#grove hall mains

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Yesterday, we saw a colorful Victorian decorated in maximalist style. Today, I found this 1860 gem in Pine Grove Mills, PA that's also colorful, but it's empty and waiting for the new owner's decor. 3bds, 2ba, 2,184 sq ft, $349,900.

It has a nice steel fence and a cute porch.

Entrance hall, original stairs and floors.

Large sitting room. I don't know what happened to the fireplace, but they replaced it with a nice wood stove.

There's a nice big, sunny dining room with French doors.

Remember the beautiful mint green kitchen from yesterday's house? Well, look at this one. It's a little brighter, too. You could do a lot with this.

Love this kitchen. Look at how big it is.

The main floor 1/2 bath is large enough for the washer/dryer units. That's convenient. Nice beadboard wainscoting, too.

Looking down from the 2nd level.

Large sunny bedroom. What did they do to all the fireplaces, though? This home must've needed extensive reno at one time.

The 2nd bedroom is also large and the floors are perfect up here.

The smallest room has modern heat and muraled wallpaper. I wouldn't touch a thing.

Modernized vintage-y main bath.

Beautiful fence looks new.

Large yard, deck on the back, and a garage.

10,019 sq ft lot with lots of potential.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/144-W-Pine-Grove-Rd-Pine-Grove-Mills-PA-16868/93574108_zpid/?

[cirimanga]

Elven festival Imbaelk

📚 Read the comic "Ciri The Child of Destiny": 🇺🇸 English: https://ciri.the-comic.org/ 🇷🇺 Русский: https://ru-ciri.the-comic.org/ 🇯🇵 日本語: https://jp-ciri.the-comic.org/ 💖 Support the project: 🎨 Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/yagihikaru 🚀 Boosty: https://boosty.to/hikaruyagi 🌳 More links here: https://linktr.ee/yagihikaru

✨Imbaelk of the Aen Elle - one of the most significant festivals of the year, a time of purification and renewal. Preparation for this sacred day begins long before the celebration itself. The day before the festival, elves begin the thorough cleansing of their dwellings - not only physical but magical. Incense and sacred herbs are burned to dispel stagnant energy and darkness. On sacred meadows and in groves, the first fires are lit, symbolizing the coming dawn, while white and silver fabrics flutter in the wind, absorbing the blessed magic of morning. Mages create special crystal lanterns that will accumulate power throughout the night, and young elves weave ritual wreaths from the first spring flowers and evergreen plants.

✨As the sun sets, the main ritual begins - the veneration of "Maeth Bréa" (Lady Bréa), "She Who Brings Light." In the city center or on highlands, the High Priestess and mages light the Great Fire, which must burn until dawn, lighting the Lady's path. Aen Treoir, the Navigators, direct magical flows while ritual dances are performed around the fire. The highest caste of mages and seers, Aen Saevherne, read omens from the flames, stars, and thaw waters.

✨In the night of purifying fire, young elves undergo an important ritual - a procession through fire gates formed by two torch arches. This passage symbolizes transformation, the transition from darkness to light, from old to new. Mages perform purification rituals, sprinkling each other with dew and thaw water, speaking ancient words: "Lagi nigh tearth shed amhras vort, tedd nua caemm te a'seo." (Let water wash away fear and doubt, let the new day accept you.)

✨Those seeking deep spiritual rebirth retreat to the Sacred Grove for meditation and communion with ancestral spirits. On this sacred night, special amulets are exchanged between loved ones, sealing bonds of friendship and kinship with the festival's magic.

✨With the first rays of sun begins the most solemn part of the festival - the ritual of meeting the Lady. Elves gather on hills and by waters to greet the sunrise. At this moment, the High Priestess raises a chalice with magical fire and speaks sacred words: "Solas va vort. Roth yaro caemm a eigean." (Light has returned. The Wheel of the Year moves forward.)

✨The festival concludes with a great feast, which may be held in luxurious halls or under the open sky. The tables are laden with fruits, fresh bread, milk, and honey wines - everything that symbolizes warmth, light, and rebirth. Priests perform the final ritual - leaving portions of the feast at the foot of ancient trees in gratitude to nature spirits. Elves exchange magical scrolls with blessings, and the festival ends with an impressive spectacle - ceremonial duels and demonstrative magical contests, where warriors and mages display their strength and mastery, paying tribute to ancient traditions.

------------------

✨Имбаэлк у народа Aen Elle - один из самых значимых праздников в году, время очищения и обновления. Подготовка к этому священному дню начинается задолго до самого торжес��ва. За день до праздника эльфы приступают к тщательному очищению своих жилищ - не только физическому, н�� и магическому. Благовония и священные травы сжигаются, чтобы изгнать застоявшуюся энергию и тьму. На священных лугах и в рощах зажигаются первые огни, символизирующие грядущий рассвет, а белые и серебристые ткани развеваются на ветру, впитывая благословенную магию утра. Маги создают особые кристаллы-светильники, которые будут накапливать силу на протяжении всей ночи, а молодые эльфы плетут ритуальные венки из первых весенних цветов и вечнозеленых растений.

✨С заходом солнца начинается главный ритуал - почитание "Maeth Bréa" (Госпожи Брэа), "Той, что несёт свет". В центре города или на возвышенностях Верховная Жрица и маги зажигают Большой Огонь, который должен гореть до самого рассвета, освещая путь Госпоже. Aen Treoir, Навигаторы, направляют магические потоки, пока вокруг огня исполняются ритуальные танцы. Высшая каста магов и провидцев, Aen Saevherne, читают предзнаменования по пламени, звёздам и талым водам.

✨В ночь очистительного огня молодые эльфы проходят важный ритуал - шествие через огненные врата, образованные двумя факельными арками. Этот проход символизирует трансформацию, переход от тьмы к свету, от старого к новому. Маги проводят ритуалы очищения, окропляя друг друга росой и талой водой, произнося древние слова: "Lagi nigh tearth shed amhras vort, tedd nua caemm te a'seo." (Да смоет вода страх и сомнения, да примет тебя новый день.)

✨Те, кто ищет глубокого духовного перерождения, удаляются в Священную Рощу для медитации и общения с духами предков. В эту священную ночь происходит и обмен особыми амулетами между близкими, скрепляя узы дружбы и родства магией праздника.

✨С первыми лучами солнца начинается самая торжественная часть праздника - ритуал встречи Госпожи. Эльфы собираются на холмах и у водоемов, чтобы встретить восход. В этот момент Верховная Жрица поднимает чашу с магическим огнем, и произносит священные слова: "Solas va vort. Roth yaro caemm a eigean."(Свет вернулся. Колесо года движется дальше.)

✨Завершается праздник великим пиром, который может проходить как в роскошных залах, так и под открытым небом. На столах появляются фрукты, свежий хле��, молоко и медовые вина - всё, что символизирует тепло, свет и возрождение. Жрецы совершают последний ритуал - оставляют часть угощений у подножия древних деревьев в благодарность духам природы. Эльфы обмениваются магическими свитками с благословениями, а праздник завершается впечатляющим зрелищем - церемониальными дуэлями и показательными магическими поединками, где воины и маги демонстрируют свою силу и мастерство, отдавая дань древним традициям.

[reality-detective]

The New Masonic Temple is a historic building in St. Louis, Missouri, built in 1926. Like many other buildings built for Freemason meeting places, it shows Classical Revival architecture.

Named a city landmark in 1976, the 386,000-square-foot building stands 185 feet high and encloses more than six million cubic feet. There are 14 levels: six full floors and eight mezzanines.

The Temple's ground was broken in 1923 and dedicated in 1926. Created by architectural company Eames & Young with consulting architect Albert B. Groves, it features classic Greek Ionic-style exterior architecture with various styles throughout the interior.

The Masonic Temple is built in three receding stages, symbolic of the three steps in Masonry. Constructed of Bedford limestone with gray granite trim, the main lobby is finished in marble; other rooms have their original wool carpet. The building has an unfinished theater with 2,200 seats.

The lobby contains a 38-foot mural titled “The Origins of Freemasonry”, which was created in 1941 by African American artist Jessie Housley Holliman. Dedicated by Senator Harry S. Truman, it is the only surviving mural by the noted artist in a St. Louis public building.

Take note: 👇

Then-Senator and Freemason Grand Master Harry S. Truman kept an office in the building. Charles A. Lindbergh was initiated and participated as a mason at the Temple before his renowned 1927 flight. In 1980, Escape from New York with Ernest Borgnine filmed a scene on the Temple's steps. Borgnine, a Mason, attended Masonic meetings in the building.

The ground and first floors and the first-floor mezzanine have areas where the general public is admitted only on days when a meeting is held, which is currently 10 per month. The second floor contains the Eastern Star quarters. Third and fourth floors and their mezzanines were designed to house the Blue Lodges with the potential for eight Blue Lodge halls. The four halls and the fourth floor were not completed, and one area on the third floor was made into a dining room.

Fifth and sixth floors were designed to house three of the York Rite organizations, which are known as the Chapter, Council, and the Commandery. Most of the building is non-sectarian, but the fifth floor features Christian symbolism. The fifth level hall is 100’ long, 75’ wide and 48’ high.

Source: 👇

You'll find a list of all the countries that have these Masonic lodges. The United States seems to have them in many locations in every state. 👇

If you're curious about what cities have them in your state, click on the United States (in alphabetical order) and Australia has a boatload as well. 🤔

[ashwhowrites]

Hi! Could you write an Eddie Munson x Cheerleader! Reader were Eddie lives with his parents (some famous rockstars from the 70s)but Eddie was a very "problematic" teen so they decided to send him to Hawkins with Wayne so he could be better and be safe from all the problems, in Hawkins he meets a Cheerleader (Reader) and her friends dare her to make him fall for her, but she had fallen for him a long time ago, when she watched him on interviews with his parents, but her friends didn't knew about that, so they were happy she accepted their dare, Eddie and Reader started dating and they were happy until some friends of Eddie (Jeff and Gareth, he met them in Hawkins) told him that they heard Jason Carver talking about the dar that reader was doing, so he snaps and he break things off with Reader but she was in love with him, and she knew her friends would be cruel with her and exclude if she told them what she felt for Eddie, or that eds would think that she's just interested in his money and fame, but in reality she just felt really insecure and she started to feel sad bc she thought she played with Eddie's feelings and with her too just bc of her "friends", eventually, Eddie and Reader get to talk and she explains him everything and what she felt for him and how bad she was feeling bc of playing with both of their feelings, and Eddie decides to forgive her bc he knew she was a good girl, and he knew her friends weren't good at all (please, write a happy ending 😭)

HI! Thank you so much for your request. I hope this is what you were looking for. Some details are a little different, but the main plot and happy ending are there!!!

Never proofread

Cheerleader's dare

Eddie Munson grew up with fame and money, allowing it to get to his head. His parents were rockstars and he thought that meant he was invincible. Turns out he was wrong when his mom handed him a suitcase and sent him off to live with his uncle in the middle of nowhere.

Hawkins, a tiny town that his dad grew up in before he made it big. Apparently, they thought if Eddie went to a place where fame didn't exist, he'd get his act together.

And now, Eddie found himself in a new high school, a place where no one knew his name and a place where he stood out.

He stood out the most to her, Y/N. The only one in Hawkins that knew who Eddie Munson was. She felt herself panic when he walked through the doors. Her eyes watched him immediately as he walked past the group of girls.

"Yikes, look what the cat dragged in." Stacy snickered, a mocking glare sent in Eddie's direction. Y/N felt her heart pounding as all the girls laughed. Of course, the one guy she has been amazed by would not be acceptable to her friends. She tore her eyes away from him.

"I saw that," Kat announced, her blue eyes landed on Y/N. Y/N froze on the spot, eyes pleading for something she wasn't sure about. But Kat spoke up again, "Someone has eyes for the new kid."

Stacy gasped and gave Y/N an unimpressed look. "Ew, he is not on our level. You cannot make the cheerleaders look bad by being seen with him."

"Oh come on Stacy, I think we could have fun with this," Kat smirked.

~~~

Eddie found himself lost in the halls, looking at his schedule and the numbers outside of the classrooms.

Y/N felt herself staring again, Kat shoved her towards him, "Bet starts now." Kat said with an evil glint in her eyes. Y/N took a deep breath and walked over to him, her painted pink nail tapping his shoulder. He was quick to turn around, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Welcome to Hawkins, can I help you find your classes? You just seem a tad lost." Y/N explained, painting on her friendliest smile. She felt a small victory at the relieved look in his brown eyes. He grunted and handed her the piece of paper.

~~~

Weeks passed and Eddie was in the grove of how Hawkins worked. The boring classes, the preppy students, and something different in the air. He found himself enjoying the fact that no one knew him. Maybe a fresh start would be a good thing after all.

Hawkins had something that Eddie never experienced, a pretty girl that liked Eddie for who he was, not for his name. After Y/N helped him find his classes, the two always ran into each other. Eddie was used to girls falling at his feet back at home, they all knew he had the money and fame. It had its perks but also robbed Eddie of the experience of someone liking him before they knew he was the son of a famous rockstar couple. Y/N didn't know that, and she liked him. He felt himself thinking of her all the time, blushing when Wayne would dig him out for details.

