know, honesty. It’s what friends do. They tell each other things that they need to hear, even when it’s not easy.”

“Friends do that? Does that include constructive criticism on interior decor and capes?” he asked as he glanced at her soaking-wet shawl.

“My friends do, and no it does not include constructive criticism on interior decor or capes,” she retorted before quickly stuffing her shawl into her satchel. 

“How many friends do you have beside me?”

“A lot but that’s not the point,” she lied with a huff. “Right now we’re looking at a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, one that I doubt we will see again. So it’s best that we try to answer any questions we have while we’re still down there. Right?”

To her surprise, the star pleasantly answered, as he placed a hand over his heart, “Of course Asha. Let’s get started, shall we?” She nodded as the bubble slowly began to descend the roof’s hole and into the building below. 

The room they’d slipped into had been massive, with its downward stairwell structure nearly reminding her of an academic auditorium. Everything in the hall was covered in algae, as objects such as furniture, books, bookshelves, scrolls, and all sorts of instruments lay strewn about as the remains of a once beautiful crystal chandelier lay in the middle of the room. Carved into the surrounding dark-colored stone walls were depictions of strange Creatures and people, all poised towards a chalkboard full of strange letters that stood at the other end of the room. She and the star exchanged glances before nodding, carefully approaching the chalkboard.

“This was written in Asterahi,” he murmured as he tentatively looked over the board.

“Is that another star language?” she asked, noting how different the ‘words’ had looked from the ones he’d shown her yesterday.

“It is. A far more exclusively spoken one though.”

And yet one that he appeared to be capable of reading she’d thought as he’d continue to look over the language’s strange symbols. For a star peasant he was rather well-educated, wasn’t he? “I know you said you could tell which court had spoken Cosmelathian based on the dialect or rather variation you saw it written in… Does the same apply for Asterahi?”

He carefully nodded, “It does…and from the looks of things, this looks like it was written by someone from the,” his eyes widened, as he quickly shook his head. “No….That can’t be right. Not here…Why here?”

“What? What is it?! Cephues what’s wrong?” He failed to answer her as his eyes continued sweeping over the board. His smile was gone now as she felt the water around them begin to move, pushing away some of the debris near the foot of the chalkboard as she gasped.

“Cepheus, look!” she cried, pointing to the large half-destroyed ship that lay in front of the chalkboard. “It’s one of the ships we saw Erlan’s people use!” She could barely think straight as she gently shook the star’s shoulders. “It’s real! It’s really real! And it’s here!” She paused, feeling the weight of reality set in. “Wait so are you telling me that story wasn’t fictional?”

“I don’t ever recall telling you that it was,” he answered with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Oh…” she whispered, releasing his shoulders as she stepped back. “Wait…so do stars actually look like that? A dark cloud with glowing eyes and a multitude of voices or was that a creative liberty you took?”

He grinned rather smugly, “Creative liberty, of course, in reality, we stars usually look far worse.”

“Worse?” she repeated, before pointing to him. “Even you?”

“I’m not sure why I’d be excluded from that, but yes, even me. There’s a reason why we’re so…particular about how we look when we’re around humans…”

“Finally,” she grinned. “A form of you that isn’t ridiculously handsome. Now I actually kind of want to see-”

“Finally a form of me that isn’t ridiculously handsome?” he repeated, staring at her in silence before the true meaning of her words began to sink into both of them. She hadn’t meant it like that! But the grin that slowly spread across the star’s face told her that she was now in for a world of trouble.

“Asha-,” he sang.

“I’ve never been one to ask a building to collapse on me before,” she grumbled as she tried to ignore how her face burned.

“Do you think I’m handsome?”  The wicked little star was enjoying this. “It’s okay if you do. I think you’re really pretty too~,”

She shook her head, quickly taking another step back as she cursed the tightness of their air bubble. “Ha, ha, no, no, I never meant that you were handsome, you see what I was trying to say was that-,”

“That?” the star repeated. “Go on Asha, tell me what you were trying to say.” He was really enjoying this, wasn’t he? 

“Scratch that, I hope the building collapses on both of us.”

Valentino panickedly pleated as the star’s smile sharpened. Mischief filled his eyes as he leaned towards her, “Is this you showing your strong feelings for my form again? I knew you liked it but to call me ridiculously handsome-,”

“I am politely asking you,” she called while staring at the partially collapsed ceiling. “To please do it. Just make it quick.”

“Ha! Listen to me princess, very few things in this universe could kill you while I'm around, but I'm afraid this building” he pointed upwards towards the ceiling. “Isn't one of them-,” he’d flippantly waved his hand as he leaned away from her. 

“Alright, so what could?”

“Nothing that you’d need to worry about,” he replied, his voice a bit more ominous than she liked.

“Well unnerving note aside, this means that Erlan’s kingdom could have been the ancestor or had some sort of ties to Rosas’s predecessor!” She looked over the ship once more. To call it advanced would have been the understatement of the century. No, this wasn’t advancement. It was technological perfection. “Do you think it still works?” she asked the star after she’d finally managed to partially break the trance the ship had, had on her. “We could fix it though, couldn’t we? Just like how you fixed the music box! Imagine if we could get it to fly again! This could be a life-changing thing for the people of Rosas! The king would have to listen to us! He’d have to!”

To her chagrin, he looked away before shaking his head, “I don’t think your king would be very pleased if you made this discovery public Asha.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well from what you tell me, I think his abhorrence to technology seems personal, and like you said your people are complacent and dependable on the king, something that may not be as benevolent nor generous as you think it is.” 

Not benevolent or generous? She wasn’t certain about that! Yes, it had made everyone a little too safe and lazy, but she had to give credit where it was due. King Magnifico had made them complacent as a consequence of his dedication to serving and protecting them, something that she’d argue was very kind given how most monarchs tended to act.

The star looked her over, and as if reading her thoughts, he’d gifted her a smile heavily laced with what she could only recognize as sardonicism. “You know Asha,” he started. “A king’s greatest enemy isn’t those who he faces on the battlefield or those who he strong arms into trade deals or diplomacy. No, it’s the people who he must convince and assure of his divine right to rule with each and every passing day.  Because the minute those people think to themselves that there is another, someone better, is the day that everything a king has worked for goes to naught. His kingdom will become nothing more than a gilded cage as those around him fight to secure themselves for power.”

“I…I can’t disagree with what you’re saying….But the people and royal family of Rosas aren’t like that! You’re free to think of the king however you want, but nothing can change the fact that he and so many others worked hard to make Rosas into a place where people who’d suffered could be given a chance! Just like how Erlan used his power as king to help others and establish the Astronomer’s Order!”

He tilted his head, as he thoughtfully stared at the nearby collapsed pillar. “So passionate. You sound as if you speak from experience, or perhaps intimate knowledge of the royal family?”

She shook her head. If the star had thought that he was the only one who could maintain secrecy under this amount of hydrostatic pressure, then he was sorely mistaken “It’s history that we’re all required to learn…”

The star hummed, evidently not sounding too convinced.  “History? Alright then…How did you know that Erlan established the astronomer’s order? Surely they couldn’t have had that in your history books.”

“They don’t.”

“So how did you know?”

“I didn’t I-,” her voice trailed off. “I heard it…in a dream.”

“A dream?” Cepheus’s eyes narrowed at her as the cold seemed to seep into her bones. “You’ve been having weird dreams lately?”

“Sometimes,” she confessed. “But everything that’s happened to me has been very strange and a little too coincidental.” It was a shame that the bubble was so small, otherwise, she would’ve started pacing once more as she began to think aloud. “But Maybe you’re right…maybe I shouldn’t show this to the king.”

“Oh? And why do you say that?”

“Well…come to think of it, isn’t it a little odd how those figures not only chose to attack me on the one day I’d have a vacation? There’s no way they could’ve known that unless they had an informant in the castle keeping them updated on my whereabouts. But then there’s the fact that if they truly didn’t care about assassinating other people, then why hadn’t they done it this morning if they’d been stalking me for a while?” She’d asked glancing at Valentino who shivered before looking up at her. “But they only attempted it when I was alone with you….Wanting to discreetly dispose of me is one thing. But doing it when there’s another person around, one completely irrelevant to the situation is irrational…unless, of course, they had their reasons for wanting to kill you as well.”

“You think they knew that I am a star?”

