#a lot happening right now. would so appreciate prayers

[general-fanfiction]

Hopes And Fears - Part Two. (Wally Clark x Reader.)

Summary: Y/N’s death is traumatic. So traumatic in fact, she can’t even look at Wally without reliving what happened to her.

Word Count: 3.1k

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Death

Part One.

A/N: It’s finally here!! I can’t even begin to express how sorry I am that has it has taken me over a year to get part two out. I’m sure most of you are probably over waiting for it anyway but if you do fancy giving it a read, I really appreciate it and hope it was worth the excessively long wait. I’ve tagged everybody that asked for a part two!! Once again, I am so deeply sorry! Please forgive me!!

“I would like to begin by thanking everybody that is here today and for those who have reached out to our family in this incredibly difficult time. Your thoughts and prayers have been so comforting and a reminder of the impact that our beautiful daughter had on so many people.

How would I even begin to describe Y/N? She was truly the most special girl and I am so thankful that I was able to bring her into this world, even if she did have to leave it early. The years I got to spend with her, were the best of my life and nothing will ever compare to the bond that her and I shared. She was so kind, so generous and so loving. Never declining the opportunity to spend time with her family, even if it may have been the embarrassing thing to do. I know what it’s like to be a teenager and for her to put us first consistently was just one of her many great qualities.

Y/N was an honour roll student, a successful gymnast and dancer, as well as being captain of the Split River Cheerleaders. As a child, she had so much energy, to the point where we didn’t know what to do with her. After enrolling her in dance classes for the first time, she fell in love with the sport, gymnastics and cheerleading followed and I remember being so nervous that she would injure herself. However, when she stared up at me with those gleaming eyes, I couldn’t bring it in myself to say no. These were just a few of her passions and it was evident that this was where she felt at home anytime we watched her at competitions or rehearsals. No longer the shy little girl that used to hide behind my legs before her first day of school.

Our daughter was also a keen activist and did a lot of charity work, though most of you probably wouldn’t know that. She volunteered at the animal shelter on our block every weekend, which led to her rescuing countless animals over the years. Leaving us with not only a dog but three cats, a ferret, five rabbits, countless chickens and four rats. She also ran at least one marathon a year in order to raise money for numerous charities, and often donated supplies and food to women’s shelters around the state.

Our daughter was the most selfless person I know, always putting other before herself. She taught us a lot and made us better people. For which I’ll be eternally grateful.

We wish we could’ve stopped this, and that we could’ve had more time with her. We wish we could’ve watched her grow and sent her off to college. We wish we could’ve moved her into her first apartment and seen her get married, maybe even had grandchildren.

The pain we are experiencing right now is unlike any other. To lose a child is the most gut wrenching thing, I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. I would give anything to hold her in my arms one last time. To be able to tell her I love her one last time.

So please, if anybody has any information as to who did this to our precious girl, all I ask is that you share this with the police department. Please help us find the person responsible and allow us some closure and for Y/N to get justice. She didn’t deserve this. Thank you.”

My mother cries as she steps away from the podium, collapsing into the arms of my father. Tears silently roll down my face as I take in the scene, the heartbreak across their faces as they hold each other. Unable to contain the grief they’re feeling.

As the principal speaks, I watch the crowd. My friends trying their best to hide their sadness, teachers hold their heads down, struggling to understand how this could’ve happened, even some students I only knew in passing look as though they could burst into tears at any moment.

It’s a difficult thing to watch, your own memorial. I suppose I never thought about how other would react to my death before, it never crosses your mind as you assume you won’t be able to witness it. God, what I would give to be that naive again.

“Hi Split River, for those of you that don’t know me, I’m Abby. Y/N was, well is my best friend. We met when we were in kindergarten and from that day forward we’ve been inseparable.

Y/N was a very shy person, I’m sure most of you would describe her as an introvert. Fortunately, I was one of the few people she let into her life, breaking down the invisible barriers she built around herself and it was the greatest pleasure of my life.

We were total opposites and enjoyed different things but that didn’t matter. For example, Y/N hated theatre, she called it glorified pantomime, but she still attended every show I was in, she still helped me practice my lines and she still encouraged me to do what I loved even if she couldn’t stand it.

We had so many things we wanted to do together, we were going to share a dorm together at Parsons, she would major in fashion design and I would do photography. We’d take over the world as a duo, running our own magazine that I could star in, of course. All those dreams of ours have been ripped to shreds now and I don’t know what to do without her. My life was intertwined with her’s and there was never a future that she wasn’t apart of. I’m completely lost without her.

I hope whoever did this rots in hell. You deserve nothing but suffering for taking such a pure soul out of this world.”

Abby’s words leave a small smile on my face despite the tears that continue to fall. In all honesty, I’m surprised her entire speech wasn’t a rage fuelled rant directed at the perpetrator.

Despite my eyes being fixed on the service taking place in the gym below, I still feel the bench dip slightly. Alerting me of someone’s presence. My eyes reluctantly drag themselves away and I realise it’s the footballer, he sits towards the other end of the bench, keeping his distance. I’m quick to notice the lack of football jersey, wearing nothing but a white tank top that defines his arms nicely and his blue school assigned gym shorts.

His hands are clutching a bouquet of flowers, an array of sunflowers, dusty orange irises, blood red snapdragons and soft peach chrysanthemums. They’re arranged beautifully, held together by a small piece of string.

“They were beautiful speeches.” He comments, soft smile gracing his features.

I nod, offering a small smile in return. The lack of football attire puts me at ease and I’m appreciative of the distance between us. Guilt consumes me slightly at my judgement towards him, but I can’t control it. After what happened, I don’t want to put myself in that situation again. I’m not taking any chances.

“This is the hard part. My mom couldn’t even finish her eulogy she was crying that much.” He tells me, eyes fixed on the girls from my cheerleading squad who are now doing their own speech. “It’s good to know you have so many people who care about you though.”

He doesn’t look over at me once he’s finished speaking and I take my time to look at him properly. Soft brown eyes compliment his dark, almost black hair. Full lips and a youthful glow, it dawns on me that he’s been stuck in this state for decades, never aging, never changing.

“I feel bad.” I state, voice barely louder than a whisper as I allow myself to make eye contact with him when he turns to face me. “They shouldn’t have to go through this.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” He goes to move towards me before stopping himself, though never taking his eyes off mine. “You can’t blame yourself, trust me I spent years doing that and no good comes of it. You’ll just end up tormenting yourself.”

Nodding as I take in his words, I let out a long sigh. Gazing down at my parents once again, I can’t help but feel the tears welling up in my eyes once again and I’m quick to wipe them away. Not wanting Wally to see me cry. They’re still clinging on to each other, though they’ve moved to sit down now, neither of them look as though they’re paying much attention to those speaking. Focused solely on comforting one another.

