Avatar of Mole

Status

Recent Statuses

7 mos ago
It’s my birthday today! I’m officially an older adult. It feels like Jude Law becoming Michael Gambdon overnight, and still being just as magical.
9 likes
2 yrs ago
You can’t control the ebb & flow of the status bar. Just let it be.
3 likes
2 yrs ago
Harisutosu Fukkatsu! ✨🥂
1 like

Bio

[ ] ✩ ₊˚ .⋆
☾⋆ ⁺ ₊


▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄


🍵

18+ • CST






. ⋅˚₊‧ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋆ .ೃ ࿔ * : ・ . ⋆

Most Recent Posts

Welcome!

There are quite a few users here whose primary language is not English.

(Although, if you were looking for an excuse to slack, some of them are the better writers. 🫠)
█ Eleanor Hill

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅





█ ███ ██ █ S U M M A R Y █ ██ ███ █

Eleanor Rose Hill
AGE 31
GENDER Female
ETHNICITY/RACE Scandinavian-American
MARTIAL STATUS Single-But-Not-Single
SEXUALITY Straight
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
BIOGRAPHY▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Elly grew up an academic brat. Both of her parents were literature professors at Princeton, which meant, in middle school, the mention of Dr. Bradin Cormack sent her into an intellectual schoolgirl daydream. However, by the time she finally sat in his classroom, her disposition had taken a curious turn.

Her parents spoke of religion the way neighbors spoke of their favorite television show. They were proud of the churches they had helped build and keep alive. When they were not buried in books and lectures and research, they were rushing into spiritual volunteer work. Elly followed-suit, pen and paper in hand.

In high school, a priest at the new mission church took a special interest in Elly. He told her she was humble; and her quietness was a virtue. She had never thought to give her disposition any concrete recognition. However, he began to remember small things about her, and they would reappear in his homilies. A year later, he was defrocked.

There was no explanation.


CAREER▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
From Princeton to Pratt on family lineage, strong reports, and generational creativity, Elly found a way to explain herself. Shortly after graduation, she landed a New York Times Best Seller titled The Eternal Orphan. The novel was inspired by Russian writer Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Eternal Husband. She took a darkly humorous and repentant turn on the Eastern story of the soul’s mystical struggle — a woman who discovers that her greatest suffering is not abandonment, but in the fact that she uses abandonment as a moral shelter.

The book was written during graduate school and published after her graduation. Immediately, Eleanor became an intellectual anomaly, praised by feminists and traditional women alike. Yet the praise brought pressure and public scrutiny, especially after a small but loud group of religious zealots, known as the OrthoBros and Rad-Trads, made her book infamous.

“This is modern therapy language in Orthodox clothing,” they claimed and insisted it would turn faithful women into critics of their husbands and confessions into psychiatric complaints and marriages into business negotiations.

On the other end of the spectrum, the more progressive readers found her work too accepting of suffering and too willing to see pain as meaningful as opposed to criminal. They ruled her book’s themes did not dismantle the traditions of spiritual patriarchal hierarchies but protected strides them. Even when she exposed their harm, she refused to burn them.

And, as a prelude to her first fall after tasting fame and fortune, Eleanor backed into journalism. She wanted to study her subject and her audience more closely before beginning her second and more intimately personal literary venture, The Confessor, a novel set in the same universe as her first, exploring how a woman’s devotion and obedience make her vulnerable to clerical abuse disguised as spiritual care.

She is currently working on her third novel. She remains adamant about continuing to build her literary universe in a contemplation and hopes to change the moral weather of society. However, she now writes under heavy scrutiny, and her work is often more argued with than it is celebrated.

Her insistence on exposing moral complexities that without resolution has only grown brighter. Alongside this clarity, an erosion has trickled into long nights of one too many glasses. What was once a small reliance for celebration has turned into a crutch for coping.

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
SUPPORTING CAST▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅


▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Dr. Mary Hill
Somewhere along the way, Elly lost the support of her father. It was a hard break.

When she was about twelve years old, she made a concrete decision: she would never be embarrassed by him, no matter what.

And yet, despite having a strained emotional relationship with her mother during childhood, her mother is someone she can at least rely on now. Mary is proud of her daughter and constantly assures Elly that her father is proud of her too, even if it might not be true.

Honest or not, Elly will always feel in debt to her.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Rebecca Sampson
Rebecca is Elly’s therapist. A quiet, noble brunette who just lost her only child — a dog named Cotton. She is one of the few figures in Elly’s life who can keep her grounded.

Lately, though, she has felt her own standing slipping toward similar scrutiny if anyone discovers Elly is her patient. For now, she has protection under the practice of Dr. John Gallo, the traditional Catholic and courtroom legend, famous for turning the tides when everything seems lost.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Spencer Graham
They were dating. Or maybe they weren’t. But does it really matter when he’s her editor? Some would say yes. Others would shrug.