“It’s quite possible, or at least they know now given what you showed them. And they had magic of their own, and-” her voice trailed off as she remembered the red crystal she’d seen on the woman’s neck. Ones that looked nearly identical to the crystals that the Atlanteans and Erlan’s people had worn. Had the people hunting them down been astronomers who’d sworn allegiance to the crimson court? But that didn’t make any sense! If they’d sworn to serve the stars then why were they shattering wishes?

She shook her head as she turned her attention back towards the star in front of her. “But it still doesn’t make sense to me. The language that you heard their leader speaking in, was it close to ours?”

“Close, but not identical. I’d say from its roots that most linguists would probably tell you that it’s a sister language of yours.”

“And then there’s the fact that they didn’t hesitate when nearing the bridge that’s usually guarded. It’s like they knew it would be empty by the time they’d be approaching…and the river” She shook her head. “they knew which path to block. They deliberately tried to send us down Salcona. That can’t be a coincidence.” 

“I feel as if you’re on the verge of something here,” he started. “You’re formulating some sort of hypothesis aren’t you?”

“Sort of,” she admitted, still thinking about the red crystal and shattered wishes.

“BAAAAAAAA-,” Came Valentino’s voice as he leaped forward, gesturing to the other end of the hall.

“You see something?” Cepheus repeated as he turned around. Valentino reverently nodded before gesturing towards the wall on the other end of the hallway. 

“It’s some type of mural I think,” she murmured, examining it as she noticed the bits and pieces of colorful stained glass shining the minute the star’s light landed upon it.

Sirius,” she’d whispered on recognizing the figure depicted by the mural.

He’d looked nearly identical to the picture she’d seen in the journal, only this time he wore a beautiful crown embedded with blue and golden jewels as the words on the mural’s edges read Sirius de Solari-, her eyes squinted trying to make out the rest of the letters that had been lost to time.

But she’d suspected the final words were ‘de Solarius.’ A suspicion that had only been confirmed by the figures of blue and golden that acknowledged him on either side of the mural.

He must have been someone important. Otherwise, she’d have seen no other reason why such a beautiful mural would be dedicated to him if he didn’t at least hold some power in the world of stars and astronomers. 

But as she studied his face, she couldn’t help but quietly admire the artistry and dedication that had gone into what could have easily been the most expensive piece of art in Rosas.

“Cepheus?” She looked from him to the mural and then back to him. 

“Don’t say it,” he grumbled, but his voice had lacked the venom she’d expected. No, now he just looked tired. Tired and expectant as if the similarities in looks had been brought up multiple times before. 

He’d denied being Sirius, but surely they must’ve been closely related… why else would they so strongly resemble one another? But… if they’d been related then why would Cepheus be a mere peasant while Sirius appeared to practically be a prince, or maybe even a king?! 

Maybe Cepheus was his illegitimate son. An illegitimate son that he had neglected for whatever reason, hence why the son had resented the very name and resemblance he had to his father. 

Hmm, that was plausible. 

Cepheus was dangerously close to scowling now as he practically snapped, “Draw a picture of him Asha, it will last longer.” 

She blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at that wall for at least five minutes,” he complained with a frown as he crossed his arms. 

“Well, I’m an astronomer. It’s sort of my job to examine and study stars for a living Cepheus.”

She hadn’t expected to see a cold fire ignite within the depths of his eyes as he staunchly turned away. She glanced at Valentino who seemed just as confused as she. Had it been something she said? 

“Well go on,” he’d said after a moment or so of uncomfortable silence. “Ask your questions. You want answers about him don’t you?”

Goodness. Of course, she wanted answers! It’s why she’d wanted to explore in the first place. But she didn’t want answers at the expense of invading the star’s privacy or boundaries. 

She shook her head, “No. I can tell that this is a rather sensitive topic for you, and if you don’t feel comfortable talking about it for whatever reason then I won’t ask about it. But if you ever want to share then I want you to know that I’ll be here, ready to listen.”

“Ready to listen?” he repeated as confusion laced his voice. “But what if I never want to share? What will you do then?”

A challenge. Maybe even a warning. She’d swallowed the unease as she forced herself to shrug, “Then that’s okay too. Look Cepheus. I’m not going to force you into doing something that distresses you, alright? That’s not what friends do, and it’s not what I’m going to do.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She wasn’t sure how many seconds of silence had ticked by before his face slowly softened and he offered her his hand.  

His fingers slowly intertwined with hers as she quietly welcomed his warmth.

“C'mon,” he says softly as the bubble begins to move away from the mural. “Let’s go see if there are other ships around.” He must’ve sensed her confusion as he quickly added, “Just because the king can’t appreciate it, doesn’t mean that you can’t use it to further your own studies, right?” 

“Right.” She nodded, and a small ghost of a smile teased at his lips as they moved forward, this time through the large hole in the center of the floor. 

“Where are we headed to?” Her voice echoed as the star’s light peered through the darkness, revealing the misfortune that had befallen a place of prestige and beauty. 

“The panic room,” he’d answered. “I think it’s where the signal is coming from.”  He’d only briefly paused once to shine his light on the wall behind them, revealing another mural. This one depicted planets, none of which she recognized. Perhaps they’d been planets from another galaxy? It was a possibility, given how stars had most likely been the ones to divulge such information in the first place. “I have a, no pun intended, sinking suspicion that if the evacuation ships and distress beacons were to be anywhere. They’d be in the bottom of the building near the panic rooms.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Imitation is said to be the highest form of flattery,” he’d half-heartedly gestured to the columns full of strange vein-like carvings. “So there’s probably a good chance that they’d keep their weapons where we would normally keep ours, which is usually near the panic rooms.”

His voice echoed as they finally slipped into the entrance of an expansive hallway filled with murals behind statues that had lined either side of the hallway.

But whatever admiration she’d had for the statues and murals order couldn’t extend to the rest of the hallway. “It looks like a tornado came through here.” She’d commented as she took in the sight of the broken statues, glass, and rubble that littered the hallway. The architecture of the fountain had surprisingly looked quite similar to the one she’d found in her father's library, evoking a sense of disappointment as she realized just how little Rosa’s’ style had changed. 

“That probably isn’t too far from the truth,”  he’d replied before glancing towards the pile of debris. Then he’d looked behind them. Surprise coloring his eyes as he smiled, speaking in Cosmelathian as he’d turned to fully face the mural. 

“Who’s that?” She’d asked, watching as the light finally revealed the mural to be of a red-colored individual, draped in exquisite robes. A crimson star. She’d nearly backed away until she’d taken note of the rather relaxed expression on Cepheu’s face.

“Antares de Luktu Nocturnus, an ancient figurehead of the crimson court,” he’d answered simply. Antares? She’d been certain that that had been one of the names she’d read in both the astronomer’s journal and the cards from the king’s study. But they hadn’t said any more than that as Cepheus quietly took a knee near the foot of the mural. Unfamiliar words left his lips as he bowed his head. 

Shock filled her as she watched him pay his respects to none other than a red star. “Did…did you know him personally?”

“He was before my time,” his voice was so painfully quiet that she’d nearly strained to hear him add. “But he helped to pave the way for hybrids like me.”

“I see…I’m sorry for your loss….” she spoke, as a small beat of silence followed, until she asked, “Was he a star hybrid too?”

“No, he wasn’t. But that didn’t stop him from trying to improve things for those like me…” He glanced into his palm now full of blue energy. “Compared to the other members of the crimson royal family, he was quite unorthodox in his methods, so much so, that it allowed those who wouldn’t usually tolerate a crimson star to take a liking to him. But after he…ceased to exist…there was never another docile crimson star.”

Ceased to exist. Antares was dead. But it hadn’t sounded as if he’d died of ‘natural causes.’ “How did he pass, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Frankly, I’m not sure,” he answered as he stood back up. “The elders have never been transparent about it. All they say is that in spite of all of his wisdom, Antares committed the ultimate sin that a wishing star could make.”

“The ultimate sin for a wishing star? “Did he kill the person who wished on him?” 

“I…Ha…quite the opposite actually...the ultimate, or rather worse sin a wishing star can make is to fall in love with their wisher ” He abruptly looked away. “It’s strictly forbidden.”

“But star bloods exist-,”

“Yes, but never as the result of a wishing star and the person whose wish they’re granting. It’s serious, Asha. A wisher already has far more power over their star than realize. To fall in love with someone who has that power is the ultimate death sentence, or at least it was for Antaris.”