It’s in that moment that I notice who the next speaker is and my entire body tenses. Why is Spencer getting up to speak? He’s dressed to the nines in a black suit, hands gripping a piece of paper that has evidently been crumpled up. If my heart still worked I’m almost positive it would’ve stopped beating right this second.

Is this some sort of sick joke? Parading around in front of my grieving loved ones, knowing full well that he’s potentially evaded justice. I feel sick to my stomach and can’t bare to watch. What could he even have to say?

“Walk with me.”

Before Wally can even figure out what is happening, I’m practically sprinting out of the gym. Hurrying down the hallway in an effort to get as far away from Spencer as physically possible. It’s completely irrational, I know he can’t see me. He can’t hurt me again. Yet, I can’t even bring myself to stay in the same room as him.

“How did you die?” I ask Wally once he has caught up to me, walking beside me while making sure to keep a few feet between us. I’m in need of a distraction and as long as he’s talking, I can keep my mind off the situation that just unfolded before me.

“Oh, I um was tackled during the homecoming game of my senior year in ‘83. Snapped my neck and died on the pitch.” He tells me, one hand scratching the back of his neck as he does so, eyes unable to meet mine. “I’d already been benched but my mom pushed me to get back in the game and I just wanted to make her proud.”

Stopping in my tracks, I turn to face him properly. His face is full of guilt, and perhaps a little bit of shame. Afraid that he didn’t do his best, that he didn’t make his mom proud.

“She still comes to every game. I mean they named the stadium after me so it’s nice that I get to see her once a year. I’m lucky in that sense.”

He’s rambling, trying to fill the silence with anything he can. It’s something I often found myself down when I was still alive. Wanting to aid the embarrassment and nervousness I often felt.

“Wally. Your mom will always be proud of you. A mom’s pride for her child is unconditional.” I speak confidently, allowing him to feel reassured, something I can sense he needs right now.

“You’re right. I just wish things ended differently, like if I’d won the game, all those years of training wouldn’t have gone to waste you know?”

The sadness in his voice is prevalent and I can tell he struggles with it even after all these years. He’s still not making eye contact with me and I feel that pang of guilt once again, for assuming he would be like all the other stupid footballers I know. He has a good heart, I see that now.

“You heard my mom’s speech right? If we’re gonna play that game then all those years of dance training were for nothing.” I joke, hoping it’ll ease his sullen mood slightly. “I danced because it was fun, besides, if all of those years were for nothing, would I still be able to do this?”

For the first time since we left the gym, Wally actually looks at me. Raising my arms, I judge the distance behind me before throwing myself into a back handspring. The boy laughs quietly, causing me to smile as he brings his hands together in a round of applause, muffled slightly due to the flowers he’s still holding. Bowing obnoxiously, I can’t help but allow myself to enjoy the moment. It’s the first bit of happiness I’ve felt this entire time and I intend to savour it.

“Wow. Yeah, you would not catch me doing that.” He comments, matching my pace as we continue to walk again. “Thank you, by the way.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion, not entirely sure where his thanks are coming from. Staying silent as we sit opposite one another in the communal gardens towards the back of the school. It’s quiet, not many students know it’s here, and the ones that do have no interest in being back here. They’d much rather be on the quad where they actually get phone service.

“For cheering me up, I mean. The others can sometimes get a bit annoyed when I bring up what happened. They think I should’ve got over it by now with it being almost forty odd years ago.” He states, the sunlight reflecting on him at just the right angle, it makes him look angelic. Beautiful really.

“Can anybody get over their death?”

“Rhonda seems to think so, but I reckon she just doesn’t like talking about what happened to her.” He replies, a fondness in his eyes as he talks about her, almost as if he’s remembering a past conversation.

Leaning back to take in the sun, I close my eyes, absorbing the light that hits my face. Being dead is strange to say the least, I thought I wouldn’t feel anything. No emotions, no sensations, nothing. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Since death, I’ve mostly felt sadness and anger, but spending this short amount of time with Wally has made me aware of the happiness i’m able to feel as well. Not to mention the warmth of the sun on my skin, I can pretend I’m alive. Even if it is just for a second.

“These are for you by the way.” Wally’s voice bring me back to reality and I realise he’s holding the bouquet of flowers out to me. He’s sat a good distance away and so I have to lean forward to take them from his grasp. Fingers brushing as I do so and I’m quick to pull away, despite the warmth that rushed through my hand upon the momentary interaction. “I was going to give them to you earlier, but then it didn’t seem right because we were watching the eulogies and all. I didn’t wanna make it weird or awkward for you or anything. I also didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked so I just picked a bunch from the flower gardens, Charlie helped me arrange them, I hope they’re okay because my first attempt wasn’t the best. Apparently the colours didn’t match or something-“

“Wally they’re gorgeous.” I interrupt, unable to hide the grin that is beginning to spread across my face as I bring them to my nose to inhale the scent. “Snapdragons are my favourite.”

“Oh thank god. I was really worried you would hate them, or that maybe you weren’t a flower person.” He blurts out, following a quick sigh of relief. “Not that it’s a big deal or anything. I just wanted to make sure you knew that I mean no harm, and sort of welcome you the afterlife I guess.”

I must admit the nervous rambling is cute, I can feel the redness flushing my cheeks as I hide myself behind the flowers. Taking my time to admire the bouquet as much as I can. It’s a beautiful gesture, and I’m in disbelief that he spent the time to do this for me. A peace offering despite him doing nothing wrong.

“You’re sweet Wally.” I admit, delicately stroking the petals on a couple of the flowers. “I’m really sorry about before. You just remind me of someone.”

“A footballer ex perhaps?” He questions, unable to get Rhonda’s previous comment out of his head. Whether it be down to jealousy or curiosity he’s unsure.

“No, no ex.” I shake my head adamantly, eyes glued to the flowers as I try to come up with the words to describe why I acted the way I did. It’s still too soon for me to talk about, I know that. However, I also know that Wally does deserve some sort of explanation. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it just yet, but if I have another moment like before I promise it’s not your fault.”

Wally nods, understanding and accepting my boundaries. We stay sat in silence for a moment longer, he doesn’t push me to talk, nor does he change the subject. Instead, we just embrace the peace we’ve created in the garden. It’s the most relaxed I’ve felt for a while and I’m able to sit with my own thoughts without sending myself into a spiral or a panic. It’s nice.

The minutes pass as we listen to the gentle sounds of birds chirping and the occasional rustle of the trees in the wind. It feels as though we’re stuck in time, but I feel content. I wouldn’t mind being stuck right here, right now. At least, if it wasn’t for Charlie.