Eddie walked into school with bounces in his steps, always searching for the cheerleader standing at her locker. He smirked and stood behind her, covering her eyes as he whispered in her ear.

"Guess who?" She felt his breath tickle her ear, praying that he couldn't feel her shiver against his chest. Spending so much time with the boy she sat drooling over on TV made her head spin. She felt guilty for not telling him the truth about knowing who he was, and that her friends dared her to ask him out or she was off the team. But she reminded herself, she did want to ask him out, her friends were just giving her the push. Forcing her out of her comfort zone by giving her something to lose. She wasn't using him by any means, she knew she liked him, and this way she could stay on the team and go after the boy of her dreams. Her friends didn't need to know how helplessly in love she was before Eddie stepped foot in the school.

No one needed to get hurt.

"I'm guessing the cute boy with the long hair?" She smirked as Eddie removed his hands. She spun around with a fake pout.

"Aw damn, I was thinking it was another guy." She shrugged. Laughing as Eddie rolled his eyes and pushed her shoulder.

"Right. Not like miss popular over here is drooling over me during classes or anything." He smirked, a wink thrown her way as he dug into the locker behind her, snatching her pack of gum.

She felt her skin burn from being caught. Trying to cover her embarrassment by scolding him for stealing her gum. "You wish, Munson," she teased, taking a piece of gum for herself as she put it back in her locker and closed it.

She felt eyes on her as she looked behind Eddie. Kat smirked as she walked by. Y/N felt her stomach turn at the reminder of the bet she made.

"Hey, you okay?" Eddie asked, but Y/N quickly shook it off. A bright smile on her face as she grabbed his hand and walked to their next class.

~~~

A few months passed and the two were officially together. Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine, dating the boy of her actual dreams and still getting to be on the cheerleading team.

Eddie was just as happy. Smiling throughout every day, talking Wayne's ear off all about her. He called his parents every night with a new story about his girlfriend. He planned so many dates, half that she actually had to plan since she knew where the fuck things were in town. But he loved spending all his time with her. He loved how excited she was when she learned that he played guitar. She looked amazed when he sang for her a few times. He found himself groaning to himself when he thought about the amazing sex they had every time he played the guitar for her. It was like she couldn't control herself when he brought out his musician side.

Eddie went to most of the practices, and all the games. He was the most supportive boyfriend she could have asked for. Even the girls loved having him around. Stacy warmed up to him and Kat adored their relationship. Kat was pleased with herself for pushing Y/N in the direction of him.

Eddie went out of the gym to grab a drink at the water fountain. Watching his girlfriend dance around in a tiny skirt wasn't helping his dry mouth. And his mind kept going back to last night when she fucked him in nothing but that skirt. He showed her a new song he was working on and she pounced. He loved it.

As he leaned down to sip from the fountain he heard his girlfriend's name fall from someone's lips. He wiped off his mouth and followed the voices. He saw two boys in basketball jerseys whispering.

"I heard it was all a bet. Part of cheerleading fun." Eddie felt himself moving closer, hoping he would hear more of the conversation. "Yeah, Kat, Stacy, and Y/N set it all up." Eddie was starting to get a worried feeling in his gut. "So dating the new kid was all a bet? That is hilarious, good for Y/N to finally get some, isn't he the guy she used to watch interviews about?" "I knew he looked familiar!"

Eddie raced out of the school, betrayal laid heavy on his heart and he bit his lip to distract himself from crying. She asked him out as a bet, she befriended him as a joke, and she lied over and over. She knew exactly who he was and lied to his face. He felt a shiver run down his spine, all those nights they had sex were because she knew she was sleeping with her celebrity crush. Did she even like anything more about him? She was always fast to pounce on him when he sang, was that all she liked him for? In a way he felt used, and just like that, she wasn't any different than the girls back home.

~~~

Y/N was confused when Eddie didn't return after a few minutes, eyes watching the door as she completed the routine. She grabbed her bags and headed out to the hallway, searching for Eddie. She headed out to the parking lot, maybe he wanted to smoke?

She found him walking to his car, at a quick pace.

"EDS!" she yelled after him, but he didn't turn around, she quickened her pace and grabbed his arm. "Eddie, did you hear me?" He snapped around, yanking his arm out of her grasp. She didn't bother to hide the offended look on her face. His eyes were wild and angry. His mouth was practically growling at her.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her voice soft and comforting, but it made Eddie's body stiffen. "What's wrong? I don't know maybe the fact my girlfriend is a two-faced liar?"

Y/N was shocked by Eddie's harsh tone. "What?" But Eddie didn't stop there. "Bother telling the truth now? Maybe the fact that you asked me out for a fun dare with your bitchy cheerleading friends?" Y/N panicked when Eddie turned back around, desperately grabbing his hand. "Eddie wait! I can explain." But Eddie yanked his hand away again. This time did not bother to turn around, continuing to walk to his van.

"Oh while you are at it, maybe explain why the fuck you pretended to not know who I was." Y/N froze behind him, she was so sure that no one knew her secret. He was right, she was a two-faced liar.

Eddie stopped walking at her silence, turning around. She looked sick to her stomach, pale, and trying to get words out. "I thought you were different." He said quietly. That seemed to snap her out of her thoughts.

"I am different! I love you, Eddie. Please let me explain everything." She pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. He took his time to stare at her, she couldn't tell if he was studying her before saying goodbye or seeing if she had even more lies resting in her eyes.

"Different? Yeah right. You are just like those girls at home. You liked me for the fame." "That's not true!" she tried to say, but Eddie didn't care. "Yes, it is! You had no problem throwing yourself at me the second I had my guitar out. I bet you were so tired of the average boys in your pathetic town. Just craving to sink your teeth into me to save you from your boring life. I'm done with this town, and I'm done with you."