“I see…was this why you started acting out when Mr. Silver and Mr. Bjorn made those jokes?”

“Ha, I suppose you could say that…”

“You Suppose?” 

A mirthless chuckle escaped him as he shook his head. “You’re a nice girl Asha, but I don’t want you to get hurt….”

“You think us becoming a couple would hurt me?” she asked, feeling her brows furrow. 

But a part of her couldn’t help but wonder. If the stars hadn’t forbidden it, would he have attempted it? He did seem sorta flirty… But would he have bothered with her if the rules hadn’t dictated it? A part of her didn’t think so, not after she’d seen just how closely he resembled a possibly high-ranking star. Then there’d been their back and forth near the port. Yeah. He wasn’t interested in her, rules or no rules, she just couldn’t see them happening.

He nodded, as she mentally noted how quickly the star had averted his eyes as they continued swimming into the partially collapsed hallway. Every now and then he’d muttered something under his breath as his glowing eyes combed the darkness around them. What that something was, she doubted he’d tell her.

Her eyes slowly combed over the passing star murals as the words slowly came into view.

_____‘de Solarius’

_____del Apsuramal’

_____ del Myrkadius

_____ De Nocturne

The first part of the mural had been far too incoherent to translate, but those were the titles of Alpha Stars! And they’d been on every single mural they’d passed.

A hallway full of alpha stars…Figures of scarlet, cerulean, gold, and silver danced across her vision before she spotted the final mural, trapped behind the debris of the partially collapsed hallway. It’d been too dark to make out the figure depicted, as her eyes had managed to make out the words beneath the mural.

Alderamin de ____ the rest of his title was missing as darkness enveloped the mural.

Alderamin was an alpha star? That made sense. From all accounts, he’d sounded powerful…Had he known Sirius? Surely he must’ve maintained some interaction with the order if they’d studied and even fashioned a mural after him… But why had the journal’s author gone to such great lengths to scratch out any details about him? Wait…hadn’t Alderamin been in the play that she’d seen in Banquo? Yes, she was almost certain that he had been the name of the star he’d slain…and yet Cepheus spoke of Alderamin as if he were still alive…

She knew she’d promise to refrain from asking him uncomfortable questions, but in the face of such discovery, it was hard to be content with her decision. All that she’d seen and presented with had only given her more questions, that she needed to answer, if not for her own sake, then for the sake of her father and anyone else who’d been lost.

Unable to maintain the silence any longer, she heard herself say, as she quietly trembled “Did they ever mean anything to your people?” 

“Pardon?”

“I asked what the star’s perspectives on the astronomers were. It’s not hard to see that the astronomers evidently thought very highly of your kind. But I need to know…was that feeling ever reciprocated? For the astronomer? For my father? Did they ever mean anything to your kind? Or were they seen as nothing more than novel curiosities?”

He fervently shook his head, “Of course, they mattered to us. The astronomers have always been important to us! Having a personal astronomer has always been a sign of honor and prestige for us! They were our bridge to your world Asha.”

“So then why didn’t any of your kind come to earth sooner when you’d lost contact?”

“That’s…” he hesitated, briefly thinking it over before he shook his head. “I’m not sure…but we tried, everyone tried, even the council but no one could break through…all I know is that they think something was purposefully limiting our power on earth, so much so, that we thought you’d cut us off-”

“How could the astronomers cut you off? You’re the source of their power!”

“I know, which would be more than enough motivation for someone who didn’t like the order to go through with it.”

She paused. His words strangely made sense to her as the pieces slowly began to fall into place. “Would there have been anyone on earth motivated or strong enough to pull off such a feat?”

“Possibly, but I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t here.”

Her mind wracked through every possibility and suspect she could think of until she’d remembered them. “How powerful is a starblood?”

. “Most if not all-star bloods who would've been around that time were probably the children of high-ranking stars.”

“Which means they would’ve inherited a good deal of power… more so than any astronomer would have gained from an allegiance.”

The star frowned as his expression darkened. “If you’re trying to say, what I think you are…Don’t.,”

“Why not?”

“The star bloods have always had powerful connections to the courts. Most wouldn’t appreciate you speaking so negatively about them.”

“And yet in tumultuous times, Tau Vitrius and the other astronomers didn’t seem to trust them!”

“Most astronomers didn’t,” he retorted.

“They didn’t?” Silence. “You know something don’t you?” an involuntary shiver slipped down her spine as she watched the star’s eyes narrow.

“Not any more than you do, no. But if I could tell you more, I would…”

“But you can’t?”

“No, I don’t know half of it, and even if I did, where would I start? When I came to earth, I expected to see an order thriving and full of life, not, this!” he’d exclaimed as he gestured to their surroundings, and for a brief second, she could hear it. The fleeting note of panic and perhaps even anger in his voice as he’d stressed the word ‘this’. But he’d quickly recovered, shaking his head as he looked away from her,  “I can tell that this whole ordeal is distressing to you too. But if I could fix it, I would. I’d do everything in my power to.”

“You’d bring back the order?”

“If I were powerful enough, then yes. I’d make it possible. But we’d have to get the council involved.”

“I’m sorry we?” she frowned before gesturing to him and then herself.

“Yes, we. You can’t make an Astronomer’s order without stars nor can we make it without humans. There’s a common ground here Asha. You wished for more for yourself, your country, and your people, and nothing could bring you greater prestige, honor, advancement, and wealth than an order like that.”

“Okay,” she conceded with a reluctant nod. "you bring up some solid points but what is this council you speak of?”

“Ah well, the council is a group of elderly alpha stars that after abdicating their thrones in this part of the galaxy or universe move on to other ones. The current ruling alpha stars have to answer to them since they have the final say in a lot of things. But I don’t think it would matter,” he started as they moved forward, and quickly slipped through another hole in the ground... “If they could’ve brought the order back then they probably would’ve done so already.”

 With each and every passing room, the piles of debris had seemingly grown smaller and smaller, something that felt odd to Asha as she began to hear the faint sound of chimes and bells once more, soothingly filling the darkness that surrounded them as they descended deeper and deeper. Had it not been for the star’s light, Asha wasn’t sure that she’d be able to maintain her calm. Or at least she was calm until the star had come to an abrupt halt when they’d been swimming down a stairwell. 

“What is it? What’s wrong? Have we reached the panic rooms yet?”

“Yes, but I think you might want to see this.” He pointed towards one of the distant yet intact hallways connected to the stairwell. “It was Tau Vitrius, right? The astronomer’s writings who you and your father studied?”

She nodded, looking in the direction of his light as she saw a barricaded hallway, near the end of it was an open room filled to the brims of maps, telescopes, scrolls, equipment, and journals. But near the center of the room, pinned to the wall was a metal slate that had read TAU VITRIUS.

Had it been a classroom? Or maybe some sort of office! She’d desperately tried to take in the figures that had been drawn onto the maps in hopes of possibly cross-examining them with the manuscripts later, but at this distance, it had been nearly impossible to see anything, anything except for another metal slate that hung near one of the maps. 

“Tomas,” she whispered as she read the name on the metal slate over and over again. “That’s my Dad! My Dad’s things are in there!”

“Hold on!” Cepheus exclaimed, holding her back as she struggled against him.

“Let me go!” she protested. “I need to get to that office! That map!” she groaned. “If only I could get to it! It might be the key to translating his manuscripts!”

“No. Asha, it’s too dangerous…” he whispered as he looked her over with concern. He shook his head, “we’ve been down here long enough. If we stay down here any longer then you might become hypothermic. You’re already shivering enough as is.”

“What? But we haven’t gotten either of the things we’ve come for! Weren’t we supposed to make it to the panic rooms?”

“Asha,” he adjusted his grip on her. “We are in the panic rooms.”

“What?” Her breath hitched at the sight of the destroyed panic rooms. Her fears were only confirmed when she’d caught sight of bones scattered around the tattered remains of clothing, pinned beneath a fallen column. She’d fought to keep the bile down, as the darkness quickly swallowed the remains of the unfortunate person.

There were so many skeletons of different sizes lying around the hallway, some posed as if they were still about to ascend the stairwell, while others sat in their chairs or on the floor, surrounded by objects like clothes, jewelry, and toys. All of the colorful crystals around their neck were dull and broken as if the power of the stars had no longer persisted in them.