“Y/N, your memorial’s ending, just thought you’d want to see your parents again before they leave!”

Wally and I both look towards the boy who stands awkwardly in the doorway. He sounds out of breath and I imagine he’s been sprinting around the school in search of me.

My hands grip the flowers tighter, veins popping and knuckles flexed as I squeeze tightly. Wally’s the first to stand and when I finally look up at him, he offers me an encouraging nod. A reminder that I am strong enough to do this. To say my goodbyes.

While I walk besides the tall jock, with Charlie taking lead in front, I do feel strong. Wally’s supportive and comforting nature radiates through the hallway and I feel confident. Although, I know this is the last time I could potentially see my parents, there’s no sadness, just a readiness to take on this new stage of my life and it fills me with a sense of acceptance. Accepting death was difficult but finally, I feel ready to take on whatever comes next.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Tagged List:

Just ask if you’d like to be removed :)

@p-rspective @criesinlies @bath1lda @prettyplant0 @backtotheshitshow @emrysaf @lyn-soso @agentsofwhat @stumacherisalive @xyzstar @ellatitanium @nymwritespoetry @katdahlali @fruityfrog505 @kaiyahs-wife @callsignwidow @hufflepufffangirlqueen @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @blissfulxsins @stainedstardom @pearlsyeaaa @sisterslytherinog @random-simper @highpriestessfae @softbabybunnyysstuff @alexayoonlee @marvelsbitchh @urchubbygirlpen15 @urmomisafinewoman @frogmanfae @okitrine @blairslair @tommyriddleobsessed @correlance @pinkstrawberryflower @ameliamarie50 @esmerayxx @faithiegirl01 @janessabaker @littlebitof-life @circethesinner

[boonsmoon]

Would you do a Mu Qing from TCGF fluff request Xie Lian (and by extension San Lang) attempt to play matchmaker between Mu Qing and his god/dess crush (cause Mu Qing refuses to admit liking them despite them being the person he’s closest to since meeting each other)?

I fell in love with this idea instantly A Christmas special for the lovelies Btw for creativity purposes, you can be the goddess of literally whatever

Request Masterlist Mu Qing x f!reader Genres:🎉🌸💞🧪

Kiss of Winter

To the untrained eye you would seem like a subordinate or nuisance to the cold-hearted god; however, this couldn't be further from the truth. You would considered yourself a close friend to Mu Qing, you have known each other for hundreds of years after all.

Though when asked, Mu Qing would refer to you as "a valuable acquaintance," and boy did it hurt to say this. Luckily, there was a very observant god who decided he had watched you two dance around each other long enough.

The holidays were approaching and Xie Lian thought this would be a great time to force persuade both of you to be in each other's company more often. So, with some hard thought planning and input from San Lang, the boys decided on a special celebration for the gods.

Now considering all these higher beings actually have standards, lots of works will have to be put into this. And who better to ask than someone that'll be excited to attend?

"I can't think of anyone more fitting for this job than you," Xie Lian praised, hoping to get you on the project. Everything has to be perfect if he's gonna get you and Mu Qing together.

You hesitated for a moment, "I've been getting many more prayers recently, though I suppose those can be put on hold..." There was a look of pondering on your face, weighing the pros and cons of what this could do to your status among deities and humans.

"Don't you have subordinates? If anything important happens they'll surely yap to you about it," you tensed at San Lang's words. Subordinates yes, deserving of disrespect no.

Unfortunately though, you must admit he was right. Your subordinates were always more alert than you, even when it came to your own temples. You sighed, "fine, I will help you prepare for this celebration."

After tireless days? Weeks? Of work, you all finally finished the super secret super awesome holiday party. Now you may be wondering would Mu Qing even come to the celebration? The answer is yes, but only if you invite him.

And let's be honest, most of the Heaven Official's don't like Xie Lian and San Lang very much, so making you the messenger was common sense from the beginning. So after running around and inviting everyone you saw, it finally came to the one and only.

"It is a holiday that comes each year, what makes this one special?" So far, so bad, he doesn't seem very keen on attending your greatest achievement yet.

"Becauseee we put effort into enjoying it this year. It'll be fun, I promise!" You pleaded with Mu Qing, hoping he'd say yes. "I worked on it the most anyways, so you don't have to worry about Xie Lian's 'bad taste.'"

He crossed his arms, contemplating if that was really a good enough reason to attend. "And when did I say you have good taste? It is likely just as bad considering you dare interact with him." OW OKAY THEN.

You folded your hands and begged, "if it's not I swear to never invite you again! Just please come this once..." This is what convinced him, the pain that in the future deities will get to enjoy your hard-work and he'll be left out. No one could ever appreciate your efforts like he can.

"Fine! I will agree this once..." That was a lie, he will make sure to agree in the future, even if it means forcing himself to attend a celebration that involved Xie Lian and San Lang.

The day of the celebration was fantastic, several deities appeared, many complimenting you on your efforts. You most oversaw everything that was happening, what you didn't see; however, was Xie Lian spying on you and Mu Qing while talking.

He took this as his chance to put the real plan into action. After getting a signal from San Lang that the mistletoe was hanging up a few feet from you two, Xie Lian basically sprinted into the both of you, pushing you under the plant.

Mu Qing turned around, visibly angry at Xie Lian, "would it hurt to watch where you move?!" This caused Xie Lian to put his hands up in defeat and shuffle away.

While rubbing your head to try and soothe the pain, you noticed something bright above you. Realizing it was mistletoe your face got darker. This caused Mu Qing to seem slightly concerned, questioning what was the problem. You only pointed up, and when he took notice his face also darkened.

"We can simply move and ignore this tradition, it's not that important anyways-" He was interrupted by you however, "rules are rules, Mu Qing, we can't ignore them. Plus, I kinda like this tradition."

He tried to get over the initial embarrassment and decided it would be easier to dive into the kiss. What would've been a fleeting moment to others felt like an eternity to you both.

Pulling away you could both tell by the look in each other's eyes that the feeling was mutual. And hidden somewhere else was a very proud and excited Xie Lian.

this was a very beefy fic

not that i'm complaining i liked it

anyways, happy holidays everyone! may all be well for the new year

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with the Los Angeles Times (2024)

“This is where all the cruising happened.”

Jonathan Bailey and I are standing in Pershing Square on a bright, blustery spring afternoon, nearing the end of a homemade queer history tour of downtown L.A.: One Magazine, Cooper Do-Nuts/Nancy Valverde Square, the Dover bathhouse, the Biltmore Hotel and this, the city’s former Central Park, a haven, since before World War I, for “fairies” and “sissy boys,” servicemen on leave and beatniks on the road.

“Is it still happening now?” he asks.

“Probably not as much,” I venture.