Y/N couldn't get a word out before he jumped in his van and peeled off. She felt embarrassed as she wrapped her arms around herself. She felt shallow and stupid. She knew she should have been honest about knowing him, lying never leads to anything good.

~~~

Y/N knew she needed to give him space, but she wasn't sure how long she had. What if he got up and left right in the morning? He could be packing at any given moment. She got a ride with Stacy and raced into her house. Quickly grabbing her keys and driving to Wayne's.

She pounded on the door, not caring how insane she looked. To her surprise, Eddie opened the door. A bored expression on his face. "Yes?" his body language was annoyed and she felt small under his gaze.

"Can I please explain? I know how awful everything sounds, but I promise it's not as bad as it sounds." She pleaded, she just needed the time to explain how everything went down.

He stepped aside and she breathed out a sigh of relief. She headed to his room and sat on the bed. Watching him as he closed the door and sat next to her.

"I'm sorry for everything. I did lie about not knowing you, but I just wanted to get to know you. I thought maybe you'd give me the time of day if we were just strangers and I knew nothing about you. I've watched interviews and I listen to your parents, but that doesn't mean I really know you! I learned everything about you and I loved all of it. I would still love getting to know you without the fame. And I'm sorry that I couldn't be different for you." Eddie stared at her as she explained.

"And the dare sounds very bad, I know. But Kat noticed that I had eyes for you the second you walked in. And Stacy was talking about how I can't go for you because it would be a bad look for the team. I'm too much of a chicken to actually go for you, and Kat knew that. " Y/N explained, Eddie watched her, confused as she continued to talk. "Kat wanted to give me a push out of my comfort zone. So she dared me to ask you out and make a bet. If I confessed I had a crush on you, she'd convince Stacy to keep me on the team. She wanted me to have the boy of my dreams."

Eddie sat there in silence, a battle going on in his head.

"And about the whole pouncing on you with your guitar thing. You just look really hot when you are passionate, and I can't control myself." She admitted, embarrassed as she looked away from him.

More silence filled the air, and Y/N accepted this was a mistake she couldn't fix. She sat up and made her way out the door, her heart heavy as she closed his bedroom door behind her. She stood there for a moment, asking herself if she was ready to give this up.

She shook her head and went to open the door, but Eddie swung it open. He looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry for the things I said. It was wrong." He said quietly. She honestly didn't think he'd apologize.

"I forgive you." She whispered

"I forgive you too." He smiled and cupped her jaw with his right hand, his left grabbing her hip to bring her body against his. He leaned down slowly and melted his lips against hers. Her hands rested on his stomach as she kissed him back.

Maybe this town wasn't as bad as Eddie thought.

tags!

@wivwer

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

[tjwritesfanfics]

Universe Eight *Life after Beth*

Pairing: Kyle Orfman/Reader

Summary: You really hated Kyle Orfman, but turns out he may not be so horrible.

Rating: Slightly Mature. Smoking, parents fighting, underage drinking

Words: 863

AN I want to write more with these two specifically. I want to write more of their teenage interactions.

Every Universe Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Kyle Orfman was fucking weird. Absolutely fucking nuts.

He was a tight ass with a tight ass. Always a pain in your side ever since he caught you smoking behind the High School freshman year.  Mr. Do Good was hall monitor and took his job way too seriously.

“You can’t be smoking on school grounds. In fact, you shouldn’t be smoking at all. Smoking kills you.”

You groan, pulling the cigarette to your lips and inhaling. How did he even find you out here? What kind of psycho radar did he have?

You blew out the cigarette smoke right into his face. Kyle jumped a little, making you laugh, and waved his hand around to remove the smoke. “What the hell! Second hand smoke kills just as much as first hand smoke!”

“Well I hope it kills you faster.” You knew that was not how smoking worked, but he was really irritating you.

“You know I’m going to have to turn you into the teachers.” When he tried to reach for your arm you smacked his hand. No way in hell were you going to let Kyle Orfman touch you. Not now. Not ever.

The two of you fought back and forth until finally able to get your name. From there he was able to report you to the teacher, who then gave you serious detention as well as told your parents.

Fucking narc.

Kyle Orfman had been busting you every change he got since that day. Skipping class, smoking again, setting a small fire in the woods behind your house, which was when you had learned that his house was right next to yours. It went on for years.

One night in your sophomore year, you decided you needed a little escape. Your parents had gotten into a big fight ending with your dad going gods know where and your mom drinking herself to sleep. Around 3 am you finally opened your bedroom window and felt. Close to your house, tucked into the woods was a lake you visited with your parents as a kid. Back before the fighting.

You sat on a rock next to the water, cigarette in one hand and one of your dad’s beers in the other. It was quiet and peaceful.

“Smoking kills you, you know.”

So much for peace.

You turned your head to see Kyle Orfman appearing from behind the trees, hair brushed back with every strand in place and wearing a white tee and gray sweatpants. How did he always manage to find you?

“What the fuck do you want you stalker?”

“I saw you sneak out your window.”

You huffed as you turned your back to him, taking another swig of the beer. You could hear Kyle coming closer to you. “Statement still stands, Kyle the Stalker.”

“There is a curfew for teens in Briar Grove. It’s 9 pm. It’s 3 am.”

“I note you are out here.” You could see Kyle sit beside you out of the corner of your eye. “Mr. Goodie Two Shoes breaking curfew? Naughty naughty.”

“I was out here to bring you back.” He huffed.

You didn’t say anything after that and he didn’t make any move to remove you from your rock. Honestly you were thankful that he didn’t. You really didn’t want to go back home yet. It was maybe 30 minutes before Kyle spoke again.

“You okay?”

“What do you care?” You down the last of your beer. “You are always ratting on me and suddenly you are asking if I’m okay? Acting like you actually care what happens to me.”

Kyle kicked his feet, his hands coming up to rub at his arm. “It’s not suddenly. I’ve always cared what happens to you. You just always seem to be doing bad things. I’m trying to make sure you do the right thing. I want everyone to do the right thing.”

You roll your eyes. Kyle Orfman’s sense of justice has always been strong, you knew that from the moment you saw him in the halls, so of course he wanted everyone to be like him. You weren’t special.

“Was it your parents?” You froze. “I could hear them. They’ve been doing that a lot lately. Is that why your out he-”

“Would you stop talking!” Tears were now forming in your eyes. God how could he talk about this so casually? Didn’t he know when to just let something go? “Why don’t you just leave?! You can narc on me tomorrow, but for right now I just want to be alone!”

Kyle looked at you, sadness swirling in his deep brown eyes, a frown on his pretty lips. He knew he wasn’t going to leave you out here alone. There were too many dangers for a girl out at night. Instead, Kyle moved closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulled you close.

You were caught off guard by the sudden embrace and though you did struggle against his hold, in the end you submitted to him. His body warm against yours and steady heartbeat bringing some form of comfort.

Funny how you were letting Kyle Orfman touch you. Comfort you. And you surprisingly wanted it not to end.

(Banners by cafekitsune)

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: Salvation Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Rating: M Status: One-Shot Main Characters: Minthara, The Dark Urge (Ursa) Ships: Minthara/Ursa Additional Notes: Discussion of Identity Crisis, The Minthara Throne Scene, Typical Dark Urge Thoughts of Violence Word Count: 1.3k Summary: Moonrise Tower has fallen. Ursa and Minthara take a moment to bask in their victory- and in each other.

Femslash February #5: Black Eyed Susan (revenge tastes sweet, and so do you)

read below or here on ao3

Ursa finds Minthara in the throne room of Moonrise Tower, lounging on the large seat of power which once belonged to Ketheric Thorm. The hall is quiet; nobody seems to want to linger here, where the blood of friends and foes alike stains the stones under Ursa’s feet. Minthara, however, looks quite at ease- almost lost in thought, as she dangles one leg off the edge of the throne.

Her gaze snaps to attention as Ursa enters the room, and she grants the dwarf a sharp, brittle smile.

“There you are. Have you come to bask with me in our victory?” She leans back and crosses her legs, her red eyes glinting with vindictive satisfaction. “I do love sitting on dead men’s thrones.”

Her voice stokes something inside of Ursa- that deep, dark fire which she has failed to smother time and time again. Now Ursa embraces that feeling, letting it rush through her like a shot of hard liquor as she approaches the throne. “And I love killing the men who sat upon them.”

Minthara eyes her with all the perfect pose of a predator lying in wait. She leans forward in the throne as the dwarf draws in close, and she brushes the back of her hand delicately down the side of Ursa’s face.

“What a perfect pair we make,” she murmurs, and then her fingers grip Ursa’s chin, and she pulls Ursa forward into a kiss.

Minthara’s kisses are hungry, fierce, all-consuming; Ursa responds in kind, deepening each kiss until she’s leaning into Minthara’s lap and both women are left gasping for breath. Ursa reaches for the laces of Minthara’s clothing, already anticipating what comes next, but Minthara once again grabs her chin to halt her progress.

Firm, calloused fingers tilt Ursa’s face up to meet Minthara’s searching gaze. When the drow speaks, her voice is tinged with something almost akin to awe.

“This tower once promised me nothing but a slow and eternal death. I was to be just another prisoner, a mindless slave. My true self lost in the dungeons, never to be rescued or remembered.” Her blood-red eyes soften, even as her brow furrows. “Yet you saved me. You pulled me from the depths, and you slaughtered all who stood in our way.”

“I did,” Ursa agrees. Her fingers twitch with need as she remembers the bodies she left behind, torn to pieces on the prison floor, but she dares not avert her gaze from Minthara.

“Why?”

It’s the first time she’s asked so outright. Neither has spoken much at all of their past suffering, not since they fled the tower together. They certainly haven’t touched each other, not like this, not since that single night they shared at the ransacked druid grove. Ursa has been longing for another night like that- another moment like this- and she is desperate for it to continue.

If only they could leave these kinds of questions unasked. Asking why Ursa does the things she does is like pressing the flat of a knife against an old wound, just pain and pressure building up until the skin breaks along the scar.

She could lie. Ursa has discovered that she is quite proficient at lying. She even knows the words she would use, words about how Minthara is useful, is a weapon, is now in Ursa’s debt. It might be cruel, but it would be easy.

Yet as Ursa looks into those striking scarlet eyes, it is impossible.

“They were going to break you…like they broke me. I don’t know how they did it but they broke me, Minthara, beyond repair.” The admission of her weakness sits like ash in Ursa’s mouth. “I couldn’t let that happen again. Not to you.”

Minthara’s thumb traces along Ursa’s lips. “So you cut through an army and leave a trail of blood in your wake. What manner of person does this, all for the sake of a woman she scarcely knows?”

“But I do know you.”

And she does. It is herself Ursa does not know. Ketheric must have, for he’d seen her and recognized her for what she was, even if he’d never given her the truth of it. A mad dog, he’d called her, and refused to elaborate further. She and Minthara both were treated as somehow below his concern.

How fitting that the two of you should find each other, he’d said, and despite the condescension, he’d spoken true.

Because Minthara understands, in a way the others don’t. When the madness takes hold of Ursa, all the others can do is restrain her, keep their distance, watch as she thrashes out her useless anger. But Minthara…

Minthara sees something the others don’t. She is like Ursa, each of them a shattered mirror reflecting the other through their own jagged pieces. Ursa looks to her, and she sees someone who can give her violence a direction. A purpose.

Ketheric called them both mad dogs. In that, he was really only half-right. The truth is, Minthara is the only one who has ever brought Ursa’s madness to heel. She pointed Ursa at Ketheric, and she spoke of sweet, seductive vengeance, and because of her Ursa can still taste the exhilaration of her most satisfying kill yet.

Ursa lacks the eloquence to give voice to any of those thoughts. Instead, she rests her forehead against Minthara’s. “I do know you,” she repeats. “I don’t know what I am, or what it means. But…I can try to show you.”

If Minthara is wary of this offer, her curiosity wins out over her caution. With a brief nod, she closes her eyes, and her mind brushes softly against Ursa’s as their thoughts connect. Images flash between them: guts spilled and throats slit, corpses littering the ground in a glorious and sickening display, blood thick in the air. An entire history of murderous impulse, told in only the briefest glimpses of entwined memory and dream.

It only takes a moment, and then Minthara’s lips are on Ursa’s once more.

“I know who you are,” Minthara declares between breaths as she kisses Ursa again, and again, and again, each one more urgent than the last. “You are destruction. You are devastation. You are death.”

Her arms twine around Ursa, and Ursa is so caught up in her own cocktail of relief and desire that she scarcely even realizes the enthusiasm of her response until she’s already straddling Minthara’s lap.

“And you,” Minthara murmurs, dipping her head low, her fingers working reverently at the buttons of Ursa’s shirt. “You are my justice. You are my vengeance against this world. Let it try again to destroy us; it shall not succeed. We shall each be the other’s salvation.”

She punctuates her words by finally pulling open Ursa’s shirt, and when Ursa gasps at the cool fingers moving against her skin, Minthara catches her open mouth in another kiss.

“You are not broken, my ust-nor,” she whispers fervently against Ursa’s lips. “You are exquisite.”

The praise from Minthara is more powerful than even the memories of their last kill, and any words Ursa may have had are lost. All she can do is clutch at Minthara as the drow continues her worship of Ursa’s body, her kisses like sweet poison settling deep into Ursa’s veins. Ursa welcomes the sensation, and her deft fingers move with a mind of their own down to the laces of Minthara’s leather trousers. Thoughts of vengeance and victory and vices all blend together into a whirl of desire as she joins with her lover on the throne they have claimed for themselves.

What a perfect pair they make, indeed.

[suddalgi]

Finding yourself in the mountain god's palace far from home, you explore in search of answers. ➶genre: fantasy au, slow burn, power dynamic, soft dom! dk, arranged marriage vibes, 18+! ➶ w.c: 2.5k ➶ chapter warnings: none

➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫

chapter two

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            “If you go now, you’ll be burned to a crisp.”

            Your father’s admonishments were already fading as you ran out the door of your house into the main road, a beaten strip of dirt that twisted down the hill toward your village. You weren’t following it today—your feet carried you weightlessly across the grass toward the fields where the men were working. You could hear their songs rising into the midsummer sky, baked by the sun and perfumed with the thousands of wildflowers that whipped at your legs as you ran.

            Maintaining a fair complexion was the furthest thing from your mind. Even as you ran, a giggle was bubbling up inside of you—your mind raced with thoughts of running through the cut rows of hay, chasing the barn dogs and splashing through the narrow streams that wound over the fields. At this time of day, the men would be eating their lunches and singing and laughing together. You’d find a place to sit where the shade was cool, and steal a bit of bread and listen to them talk of the seasons changing and what weather the mountain god has sent and of the fruit groves beginning to ripen.

            You jumped across a narrow stream bank, your toes digging into the soft cool mud. You were invisible, another skinny dirt-smeared child, a nuisance underfoot, unimportant. Nothing like your father, with his stiff shirts and his frown that never seemed to go away. And when the weather was cold, you’d have to stay indoors and act the same way. But when it was summer, you were free.