But it had been the final skeleton that had been the worse, the one slumped over in the furthest corner, holding a flashing crystal in one hand and a small toy in the other. They’d been inches away from a partially destroyed ship that no doubt could’ve saved the lives of everyone who had perished in this room.

It was like Atlantis again, wasn’t it? A powerful empire that at its pinnacle had found itself on the bottom of the ocean, forgotten. But someone, no, something had killed these people. Her father’s mentors, his colleagues, his friends. However, none of their poses had looked combative or panicked, but whether or not that could’ve been attributed to the elements' toll or the strange circumstances of their death, she couldn’t know. She nearly didn’t want to know. 

If it had been this bad now, then what had it looked like the day it had happened? She didn’t want to think about it, not after she’d seen how haunted her Saba had looked at the very thought of said day.

Tears prickled at her eyes as she tried not to imagine their final moments, and the dread they must’ve felt knowing that they’d never see their loved ones again. Whatever they’d faced, she could only pray that it had been swift and merciful as she’d covered her face. But it had all been in vain as her shaky hands could only do so much to shield her from the world of violence she’d been immersed into as the tears began to fall.

“I’m sorry Asha,” the star had whispered as he held her. 

“Take me back,” she’d pleaded, unable to stop how badly she now trembled.  Guilt flooded her as she began to realize that despite her curiosities, she was standing in a graveyard, one that deserved more respect than her partially selfish intentions. “Please. I don’t want to see anymore.”

“Alright,” he’d nodded, holding her close as they slowly began their ascent. 

They were nearly halfway towards the surface when she’d briefly looked back at the shrinking city below. Up here the city’s shape looked…off, as if it had been carved or rather broken off where the furthermost edges of the most dilapidated buildings sat. 

“Asha?” came the star’s voice as he let go of her. “Stay here” he’d told her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” she started, tugging at his sleeve before she’d even realized it. “You’re going back down there? Alone?”

He nodded, his eyes searching her face before he cracked a lopsided grin. “Why? Are you worried something will happen to me now?”

“Who said I was worried?” she scoffed, before crossing her arms. “I just don’t want you getting false hopes that I’ll be the one to come and save you when you find trouble down there.” 

“Noted. If I’m not back in five minutes, send Valentino,” he grinned as the goat barely bleated in protest. “I’ll see you soon.” he smiled. His hands gently gripped her forearms for a moment as he stepped back, gently slipping out of the bubble’s confinements. 

His hands were still holding her arms as he drew a deep breath and closed his eyes as his body began to glow a bright cerulean, one that had nearly been identical to the Atlantean’s crystal.

Her jaw dropped as she felt his hold disappear, his eyes meeting hers briefly as he began to sink, slowly settling himself into the ruined remains of the city’s square. He burned brightly as the same blue light from his body began to engulf the city beneath him, spreading through the building’s strange carvings as the chimes and bells began to ring louder, the choir of their voices nearly overwhelming as he looked around the city.

Then as if deciding on something, he’d flickered out, leaving them all in complete darkness and Asha to her thoughts.

She’d hardly believed what she’d just heard, much less seen. It had felt as if the lost city had come to life one last time to sing to the star through a chorus of bells and chimes, one of which had suspiciously sounded like the chimes her father had placed on the porch, that had been silent until the day the star had come….

Her eyes widened in realization, as silence seemed to greet her ears. A silence was promptly broken by the sound of something large moving through the water below.

[mygayshortstories]

Back before the days of the internet, when I was in my mid 20s, this was my first experience at “cottaging” in a public toilet, when I happened across Steve, a gorgeous 18 year-old, just ravenous for sex. But this turned into more than just a 'quick one'.....

Steve the Pipe-Fitter 

I had a day off from work and had gone out to Coventry to photograph the Cathedral, only to be met with a ‘no photography’ sign at the door, so I’d spent the rest of the morning taking candid photos of nice young men out in the sun instead. A bit frustrated, I got back to town about 2 o’clock.

Just under the pedestrian ramp leading out of the railway station were the public toilets.  I had heard about ‘cottaging’ and knew that this lavatory, being busy and anonymous, was such a place, so whether or not my subconscious was drawing me there today I don’t know but when I actually went down there, it was to pay a genuine call, so I duly paid and went into a cubicle.

The partitions between the cubicles didn’t quite reach the ground, so there was a gap underneath of about 6 inches. After a while, my curiosity got the better of me. Although I had never done it before, I knelt down on the floor and looked underneath. To my naïve surprise, a few cubicles away, a face was looking back in my direction. My reaction was instantaneous; I sat up quickly. However, my reaction had been so swift that I hadn’t had time to see who it was or what he looked like. For some reason though, I couldn’t pluck up enough courage to look again. I just sat there.

A short while later, I saw a young pair of shoes, at the end of jean-clad legs, enter the cubicle next door. I say ‘young’ because the shoes were new and smart, with a brass toe-strip, fashionable at the time. Clearly it was someone fairly young; probably no older than me, at any rate. He seemed to sit down but then do nothing else. I was curious and couldn’t resist the temptation, so I wrote on a piece of toilet paper, “How old?” and slipped it under the partition. The note was quickly taken up and was shortly followed by the sound of a match being struck. At first, I thought he was burning the note in disgust but then I realized that he was using the match to write with.

The note came back; “18” it read. I drew a rather deep breath. Now what?

I returned the note; “I’m 26 – can I wank you off?”  I remember thinking at the time that punctuation was probably superfluous under the circumstances and that a fairly basic vocabulary was more apt.

Another match was struck on the other side and the note came back, “Lend me your pen”. I realised that he must have seen my stainless-steel biro when I had slipped the message under the partition and I wasn’t yet ready to risk losing one of my 21st Birthday presents. As I had nothing else to write with, I returned the note saying, “No – you’ll nick it” and indicated that he should continue using a match.

There was now a bit of a delay and I figured I must have blown my chances. At best, he didn’t have any more matches. “And all for the sake of losing a stainless-steel biro!” I thought to myself as I sat there.

However, to my surprise, eventually another note came back giving his approval to my original request, provided that I agreed to “suck him off”.  Needless to say, I immediately indicated agreement and told him, “Unlock when ready”.  I flushed the toilet and opened the door.

As I emerged from the cubicle, I then thought, “What do I do if he doesn’t unlock the door and just leaves me standing there like an idiot trying to get in?” It was pretty busy outside, with people coming and going, people washing their hands or waiting for a cubicle and some even hanging around at the urinals. They may or may not have known what was going on but I knew I had to risk it and be quick about it. As I turned, I saw his lock click to ‘vacant’ and I pretended to put in a coin and entered the cubicle.

On reflection, my hasty action deserved to lead me into serious trouble but my limited experience knew no better. I don’t know who I really expected to find inside but for a start he hadn’t lied about his age. He was a fraction taller than me, lightly built with short dark hair and wearing blue denim jeans and a black leather bomber-jacket over a plain white ‘T’ shirt. But what struck me so overwhelmingly was his incredibly beautiful face. He had blue-grey eyes and soft boyish features, so clean-shaven that he looked almost as if he had never shaved and never needed to. I could hardly believe my eyes how gorgeous he was.

He also must have been reasonably pleased with me because, instead of just offering me his cock to suck, we both feverishly began undressing each other. We didn’t get far though, before we were both embracing, hugging each other tightly. This first embrace said so much without words and it seemed to last for ages; he pressed his whole body to me, burying his face against my neck, hugging me and kissing my neck. He smelt nice too; he was clearly wearing after-shave or cologne of some kind. Whatever it was, it was doing its job perfectly and I was almost overwhelmed. At best, on entering the cubicle, I had expected - I had hoped – for an ‘ordinary’ young man (like me) who wanted quick, impersonal sex but nothing had prepared me for this situation. He wanted – he deserved – far more than just a quick wank, that much was certain. Looking into those glistening blue-grey eyes, set beneath luxuriant dark eyebrows, I just cradled his face in my hands and gently kissed him on the lips.

At this point, I must have realised the danger we were both in; two men in a public toilet, half undressed and one of us under 21. I felt I had to get him out of there to somewhere safer – and a little more romantic. I whispered into his ear,

“You’re so gorgeous; what on earth are you doing here?”