“Well, you let me know if it’s happening,” he teases, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.

Bailey understands the uses of the charm offensive. As Sam, the handsome Lothario of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s delightful pre-”Fleabag” curio, “Crashing”; Anthony, the romantic hero of “Bridgerton’s” second season; and John, the jerk of a protagonist in Mike Bartlett’s love triangle play “Cock,” the English actor, 36, has swaggered up to the precipice of superstardom. With roles in such studio tentpoles as “Wicked” and “Jurassic World” on the horizon, he may just break through. Yet he delivers career-best work in Showtime’s queer melodrama “Fellow Travelers,” as anti-Communist crusader-turned-gay rights activist Tim Laughlin, by leaving behind the self-assured rakes and tapping a new wellspring: soft power.

Tim may be, as Bailey puts it, “an open nerve,” but as it turns out, the devout Catholic and political naïf — who falls for suave State Department operative Hawkins “Hawk” Fuller (Matt Bomer) just as Sen. Joseph McCarthy tries to purge the federal government of LGBTQ people — is formidable indeed.

Stretching from the Lavender Scare to the depths of the AIDS crisis, in scenes of tenderness, cruelty and toe-curling sex, Bailey’s performance communicates that little-spoken truth of relationships: It takes more strength to submit than it does to control. The former demands discipline, courage, trust; the latter requires only force.

“In ‘Bridgerton,’ [Bailey] is like a Hawkins Fuller character — he is very sexy and has lots of power, has that kind of confident charisma that absolutely is not Tim at all,” says “Fellow Travelers” creator Ron Nyswaner.

But any doubt about Bailey’s ability to mesh with Bomer, who boarded the project early in development, was put to bed with the actors’ virtual rehearsal of a meeting on a park bench in the pilot. “‘Well, that’s a first,’” Nyswaner recalls an executive texting him. “I cried in a chemistry read.”

‘Am I inviting people in?’

Bailey grew up in a musical family in the Oxfordshire countryside outside London, and this, coupled with an appreciation for the morning prayers, choir practice and Mass he attended as a scholarship student at the local Catholic school, fed his precocious talents. (“I loved the performance of it,” he laughs. “Not to diminish the celebration of religious process, but I did love the idea of wearing a gown.”) By age 10, he’d appeared in the West End, playing Gavroche in a production of “Les Misérables,” an experience he now recognizes as an encounter with a queer found family — albeit one shadowed by the toll of the AIDS crisis, which peaked in the U.K. in the mid-1990s.

“When I’m asked about my childhood, there’s so much I don’t remember, and I think that’s true of anyone who’s been in fight or flight for 20 years,” he says. “I would have been in a cast of people whose friends would have died in the last seven years. I think of where I was seven years ago. I had all my gay friends then. It’s only retrospectively that I can retrofit a real gay community around me [in the theater], that I just wasn’t aware of [then].”

During the late 1990s and early 2000s, American and British culture presented queer adolescents with a bewildering array of mixed signals. As beloved celebrities came out in growing numbers, and the battle for marriage equality became a central locus of LGBTQ political organizing, the media continued to propagate harmful stereotypes of gay men as miserable, lonely, perverted or worse — and, Bailey remembers, callously turned George Michael, arrested on suspicion of cruising in a Beverly Hills restroom in 1998, and Irish pop star Stephen Gately, who revealed his sexuality in 1999, fearful he was about to be outed, into tabloid spectacles.

No wonder Bailey, like many LGBTQ people of his generation, should feel the “chemical” thrill of “validation and acceptance” during London Pride at age 18, then embark on a two-year relationship with a woman in his 20s.

“Dangerously, if you’re not exposed to people who can show you other examples of happiness, you think that’s the easiest way to live,” Bailey says. “It’s funny. You look back and you can tell the story in one way, which is that I always knew who I was and my sexuality and my identity within that. But obviously at times, it was really tough. I compromised my own happiness, for sure. And compromised other people’s happiness.”

Disclosures about his personal life have become particularly thorny for the actor since the premiere of “Bridgerton,” the blockbuster bodice-ripper from executive producer Shonda Rhimes.

“The Netflix effect does knock you off center completely,” he says, recalling the experience of finding a paparazzo waiting outside his new flat before he’d even moved in. “Suddenly, you do start having nightmares about people climbing in your windows... Even now, talking about it makes me feel like, ‘Am I inviting people in?’”

He is also critical of the media for churning out headlines about the smallest details of celebrities’ private lives, often detached from their original context. In an interview with the London Evening Standard published in December, Bailey described a harrowing encounter in a Washington, D.C., coffee shop in which a man threatened his life for being queer — and, in recounting the experience, offhandedly mentioned the “lovely man” he’d called, shaken, after it happened. Although Bailey acknowledges that the original story handled the subject with aplomb, he felt dismayed that more attention wasn’t paid to the intended warning about rising anti-LGBTQ sentiment: “The only thing that got syndicated from that story was that I had a boyfriend, and it wasn’t true,” he sighs. “It was kind of depressing, if I’m honest.”

Still, Bailey, who once turned down a role in a queer-themed TV series because it would have required him to speed along revelations about his personal life he wasn’t ready to make, is prepared to embrace the power of vulnerability when it feeds the work. Although a member of his inner circle expressed doubts about “Fellow Travelers’” steamy sex scenes, for instance, the actor intuited that they were what made the project worth doing: “I was like, ‘I’m telling you, they are the reason why this is going to be brilliant.’”

‘He’s changed my trajectory in my own life’

To those who would complain about the state of sex in film and TV, “Fellow Travelers” is the perfect riposte. All of it matters, from Tim’s first flirtation with Hawk to the finale’s closing minutes, because the series, at its core, is about the importance of soft power: the strength required to bend, but not break; to adapt, but not abandon oneself; to survive without shrinking to nothing in the process.And depicting that through sex, specifically gay sex, makes “Fellow Travelers” radical indeed.

Bailey understands that baring so much comes with certain risks. When I tell him that research for the story has filled my algorithmic “For You” feed on X (formerly Twitter) with speculation that his onscreen relationship with Bomer has a real-life element, he notes that “shipping” fictional couples and costars alike has long been part of Hollywood fantasy. But he bristles at the implication that he and Bomer are anything but skilled actors at work.

“I would love for people to know that the success of our chemistry isn’t based on us f—. It’s actually about us leaning into the craft,” he says. “It’s a vulnerable situation to be in, talking about it on record. I don’t want to rob people of their thoughts. But I do have a set of values, and as an artist, you don’t need to be f— to tell that love story.”