            It was a long while before you stopped crying. When your tears ran out, you realized that you were cold. Freezing.

            So you brushed yourself off and wiped your eyes, and began to wander. You could barely feel your feet in the dewy grass as you explored the wall, and all the paths, retracing every step you had taken when you first arrived. Nothing was changed. You suspected nothing had changed for a long, long time—except for the ivy that grew over everything, long and wild and untamed.

            Somewhere the sun was shining, you just knew it. That place seemed so far away now.

            Following the wall, you arrived at the door you had noticed before. It was a huge, thick door of wooden planks wrought together with iron in delicate, careful work. It was painted in the bright, vivid royal colors of blue and red like your temples back home, but the architecture felt foreign. No doubt humanmade, though whatever humans had built this place were likely long gone, honored guests in the halls of the gods for their service. That sounded like a nice fate.

            You reached out with freezing fingers, testing the handle with a few careful pushes. It was unlocked, creaking gently from the pressure of your touch. Your heart leapt in your chest, whether from hope or fear you could hardly say.

            The idea of leaving this beautiful, awful garden filled your next decision with confidence: you pushed at the door, letting it swing heavily on its hinges inward to reveal a passage laid before you. It was lit with countless touches, a warm living glow, rivaled by the blue wash that poured through tall windows covered in silk screens that bent the moonlight into rippling shapes on the floor. The high-ceilinged hallway led deeper into what looked like some sort of keep built with the same pale stone and subtle finery. Narrowing your eyes, you followed the hallway with your gaze until it turned a corner and disappeared. For a moment you wondered how deep it went, and if it ever ended at all.

            You held the door open, stealing one last glance at the garden you had awoken in. The warmth of the palace beckoned you silently like a lover’s breath, warming your skin as you stood before its open, waiting mouth. Whether it was better to embrace it or to stay in this frozen garden, there was no way to tell.

            But you were only human, after all. Your tired, shivering frame defeated the logic of your mind and carried you inside the palace, shutting the door behind you.

            With the heavy wooden doors firmly closed, the silence that closed around you was changed. Instead of the whisper of wind and the rustling of trees, a profound quiet had settled among the gentle crackle of the torches. You walked forward, your gaze following the shifting light of the windows as they reached up toward the cavernous ceiling. Trapped inside the screens were even more painstaking brushstrokes—countless scenes and characters and words you couldn’t even begin to fully absorb, unrolling like a map before you. Though you did not understand them, you knew they told a story older than the bones of the mountain you stood on.

            The mountain. Your thoughts wandered with every step, growing more and more tangible as your panic subsided. Though you had never left your valley and traveled the mountains, the stories you had heard were endless. Miles of trees taller than the shaman’s greatest temples, their thick canopies and strangled branches providing shadowed hiding places for all manner of creatures. Clever, illusory dokkaebi, beautiful gumiho and dragons as long as the rivers that ran though your valley. The gods lived among the clouds because humans could not tread there—it was the danger of the mountains that became their sanctuaries, their temples, their altars. The patron god of your valley was no different, it seemed.

            You thought of all the saints that had journeyed to visit the gods, holy pilgrimages and acts of human hubris alike. What made them favorable in the eyes of the gods? Where they pure by their own merit, or were they chosen just like you were? What distinguished sacrifice from honored guest?

            You reached out with a hand, tracing the delicate pictures that covered the windows, feeling the texture of their rich history under your fingertips. Someone had made this, whether it was a human or some godly craftsman. They had always been here, even as you had lived every day blissfully, miles below. Maybe they had been waiting for you. Maybe, if you looked hard enough, you would find your own image wrought in silk among them.

            Was it right that you were exploring like this? The god had given you no directions, no quarters of your own. Maybe the garden was meant to be your prison—but then, why would the door be left open, as if to invite you inside?

            Before you could finish the thought, the hallway suddenly ended. It opened up into a wide room with a ceiling that climbed cavernously above your head. The small torches had become great copper and iron sconces, their flames leaping high and hot around you. Pillars of regal red, blue and green rose around you. Every wall was draped in silk paintings of unmatchable beauty and detail, mountains and fields and distant lands in countless strokes of paint. You stopped at the threshold, your heart pounding at the size of it, following each carefully laid stone with your eyes until they settled on an image set into the floor at the center of the great room.

It was wrought in stone, jade and lacquer, a glittering compilation of what must have taken years of tiny fragments and deliberate precision. Like the rest of this mysterious place, a significant story was clearly illustrated, another you did not know. You approached, kneeling to inspect it thoroughly, your pulse roaring in your chest.

Thirteen figures in a ring, each emanating holy light outward till the sunbeams of glass and stone reached the walls in every direction. Some of their faces were visible, simply illustrated but nevertheless breathtakingly beautiful. Below each one, a name had been written in ancient tongue. They were all different, each adorned in their own flowing hanbok and bearing items that you could recognize—a scale, three birds, a jug of water, a human skull…

They were all gods. Patrons of their own domains, but connected in this ring together, nonetheless.

You inspected each one with awe, until one captured all your attention. One whose face was not depicted—instead it was covered in a veil of white, pinned in place by a long arrow pierced through his chest. At his feet was a lantern, illuminating his pale hanbok even in mosaic form. It was impossible not to recognize him.

Your mountain god, and captor. The name below his feet was written in the way of the gods, but you could read it. Seokmin. Patron god of love.

You had heard his name before. A whispered name of reverence toward your valley’s provider and protector. The priestesses had described him as an affectionate god, a god of plenty and vitality… and the desires of men, fleshly love, lust. Seokmin was the name they prayed to when they offered sacrifices to him. Sacrifices like you.

But even still… what a simple name. Beautiful, even. You sat on the floor in that strange place, tears still crackling on your cheeks, and you tried to fit that name to whoever had spoken to you in the garden. The soft, musical voice, the subtle lisp, like he was any other man. You tried to imagine the other gods calling to him by that name, like he was a friend, or a brother, a name called in affection instead of fear and reverence.

Your thumb traced the smooth, prismatic lacquer that made up the picture’s veil. Being burdened with a thing such a love, it was little wonder that he covered his face. Was it beauty or monstrosity that he hid? If you were meant to be here forever, which would be worse?

Cry if you must, he had said. You’ll have no use for your tears here any longer.

It did not matter if this god was beautiful, or monstrous, or both. If he cared for you, it was the love a farmer would show an injured calf—whether he nursed you or drove a axe through your neck was entirely at the whim of what was most convenient. And what were humans to gods, anyway? Cattle? Vermin? 

You had returned to taking in the picture laid before you when the silence was broken by a distant voice. It drifted into the chamber, quietly at first, buzzing at your ears like the tickle of breath. Singing.

When the sound first reached your ears, you weren’t sure it was a voice at all. It hummed ambiently like the echo of a bell ringing, one note resounding weightlessly from wall to stone wall forever into silence. Then you heard the following notes, as quiet as an exhale and colored delicately in the timbre of a tender, male voice.

If there were words, you didn’t catch them, as much as you found yourself straining to listen. Each phrase of music ended in a soft vibrato, a hauntingly perfect run of notes, no breath misplaced. The cavernous palace around you seemed to still in response to the distant lullaby, as if the stones themselves were settling into slumber. It left a haze of warmth over your mind, your lungs loosening in a deep, easy breath as the music poured over your senses.

For the first time since you arrived, you felt your body relax. Something like joy was blooming in your chest, though you didn’t understand it. Even as you wiped the remains of your tears from your face, you felt a renewed urge to cry.

You thought again of the sun-soaked grain fields and fragrant meadows you used to run through as a child, from a valley you would never see again. You thought of the taste of fresh summer fruit warm from the vine, and the farm dogs that followed at your heels, and the freedom of being far from your village in the hidden oases beyond the valley that only you knew. If those memories were a song, you thought it would sound just like this.

Warm tears dripped down to your chin, and you held your cheeks gently in your own palms. As each phrase echoed to silence before the next, you found yourself hoping desperately that each note was not the last.

After a moment you stood, curiosity overcoming your stunned senses. Though the voice was distant, you could follow the echo of it down one of the corridors that lead from this central place. It was impossible to tell just how large this palace was, but there were no doors locked to you, and he had given no instruction not to explore.

Following the music led you through a side passage, the floorboards soft under your bare feet as you passed through a moonlit courtyard with a glittering pond. You walked for a while, unsure of the reason why, as if your legs moved on their own accord.

Your heart thudded a warning in your chest, a human instinct that was completely eclipsed by the sound of the music now growing louder in your ears as you ventured deeper into the palace. Every note was sweeter and warmer than the last, as strange and quiet as a secret that only you and the walls of this place knew. Your path took you through the courtyard, lush grass cushioning your every step as you wove deeper into the beautiful, ornate labyrinth before you.

I just want to hear it, you told yourself. He won’t have to know where I am.

Your steps were light and silent as you finally turned a corner and reached a wide, closed door. Testing the handle, you found it was also unlocked—but several other things caught your attention before you even opened the door.

You noticed the smell first. The fragrance of flowers and rich green growth—similar to the garden you had come from, now made even more inviting by the warmth of being indoors. It was thick and intoxicating in your nose, a welcome change from the rain-soaked stones and the chill of cold.

The knob was turning before you realized. As the door opened, you caught a glimpse of rows of glass windows covered in vibrant screens, and a chamber glittering with moonlight, and more flowers than you could count—and then the music stopped.

You shut the door with a silent gasp, your heart leaping all the way to your throat. You waited there, hoping against hope that the singing would continue… but silence fell heavy and profound over the entire palace. Even the trees stopped rustling outside. Your minds’ eye was still reeling at the glimpse of what was behind the door, all the green that seemed so much warmer than the garden outside. Like it was alive with a soul. Like it had seen you, too.

You contemplated running, but where would you run to? What would you be running from?

            You had just drawn your hand away from the door when the sound of soft footfalls reached your ears—footsteps like the ones you heard in the garden, but quieter. And closer.

            It was pointless to run. You know that he was everywhere, his grip closed entirely around you in this place. You found yourself running anyway, away from the ornate door, from that haunting voice, back through the passages that had led you here…

Your first act of disobedience. And with eternity stretching before you, you knew it would not be the last.

[sundasystems]

4. The Cabin in the Grove

Eden Springs is aptly named.

Just outside of town is a small overlook where you can pull your car off the road and get a good look at the place from above. You can even almost see the Sunda campus poking up from behind the far hill. It's beautiful. I have no problem seeing why anyone would want to live here. More mysterious, however, is why a massive multi-national conglomerate like Sunda would choose a place like this for their headquarters. Ninety minutes from any airport. No major interstate access. It's not especially inaccessible, but it's not easy either.

As I drive through down I see smiling faces and hear light laughter coming out of the various storefronts. Some preliminary research showed that, while the majority of residents here work for Sunda, there is also a thriving small-business culture in the down town. That appears to be true. I pass a movie theatre and a general store. There's even a French bistro! Le Jus... something? I make a note to go back.

I find it oddly peaceful here. I could live here. I could move here and feel like I'd never have another care in the world. I wave at someone on the sidewalk who waves at me. I return their smiles. My left hand drops into my lap and I sigh softly.

I slip out of the city limits on the other side of the main drag and I see the first sign that reminds me why I'm really here.

Sunda Systems Eden Springs Campus 1.5 miles

I put both hands back on the steering wheel and rezip the fly of my jeans.

The drive here is deceptive. As soon as you leave town it feels like you've driven back into the wilderness. For a few moments, there's only mountains and trees. Then you round the corner and its like driving into the world of tomorrow. Several tall white buildings shoot up from the ground surrounded by an army of smaller buildings. There are parking lots everywhere, but most sit empty, and I remember seeing a sign in town for the Sunda Shuttle.

I park in a spot marked for visitors and take a deep breath. I remind myself that no one here knows who I am or what I want. I'm just a tech nerd here for a tour of the facility. This is one of the only places around where a fair number of cars are parked. So I won't be the only person who doesn't "belong" here. I open my car door and begin to walk toward the visitor entrance.

I'm greeted inside by warm smiles and "Welcome to Sunda Systems!" There's a sign that says the next tour of the campus leaves in 15 minutes. I'm left to stand in a group of other people who are waiting. They look largely like you'd expect them to look: mostly men, mostly in their mid to late 20's, mostly stereotypically nerdy. Not that I'm one to judge. I've never been one to be considered a heart-throb. That was always more Emily's job.

One of them approached me and says hello. We chatted briefly about what brought us here to take the tour and what we were hoping to see. He seemed harmless enough. Eventually, a guide emerged from behind a counter and greets us all. He was a skinny, nerdy looking guy. He introduced himself as Glen before handing out a campus map and beginning the tour.

We weren't allowed up in to the offices in either building that flanked the main entry foyer. Instead, the tour guide led us out the back into the campus commons. It really was a beautiful place.

We first entered through the Laser and Optics Research building. We were shown an admittedly very cool demonstration of a high power laser cutting straight through a steel beam. I tried to keep myself from being impressed and remind myself why I was here, but it was hard not to get sucked into the presentation and the results. Cutting edge (pun intended).

Then across the courtyard we entered the Crystallography lab. The entrance hall here was lined with minerals and gemstones on display. We didn't get to see much here. The guide led us into a dark room with a single display case. Inside was the largest sapphire I've ever seen. The lights in the room seem to dance on its surface and somehow inside it's depths. And what depths it has! Deep blue and flecks of violet that seem to shimmer and move as it rotates on its turntable so slowly... and lazily...

I don't know why I didn't think to try to take a photo of it. I guess I was just very distracted.