He merely hugged me all the more tightly and then he kissed me for the first time; not a peck or anything half-hearted but a full-blown, sloppy kiss. Oh heavens!  His lips tasted simply delicious! Memories came flooding back of an 18 year-old boy-friend I had a few years back, as I began to melt against him. Again, I whispered to him,

“I can’t bear the thought of you being caught here. Can I take you back to my place? It’s not too far and it’ll be safer there.”

Much to my surprise, he readily agreed, just as we noticed someone spying on us from under the partition with the next cubicle. It was that face again – the one I had seen looking back at me under the partitions - only this time, he was right next door and had already noticed two pairs of feet where there should be only one.

My newly discovered treasure left the cubicle first, flushing the toilet for effect, and I followed after a moment or two. When I emerged at the top of the steps, I thought that I had lost him and that he had run off, but then I caught a glimpse of him disappearing into a telephone kiosk. I still wasn’t sure whether he was trying to avoid me but I briskly walked up to the kiosk and when he saw me, he came out. As we walked away together, he seemed more on edge than I had expected and he was nervously looking around at the people about us.

As we walked on, I managed to ascertain that his name was Steve and that he was, of all things, a pipe-fitter. To this day, I don't know if he was having me on and it was some kind of jok on his part but without warning, he suddenly hustled me in front of a queue and onto a bus. Rather taken by surprise, I fumbled for the fare he had paid and followed him upstairs to where he was sitting, looking intently out of the window. He then told me that we had been followed from the toilet and he pointed to a middle-aged, rather scruffy looking man in the crowd who I remember seeing earlier, loitering in the public toilet. It was ‘The Face’ from under the partitions again!

We stayed on the bus as it went around the City Centre; meanwhile, he sat there, pressing his leg firmly against mine. Even through my jeans, I could feel the warmth of his leg and this tenuous connection of our bodies passed an electric sexuality between us that was getting me highly aroused! The blood was pumping through my cock, tightly crushed inside my briefs, and there was an uncomfortable dampness developing in my groin as pre-cum oozed into my underwear as we sat there, our jean-clad thighs pressed warmly together.

By the time we reached the Town Hall, he seemed to be less nervous. We had lost our follower, so we changed buses and headed to my place. On the way, I tried to make ‘small talk’ and he responded chattily. He had a gorgeous Liverpool accent but said he lived locally. I learned that he had left his parents in Liverpool to find work and that he shared a flat not far from where I now lived, so he didn’t feel that he was heading into totally strange parts. The short walk from the bus seemed to take ages; my heart was beating fast and it was thumping into my throat. I was nervous that we might meet someone I knew; what would I say? But as it happened, we didn’t pass anyone.

He seemed impressed when I showed him into my flat and immediately asked how much it cost. Typical of a Liverpool ‘Lad’, I thought; winningly engaging but always straight to the point. I took his leather bomber-jacket, gave him a Coke and sat down on the couch, patting the seat next to me, indicating for him to sit beside me, which he did. As I put my arm around him, he responded straight away by doing the same and by snuggling up to me affectionately. I stroked his face and again told him how beautiful he was.

“Thank you,” he said with a coy grin. He seemed genuinely flattered.

As I moved to kiss him, he turned toward me and our lips met for the second time in a kiss of such tenderness, quite unlike anything you could imagine from an 18 year-old. His lips were full and his mouth tasted slightly of mint, as our passions roused and our tongues entwined. I began to realise that he may have been 18 but he was no novice. He certainly knew how to kiss, that’s for sure!

Eagerly, he following me into the bedroom, where I drew the curtains and closed the door. In the semi-darkness, we embraced again but this time, unlike in the toilet cubicle, we were safe and secure from prying eyes. Our whole bodies now pressing together, we kissed and hugged. He began to unbutton my shirt as I removed his t-shirt, revealing soft tanned arms and a strong chest delicately peppered with tiny hairs. Again we hugged, but this time our skins touched for the first time and passed bodily warmth between us. Feverishly, I unzipped his flies and unbuckled his belt but by now, we were both so desperate to get into bed that we both just dropped our jeans and almost leapt into bed, still wearing our underpants.

Under the covers, we fell against each other, skin against skin, and I felt the warm hardness of his organ against mine through our underwear.  Soon, however, the underwear was gone and we were fully naked, entwined, hugging and kissing in a heat of frantic passion. I could feel his organ, large and full, between our stomachs as I lay on top of him and he began thrusting upwards to me.

Looking back from today’s world of the internet and ‘porn on tap’, it’s difficult to explain but all this excitement simply proved too much for me and his eagerness tipped me over the edge; all my pent-up sexual frustrations rose within me and I came uncontrollably against his stomach and erect cock, hugging and pressing myself to him. As I clung to him, my orgasm enveloped my whole body, as my semen gushed uncontrollably in pulses between us.

I was mortified. While I did not count myself as promiscuous, I had ‘been around the block a few times’, so this sort of thing was not supposed to happen to me and I was embarrassed. I thought I had blown my chances and it was all over. Light-heartedly, I apologized and quickly mopped up the mess, as I didn’t want to disappoint him. But there was no fear of that; he rolled me onto my back and knelt astride me, holding his throbbing penis in my face, foreskin already drawn back in anticipation. Evidently, he hadn’t forgotten our bargain back in the public toilet!

I too had no intention of breaking our ‘contract’, so I eagerly took his throbbing tool in my mouth and began sucking and playing with it. He loved it. We rolled about in a number of positions, with me sucking him and tickling and licking his testicles; and him thoroughly reveling in it. But I had to keep resting my jaw; it was beginning to ache and juices were everywhere; he was a big lad for one so slightly built.

 “I’m a good stayer,” he joked, and he certainly was. I wasn’t about to give up either; he was 18, beautiful - and all mine. 

But eventually, I felt the tell-tale signs; now on his back again with me crouched between his baby-soft thighs, his organ in my mouth and gripped in my hand, his breathing suddenly changed and he began gasping and shuddering. Don’t you simply love that moment when a young man loses all self-control just before he cums? With a deep, hard gasp, he exploded into my mouth 3 or 4 times, great gushes of salty cum coursing through his organ and filling my mouth.

Some guys (girls too, I suppose) don’t like the taste of a guy’s cum, so they either spit it out or let it dribble back out of their mouth. For me though, the whole experience is a very personal one and while I don’t much like the taste, I feel that swallowing it increases that connection; it creates an even deeper bond between the ‘giver’ and the ‘receiver’. Besides which, having a man’s cum permanently inside me is very satisfying; at least it is for me, at any rate!  Consequently, as his throbbing cock subsided, I swallowed all of his slimy, slithery juices. His body then relaxing and exhausted, he breathed heavily.

“Jeez, I needed that!” he said, as we collapsed into each other’s arms, once again hugging and kissing.

At this point, I thought he would want to leave, his passion satisfied; but he hadn’t had enough, it seemed. We continued laying together, caressing and stroking, hugging and kissing, rolling about in loving passion the likes of which I had not felt in a long while. Occasionally, we would rest and just lay still in each other’s arms, softly talking, only to return to the hugging and kissing with renewed vitality. I complimented him on how passionate a lover he was. He liked that.

I said, “You’re not shy either, are you”, and he looked at me, slightly surprised, and replied, “No”, as if it had never occurred to him.

As we still lay entwined, without any warning he then said,

“Well, can I stick it up you then?”

Although the abruptness of his request came as something of a surprise, it was by no means out of character. He was direct and to the point. But I saw this as an opportunity, so in an attempt to persuade him to meet me again, I said I thought maybe we should keep that for another time. He didn’t seem to mind, except that now we began exploring each other’s bottoms.

As I played my finger around his anus, I realised that this was one of his weak spots, as it was mine in fact. He began groaning and he clasped my hand, pressing my finger into him. With the aid of a little lube, I began to finger-fuck him, massaging his prostate while he writhed about, groaning in ecstasy. For a few moments, I had his entire body sensations under my control (again) and I sensed he was going to let go again. I felt tremendous. But he had other ideas still in his mind because he gently pushed me away, grabbing the lube and following my example. Now he was the one who had me under his control and my mind soon changed regarding his request to screw me! He rolled me over and took charge.