Elly thought they were dating, but Spencer’s communication kept slipping as he swung between the pendulums of Soy Boy and Pick-Up Artist. It didn’t help that the only reason he’d picked her up (editorially speaking) was because he was a recent convert to the Orthodox Church.

Now all he wanted was the paycheck and the recognition, while he quietly tortures his favorite Church-Mouse-Wannabe: Elly Hill.
▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Ewan Wycliffe
Her former parish priest is someone she can’t quite dismantle. There is something about keeping in contact with him that won’t leave her alone. He buys and reads her books, and he consistently encourages her.

He is (ultimately) the reason she started down this path, and now he is one of her biggest supporters as a not-so-secret admirer. Plus, his social media is finally picking up some traction, again.
‼️

So much has happened in my absence. I am going to sprint to catch up.
In Book Quotes 5 mos ago Forum: Spam Forum
My goal is to go home and take a nap.


— Laurie Halse Anderson, SPEAK


One time, I took Communion when I should have gone to Confession before receiving, and it burned my mouth. I can still feel the sensation on my tongue.

Never again.
@Stormyx, Elly doesn’t know who Hayden is and would reciprocate the same politeness. She may try to watch one of his matches but get bored and suffer through the entirety for ann intellectual endeavor. She would be more interested in his personality and how he connects to the world. (Watching a match would then be useful.) 😚
█ Eleanor Hill


“He’s going for it.”

“Who?” Elly replied, half-bored.

“Adam Johnson. I wish you wrote more like him.”

He spoke of authors the way other men spoke of football games. It made her sick, and other times, it made her swoon.

Until the icons on the wall interceded.

“Like what?” She asked, taking another sip of wine from her glass.

“Heavier. Deeper.” He took another huff from the paper, not bothering to even look at her. His body was stretched out on the navy sofa, taking more space than necessary.

“Reading your work is like reading Eowyn Ivey or worse Kate Quinn. You keep trying to expand your emotional depth, but honestly, it’s stuck in shallow water.” His tone was dry and accompanied by a shrug of constant disapproval.

He didn’t stop even when her body shifted nervously and the seat dipped next to him.

Elly’s voice was too loud, too concrete, too her. She needed to unlearn this voice and use the next one waiting.

She needed more patience.

“Kate Quinn? Come on, I’m not that bad.” Elly took another sip. The glass was draining quicker than she had expected.

Her eyes glanced at the bottle. It was almost empty.

“Let’s take The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison. Incest. Rape. Pedophilia. And that’s only surface level pain.” He blew smoke from his lips and added one more comment about war and women’s suffering refined into a laureate’s work.

The conversation died with the smoke. It lingered in the air and slowly faded.

Elly watched the smoke.

The ceiling fan spun circles. It was making a numb noise that reminded her of childhood.

A nervous hand ran through her dark hair, and she took the final sip from her glass.

The empty glass stared at her, and Laszlo Krasnahorkai knocked on her mind. A barbed loneliness entered. It reintroduced her to names and faces she could never ignore.

Tears began blurring her focus. Her lips pressed together, and she dabbed her eyes.

He sat up, unzipping his pants.

“I don’t have much time, Elly.”

“I really shouldn’t.”

She hadn’t received Communion for a month, and her apartment was starting to feel muted.

She was no longer present.

“It doesn’t matter. Elder Thaddeus said I can’t have Communion until Pascha.”

Elder Thaddeus. His Spiritual Father, who lived on Mount Athos — the holiest place on Earth.

Elly couldn’t imagine having a monastic as a Spiritual Father. Let alone one on Mount Athos. Their penances were stricter.

All she had to do was tell him, no, and on Sunday, the veil would be lifted.

Don’t you think my writing would be better with Communion? She wanted to ask.

But, she never did.

And when she woke up in the morning, she was still on the couch. Curled into a ball.

He was gone.

Morning light peeked through the window. It cast shadows on the floor and couch.

There were two text messages on her phone, “Don’t worry. Nothing happened last night. You passed out on me. You’re welcome” and, “Tell Father Thomas hi for me. Thanks”

The phone’s cracked screen went dark.

She closed her eyes and listened to the room breathe.

There was a relief in her soul, but her heart ached.

Was she Natasha, with a candle burning at her window? Waiting for patience to finally make an announcement?

The thought haunted her before evaporating.

It’s not as if her dad rescued her mother.

Books rescued her mother.

Elly had to write her own.

But, home is nowhere.
@Sleepy Tani, the plot thickens! There’s no way Elly doesn’t know who Charlie is. Her black Orthodox soul swoons with opportunity upon meeting him.

Hopefully, we both get chosen. I think they would have some good conversations. ☺️
@Sleepy Tani, Charlie is over here about to win a Nobel Prize, and Elly’s biggest inspiration just got banned from the Ukraine. 🤣
© 2007-2026
BBCode Cheatsheet