Walking out into the sun after being in that dark room was disorienting. My head felt a little strange for a few minutes afterward, but the tour continued and I got over it. As we entered the audio labs I was feeling quite good again. Almost eager to continue. Music thrummed constantly here. The guide told us it was in an attempt to drown out the sound-based experimentations going on inside the facility. They tried their best to soundproof the rooms, but some sound still bled out into the main building. We should do our best to ignore it.

For some reason, the whole group managed to say "Yes, Glen" at the same time, which made us all chuckle for a few minutes. This was a good group.

Finally, we arrived at the section of the tour I'd been waiting for. The living quarters. Unfortunately, Glen didn't take us very close. He pointed out the Education Center and the Hall of Worship, but said they were closed to visitors. Further back was the cabins, where some staff had decided to live "on-site." Staff like John Delphine, former COO of Lotus Clinical Research.

The tour group began to head back toward the main entrance. Part of me wanted to follow. To be a part of Glen's group and be led around. But Emily was counting on me. So with great effort, I pulled myself out of the group and stepped behind a small statue as they rounded a corner. Just like that, I was free.

I knew I'd have to be quick. I didn't have an employee ID that I'd seen on people around so I may not have much time to explore away from the group. That being said, I couldn't sneak in broad daylight. So I put on my best "I belong here" face and strolled back toward the living area.

In the courtyard there was a bulletin board of notices for the residents. Three in particular caught my attention.

One:

Renew your Vows and sing Vivian's Gospel House of Worship each Sunday at sundown

Two:

Seeking resident beta-testers for the new Mirrorball Program. Must not have been exposed to any previous optical inductions. Inquire at Office LOR 4-19.

Three:

New Radio Sunda available through Re:Mx. Enter code S2R0-F885-GG78 into the code stream to gain access.

This last one had tabs at the bottom with the access code on them like old flyers you'd find in the city. I tore one off and pocketed it to test out later.

I moved deeper into the campus toward the trees and the cabins. There were many more cars in the lots back here. Presumably the vehicles of the residents that don't have to drive from town.

A man looking like a security guard was approaching from the cabins. I decided to cut and run before I could get caught. I stashed my camera as I walked back toward the research area of the campus and managed to slide back into the tour group as they came back out of radio building.

Many of them had happy - if slightly vapid - smiles on their faces as they listened to Glen speaking. It didn't seem like any of them had noticed I had snuck away. It wasn't really clear if they'd noticed anything except Glen that whole time. Though, I could hardly blame them. He was pretty cute. A flush ran through me, and I cleared my throat softly as we finished the tour.

But before I could leave, Glen approached me. I thought he was going to scold me for sneaking off, but I was very wrong. He asked if I was in town for long and if I'd like to get dinner with him that evening. I think my entire body turned red. It was an ethical violation to go on a date with the subject of an investigation. But it would be a good way to get some inside information.

And he was very, very attractive.

[aphroditeslover11]

Secret Santa

Thanks to @nimnim-girl for her help with the ideas, couldn't have done it without you lovely 💕

Warnings: Alcohol and allusions to adultery, author didn't proofread!

It December at Los Alamos and the ground was dusted with snow. It was freezing all the time now and the mesa was turning into some sort of desert winter wonderland. The scientists were all huddled in winter coats as they moved between buildings and the army men were doing their best to look unphased by the biting wind. You were here working as an assistant to Hans Bethe who was heading the Theoretical Division. You weren’t a scientist yourself, actually studying philosophy, but Dr Oppenheimer had picked you up during his travels, intending that you would work under him before he handed the role over to his friend.

There were ten days remaining until Christmas and you were determined to try and spread a little more festive spirit around the place. Yes, some lights had been put up and you had badgered Oppie to have some carols playing over the radio of the base, but everyone still seemed miserable. You were close to the director, regardless of how much his wife hated it, and you were hoping that you might have his ear on this. At the end of another day you made your way to his office, feeling lucky that there were no other secretaries around and knocking on the door.

“Come in, if you must,” you heard, pushing open the door. Robert looked up from his desk and his face brightened a little when he saw you. Everyone knew how much pressure he was under, so it was a rare sight now.

“Please, y/n, I apologise for my greeting. I thought you might have been Groves. How are you? Do take a seat.”

“Groves giving you a headache again Oppie?”

“When is he not?” He laughed, but you could hear the weariness behind it.

“I have an idea, I want to help the others.” Robert leant forward on his desk.

“My dear, we have been through this. You don’t understand the ridiculous things that the men here are trying to do, hell, I don’t half the time. I know you’re trying to help, but there is nothing…”

“Oh lord no, you can keep your physics to yourself. I mean that you need to make more of an effort on morale.” He looked puzzled.

“What do you mean?” He took his pipe from his desk, lighting it and starting to smoke, as he always did when a matter perplexed him.

“This place is suffocating in depression, almost as much as I am right now in your pipe-smoke.”

“I can open a window…”

“I’d rather be warm. Anyway, it’s nearly Christmas, I don’t care what Oppie but please, I’m dying here, you have to do something for the season.”

~

The conversation had gone on for a while longer, the culmination being that he agreed to hold a Christmas party for all of the scientists to attend. There was already a plan, from Feynman predictably, to have a piss-up in the bachelors dorms, but you were hoping that this might prove to be a little more of a unifying force. On top of this, you had also suggested a secret Santa exchange, which he agreed to. Typically when you pulled the names out of the hat you ended up with Oppie - what on earth do you get for the  man who owns Picassos and Van Gogh paintings? 

When the day of the party finally came Robert turned up to the main hall of Los Alamos on his own, wearing a suit and tie with his usual pork pie hat. He had just had a row with Kitty who had decided to stay at home. His mood was clearly compromised, but he managed to pull a smile onto his face. He immediately made his way over to where the alcohol was being kept, fixing himself a whiskey before going to find Ravi, needing someone to take his mind off things. By the time you arrived, late after one of the typewriters had jammed itself and you were left to fix it, he was a fair few drinks down.

There was a big crowd around the director, who was telling a ridiculous story of how he had returned from a trip collecting minerals with trench dysentery as a youth. This story coming out was the hallmark of a fairly intoxicated Oppie, and Isidor gave you a knowing look as you made your way over. As soon as Robert saw you he raised his arms in a slightly exaggerated welcome, before wrapping one around you and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. Great - he decided that you were going to be his distraction for the night.

“My dear, how wonderful of you to finally join us. I was just telling the story of when…”

“I know Opp, you’ve told me it before remember.” You cut him off, feeling an acute sense of second hand embarrassment. 

The evening wore on and it was mostly a case of forcing water down your boss’s throat until he was sufficiently sober to go back into polite conversation. He spent most of the party trailing after you with an arm around your waist. You’d tried to shake him off but we’re getting nowhere, you just hoped that his wife didn’t suddenly show up out of the blue. It was clear now that he was ashamed of his actions, but he was slowly getting back to his usual self. After a heavy day you decided to call it quits early when you heard a shout from behind you. 

“Y/n, hang on, I need your for one more thing.” He pulled a neatly wrapped present from a nearby surface. That was when you remembered the gift you had in your bag for him. What were the chances of getting each other?

“Well this is a coincidence, I seem to have got you as well.” 

You made your way to a corner before exchanging gifts. His was slightly messily wrapped, you could picture him getting frustrated as the tape stuck to itself and the colourful language coming out of his mouth just looking at it. Yours was much more neat, complete with a bow and all. After exchanging a few words about the coincidence of getting each other in the draw you swapped, unwrapping the gifts opposite one another. Your mouths dropped open when you saw what you were holding - an anthology of the poetry of Byron, different editions, but the same work. Robert was the first to break the silence.

“Well, it would seem that we both thought alike my dear…” he was chuckling as he said it. 

“Oppie, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t had any idea…” You were stuttering, trying to make some sense of the situation.

“Y/n, stop worrying, I love Byron or I wouldn’t have bought it for you and I’m guessing you would say the same thing to me, yes?” You nod in response.

“Clearly we have bought the perfect thing for one another then. Let’s just say it’s a sign of how well we understand one another.” He lifted an arm to your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Now go home and have a good night of sleep, I think we both have a little reading to do, and I have some other things to sort out.” He placed a kiss on your cheek, though a lot more dignified than earlier, before leaving you to go on your way.

The next morning you opened the door of your room to find a singular red rose with a ribbon wrapped around the stem, there was clearly going to be more to come.

[emeritus-fuckers]

I’d like to formally request a young papa Nihil falling head over heels for reader

Bonus points if one of his songs plays in his head and he just associates that song with that person

I am more than happy to write this :D - Nyx

♡ Papa Nihil falling head over heels for reader ♡

Papa Nihil wandered through darkened corridors of the Ministry, it was a bleak time of year. The lights of the winter solstice celebrations had been extinguished and the Ministry lacked a certain something. Then again it had lacked something from the day Sister had left him.

Still tonight would be different, tonight was a party to welcome the new members.

He straightened out the collar of his tailored black shirt then tugged on the sleeve of his leather jacket.

Perfect.

He smiled to himself, tonight he'd finally found some slither of happiness in being single. He'd thrown himself into his role as Papa and the Clergy was in the best state it had ever been. Perhaps Sister would let him sing again!

“You’ve been playing” he sang to an invisible audience as he strutted down the corridor.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“Around with magic that is black” his gaze fell on you.

You smiled at him and he was drawn in, he fell for you faster than the Dark lord fell from Heaven. You were perfect, some enchantress sent to tempt him.

He flashed you his irresistible grin as he sang "But all the powerful magical mysteries never give a single thing back." Solely to you, and you alone.

When he was finished you gave him a round of applause, and he bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Papa." You say with another perfect smile. "I love your songs, I'm happy to hear you still sing them."

"I’m glad you like them." He said lightly. Nihil wanted to add something else but his entire being was entranced by the sight of you, words abandoned him.

You gave him another seductive smile, bowed slightly and taking his silence as a cue to leave, walked off.

He watched you go, the daft grin still plastered across his face. How nice it was to meet someone so genuine as you.

He tried to focus on his duties that evening, he had to make a speech that night. He needed to, at the very least, rehearse it once.

He pulled the paper out of his pocket and stood in front of the mirror practicing each word.

But he couldn't shake the image of you, the way your eyes glimmered in the faint light, the beauty of your smile and the way you just seemed to see him.

This was pointless, he'd just improvise. He shoved it back in his pocket and continued on his way.

He strolled into the main hall at the Ministry, it looked spectacular, the perfect gothic party. The chatter of voices quietened as he made his entrance, everyone did a little bow to their Papa.

He smiled at them all and then the party continued. Some siblings were already dancing together, others talking happily amongst themselves, laughter echoed off the vaulted ceiling. A place where Ghouls lurk in the beams watching the revellers below.

Nihil pressed on through the crowd making polite conversation where he could. But he didn't really hear a word anyone said to him. Could he open his bruised heart up again to someone? It's not like he'd even asked you on a date but he knew where this was going.

Nihil sighed and walked over to the opulent bar, no one stopped him going behind it, who would? He ran his fingers over the tops of the bottles and chewed his bottom lip. Finally, he clasped the top of a bottle of bourbon, pulled it out of the rack with a little flourish and the corners of his mouth tugged up into a smile. He plucked a short glass from above the bar and began his work.

When he was done, he added the final touch a twist of orange peel, the fragrance of it reminding him of his youth. Of days spent studying for Clergy exams in the orange grove at the Ministry, sat back-to-back with his friend.

He looked up from the glass to see you standing across the bar from him, head cocked to the side eyebrow slightly raised. "That looks good, what is it?"

"It's an old fashioned, but I put my own spin on it" His heart actually fluttered, what in the Dark Lord's name was wrong with him? No one has had this effect on him in years, not since Sister. He slide the glass across to you. "Try it, if you want?"

You took a sip considering for a moment. "It's good." then pushed the glass back across the bar. "But Papa what would you make for me?"

Nihil thought carefully his eyes scanning the drinks behind the bar. He was careful, took his time, before coming up with something completely new. "Try this" He past you a martini glass your fingers brushed against his.

Kiss the go goat started playing softly in his mind, that song becoming more and more entwined with you.

***

You tasted it and your eyes lit up, it's perfect. "How did you know?" You stammer, for the first time taken by surprise. You had always assumed Nihil to be some kind of shallow hedonist. Charismatic and charming but nothing more than that. Yet the way he smiled when you took another sip, it was so genuine, so happy.

"I just know." He said with a flirty wink. Okay, there was the man you expected.

"Thank you for the drink, Papa" You give a polite nod.

"Wait, would you like to dance with me?" Nihil stepped out from behind the bar and offered you his hand. That look again...

You pause but then accepted lacing your fingers with his.

His skin was soft and warm. He walked you towards the dance floor before releasing your hand and starting to move to the music. You already missed his touch. Nihil kept a respectful distance, but his dance moves, were just... the movement of his hips was almost hypnotic.

You found yourself drawn to him, like someone ready to fall from grace into sin and lust. You took a step towards him and he closed the space further. Your bodies separated by only a thin slice of air, it was harder to breath, was he teasing you?

"I need a break" You blurt out suddenly aware of the pain in your feet, the burn in your legs.

Nihil nods and leads you to the side of the dance floor where you both settle on a large sofa.

You found yourself settling into an easy conversation with him. It was surprising just how much you both had in common.

As he talked you started to really look at him, the strong defined jaw, the way his shoulder length hair swept over his handsome features. He was even better looking close up than he'd appeared on stage and those eyes, his dazzling blue eyes.

"Babe?" he asked waiting for you to reply.

"Sorry, what?" You shook your head, trying to clear it.

"Do you want to meet tomorrow?" He took your hand and gently rubbed his thumb over the back of it. His touch was light but sent a shiver down your spine.

"Sure, why not." You said with a slightly tipsy smile and then jumped up. "One more dance"

You pulled him to his feet and he stumbled slightly with a giggle.

This time you danced closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He snaked his arms around you and pulled you close to him, this time your bodies were pressed together. You could hardly think straight, it was utterly intoxicating the feel of him against you. As you let you gaze drift higher you met his eyes, they were filled with such a look of desire, you gasped. You could smell the incense on him, it lingered on his hair from all those days spent in the chapel giving dark mess. Such a heady smell you lost yourself in him further.