I asked him to take it gently – he was only young and I wasn’t sure how desperate he might be. But I need have had no fears. As I lay on my front over a pillow, face to one side and one knee raised, he lubricated his now throbbing organ and my aching anus. He entered me just a little at a time, pausing when I asked, allowing me to relax. He wasn’t particularly well-endowed, as if that mattered, but he was fairly narrow too, so I was able to accommodate him with very little discomfort. However, his cock was quite long and it was terrific to feel his slender organ sliding smoothly in and out, upwards and inwards, rhythmically inside me, as he lay against my back with his arms firmly clasped around me. It was sheer bliss.

Eventually, he began thrusting in earnest, almost withdrawing in between his full, hard thrusts into me. In fact, he slipped out twice and got a bit flustered at nearly losing it – he was obviously getting near to his climax. I calmed him as he entered again easily, softly encouraging him to continue, and he began thrusting again, now desperately. As I felt his rhythm change, he thrust once or twice really hard into me as far as he could go and, reaching his climax, he grasped both my hands on the pillow and buried his face against my neck. I could feel him holding his breath, as he held absolutely still for a second or two; and then I felt his organ pulsing high inside me – 2, 3, 4, 5 times he came into me, my insides warmed by the love fluid flowing into me. Then he let out a gasp and I felt him relax his frantic grip of me, as he just lay there on top of me, his tool still slowly throbbing the last of his orgasm inside me.

Exhausted, his tool slipped out of me as he still lay against my back, sighing and breathing heavily. I sighed too – frankly, I had never had it so good!  As we rolled over into each other’s arms once again, I told him so and he was justly flattered. We must have rolled about kissing and embracing for quite some time until he finally asked if I had cum when he screwed me. I told him I hadn’t, although I had been pretty close, and to my utter amazement, he said,

“Right, well it’s your turn then – I’ll do you a blow job” and with the words, “Let me at it!” he climbed over in-between my legs and began passionately sucking my still hard penis and tickling my testicles with his fingers.

Frankly, I was speechless; this 18 year-old fantasy had just had two quite tremendous orgasms in the space and he was still as excited and, what’s more, he was interested in me. I wasn’t expecting any more than I had already experienced but I was ready for anything he was prepared to offer and I was enjoying every precious moment.

He didn’t move up and down on me much; instead, he teased me with his mouth and tongue, second by second, so slowly that as I felt myself drawing towards a climax, it was so gently and slowly done that the tension was almost agonizing in its pleasure. I began shaking what seemed like ages before I came but then I could feel the fluid rising in me, flowing on its inexorable path to the outside world. I clutched at his head, gasping for breath, and came like a small fountain into his mouth, pumping away while he eagerly swallowed every drop I gave him until I was truly spent.

I was still gasping for breath when he collapsed against me again, where he lay for another ten minutes or so until it was time for him to return to his own flat. We had been in bed together for nearly three hours and finally he was leaving. We dressed and tidied up and I asked if I could see him again. To this day, his reply still baffles me.

“What do you think?” he said.

I’ve often wondered at the double meaning in his response but at the time, I took it at face value, gave him my phone number and attempted to express sincere feeling to him as I showed him out to the road and directed him to his bus home.

A beautiful cheery face smiled back at me as I waved to him disappearing down the road. As I returned to my flat and closed the door, I was alone again and felt suddenly empty and yet at the same time rejuvenated. For me, nothing short of a fantasy had come true and it felt all the better for knowing that he had had a bloody good time too! Our afternoon had been filled with such intense passion that I thought, “Surely this was more than just another ‘one night stand’ encounter?”  But he never contacted me and I never saw him again. All I have is the memory; the image etched in my mind of that beautiful young man’s face, the warmth of his soft skin against mine and that incredible Thursday afternoon.

If you liked that story, please let me know - even post a comment under “ask me a question”. Or perhaps you’d just like to read another story?

Here’s an index of my other sordid tales, many of them taken from true-life sexual adventures of my own: Erotic Gay Stories Index

[officalroyalsofpierreland]

Wedding of HRH Prince Oliver, Duke of Rothsey & HIH Madame Hortense of Francesim Part 3

Stéphane: Indeed my young friend, Madame Hortense and her brother, Emperor Napoleon V, have arrived. And I must say…she looks like a dream. Travis: That she does. I must say, Lady Evie has outdone herself. The call backs to Madame Mere’s own wedding dress, yet it has a beautiful high neckline to show off the new parure that Madame Hortense is wearing.

Stéphane: Ah it is new? New jewels are rare for royal families! Travis: Not for Scots! When a woman joins the family, it is tradition that the groom and his family will each gift the bride a piece of jewelry. Prince Oliver went for the beautiful pearl showcasing tiara while his parents went with the string of pearls.

Stéphane: It is quite a beautiful tradition! We are now seeing that His Holiness is speaking to Emperor Napoleon and Madame Hortense prior to them heading up the aisle. The emotions they must be feeling. Travis: Absolutely. A day of joy that has this slight tinge of sadness. I think we can all not help think of the missing presence of Napoleon IV especially when seeing moments like the one currently.

Travis: And the trumpets of the Royal Household and the Royal Air Force sound. This grouping signifies that Prince Oliver will one day be commander in chief as all military branches take part. Stéphane: And with that, we shall focus on the ceremony with Travis and I making light commentary.

Music

Travis: See The Conquering Hero Comes by Handel…very fitting for this military man to enter with. Also, what his father entered too. Stéphane: The groom and his best man head to the altar escorted by Cardinal MacMillian.

Travis: Meanwhile on the other side of the Cathedral, the other clergy men including the Holy Father being their procession up the aisle.

Stéphane:  And now, Prince Oliver waits patiently with the Holy Father for his bride to be.

Music Change

Stéphane:  Ave verum corpus by Mozart…a beautiful musical selection. Travis: Absolutely. It is invoking ethereal while maintaining solemness to this moment.

Travis: And behind the bride is her bridal party, Prince Lenerd has already mastered the royal wave to camera.

Stéphane: Meanwhile, a front view of Madame Hortense and the Emperor. A beautiful and stunning bride.

Stéphane: They have reached the altar, here we can see the lace detailing on the back and sleeves.

Travis: A brief exchange between the Emperor and Prince Oliver and a rare display of affection, right Stéphane? Stéphane: That is correct! In fact I believe the Emperor stepped forward to initiate the hug. They are soon to be brothers.

Pope Gregorious: Oliver and Hortense, the Church shares your joy and warmly welcomes you, together with your families and friends, as today, in the presence of God, you establish between yourselves a lifelong partnership. May the Lord grant your hearts’ desire and fulfill every one of your prayers. Amen

Travis: And now the couple is moving to take their seats for the readings…and this is such a tender moment as King Phillippe of the Ionian Union, cousin to the bride, reads first.

Phillippe: A reading from Song of Songs ...My lover belongs to me and I to him. He says to me: “Set me as a seal on your heart, as a seal on your arm;

Phillippe: For stern as death is love, relentless as the nether world is devotion; its flames are a blazing fire. Deep waters cannot quench love, nor floods sweep it away. The Word of the Lord. Stéphane: And Now, Crown Prince Louis of Pierreland. Cousin of the Groom.

Louis: A reading from the 1st Letter of Saint Paul to the Corinthians. ...Love is patient, love is kind. It is not jealous, is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests,

Louis: it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury, it does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. The Word of the Lord.

Fr. Carter: A reading from the holy Gospel according to Matthew. He said in reply, “Have you not read that from the beginning the Creator made them male and female and said, For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh? So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore, what God has joined together, man must not separate.” The Gospel of the Lord.

Fr. Carter: Good morning Your Majesties, Highness, Graces, and everyone from the simverse as we are all here to celebrate HIH Madame Hortense of Francesim marry HRH Prince Oliver, Duke of Rothsey. I am Father Andrew Carter, a Scots Royal Army Chaplain who the lovely couple gave the honor of guiding them through counseling. “For This reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.”

Fr Carter: Today is a transformative day for Oliver and Hortense, as they leave the houses of their childhoods, to join together and to create a new family unit. A family that loves and serves together. This is what every marriage strives for, as several of the royal and imperial guests can attest too. To be role models, to show the world that true and lasting love exists, that it endures, and that it is the source of good. This is your charge Oliver and Hortense. And may we all support you in it.

Stéphane: A beautiful sermon by Father Carter. Very moving.

@empiredesimparte @funkyllama

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is what happens when you paint brick white, if you don't keep repainting it. I actually like this better than the all-white look. The 1939 Tudor style home in Topeka, Kansas has 6bds, 4ba, 3.5ba, $1.650M. It is called the Modern Manor b/c of the extensive reno it underwent.