Underlying that craft, Bailey adds, is the confidence to speak up, as with one scene in “Fellow Travelers” that was adjusted because he said, “I don’t want to be naked today.” He learned to use his voice the hard way: In his early 20s, he recalls, he was once “bullied” on set when “someone was threatened” by him and vowed to himself, “I’m never going to do that to someone. I’m never going to allow that to happen.”

This impulse to direct his influence in support of others has blossomed further with “Fellow Travelers.” On the day of our interview, Bailey enthuses about an upcoming meeting with legendary gay rights activist Cleve Jones and shares his idea for a docuseries recording the stories of elders in the LGBTQ+ community while they are still here to tell them. He describes lying in a hospital bed on set on World AIDS Day, in character as Tim, surrounded by gay men who had lost friends and lovers during the crisis, and finding himself thinking, “What do I want to leave behind?”

“I think he’s changed my trajectory in my own life,” Bailey says.

This is, perhaps, the most common reaction I know to diving deep into queer history — the understanding that we, like our forerunners, are responsible for shaping the queer future, whether in politics, society or art. No one is going to do it on our behalf.

As we stand on the nondescript corner now named for her, I relate the story of the late queer activist Nancy Valverde, who was arrested repeatedly while a barber school student in the 1950s on suspicion of “masquerading” because of her preference for short hair and men’s clothing, and later successfully challenged her harassment by the police in court.

“What a hero!” Bailey exclaims, wondering at Valverde’s bravery. “The thing that’s so interesting with power battles is, ultimately, identity is the thing that gives you the most strength and power in your life, isn’t it?

“Because that’s one thing people can’t take away from you: who you are and how you express yourself.”

Source

[angel-with-paper-wings]

Seeing POTO Live: Part 1 (An Unexpected Journey)

On Monday May 20th 2024, I was fortunate enough to see The Phantom of the Opera live on the West End in London. It’s safe to say that I left as a changed person.

For my own posterity’s sake and in case anyone is interested, I want to give a little background about how I was able to see the show, because the story is a little crazy. I still can’t believe it happened. For my commentary and thoughts on the show itself, see Part 2 of this post.

So, at the time of this post’s writing, my parents and I just finished a vacation to various places in the UK that we’ve been planning since June of last year. We were scheduled to spend our last two days in London, so while making a list of all the things we wanted to see in the city, we briefly discussed seeing a West End show. However, when I went to look at tickets to see Phantom (because I was already a phan at the time so of course it was already on my bucket list), the website was only showing tickets available through March 2024. For some reason, my brain assumed this meant that the current West End run was only doing shows through March and then they would take a break for summer or whatever (idk how theaters work, so it sounded plausible to me at the time 😅). So we ultimately decided to not make plans to see a West End show, and I gave up hope of seeing Phantom on the West End for the foreseeable future.

That is, until a week before our vacation.

Out of curiosity I checked the website again, and I saw that there were now tickets available for a 7:30pm show on Monday May 20th, the day we were scheduled to arrive in London after sightseeing in Oxford in the morning. A little bit of hope returned, but I still didn’t get too excited because there was a lot we wanted to see in London and not much time to do so. I didn’t make seeing Phantom a priority because my parents weren’t as interested in seeing it as I was, and it didn't feel right to me to force all of us to go on an expensive outing that only I would enjoy to the fullest. So I again put the possibility of seeing the show out of my mind, and we enjoyed the start of our vacation.

Monday afternoon rolled around, and my parents and I were on the bus ride to London with our tour group after sightseeing in Oxford in the morning. Our tour guide told us we were due to arrive between 4:30-5:30 but that London traffic was very unpredictable and it may take even longer. My family and I had planned on walking over to Piccadilly Circus and Buckingham Palace that evening, and I off-handedly mentioned that we should stop by Her (now His) Majesty’s Theatre for a picture of the POTO decor and stuff. They asked me to check if any seats happened to be available for the performance that evening. I highly doubted it, but to my utter shock, there were still six seats available: three in the balcony that were close together and three on the ground floor in the stalls (the area directly in front of the stage). I was THRILLED, and my parents (the absolute angels they are, no pun intended) noticed this and suggested that we try to get the tickets to the show and see Buckingham Palace the next day. However, because we still didn’t know exactly when the bus would be arriving in London, we decided to wait until we reached our hotel to make sure that we had the time to get to the theatre in time.

The entire ride to London, I could feel the adrenaline and excitement pulsing through my body, and yet it still didn’t feel real yet. Sometimes I struggle with appreciating big events like this in the way they probably should be appreciated because I just get stuck in a state of shock that lasts until the event is over, and by the time it’s over I feel like I missed it. But this time, I told myself that if my prayers were answered and it all worked out, I would make a point to appreciate it to the fullest (and that’s what I am doing by making these posts).

We were BLESSED with easy traffic (a rarity in London, according to our tour guide) and got to our hotel at 4:30pm. I checked the availability of seats in the theatre again, and the same six seats were visible on my screen. However, when I went to purchase the three balcony seats for me and my parents, it said that one of the seats I wanted to buy had already been taken. I refreshed the page, and there were now only four seats available: one in the balcony and three in the stalls (ground floor). The ones in the stalls had two next to each other about four rows from the stage (these were EXPENSIVE, like £175 each), and one on its own DEAD CENTER in Row L, which is a couple of rows below the balcony (so not directly under the chandelier but close). My parents (again, angels) told me to get the lone seat in Row L and see the show on my own, and that they were fine with walking around London by themselves for the evening.

So I booked the ticket. We walked 40 minutes from our hotel to the theatre. The entire time, I still couldn’t quite believe it, and my shock was making me delusional—I was convinced when I got there they would say that my online ticket was invalid or that someone had already bought my ticket in advance. But it was all okay. The kind ushers let me in without issue, I bought myself a programme and a water bottle, and I made my way to my seat an hour ahead of showtime. I wanted to make a post telling you guys what was happening, but Wi-Fi didn’t work in the theatre (probably for the best). It was easily the best money I’ve ever spent.

I probably don’t have to tell you how damn lucky and fortunate I am in every aspect to have been able to afford a last-minute ticket to see the show I love in such a great seat. I wish I could have shared that luck and fortune with all of you and had you there with me so we could all enjoy the incredible performance (and trust me, it was INCREDIBLE). Since I unfortunately can’t do that, I want to try and do the next-best thing—in my review post (Part 2), I will be sharing my notes from the show that I wrote during intermission and when it was over that describe the details that I noticed about the performance as well as my own commentary/reflection. I hope you all enjoy sharing this experience with me and feel like you were there in spirit, because I know you all were!!!