You danced like this, utterly unaware of your surroundings. He pressed his lips to yours and you could taste the whiskey he'd been drinking, the smokiness of it. You deepen the kiss with a soft sigh as his hands drop to your waist. It's utterly addictive, you don't think you can stop yourself and then you realise... it's gone so quiet.

He broke away with one last soft kiss. He looked just as entranced, just gazing at you. Then he looked around to see the black candles on the tables being extinguished by Ghouls.

***

He walked you back to your room, you tried to hide it but the shoes you were wearing were too uncomfortable for your already sore feet. You winced and he looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

You were about to admit that you didn’t think you could walk another step, when he swept you up in his arms and carried you bridal style the rest of the way. You smiled to yourself, and let your head rest against his chest.

He carefully put you down outside your room. Your heart sank, you didn’t want him to go. You considered inviting him in, but your mind was foggy from the late night and alcohol.

He gave you a deep bow and kissed the back of your hand. "Until tomorrow"

With that he left you, stood there barely able to catch your breath, what the fuck had just happened. You had said to your friends you would never be so foolish as to get swept up by Nihil, but here you were utterly under his spell.

What you didn’t expect was for him to glance back over his shoulder as he walked off, he saw you still looking and that genuine smile returned to his lips. Perhaps Nihil was falling just as hard as you.

~

written by Nyx

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @ouijaboardemo

[keter-kannot]

MINORS DNI

WE ARE BACK AGAIN WITH MORE OF ANON'S ABSOLUTLEY BANGER COMM IDEAS 😫😫😫 thank you SO much, you wonderfully amazing kin of freakville 😌

After approaching Minthara alone at the goblin camp, things take a turn towsrds... Abdirak's torture chamber.

tw: DD:DNE, noncon, dubcon, s*x torture, impact play, sado/masochism, PinV, triple penetration, LOTS of blood, knives/blades, breathplay, gags, choking

!!!!!!!!THIS IS A DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT PIECE!!!!!!!!!

Word count: ~6.6k

It didn’t take nearly as long to infiltrate the Goblin camp as you initially thought; with a few sly words and the right kind of valor when you falsely praised the Absolute, they all but let you waltz right in! Who would’ve thought? Possibly your Dream Guardian, for one.

You didn’t let that take away from the severity of your objective, though. While a small group of goblins could be dispatched with ease, this place was goblin city. You weren’t alone, but you still knew you and your companions had to play your hand carefully here, or it could all go to shit. Still, you couldn’t help but smirk just a bit at yourself after leaving Priestess Gut’s room, knowing one of the three goblin leader’s had been dealt with.

Of course, finding Halsin was the main goal. There was too much happening for you to even think about taking the place down, but the closest thing to a cure for the tadpole swimming through your skull was some old druid they had locked in a cage somewhere throughout this maze of a church’s remains.

Shadowheart sighed beside you, trudging along in your wake. The fallen Selunite temple must have seemed extra warm to her as the beads of sweat continued to drip from her forehead.

“We just have to find the warg pens,” you muttered, nodding a bit, “and escape with Halsin. From there, we should–”

“This place is massive,” she whispered, gesturing around the echoing stone walls, “It would be faster if we split up. No need to fight the goblin hoard if we could sneak him out alive and run, no?”

Astarion chuckled a bit to himself, butting in. “I’d have to agree with our bitter friend, just this once.”

You took a moment to look towards Gale, who simply shrugged in compliance before adding, “I can be stealthy.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you pulled your companions off to the side, going over the few scraps of information you had. You’d decided to scout the place out and report back in ten minutes time, hoping to avoid more relentless searching.

“And there’s two leaders left: Dror Ragzlin and Minthara,” you said, looking from one companion to the next, “Don’t try to take them on alone. Once Halsin is freed, we’ll come back with the force of the grove and be done with the damn mess, and the tieflings can go on their way.”

With a brief roll of his eyes at the mention of the refugees, Astarion slunk into the shadows. Shadowheart and Gale mixed with their surroundings as their spells were cast, and you swallowed the seemingly tasteless potion and looked down at your hands to make sure you couldn’t be seen.

For just a moment, you went over the rooms and halls you’d already seen, trying to map out the maze in your head. First the makeshift throne, or… branding? room, then up to the left towards the room you’d just come from, and the makeshift torture room you’d freed the prisoner from just moments ago, then out towards some goth freak who was flogging himself, then back around to–

It all got too mixed up in your head. You looked around, making sure you remembered the spot you said you’d all come back to, and took one tentative step after another down the cold stone halls, off to the right where you’re almost sure you haven’t been yet. You let your unseen hand trail along the rough wall, your fingertips gently rubbing against the stone as you made your way around one corner and through the next.

Your heart thumped heavily in your chest as you tried but failed to push the thought of what had happened when you’d first arrived from your mind. There was something nagging at you, trying to explain to you that something was… different, somehow. The few questions you threw towards Shadowheart proved pointless; maybe she truly didn’t know what it was that she carried. Whatever the case may be, there was something bigger happening that even the guardian visiting in your dreams wouldn’t explain. You could feel it. For all the times you’d sworn to yourself never to get your hopes up, you found yourself truly praying at the idea of Halsin being able to cure you.

But you knew, deep down, that this wasn’t going to be the end of it all. You could still feel the ringing, taste the acidity of the voice you heard, and all but feel the wave of acceptance and peace washing over you as it faded away. That was something completely out of your control, but who was in control of it all? Who was the Chosen the voice spoke of?

The stone beneath your feet became wood as you traversed one chasm, then another. You heard faint voices slowly becoming louder as you rounded yet another corner, your hands gripping at the stone wall you had yourself bent behind. You could barely make out the shadowy figures as you inched towards them, trying to get close enough to listen to what was being said before the invisibility wore off.

“Your scouting party has not returned, and half of the prisoners escaped your guards,” you made out, the drow slamming her fist on the makeshift desk covered in paperwork as she continued to scold the goblins at her feet.

They mumbled their apologies with scared breaths, trying their hardest to stand their ground as she continued to berate them.

“Sorry, Mistress. We mucked up,” they muttered.

It didn’t take long for you to gather what she was after–entrance to the grove you’d so kindly been allowed to seek refuge in.

Of course, you thought, all the pieces slowly coming together. This was Minthara, the drow leader of the goblins, who was searching for something hidden within the grove. The man you’d freed earlier–the unfortunate adventurer abandoned by Aradin—was her latest victim she was trying to wring the location from.

She has to know where Halsin is.

“Until their sanctuary is found,” she said, her voice vibrating with clear conviction, “I will take something precious from you every hour that passes.”

You took a deep breath, shaking your head as you chuckled to yourself at the thought of you approaching her alone, just as you told your companions not to do. But there was too much at stake, too much on the line, and Minthara seemed to be the one to have all the information you needed. I mean, you managed to talk your way right into the camp, so how hard could talking your way to Halsin be, right?

You tucked yourself back behind the wall and waited, listening to the voices as you let the seconds tick by. Minthara threatened her underlings by listing all the precious things she would take from them until they’d completed their task. Eventually, the potions effects had completely subsided, and you were back to being seen.

You cleared your throat as you played with the dagger’s hilt hidden at your side, taking a deep breath and stepping loudly on the wooden bridge, making sure they heard you coming.

Her eyes bore into you as you took one step after another, trying your hardest not to cower as your gaze met her own. The goblins quickly scampered off to the side, making themselves busy as Minthara gave you a hard and long once-over, taking in your presence before scoffing.

Her thoughts mingle with yours, a cold hand caressing your brain. As soon as the feeling sent a shock up your spine, you knew you had made an extremely grave mistake.

The chamber melted away to reveal a dark, endless nowhere. In it, you saw a vision–the drow listening as a pale-eyed young woman whispered in her ear.

One of those the voice spoke of, you thought, One of the Chosen. The vision faded away as quickly as it’d come.

You felt the fear creeping up your body, trying your hardest to keep your thoughts empty of the things you’d seen, places you’d been. Why you hadn’t suspected her to have a tadpole was beyond your best guesses now. You bit your lip, waiting.

“A True Soul?” she spoke, her voice thick like velvet as her Menzoberranzan accent bounced atop each word. “Are you here to join my hunt?”

The expectation on her face was just as clear as her stark demand for respect. She held herself with a sort of valor, her posture radiating authority. You could still feel that cold tingle of your parasites communicating, unsure of what yours was telling hers.

“A hunt?” you muttered, stumbling over your words as you fought against your thoughts of Halsin, finding a cure, the relic, the Absolute… “What’s the target?”

Your anticipation was starting to churn in the pit of your stomach. “Worshippers of a false God,” she proclaimed, eyeing you, “Their existence is an insult to the Absolute’s claim on this region.”

You found yourself nodding along.

“There is a weapon the Absolute seeks–I’m sure those wretches have it hidden away there. We will find it, amongst the dead and the ashes.”

You all but miss it, but you could see the twitch of power radiating in her eyes. Her excitement was palpable. She lingered on thoughts of victory, of unbelievers blood spilled…

And the weapon. She would claim it in the Absolute’s name.

You can’t stop the bits and pieces of incomplete thoughts flooding your mind.

The weapon–the artefact that Shadowheart carries–the same one that protected us from the influence of the Absolute when we entered the camp…

Your anxiety was palpable, your heartbeat thudding heavily in your ears. You focused on Minthara’s gaze, the way she looked at you, the pressure she had put on the response you’ve yet to give her. The blood staining her gloves seemed more prominent as the fear grew within you, pushing down any and all thoughts of all the things you didn’t want her to know.

The cultists cannot discover that the weapon they seek is within their grasp.

She gave you another once-over. “The thief whimpering in our dungeon tried to flee to their sanctuary,” a spark lit her eye, a smirk adorning her lips, “We will continue to remove parts of him until he tells us exactly where it is.” She took a short breath, “He’s been quite resilient, but he’ll talk,” she muttered, more to herself than to you.

Thoughts of the grove came in and out of your mind, knowing this was the place she was seeking. Your brows furrowed as you thought of not thinking of the things you were already thinking about, the fear in your gut all but boiling over as your mind churned and churned and…

You had already begun to feel her mind closing in on yours as you struggled with your thoughts.

The Tieflings, you thought, they must be warned. If they all banded together…

“Speak, True Soul,” Minthara spat, her gaze growing darker as she took a small yet powerful step closer to you. “The hunt must begin soon.”

There was a pressure digging at the base of your skull, the painfully sharp cold shooting through you as your mind was forced open amongst all its anxiety. Your hands shook as you tried but failed to think of something, anything else, to no avail.

Halsin… Weapon… Grove… Absolute… Cure…

The pounding pressure in your head shifted, the heat of her searing cold gaze ravaging through the meagre defences you’d placed, showing her everything you wanted to keep from her; everything she wanted to see: all except for the gate of the Grove itself.

“Ah,” she hummed, her voice mellow, refusing to quaver amongst such excitement, but you couldn’t miss it in her eyes, “You seem to have acquired the information we’ve been seeking.”

She took another solid step, slowly starting to make her way around you. You could feel her stare ruminating on the back of your head and your eyes squeezed shut as you tried with all your might to push her will away from your own. Your two tadpoles seemed to dance, hers evading yours as you struggled to close the mental connection.

A slow, deep chuckle came from deep within Minthara’s core. “I’ll give you one chance, True Soul–one–” she said, leaning in closer to you, “to redeem yourself and tell me all.”

She gripped your shoulder from behind, her fingers clamping tight around your armor and pushing hard into soft skin. You tried to still your shaking, tried to hold your thoughts together, tried to keep yourself from–

Minthara’s mind pushed deeper into your own. She barreled through the ruminating fear with a force you’d never felt before, the very essence of your mind being scrambled by her psychic connection. She tore through your thoughts, your memories, your emotions, sifting through the blood you’ve spilled, people you’ve lied to, oaths you’ve broken. Your body shook with the tension and your teeth ground together with the rage of her persistence.

“Get… get out of my head!” you yelped, turning to face with some sort of defiance.

She laughed at your sad attempt, gesturing towards the few goblins who had begun watching the scene unfold before them. Her hand tightened its grip on your shoulder, the hunger in her eyes seemingly growing with each passing second.

“Tell Loviatar’s Priest we have another prisoner joining our ranks in the cells,” she said, “A True Soul who refuses to cooperate. His expertise will be needed.”

You could feel the slow withdrawal of her parasite before she severed the connection, leaving the ice-cold abyss of mental destruction in your mind's wake. You fumbled over your attempt to voice resistance, shuddering under Minthata’s grip.

“Speak now, True Soul,” she murmured against your ear, “or suffer the consequences of what it looks like when I have to take what I want.”

She shook her head as she watched you tremble, your eyes widening as you somehow managed to block another attempt she made to get inside your head. For just a moment, you thought of all the possibilities, before remembering the dagger at your side.

Your arm seemed to fling to action before the thought finished forming in your head, but Minthara proved to be more honed in her battle skills. There was a sudden grab and twist as she yanked the knife from your hand by its blade, a sharp jab to your side that sent you doubling over, and a swift knock to the head that had your vision fading to black.

—

This wasn’t like the other dream. You felt yourself restrained in a seemingly endless void, your body held firm against cold, hard stone. You tried to lift your head to see, but couldn’t. Your breath was heaving in your chest, hot steam rising from your mouth against the cold around you. For a while, you heard nothing but the rushing of your own blood in your ears as your mind ran rampant with what you thought Minthara would do to you.

Then… that voice. That familiar, protective voice. Your Guardian.

“Do what must be done,” they spoke.

“Help me, then!” your voice called, so quiet compared to the other; so meaningless. “You’ve rivaled the Absolute–”

“I’m not inclined to intervene if your life does not hang in the balance.”

You scoffed, all but screaming at nothing. “Can’t you do something?” you shouted, “Tell the others where I am! Tell them to–”

“No,” their voice boomed.

“Where are you?!” You asked, frantically trying to fight against your restraints, thrashing against nothing as you were held in place, “Untie me!”

“I protect your mind from the influence of the Absolute,” they started, “but nothing more. The rest… all I can do is watch, and hope to enjoy what I see.”

—

There was a gentle sort of soothing embrace to your skin as you awoke, the throb in your head subsiding. There was a deep breath as you tried to stretch your arms, then–

“Now,” Minthara spoke. Your eyes snapped open, your stomach turning over on itself as you went over your dream Guardian’s words, the blood draining from your face.