Look at the lovely arched front door and stone door moldings.

Flagstone floor and a gracefully sweeping staircase.

Clearly the home has been modernized and gray-ified, but it still has the wainscoting in the sunken living room.

The library has a castle look with a beamed cathedral ceiling, wood clad walls, leaded glass windows, and feature wall with a stone fireplace and built-ins.

The subdued dining room has darker wall paper, wainscoting , and ceiling. I suspect that the wood in here is original.

The kitchen was completely gutted and redone. It has both crystal and quartz counters. I would say that the twin islands are crystal and the others are quartz.

Isn't this beautiful? I think that those thick counters are really that thick, it looks like one piece.

The appliances are professional grade.

This is a large home- look at the size of the landing.

The bedrooms are oversized and could be beautifully decorated.

There's also a large family room.

The finished basement has a lovely rec room. Aren't these arches lovely by the bar?

There's plenty of room for more games.

The powder room has the wallpaper I often see on HGTV.

Now, this is a gated entrance.

There's a cozy long balcony.

Very large patio and covered porch.

The property measures 2.1 acres and has an inground pool.

[decentsoupperson]

I got more Cathedral au

The Meeting

It was the day of the monthly overlord meeting, but this time, they had a special guest, Lucifer. They had all come to discuss the missing persons reports going around hell lately.

Lucifer enters the meeting room with a neutral expression on his face as he sits down at the front of the room.

Lucifer: Now, I think that this time the meeting is much more different than the ones you've had in the past, but it is just as important if not more. Carmilla, could please read the report from the last month of soul counts in hell.

Carmilla nods and picks up a piece of paper as she begins: this month, over 1000 sinners have gone missing. No one knows where, why, and how, but this is urgent. According to the reports we received, people get snatched up in the middle of the street, in their homes, in their yards as well. No bodies have been found, but this is getting urgent given how these are extermination numbers we see.

Rosie: I heard of a lady whose husband got snatched while she was using the bathroom and all she had was this.

Rosie pulled out a giant black and white feather with red on the end that looked like blood.

Vox: Hmm. So it's a giant ass bird. Simple then. We kill it.

Vox then stood up and walked to the front of the room.

Vox: All we need is a hunting team to go look for this thing and boom. Problem solved.

Carmilla: About that. The supplies of angelic weapons I've been sending out are getting ambushed. This could be much more than we think.

Lucifer: I've got a horrid feeling it's got something to do with that damn cathedral that popped up in the middle of the night. Charlie, Vaggie, and I plan to go explore it tomorrow. We'll report back and call an emergency meeting here if we find something.

Carmilla: Well, that's all we have to discuss this meeting. Dismissed.

@things-arent-what-they-seem66

[craziechwiv]

The Paladin and their Succubus Frenemy - 5 Pt.1

Early in the morning, as Ruby was sleeping soundly in her new bed, she was rudely awakened by the large pounding of one of her teammates. If she had to guess on who, it'd be the...short redhead one...what's her name again?

Dwarf Nora: Ruby? RUBY! It's Nora, time to get up~! We're needed by Priestess Glynda!

Ruby: W-Whuh? Why?

Dwarf Nora: IT'S IMPORTANT NOW GET UP BEFORE I BUST DOWN THIS DOOR!

Ruby: Right, right! I'm getting dressed now!

Ruby sighed to herself about the immediate wakeup call from her teammate but sucked it up. If she'd want her stay among their ranks to be permanent, then she'd have to act the part and be ready for anything they go through. Even if that means saying goodbye to her precious beauty sleep, although she doesn't need it to gain Jaune's affection anyhow~.

Ruby took some time to stretch out her wings and claws, as she then retracts them back as if they weren't shown at all. Within due time, she got dressed in her standard outfit, putting on some basic armor on top of it, and put on some arm braces in quick haste and exited her bedroom. As she ran through the hallway towards the living room, she saw her team already waiting for her.

Jaune was in his usual Paladin armor, a iron like chest piece with arm and leg bracing strapped tightly on him. He held his shield in one hand and sword sheathed but ready for combat. Ruby had to admit it made him look more hotter when he was in this than his regular hoodie with a knitted bunny pattern on it. Although, both made him more adorable~.

Pyrrha was decked out and had a serious look on her face, wearing an iron type of gladiator wear with some stitched in cloth around some lining. She held onto her spear tightly in one hand and her shield in the other.

Ren was getting done wrapping his hands in wrap while Ruby saw one set of light green daggers besides him. He was also dressed in cloth clothing with flower petals stitched onto the center. Ruby had to admit, the petals were a nice touch.

Non-biased opinion of course...

As for Nora, she was rocking a lamellar helm with some armor matching it. However, she also wore a secondary layer of quilted cloth that was underneath the lamellar. Once she was done dressing up, she grasped a large hammer in both of her hands, before yelling out some war cry? Ruby couldn't tell as she covered her ears from how loud she screamed.

Paladin Jaune: Great, you're here. You're ready to go?

Reaper Ruby: Yep! Just quick question, what's happening? I only got that it's important and we're meeting a Priestess.

Champion Pyrrha: We can't say for sure, but if we're called in together, it certainly isn't bandits this time.

Reaper Ruby: So, demons?

Monk Ren: That is what we're pointing towards at the moment. But let's go to the Priestess first. we can't waste any more time.

Paladin Jaune: Right, c'mon guys! If it is demons, we'll think of a plan on the way.

With the confusion out of the way, the team all rushed out of their dorm and headed straight towards the main area of the Cathedral. Ruby looked around and saw many members of the place, the art on the walls, and of course the stained glass depicting the four heroes. Again, she'd had to admit they we're doing well here. She had to remind herself to 'reward' Jaune on asking her to join their team.

Before she knew it however, they approached a pair of doors guarded by some knights. The knights opened the door, letting the members in one by one. Before Ruby could enter, one of the knights stopped her, raising his sword as she raised her hands up on instinct.

R. Knight: I haven't seen you 'round here. State your rank her!

Reaper Ruby: I'm with them, I swear! I-I'm a new member, ask the leader!

The Knight turned his head towards Jaune who nodded his head back at them. The Knight looked at Ruby intensely as if he was peering into her soul but sheathed his sword and let her pass into the room.

R. Knight: Apologies.

Reaper Ruby: It's okay, I would be paranoid too.

After that brief hiccup, the group arrived into a large room, with many tables and chairs arranged in corners. In the far back was a lone woman, reading a note on her desk as she looked distressed. As she looked up, she saw the team and Ruby approach her. She sighed, taking her attention away from the note and stood up, walking towards them. The five stopped in line, with Ruby stumbling of course that led to a snicker from Nora, and the Priestess stood across from them.

Priestess Glynda: I'm glad you all could make it in short notice, not to mention on your day off as I apologize for. But we've got a note sent to by a scout of a nearby settlement.

Monk Ren: What's the state of the scout?

Priestess Glynda: He is being treated now, but he was severely harmed. It's a miracle he had the strength to endure it, nay, even walk such a distance for our help.

Paladin Jaune: Poor guy...

Priestess Glynda: Indeed. I'll cut to the main problem since you all possibly already figured it out on the way here. It is demons, a bulk of them. From what the note said, their warriors and those lending a hand managed to slay a decent chunk of them, but there is still at least 20 more roaming the settlement. They've seeked shelter in a cabin and barricaded it. They don't know how long they can last, and they have some of their fighters severely injured with limited supplies.

The team all stood still as statues as Ruby heard it all intently, trying to remain as professional as possible.

Priestess Glynda: You all know what must happen now, save those poor souls and make sure each of those vile demons is sent with a mark from your weapons.

As the Priestess finished her orders, her gaze peered onto Ruby, who jolted. She walked over to her and stared at her for a reasonable amount of time, making the demoness in disguise scared before she spoke again.

Priestess Glynda: I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met yet. Are you a volunteer adventurer here to help or...?

Paladin Jaune: Actually, she's our brand-new member!

Priestess Glynda: Really?

Reaper Ruby: Uh, yes! I am here to help out with whatever I can. Although, I may not be as efficient as the others, I can still fight!

The Priestess showed a slight smirk towards Ruby but backed away from her, clapping her hands together.