Thanks and have a wonderful day,

Angie ❤️

[khaire-traveler]

Will the gods mind if I go into periods of stagnancy where I can do little to no active worship? I struggle with a lot of mental illness and am typically very busy so there are periods during which I cannot do my typical prayer and conversing and such

Hey, Entity,

I feel this post by @doves-of-aphrodite puts my thoughts on this matter the best. I feel that the love and care of deities are not so surface level as to disappear when someone isn't able to actively worship.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I feel every worshipper should go a period without giving offerings. For me, it changed my perspective on worship entirely. Just as you ask for help from loved ones without always giving immediately in return, I feel we are allowed to ask for help from deities without being able to give immediately in return. Kindness that is only given with the expectation of receiving in return shouldn't be the cornerstone of a relationship, in my opinion.

Of course, it's healthy to return the favor, especially to show appreciation and care, but that shouldn't be an "always expectation" that happens every single time you ask for help. The relationship becomes more of a formal exchange to me, and that's personally not what I look for when interacting with deities. For me, when a deity relationship is built solely on offerings and nothing else, there is this neverending pressure to give and give and give, and it discourages me from reaching out when I need help because I'm unable to give in that moment. That discouragement isn't a good thing if it prevents you from communicating with your deities. They aren't a bank that keeps a record of the debt you pay back to them; they are beings with the ability to care for and love humans, and the maturity to understand that humans sometimes don't have the ability to immediately give back.

All of this is to say that I don't think it's healthy to put so much pressure on ourselves to immediately provide an offering of thanks. It can easily consume a deity relationship, in my experience, and make a relationship feel much less personal and much more conditional. It's ok to take your time with things. If you feel guilty, maybe just let the deity know that it will take you some time before you can give an offering directly. I'm certain they have the ability to show you some grace for that.

Also, I believe it's extremely important to remember that worship doesn't always come in the form of giving a physical offering. Worship can be subtle, such as listening to a playlist you create for them, saving pictures on a Pinterest board that reminds you of them, or even just taking care of yourself as an act of devotion. You could even just offer a glass of water and proceed to drink that water, and that can be an act of worship. It doesn't need to be this huge and elaborate thing where you dedicate some lengthy ritual and a luxurious offering. It's ok if your worship is much more subtle for a time. You're allowed to worship in seemingly small ways. Those small things add up to a pretty solid relationship built on genuine care - enough care to think of a deity while going about your day.

Even with this idea of subtle worship, however, you still are not required to give a ton of offerings or put a ton of effort into worship when you're unable to. I believe that deities would prefer us to take care of ourselves first, rather than expending every last drip of energy on devoting ourselves to them. Take care of you for now. Your deities aren't going anywhere.

I hope this helped you. This is, of course, based on my personal practice, and there is no right way of going about worship or anything of the sort. There are no rules or guidelines that we must follow; we make of it what we see fit. Take care, and have a good day/night. 🧡

[skippyv20]

Times are changing….❤️

Christmas can be such a difficult time, for many. Some people are lonely, some people are alone, some can’t afford a Christmas dinner, some can’t afford presents, some are mourning loss of loved one/s, etc.

I look back on Christmas’ past, and I feel happiness, and I feel sadness. Where did the years go? If only I could have known it would be my last Christmas with that loved one. I have great memories of Christmas when I was small. I have great memories of Christmas when my daughter was small. Oh how these memories make my heart smile.

I haven’t been blessed to have little ones around like so many of you. I miss that excitement for sure….building Christmas up for them, seeing how excited they get. Seeing Christmas through the eyes of children, that is a true blessing. Christmas is time for remembering the birth of Jesus. A time to rejoice, a time for family and friends. The importance of being together and really appreciating that gift, has been taken away by the commercialization of Christmas. It has been that way for years. People now don’t just have their own personal problems, which affect their daily lives…. along comes Christmas. Times are tough.

It is so easy to forget about those who struggle, because…you know…it doesn’t make one feel like it’s Christmas. No one wants to think about that….because it is sad. Instead, many focus on their own Christmas. All the presents to buy, all the food preparation, all the liquor they need, all the parties they attend, all the new outfits to buy…and yet….some are sitting wondering how they can even have Christmas.

Some people make bad decisions in their lives, and it affects everything. Some people are struggling due to circumstances out of their control. They had plans too, and then life happened. They were faced with trials…some trials after trials. They can’t breathe because they are so overwhelmed. But hey, no one wants to think about that! It’s Christmas!

Well, my family and I decided our Christmas’ now will be different. We aren’t going to exchange gifts like we have in the past. Starting next year, we are each going to pick a cause and donate to that. Instead of paying for a few Christmas meals for a hamper, the money for gifts for my family I will give for the food hampers. Animal shelters is my daughter’s choice. My husband and SIL are still thinking of theirs.

Why would we do this? We have always tried to donate a little at Christmas to others. This year, we all got on the same page. We don’t need anything. When you can’t even think of what to put on your Christmas list….well, that is a game changer. We don’t need anything, we don’t want anything. So, in order to feel like it is Christmas we couldn’t think of anything better than to help others have a Christmas. Every little bit helps.

My sister and BIL have no children. Every year the most exciting thing for them is when they do their Christmas Toy shopping. They buy toys, lots and lots of toys to donate. My sister gets so excited, she loves knowing Christmas morning some little girl, or some little guy is smiling. That is where she finds her Christmas joy. Seriously, they go crazy in the toy store!

We are not rich, we have had our struggles, and trials. We have been blessed. The thought of Christmas isn’t the presents, it’s the time we give to one another. It’s the prayers we say for others. It’s the helping out when we can, as little as we can. The world is so messed up right now, and people are sad. If we can stop and focus on how to make others happy, we ourselves will be happy and at peace. To be clear, we don’t have little ones, if we did, we would still do the big Christmas’, still making sure to put something aside for others.

I don’t want anyone to ever feel that they are seen in a bad light. I want people who are struggling to know…we have all had those times at some point in our own lives. They are deserving of a nice Christmas. Don’t think of it as charity, think of it as people coming together to pick each other up. We all fall, we all need that.

My Christmas wish is that everyone can have a wonderful Christmas. That people don’t focus on what they don’t have, but what they do have. We are so lucky, and so blessed.