Minthara paced before you, your eyes level to her waist. The brisk sound of her boots hitting the floor punctuated the repeating rhythmic slap of soft leather against worn skin. You tried to crane your head to get a better view of her, only to realize something tight around your neck keeping you in place. You struggled against the metal, going to reach for it to find your wrists and ankles bound to the splintering wood of the apparatus they had you splayed upon.

You tugged and pulled at the metal cuffs holding you in place to no avail, your skin turning red at the twisting and pulling. Your arms were splayed to either side before you, just as your legs, as you rested upon the center of the… chair? Stool? You struggled against it, feeling the old, groaning wood chip away and splinter.

You felt them pricking your stomach, chest, hips, and flushed deeply with rage as you realized you’d be stripped. There was a disgusting sort of new fear brewing deep within you, the weight of Minthara’s steps meaning something new. You opened your mouth to scream, tasting the slick, burnt hunk of leather shoved deep into your throat. You gagged on the resistance to your call for help, thrashing harder against the wood beneath you and swearing at your captor behind the gag.

“You’ll get your chance to give me the information and beg for my mercy after we’ve begun,” she all but spat. She bent herself forward, letting her eyes meet yours.

You could taste your rage; the acidic bile flaming hot within you, your eyes blaring as you struggled against everything that held you still. Your skin screamed with the splinters and chaffing, only fueling your anger even more. And she was right there, so very close and yet just out of reach…

“Struggling makes no difference,” Minthara giggled to herself, nodding towards the other figure in the room. His lean frame came into your range of view as Minthara stood up straight, rolling her shoulders back and taking a deep breath.

“Shall we begin, my lady?” the man asked. You could hear the sick smile as his lips started to curl.

Minthara turned, addressing someone you couldn’t see off to the side of the room. “You’ve retrieved what I’ve asked for?”

The hurried rasps of “yes, ma’am, praise the Absolute, mistress,” told you of a few goblins off in the corner, awaiting Minthara’s instructions.

She hummed a short approval, nodding to the lean figure dressed dark standing in the shadows. “Make her beg,” she said.

There was no time for thought, no time to grow tense with anticipation; he hit you like a beast set free from its cage, howling as he watched you struggle against the pain he inflicted.

There was one sharp smack after another, the cold metal tips of what must be a worn leather flogger raking against your bare skin each time he brought his arm down. He swung with a reverence, his appetite for your pain only growing with each groan and whimper stifled behind the drool-covered gag.

The stinging of the hard metal became a fiery burn the longer he continued. Your body shuddered with each strike, the short wave of pain lasting longer each time. You squeezed your eyes shut tight, unaware of the tears trailing down your cheeks as you braced against his continued onslaught.

His words of praise only fed your rage more.

“The pain you suffer will cleanse you,” he droned, his voice seemingly sweet and full of subtlety; a love poem for the pain behind each word.

You’d muffle out a cry, only for him to take a moment to wipe away a stray tear.

“Your voice sings so sweetly to Loviatar, dear one,” he mumbled, smiling as he pressed his forehead to your own before standing once again, his hips swaying before your face as he began striking you once again.

You didn’t feel the skin splitting, flaying, leaking precious blood upon the rotten cobbled floor. The sobbing became a silent stream of tears as you slowed your struggling; you centered yourself, knowing that if you could just make it through the lashings–

“Start with that one,” Minthara’s voice cut through the haze of pained thoughts.

This time, you braced yourself. Your blood splattered the walls behind and in front of you as Loviatar’s Priest lifted the flogger again and again, flinging chunks of your flesh along with it. You wracked your mind for all the different torture devices she could possibly have in stock, trying to prepare yourself for the ungodly amounts of pain.

“She’s here for information, Abdirak,” Minthara said, disgust tainting her voice, “not to worship your… lady of pain,” she scoffed.

He tutted softly, his sick smile never wavering, “All may know Her embrace, even if forced,” he mumbled, his small laugh echoing throughout the room and mixing with your heavy breaths.

With another hefty smack of the flog, you went tense: Minthara’s cold, nimble fingers had started trailing up your inner thigh.

Your eyes were opened, your vision blurred by the ceaseless tears, even through the numbness of now useless skin.

“Remove her gag,” she spoke, Abdirak happily complying. His rough hands were warm compared to the freezing touch of Minthara’s fingers inching further and further up your thigh, a shudder running through you.

You gasped as the gag was removed, drool dripping from your chin as you spat towards the ground. You didn’t dare speak; wouldn’t dare give them what they wanted.

“I’ll give you one last chance, True Soul,” Minthara barked, the harshness of her voice not at all matching her gentle touch, “tell me the location of the druid’s hidden sanctuary, and the Absolute may show you mercy yet.”

You pressed your lips firmly together, setting your eyes straight ahead, letting your vision continue to blur as you stopped blinking away your tears. You thought to scream, but fought the urge–it’d be useless, nobody would hear you.

The momentary silence stretched, Minthara’s hands climbing higher and higher. She gripped you, pressing her sharp nails into supple skin.

“It seems our dear one would rather accept more of Loviatar’s embrace,” Abdirak all but giggled, turning to the side to hand the flogger off to a goblin, who replaced it with a thin, heavily-wound rope.

Minthara grunted, “So it seems.”

You pulled against your restraints as you felt the quick, sharp pressure of something thick slamming itself deep inside of you, a jagged set of hard nubs placed around the body of it scraping against the walls of your cunt.

Your teeth ground together as you suppressed your groans of pain. Every muscle felt as though it was on fire, rage burning through your veins with a purpose and heat you’d never known before. You felt yourself tighten around whatever she shoved inside of you, your mind swirling with a horrible mix of the pain you’d been receiving and the pleasure you didn’t want. Your thoughts vibrated in your skull as your sobs met helpless ears.

“Hand me another,” Minthara’s brisk words wafted straight through your skull. Your head dropped low, your tears staining the dirt beneath you. You watched Abirak’s dirty, bloodstained boots walk away, hearing him step behind you to join Minthara.

There was a soft, warm pressure leaning over your back from behind, Abdirak’s breath hot on the base of your skull as he took the thin rope he held and looped it once, then twice around your neck. Then, the soft clink of the collar holding your head in place being undone. You tried to lift yourself up only to feel the gentle pressure of a hand guiding you back down.

“Don’t struggle now, dear one,” he said, “You’ll know when to struggle when we start tugging.”

Minthara gripped your inner thigh with more force, her nails breaking skin and drawing blood. Her other hand led her fingers between your folds, pushing apart your already swollen lips, stretching you wide with a strength you didn’t know a single hand could have.

You went to suck in a deep breath as you felt Minthara pulling you apart, and Abdirak yanked on the hard, rough rope, pulling it tight around your neck and making you gasp for a breath you couldn’t catch.

“Where is the Grove?” Minthara asked, the slight betrayal of excitement resounding in her monotone question.

You weren’t trying to speak, but you struggled, anyway. Your breaths were jagged and shallow as the priest tightened the chord, bringing more hot tears to your eyes as you gagged and frothed, your vision starting to close in on you.

Your stomach tightened, your vision blurring, until there was sudden slack let on the rope. You coughed and spat and swallowed large gasps of air, your throat feeling raw.

“Tsk” Minthara tutted, “you want more?”

The moment you heard the shuffle of Abdirak going to pull the rope, you gasped for a breath. The raging tingle of numbness had started spreading from your restraints and trailing up your arms and legs as you continued your thrashing and fought yet again, knowing you wouldn’t win. Your head was pounding, the sound of your rushing blood starting to still in your ears as you approached blackout yet again, your movement stilling, that familiar pleasing tightness somehow managing to wind itself up in your core as your walls clenched tight around Minthara’s torture toy.

Your vision had all but completely faded before Abdirak released the chord yet again, bringing on another onslaught of painful coughs and gags. There was more sharp pain between your legs.

You cried out, causing another fit of deep coughing. Minthara’s hard thrust made you quiver, your legs quaking as she reached forward and laid a cold finger on your clit, pressing hard as she made one tiny circle after another.

They let you catch your breath, watching your chest slow as it slowly came back to you between your coughing. You felt trails of blood running from your raw back, the hot stench of iron permeating your lungs. Your eyes fluttered with Minthara’s demeaning touch, causing your cunt to tighten around the rough objects inside of you as that coil tightened more and more.

There was a slight shift to the feel of the rope, the weight of it transferring from one set of hands to another clear in the way it rubbed against the rash forming against your neck. You whimpered against the pain, the fresh bruises starting to throb.

Minthara managed to quicken her pace, the power given to her to tug on your reigns fueling her desire to make you fall apart. She was playing with you, taunting you; she pulled it left, right, before yanking it tight, letting out a maniacal little giggle as she reveled in your forced compliance.

Your drool dripped down your chin, mixing with the blood that had pooled on the floor beneath you. You could feel your cunt tighten, slowly pushing out whatever was–

Minthara quickly rectified the situation, relenting on her assault of your clit and folds to grab another blunt object to shove deep inside while pulling, pulling, tighter, tighter, tighter, tighter on the chord, skin slowly starting to snap beneath the hard rope as your eyes began rolling to the back of your head.

You wretched, begged, gagged for a breath, thinking the last thing you’d feel before death would be Minthara’s cold finger once again gracing your clit, only for her to give the chord more slack.

“Where is the grove?” she asked again, ever so slowly starting to tighten the rope before you’d even stopped coughing, not giving you enough time to catch a breath to answer.

The heat building inside of you made you want to be sick, knowing that the pain would leave you floating in such a wretched place of ecstacy. You ground your teeth, bit your lip, pulled harder against your restraints and squeezed your eyes shut as you felt the breath start to escape you again, the heat bursting in your core as you came undone on the torturer’s table.

Your eyes rolled back as your body convulsed, your walls clenching and releasing over and over, your cunt gripping the ribbed and studded edges as they pushed up against your walls, your cervix, stretching you to your limits. As you quivered and shook, you could all but swear you felt something tearing.

You barely heard yourself crying, barely felt the tears, but heard Abdirak’s laugh of praise clear as a summer’s day.

“Oh, yes, sweet child!” he exclaimed from behind you. There was a sudden whisk through the air before you felt the hard leather tip of a crop smacking hard against the very place Minthara’s fingers were just moments ago.

The priest slowly found a rhythm in his new method of assault, Minthara stepping away from behind you to mumble something to the goblins in the corner. Your face burned bright with your rage and embarrassment, your shame flooding through the room and palpable on the tongues of everyone present. Abdirak took a calloused hand and pushed whatever was inside of you deeper still, giving himself a better angle from behind to continue wrecking your already ruined clit.

You flinched with every strike, pulling hard against the cord wrapped around your neck. You were so lost in the constant stimulation to that poor precious spot of your pussy that you found yourself floating higher, higher, harder, tighter, only to cum again. You hardly felt Minthara removing the rope from your neck and discarding it to the floor.

Abdirak pushed harder from behind you, his hits growing faster, more desperate. He cooed his praise, “Let the pain bring you the most carnal of pleasures, my dearest.”

Minthara scoffed. “She’s yet to speak,” she snapped. You watched her pace before you, barely making out the sharp-tipped strap bobbing along with her steps through your tears.

“Take them out, pain priest, and step aside,” she bent forward, the solid clunk of metal against metal working together as she unclipped the restraints from either of your wrists.

The throbbing from where you’d been so tightly held only got worse as the blood was able to finally rush back into your fingers. You winced at the sudden ache of the deep bruises, ever so slowly starting to shake some feeling back into your fingertips amongst your stupor. The relief was short, too fleeting for any sort of reprieve, but for just a moment, they’d both stopped their assaults on your body.

As soon as the sharp tingling began to subside in your fingers, Minthara had gripped you under the arms on either side and hoisted you upright. Your ankles were still bound to the now blood-stained torture stool, your body completely limp as its weight was hoisted up against her own.

Whatever was inside of you was yanked out as quickly as the massive strap was shoved in. You barely even yelped, only whimpering a bit at the impact the once-sharp metal tip had against your already bruised cervix.

“Tell me what I need to know, and all of this may end,” she murmured against the shell of your ear, her hot breath feeling rancid against your skin.

Your mouth, as it had before, remained shut, except to yelp in pain or cry out a pitiful sob.

She huffed out a breath, beginning her relentless thrusting.

Each hit of the tip inside of you sent a shockwave of pain up your spine, your chest heaving as you gritted your teeth against the neverending pain. Whatever had been torn before was only tearing more, the size of the strap comparable to a goblin’s full arm.

You fought against that heat building up again in your core.

Abdirak had rummaged in the corner of the room near the goblins before stepping back before you, his eyes aglow as he watched the suffering Minthara inflicted upon you. “Tell the drow what she needs to know, dear one,” he all but sang, the lilt in his voice matching in lust to the bulge in his pants, “or I’ll have to show you more of Loviatar’s grace by carving her love into your… succulent skin,” he mumbled, sucking in a deep breath as he seemed to revel in the taste of your pain.

You pressed your eyes shut tight, saying nothing. The pounding in your head only grew with its ferocity, your skull vibrating with each rapid slap of Minthara’s hips against your ass. You felt everything inside of you moving, shifting as she plummeted deeper into you. You clenched your hands to fists at your sides, only for her to reach a hand up to wrap around your swollen, chafed neck.

She began to squeeze with a force even the tightness of the rope couldn’t bring. You quickly grabbed hold of her arm and attempted to claw your way through her leather armor to no avail. Your eyes snapped open as you tried to fight for another breath, only to see Abdirak inching closer with the sharp blade.

“Speak, disciple!” he proclaimed with madness, taking the edge of the blade to the top of your shaking breasts, letting it break skin as you bouned with each thrust, Minthara’s rhythm pushing you again and again into the blade.

It was sharp enough for there not to be a burn, but the slow, emanating pulse of a deep cut.

He pulled away only to bring the blade to your waist, squatting down above the bloody, splintered chair before you to feast his eyes upon the bulge protruding at your naval as Minthara kept her pace, her grip on your throat starting to shake with the rage in her veins as you once again approached the precipice of both another orgasm and unconsciousness.

The design lacked intricacies for the continued quickening pace, but Abdirak made up for it in size, spanning from one hip to another, and coming to a cross at your sternum, where the blood was flowing thickest. As he worked on his masterpiece amidst Minthara’s constant pounding and laughing, your voice finally found itself silenced, your screams and sobs nothing but whispered begging from the back of your broken throat.

Your dripping streams of tears fell upon Abdirak’s canvas, the strokes of each cut stinging where the salt of them mixed with your blood. The puddle of it growing at Minthara’s feet would almost be impressive if it weren’t your own.