Priestess Glynda: Well, that's just wonderful to hear we still have some people not in it for money nor fame to help save others. I welcome you to our ranks. What is your name?

Reaper Ruby: Ruby, Ruby Rose ma'am.

Priestess Glynda: Well, I hope you survive your first mission. It'd be a shame to lose such a bright spirit in these times...

Reaper Ruby: Trust me, I intend to.

Priestess Glynda: Good. Don't break that promise. Now, all of you better make haste towards the settlement! It is north-east of here. No telling how long it has been since the attack but save and salvage whatever you possibly can. And make sure those vile menaces are put in their place.

With her last bit of orders being said, the team nodded in unison before making their way out of her quarters, leaving the Priestess to ponder to herself.

Priestess Glynda: Hmm, Rose. That name...It's been a while since I've heard it. I guess that wench did birth an offspring like she said she would. Let's hope she doesn't stray the path her mother did, or else.

Next Chapter >

[ashtarels-archives]

Cathedral of Eternal Night: Lost Sanctum of the Sisterhood of Elune

Cathedral of Eternal Night, perhaps called "Azshal'adora" in Darnassian.

These were the uppermost chambers of the Temple of Elune, now known as the Tomb of Sargeras. The corrupting emerald fires of fel magic slowly creep through the entrance of these once hallowed halls, but remnants of the Sisterhood's former glory still endure further into the Cathedral.

Hall of the Moon:

When traversing the dungeon, there are rooms to the side of the main path that may be opened and fully explored. These circular spaces contain what could be old moonwells, outlined with pillows and embraced by floating flowers overhead. These were likely places of meditation or communion with Elune, but I could also imagine these pools being used for healing, cleansing, scrying, stargazing, etc.

Perhaps a coincidence, but when inspected closer, these flowers have eight main petals; similar to how there are eight notable phases of the moon. (I wonder if eight is considered a lucky or holy number in Kaldorei society?)

Windows of stained glass adorn the walls and the ceilings here, filigree and diamond-shaped motifs (like the Tears of Elune) being repeated in the lower levels of the temple as well. Despite this being an indoor place of worship, it's clear that keeping moonlight visible/sensed was important in the Cathedral. In some rooms, it appears that the moonlight from outside shines directly into the pools, perhaps imbuing them with lunar blessings. This could have also just been a way for priests of Elune to feel closer to Her even when inside.

Countless scrolls and bookshelves can be found in all rooms, many of them housing a plethora of desks. Eerily, some still have an open scroll or book laying atop their surface with bookmarks in place, untouched by the sands of time.

I'm curious as to what texts are hidden here, but I suppose there's a few obvious things that come to mind. They could be prayers the Sisters were trying to commit to memory, songs of the Elunarian faith, stories/legends about the Well of Eternity, sacred texts of the Goddess, students' notes/textbooks, and more; as this could have also been a place of learning for newer inductions into the Sisterhood as well.

Perhaps the writings in this repository could make for interesting RP adventures in retrieving old texts, relics, lore about ancient Kalimdor, or attempts at discerning old Elunarian spellwork, prayers, stories, etc!

The small tabletop game on the right also caught my eye. Pieces of arcane crystal float above the board, maybe an old version of Kaldorei/Highborne chess.

Another detail in some of these areas are the looms resting to the side of the moon-pools: this could have been a place where mooncloth or holy vestments were created or blessed, as evidenced by one of the sub-zones here being called "Sacristy of Elune." A sacristy is a place where "a priest prepares for a service, and where vestments and other things of worship are kept."

Chapel of Tranquil Song:

An easily missed side-room leading up the first set of stairs is the Chapel of Tranquil Song. It is a small church with two sets of pews, and a fallen crescent-harp. This room further reinforces the idea that music and song have been a prominent aspect of Elune worship, and I think this could be an interesting take on healing in RP as well. Calming singing and instruments like the harp could possibly help heal wounds alongside the lunar magic of the Goddess, akin to an Elunarian bard.

The Twilight Grove:

The next level of the Cathedral is called "Twilight Grove," a large platform housing ethereal flowers that glow like stars with a font of moonlight (almost like a silver lake) pouring in through the ceiling. Agronox's dungeon journal entry describes these as the "Hanging Gardens," which he once tended to before his fall to corruption. I find it interesting that these plants seem to flourish hanging upside down, rather than growing on the ground level. Some petals and leaves also seem to be translucent, reminiscent of a spirit or the like.

I am unsure what these herbs are exactly, but perhaps they are specifically nourished by moonlight. Maybe priests of Elune utilize celestial herbs of some kind that bolster the magic granted by the Goddess, grant visions/spiritual boons, or emanate a calming aura in places of worship. It could also be that mundane herbs may be grown near a moonwell or a font like this one, and with time are imbued by Elune's blessings.

Chapel of the Sentinels:

This chapel is yet another Legion reference to a group called the Sentinels existing before the War of the Ancients. The others mentioned are in Tel'anor (resting place of WotA heroes) upon the plaques of the Windstrikers and Latara Feathersong.

Windstrikers: "Marksmen without peer, their skill with a bow was an inspiration to generations of archers. Their family developed the gauntlets the Sentinels wear, carefully articulated mail links that empower our archers to this day."

Latara: "Here lies Latara Feathersong. A huntress of the Sentinels, she led the vanguard in many campaigns. Her bravery and compassion were endless."

Maybe this order existed before the Sundering, with special places reserved for them like this chapel, and was simply revived in name by Tyrande Whisperwind a few centuries later.

The Emerald Archives:

A grand library containing innumerable books of all categories, it seems that these archives contained Highborne enchantments as well. Before the Sundering, there may have been an emphasis on Priestesses being educated/learned in many different areas of study, including knowledge of the arcane. These are the books we see from Thrashbite's dungeon journal entry:

Satirical Animated Book: an animated tome overflowing with stifingly satirical writing. As the tomes open, all sound is magically absorbed into the ancient pages, silencing all players for 5 seconds.

Fictional Animated Book: An ancient work of fiction springs to life, the magical runes leaping from the page to fetter would-be readers. Slows all players.

Biographical Animated Book: Account of a long-forgotten sorcerer's life can prove to be dangerously beguiling. Entrancing narrative charms a random player, but breaks if their health goes below 30%.

All of these fire arcane bolts at the party. Books as weapons in mage RP is something I'd never thought about, but makes so much sense!

There is an achievement for this boss fight called "Steamy Romance Saga," implying that even erotica could have also been kept in the library.

A mural to the left of the Emerald Archives depicts a Kaldorei woman bearing a shield (likely the Aegis of Aggramar that was kept here prior to the Sundering) and a spherical protection spell against green flames from what appears to be a dragon.

The way leading to the next area is called "Path of Illumination."

Chapel of Tears:

Another side-room on the way up the winding staircase is named the Chapel of Tears. This could have been a place of safekeeping for the Pillar of Creation: Tears of Elune, or a chapel of mourning. Somehow, a fel-infused Fal'dorei (nightborne spider) has made a nest here.

Other references to Elune's tears:

Tearstone of Elune

The Sisters' Tear

Mu'sha's Tears

Tears of the Goddess

Elune's Tear

Tears of the Moon

In any case, references to tears of Elune crop up all over Azeroth, most of which possess some kind of restorative/cleansing/life-giving powers. I believe that while the tears could certainly represent sadness of the Goddess, they could also represent tears of happiness, as the Pillar of Creation is described to "embody the dream of what Azeroth could be," and maybe the strong healing magic imparted by them is rooted in hope. I feel that Elune's connection to water could also be another avenue for RP, perhaps harnessing rejuvenating aquatic magic alongside the lunar blessings of Elune.

Sacristy of Elune:

The pinnacle of the Cathedral is known as the Sacristy of Elune, with areas of now-empty shelves and pillaged chests. The stained glass has been turned a fel-green, broken open and shattered onto the floor. The name suggests that this was once a place where sacred items were kept, such as vestments, furnishings, sacred vessels, and Elunarian records.

Given the ancient origin of the Cathedral, this could have been a prominent place that mooncloth was created: "Tailors tell that the first recipe for mooncloth was scribed by Elune herself." It is unknown if a tailor must use felcloth and purify it in a moonwell to eventually create mooncloth, or if any cloth can be used with the proper rituals/spells/blessings.

Hope you found this interesting, thanks for reading!

"Andu’lun-adala-ande’nar." (May the moon light your way.)