From my family to you and yours, Merry Christmas, stay safe and give extra hugs to one another.❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[receival]

castlevania, season 1 starters.

the following is a collection of starter sentences from the netflix original, castlevania.

you bang on my front door because you want to daub chicken blood on peasants.

don’t mistake me for a witch. everybody out there already does that.

i believe in science, but … i need to know more.

what have you to trade for my knowledge, (name)?

perhaps i could help you relearn something manners.

i cross the threshold of your home, and you haven’t offered me a drink or even to take my coat.

i want to heal people. i want to learn.

you are definitely different to most humans i have met in recent times.

maybe i can teach you to like people again. or, at least tolerate them. or … stop putting them on sticks.

they won’t be superstitious if they learn how the world really works.

and it had to come to this?

don’t hurt them! they don’t understand!

perhaps i’ll say a prayer for her. a small one.

they don’t know what they’re doing!

be better than them. please!

are you (name)? she talked about you.

it’s not right what happened.

she’ll be dead by now.

ah, there. quite a show.

off to heaven with him, eh?

what have you done?

you are not real.

you took that which i love, so i will take from you everything you have and everything you have ever been.

what do you mean, no?

that woman was the only reason on earth for me to tolerate human life.

there are no innocents! not anymore!

i won’t let you do it.

you had your chance.

kill everything you see. kill them all.

what’s that on your chest?

just one more drink and then i’ll leave, alright?

listen, just forget it. i’ll just go.

this is all your fault.

i don’t know what you’re talking about.

i think you know exactly whose fault that is.

i’m leaving, okay? i’m leaving.

confess, and i’ll make it quick.

i used to fight fucking vampires.

would you please leave my testicles alone?

i’m (first name) fucking (last name), and i’ve never lost a fight to man nor fucking beast.

i hope you all bleed out.

no one’s getting in, and no one’s getting out.

i warned you. you can’t say i didn’t warn you.

are you talking back to me?

so, now i’m stupid?

why don’t you go and get that looked at?

look, i don’t like priests at the best of times. i mean, i really, really don’t like priests.

if you leave now, we’ll say no more about it.

last warning. this will get nasty.

seriously? i’m out of practice, but i’m stone - cold sober.

someone will get hurt.

the violence wasn’t necessary. but … it is appreciated.

thank you for your kindness, and i think … your restraint.

please, come inside.

(name), we were worried about you.

i’m a little out of practice.

they’re both still alive.

i’d prefer something to drink.

maybe you can just tell me why you’re here.

but you didn’t answer my question.

you know we can’t turn away from those in need.

dying is not absolute.

you feel no compassion?

there’s always a choice.

don’t be crazy. leave now.

if i go and recover your kids body, will you please leave?

they’re going to come for you soon.

it’s not the dying that frightens me. it’s living without ever having done my best.

i don’t care.

anybody home?

i can hear you.

i’m armed, and a lot less happy than you are … so you want to stay well out of my way.

reflexes like a cat.

god shits in my dinner once again.

did you — did you climb on me?

yeah, yeah. come on. time to go home.

who are you?

your messiah isn’t down there.

what makes you so sure?

i don’t know what’s down there, but it’s not a messiah.

i cannot begin to repay what i owe you.

i could pee in a bucket and tell him it’s beer.

i could slip and take your eye out.

i don’t think i’m allowed in churches.

look, if i enter the church and i catch fire or something, it’s your fault.

you could undo everything by your very presence.

my god. you really believe it, don’t you?

by the way, you’re all going to die.

i don’t think we can leave these people, not in their time of need.

these people believe you’re causing their time of need!

you fought your battle and you decided you lost.

if we truly are the sort of people who will kill one another at the behest of a madman’s fantasies, then perhaps it is right and proper that things from hell should rise up and wipe us out.

you should leave now.

i swear it just moved.

so you’re going to die for nothing? for people you don’t know?

dying has never frightened me.

the sun … is already down.

you cannot enter the house of god.

god is not here.

your god’s love is not unconditional. he does not love us, and he does not love you.

this is all your fault, isn’t it?

no wonder he has abandoned you.

i serve no demon and i do no evil.

you never asked.

i didn’t ask you to fight for me. i fight for myself.

oh, for god’s sake.

i didn’t do that.

why are you here?

i fell down a hole.

that’s fact. there’s no ‘belief’ involved.

i’ll call you anything you like if you’re gonna show me your teeth.

say what you mean.

what i think … is i’m going to have to kill you.

i don’t like your tone, (name).

my defenses were not for you.

i asked you a question — do you care.

am i going to have to kill you?

you’ve got nothing but insults, have you?

stone the fuck up.

please. this isn’t a bar fight. have some class.

do you have a god to put a last prayer to, (name)?

i can still rip your throat out.

killing you was the point.

we are all, in the end, slaves to our families wishes.

[waitmyturtles]

Let's do this! I'm so sad this lovely show is over, despite its structural flaws. But I was with the story from beginning to end. Be My Favorite, episode 12/finale!

Before I get into my FEELINGS, of which I have a lot, I want to note that I think I misread the timelines in episode 12, of which @lurkingshan in DMs (and here's her fabulous wrap-up post!) and @grapejuicegay in her meta (thanks for the tag!) both corrected me. During episode 12, I assumed that the intimacy of episode 10 was actually with future Pisaeng. I stand corrected: that future Pisaeng goes back to the future AFTER the conversation with Kawi in the amusement park. That future Pisaeng is left assured by past Kawi that future Pisaeng can't change what might happen that can't be changed. And that life should ultimately be lived with intention in the moment, and not with a design in mind to change anything that CAN be changed.

Okay, now that that confusion is out of the way (HA!), what did I take from this episode?

First, regarding my confusion (ha), I think the narrative structure depending on the jumping of the timelines ended exactly where it needed to end -- right at the edge of it getting confusing enough for an old mom like me to start forgetting all of them, ha. Unfortunately, I always have to take away a couple points from any show where me and the clowns are left to try to piece together a narrative after an episode is over -- my biggest demand of any show is that the story needs to be told convincingly enough, even if there's mystery, for us to end at least not confused, if not satisfied. But it's a small gripe, because by way of the previous philosophical references -- we kinda knew it was going to get confusing anyway. I appreciated that we left the jumping forwards and backwards behind in the end, that the ability to do so had expired. Honestly, though -- I think it also added a lot of intrigue and movement to the plot.

Leaving structure behind: after ALLLLLLLLLLLL of the references to SO MUCH throughout this show -- the philosophical references, @telomeke's INCREDIBLE post on Buddhist and other Thai cultural references, and so, SO much more -- what I LOVED about this episode was its utterly stripped-down approach, going back to a straightforward narrative after everything we learned about the past and the future. That what we were left with was dialogue and contemplative silence as Pisaeng and Kawi discussed HOW they would live their future, driving with the top down, and enjoying the breeze together.

These were such gorgeous metaphors for what would ultimately bring them both happiness and meaning in life -- that overthinking these things, that designing better futures for themselves with whatever powers they could muster, would ultimately not lead to ENTIRELY perfect outcomes for the both of them. That instead, a life that's well lived is one that can withstand outcomes that you may not predict. AND: despite your best intentions to change things that you THINK may not work.... they may end up working, after all. Kawi lives.