You didn’t feel him stop his carving, but managed to see him stand before you again through your tears. You’d stopped retching for breaths, stopped fighting against the assault; you’d gone limp against Minthara’s pumping, held in place by nothing by the restraints at your ankles and her hand gripping your throat, keeping you upright.

He must have seen something in your eyes as they slowly began to go lifeless again at the lack of air, giving Minthara a nod.

“They have… resilience,” he spoke, smirking at his words, “and have managed to find their pleasure amongst this pain,” he giggled.

“We may have managed to get them to come apart,” she said, slowing her thrusts ever so slightly as she let out a deep huff, “but to not yet have broken her.”

Abdirak let a hand grace your lolling head, caress your drool and blood stained cheeks. “Perhaps a short reprieve, if only to let her gain more respect for her pain.”

Minthara grunted, coming to a short halt and ever so slightly relenting with her grip around your neck. For the moment, you were all but skewered upright against her by nothing but the strap protruding from your stomach.

“You!” she shouted, giving a sharp turn of her head towards the goblins in the corner, bouncing you around again as she moved and making you whimper yet again as you limply started to sag forward.

While you couldn’t see it, the goblins seemed more than eager for their moment to prove their worth to their new drow leader.

“Open the doors,” Minthara ordered, releasing her grip on your throat and letting your limp body slam itself against the wooden apparatus, knocking whatever wind was left in you straight from your lungs.

They saluted and answered with crisp “yes, ma’am’s!” as they turned the handle of the door, a small horde of their kin awaited on the other side.

There were gentle clinks of metal coming undone as Minthra began removing the strap. “The Absolute requires information from this prisoner,” she spoke clearly, addressing her ugly congregation as their mouths started to salivate at the sight of you. “She is yours to do as you must with in order to extract it. But if you kill her,” she said, a new sort of authority in her voice as she spoke of protecting your life, “I’ll sacrifice you to our Goddess myself.”

It was like a stampede as she gave them a nod, all of them rushing amongst and on top of one another as they clammored into the dark, cramped chamber. Their shrill cries of joy and screeches of laughter drowned out your sobs as they tore their clothes from their bodies and began ravaging you.

Too many climbed atop you in the chair, holding you down by the sheer weight of them all alone. Your legs were spread as far apart as the goblin’s could get them to go, a good dozen of them fighting amongst themselves as they all crammed one hard cock after another into your damaged cunt, the other half of them ripping your cheeks apart to have at your ass.

The sudden shift of weight and pressure had your sliced waist running back and forth against the splintered wood, the jagged cuts stretching as they caught on each broken piece. Your screams couldn’t be heard above their cheering, your cries silenced by their swears. It was when three of them shoved themselves down your throat all at once that you finally, finally, were graced with the sweet release of falling unconscious.

—

A calming warmth ran through you as you took a deep breath, the hard and swollen lump forming in your throat slowly fading away, being replaced with a rough scratch. You felt the cold stone beneath you and breathed in and out a few more times before daring to open your eyes.

“Can you stand?” Shadowheart asked. She was crouched before you, her eyes averted to the ground.

You shuffled against the stone, pulling shaking legs beneath you as you managed to pull yourself upright. Your head swam rampantly as the dizziness faded and was replaced with a rapid pounding, yet you still managed to get a solid look at your surroundings.

You groaned quietly, searching the room for some form of clothing to cover yourself with and landing on a few scraps the goblin’s had thrown off in their vigor. You shivered as you pulled them on.

“Where did you go? What happened?” Shadowheart whispered. You turned to face her, seeing a few of your companions in the open doorway behind you, a score of armed druids at their backs and an incredibly large bear in the center of their ranks.

You shook your head, your gaze darting throughout the room until it landed upon Minthara’s sleeping body: she must have come back to fight off the rampaging goblins, laying you comfortably on a rough slab to let you sleep off the last round of torture.

You watched her chest slowly rise and fall, the rhythmic pattern of being deeply asleep.

“Leave her,” you said, your voice rough, but there.

Shadowheart raised a brow, eyeing you up and down before shaking her head. “Are you… Are you certain?”

You nodded with conviction, limping past her and heading towards the door.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Fun, lively 1912 home in Los Angeles, CA has 6bds, 6ba, $3.2M.

Spacious living room has orange walls, a pink ceiling, and white trim.

Not every room, however, is bright. The dining room is a sophisticated gold with white trim.

The pink kitchen was redone with new cabinetry, although, even though I love pink, it just doesn't seem to do them justice. There's a little sitting area part of the kitchen, but I wouldn't call it a family room.

This apricot room is more of a TV room. If this home is cute, but if it wasn't in LA, it certainly wouldn't be worth $2.3M.

There is also a home office with a piano and a really big fan, which is unusual.

This 1/2 bath is a very fun space. I like this.

This is a main floor bedroom.

It has a renovated shower room done in retro tile.

This bedroom is large enough for a sitting area and it also has a stained glass window behind the bed.

The bath has access to a narrow outdoor area and it's got a nice mural on the ceiling.

In the pink hall, the doors are blue and the newel post is white w/blue trim.

The primary bedroom has an artsy headboard.

This bath has the same retro tile, but they painted the sink vanity yellow and lined the top of a cabinet in turquoise to give it a pop of color.

This bedroom has an interesting ceiling.

This bath was renovated, but has plain white tiles and is decorated with plants that I think are fake.

Of all the bedrooms, this yellow one with the purple and blue door is the most colorful.

The exterior of the home is special- there are movie themed murals on the fence, plus a patio with lots of plants.

It also has a nice pool surrounded by art.

This is so pretty and there's a little shed that could be a guest house and b/c it's possible to be outside most of the time in CA, it's not unusual to have beautiful exteriors.

The lot is .26 acre.

https://www.trulia.com/home/1701-n-orange-grove-ave-los-angeles-ca-90046-20794972

[zoeisabelladaily]

Terravale Hall

Hey Diary,

Today was a whirlwind of mysteries and revelations. Let me spill the beans.

Mr. Servius escorted me to Terravale Hall with the golden key card, and the stone door greeted us with a loud creak, as if awakening from a deep slumber. Terravale Hall, a sanctuary embracing the essence of the earth, unfolded before me. The colossal stone fountain in Earthheart Plaza flowed with earth-infused water, and ancient trees whispered tales of magic. At the heart of the hall, an intricately engraved earth rune marked the gathering place for ceremonies. Rockhaven Grotto and Verdant Canopy Grove showcased magical creatures, while the Geomancer’s Archive, a magical library, invited quiet study. Dormitories carved into earthen walls provided cozy havens. Everything, in brown and green, radiated a connection with earth’s energy.

Everything there was the same as I saw earlier around my room, like the corner room, scratch on my door but the wall that swallow people wasn’t there. In my room my luggage waited for me. I arranged everything, feeling reassured that this couldn’t be mere imagination. It was as real as the air I breathed.

Morning brought a surprise — a box on my doorstep containing the school uniform and a wand, a gift from Mrs. Morgana Revancraft. The wooden wand symbolized my connection with Terravale, chosen by the “Foresight Fire.” However, this wand was different from the one the old lady gave me in Ebonhaven Village. A strange feeling urged me to keep quiet about the old lady and her wand, so I hid it. Trust needed to be earned before I could spill any secrets.

Lilith knocked on my door, and we headed to the great hall, though it seemed we were fashionably late. Albert Pendleton, a shy, bookish boy from Aetherion Spire, kindly found us seats. Headmistress Morgana Revancraft and the professors took their places, and she addressed the students. The main agenda for the day was the policy regarding relationships with “mundane am.” The rule was clear: no relationships with mundane am for the safety of everyone. Breaking this rule meant facing consequences, and it felt more like a warning than a piece of advice.

After the peculiar announcement from Headmistress Morgana Ravenscroft about the restrictions on relationships, I couldn’t help but notice Albert’s discontent. The policy seemed to weigh heavily on him, sparking my curiosity about his feelings towards these rules. Following the assembly, we headed to the food court for a delightful feast.

During our meal, Lilith inquired about my encounters with magical powers. She found it hard to believe that a witch or wizard could go through life without experiencing magic. I hesitated and confessed that I had never felt anything to indicate that I possessed magical abilities.

Now, alone in my room, reflections flood my mind. Recollections surface, like the time a dead plant revived at my touch or when I sensed influencing the positions of stars. Was I unconsciously using magic all along? And when I shared these oddities with Adam, why did he dismiss them as normal? Does he possess magical knowledge or, perhaps, love me despite being a witch? Questions swirl in my head, and answers remain elusive.

On another note, I planted the seeds Professor Xorki gave me by the riverside. The bag also contained a note with instructions to plant them discreetly. It adds another layer to the mysteries surrounding this school and my role in it.

Oh, and guess who I found under my bed? Misty! The same cat I encountered before. I called her by name, and she came to me as if she recognized my voice. Animals are incredible, aren’t they? They have a way of making us feel a connection that transcends words.

As I navigate through these magical twists, the uncertainties deepen. What other surprises await me in this mystical realm? Only time will tell.

Yours truly, Zoe

[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.)

[ashenmaw-if]

Question, can you imagine well what these look like from these descriptions from the upcoming chapter:

Vermillion Court The Vermillion Court turns out to be a massive edifice of red brick, fawn marble and sandstone nestled into swooping hills south of the forest. Curved buildings lined with columns and pilasters, narrow arched niches and windows and blinds enclose two main courtyards full of trees, flowers and artful topiaries.

Alerhon flies a wide curve around the largest dome towering over the courtyard on the far end of the structure, and you spot a few smaller dragons lounging abut in the lantern, watching the older dragon fly by with interest.

A few heavy beats of his wings and Alerhon lands in the middle of the paths, just by a fountain decorated with dozens of small, bipedal figures gathered around a sleeping dragon.

Jade Grove Hidden amongst the towering, dense trees lies a small clearing with an unlit bonfire place in the middle, a dozen lines of stepping stones spiraling from the clearing's edge towards the middle. A few dragons of various sizes are gathered around the pit, chatting. They raise their heads as Alerhon flies overhead, one of them hurrying away past the tree line.

As soon as Alerhon hovers over the place for a moment the smell of thousands of flowers and burning herbs hits your nostrils, and you shakes yourself, before looking around just as the old dragon lands.

Beyond the clearing the shadows among the trees seem unusually dark, with an odd, but serene silver tint to them. But the moment Alerhon lands dozens of small, wisp-like lights of silver and gold and light green flicker on between the trees, dimly illuminating a path deeper into the forest.

Midnight Rookery The forest passes by below, shifting into now snow-covered meadows and the foothills of the ragged Hornridge. A biting wind hits you as Alerhon maneuvers through narrow gaps and underneath stone arches. It takes you a moment to realize the last few of these arches weren't natural formations, but carved bridges, spanning the deep valleys below.

You look closer at the next such bridge, spying the carvings on its side and the massive chains anchoring it to the mountains. There's openings and balconies carved into the mountainside, dragons bustling about on them and high above.

Then a sudden warmth hits you, and before you the main body of the Rookery rises in the middle of a sea of lava. Sturdy, obsidian towers glisten in the dim light from below, chains the size of Alerhon's neck spanning between them alongside railing-less bridges.

Alerhon flies a wide circle around the main building before landing on the largest balcony it sports.

Cerulean Halls Below you the icy waters and snow-covered plains of the north take on a crystalline appearance as a massive building comes into view, looking as if it's carved from ice.

You need to look twice to realize that it's crystal and marble, curving and spiraling into a surreal structure of filigree towers and arches, column-lines galleries and swooping stairways.

And you need to look a third time to spot the floating stepping stones bridging between buildings, and glowing crystals hovering about the passages, illuminating the place in a soft purple and silver light.

Alerhon harrumphs mildly and hovers in midair for a moment, looking around, before frowning and ducking under an arch and a few flying buttresses and circling around one of the towers. You'd swear that tower wasn't there when you were on the other side of the arch.

With another frown Alerhon lands at the bottom of the stairs leading to what has to be the main entrance, shaking himself and tapping the ground a bit as if to make sure it's actually there.

Sandstorm Markets Alerhon soars over the forest towards the western coast, circling above a sizable harbor town for a moment before diving down into an intricately carved archway standing along on a nearby hill.

There's a flash of light and a sudden gust of warm wind hits your face. You blink and open your eyes to a glittering golden sands of a desert.

Alerhon beats his wings, flying a curve and you see a massive palace rise amongst the dunes. Spiraling towers with wide platforms on top rise high above flat-roofed quarters and beehive like buildings, intricately painted footbridges spanning over shallow ponds full of fish and waterlilies.

Palmtrees sway in the soft wind and various dragons are dozing in the shadows of colorful canopies on large plazas and in small gardens.

For a moment Alerhon circles one of the lesser decorated courtyards, before landing, kicking up dust.

[morbidology]

Anne Noblett was a 17-year-old student at Watford Technical College in Marshalls Heath, Hertfordshire. Her family described her as being a “quiet, home loving girl.” On the 30th of December, 1957, Anne attended a dance at Lourdes Hall with several friends. When the dance ended at around 6PM, Noblett bid farewell to her friends and hopped on a nearby bus to go back home.

This was the last time she was ever seen alive...

When Anne didn’t arrive home that night, her mother and father, Hugh and Ira, reported her missing. A search party was assembled and they were assisted by sniffer dogs who trawled throughout the surrounding area but were unsuccessful in picking up a scent to track. By all appearances, Anne had vanished without a trace. With no leads or tips to follow, the case very quickly went cold and remained inactive for a month.

On the 31st of January, 1958, two brothers, Hugh and Brian Symonds, were walking their dog, Rip, in Rose Grove Woods which was around seven miles from where Anne got her bus. As they trudged through the woodland, they stumbled across Anne's body. She was fully clothed but had been sexually assaulted and then strangled to death.

Her killer then hid her body in some scrubs around 300 yards from the main road, hidden from passing eyes. Rose Grove Woods had already been searched during the initial investigation. However, the body wasn’t there at the time leading investigators to believe she must have been dumped there sometime afterwards.

The ensuing investigation determined that Anne had been picked up by somebody that she knew, who, instead of taking her home, took her elsewhere and sexually assaulted her and murdered her. When her body was discovered, it was practically frozen solid. Investigators determined that this frozen state wasn’t caused naturally by being outside in the elements but caused by being kept in a refrigerator, presumably for at least several weeks. The grim murder case subsequently became known as the “Deep Freeze Murder.”

Today, the murder of Anne Noblett remains unsolved. Investigators have since confessed that no physical evidence remains and that the killer is likely deceased by now, leading many to believe the case is unsolvable.