@telomeke: this entire episode may have been one big commentary on the biggest Buddhist philosophy of all -- that of enlightenment. I think Kawi emanated this the best during the conversation at the theme park. I love how Shan referenced @shortpplfedup's commentary on the Serenity Prayer, because I think that's part of what we got here. That ultimately -- we need to let go of control, of the tangibility of our existence, and focus on just living and loving, in order to find true happiness/satisfaction/fulfillment.

In the face of my gentle criticisms about the structural flaws of the show, what I'm left with here is satisfaction, emotionally, for Kawi and Pisaeng. I'm thrilled for where they ended up. I loved every minute of it -- I loved their contemplative happiness in the end.

But, this is me, right, LOL, and I'll posit one last clown theory. While we're talking about enlightenment and letting life live: we still have Max wearing a Pride pin at a wedding. We have Kawi and Pisaeng talking about getting married without legally being able to. We had discussion previously in the show that Pisaeng could move out of Thailand to get married and live a happy family life. He doesn't want to leave Thailand.

The back and forth of past to future, of communication improving over time, of lessons learned, of pushing forward in a path: if I'm to look at that from a political lens, I want to say that there's a lesson that BMF is offering, that we can LEARN from the past in order to live a better future. Again, after all the philosophical references -- I believe that what we're left with is a message of hope and optimism that things will change, over the course of its own time, that life will improve for every single person if we have the patience. (I always remind folks that it took DECADES of work to legalize gay marriage in America -- DECADES.)

Maybe the lessons of Kawi's illness, maybe even his dad's illness, not only serve to tell us that we can't change EVERYTHING, to EXACTLY the way that we want it, at the moment we are living. But if we want a life that is at least IMPROVED -- with intentionality, and with PATIENCE -- we can live that and do that, if we can trust and feel that our decisions will lead to some kind of betterment in the future. We know that future Max hasn't stopped working for equality. I think the lesson in this last episode is that we all shouldn't stop working towards that equality goal, despite the obstacles that all of us -- queer family and allies alike -- will face in our work.

Y'all: I AM SO GLAD I PICKED UP THIS SHOW. I recanted on Krist, I am TOTALLY IMPRESSED, WHAT?!, with Gawin -- this show was FABULOUS, and I loved every minute of it. Will GMMTV bring back GawinKrist? I'm going to guess not, but I appreciate the both of them biting the BL bullet and focusing on a show that had so many phenomenal themes to chew on. This was a great one, and it's going on my high recommendation list.

[I ALSO LOVED TALKING TO THE BMF FAM -- HEARTS TO ALL! @dribs-and-drabbles, @grapejuicegay, @lurkingshan, @bengiyo, @pandasmagorica, @twig-tea, @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle (OOOOH, HEIDEGGER, GO OFF, I LOVE THIS!), @thegalwhorants, @rocketturtle4 -- I loved reading and being tagged in your meta! Will we assemble again for Only Friends?!]

[apostateoverrubies]

You know, I am fucking grateful that I was born in the 2000s. Like, the only fucking decade I wouldn't mind being born in is the fucking 1990s and that's purely because the internet would still be there just in time to shape me as a person.

I don't want to be that fucking person who thinks they want to be born in decades like the 80s, 70s, 60s etc because I know I'm purely in it for the aesthetic.

If I were born around those decades, I'd be a much different person and I would hate the person I'd become.

This is why I hate it when people from older generations romanticize their childhoods, talking about how everything was so good and everyone was so nice to each other etc.

When I look back at my childhood with what I know now, I realize there are a lot of fucked up things about it.

How Christianity has been shoved down our throats since preschool even though it wasn't tied to any church and some children weren't Christian at all.

How my dad beat me mercilessly with a belt because I was unable to recite Gentle Jesus on my own. Prayer is important was his reasons. But I was still in preschool.

How grown-ups would threaten to cut off my thumb because I hadn't yet stopped sucking it.

How I was pretty much allowed to not do anything up until my late primary school years yet the grown-ups in my life blamed me for their lack of effort.

How I only had one true friend in primary school because contrary to what some adults would have you believe, not everyone was friendly and kind, especially when you were the weird kid.

I can go on and on because it doesn't end there.

Sure, I have my gripes on certain things about this generation and there are things about my childhood I love.

But I'm grateful that folks in my generation and the ones after have internet access. It's not perfect obviously. Plenty of bad stuff happen on the internet.

But it was thanks to that internet access that I was able to be the person I am now. Because when the internet is good, it's REALLY good.

I've met my dearest friends on there, I found tutorials that help me improve my skills, I found things that challenged the views my culture tried to force down my throat that led to me not only coming to terms with and embracing my sexuality and femininity.

I recently left religion behind because I was able to learn how much it didn't make sense and conflicted with my morals.

I was able to become more compassionate than I had ever been I could see the injustices people have to suffer and I learned to understand people I would've scoffed at if not outright discriminated against.

Anyways, I'm done rambling now. It's funny how people think the internet makes us appreciate life less but I am so fucking grateful for being alive right now.

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs #38: Occam’s Razor

Masterlist

content: escape attempt, stabbing

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Heather was asleep. Jackie felt terrible, but his coat was already on, so he couldn't look back now.

At least the packing was light. His book, an apple, a pencil and paper-pad, and the rolled up dollar bill he had found on Matthew’s corpse. It felt wrong to leave his entire life behind and take only that paltry selection, but he didn’t know what else to bring. Jackie didn’t want to steal any more from Heather. She might deserve it, sure, but she had been exceptionally sweet to him lately. It didn’t feel right to steal. And he didn’t know where she kept her money, which was what he really needed. Her clothes and things were useless to him.

Because money made the world go ‘round, and it also got you a full tank of gas. But the lack of it didn’t deter him. Heather’s car had enough fuel for a day or two. That was enough. Jackie had found her keys on the table. He was in no state to walk very far or fast, but a car could get him miles away within a few minutes. 

After that, he could try going back to his old apartment. There were people who knew him, even if they were indifferent. Maybe someone would give him a little more money, a phone call, a place to sleep at the very least. But the first step was the car, which was conveniently located in the parking lot just outside the hotel.

It was still betrayal. She would hate him for this. It won’t sink her, he reasoned. It’s not going to kill her. She has enough money to buy a new car and, besides, I’m sure she’ll appreciate the silence when I’m not here. He didn’t mean any harm. It was necessary. It was survival. It was tragic, yes, but inevitable. It was Occam’s razor—his reasoning wasn’t impossible to understand. 

His backpack was slung over his shoulder. His coat was all buttoned down. The sky went pale outside the window, only visible through a gap of curtain, striped by long strings of clouds. The hotel room was dark and hushed. He could hear every little breath Heather took.

Her face was obscured by the pillow. She slept on her stomach, or her side, he had discovered. She took silvery breaths, in and out. Her black hair was messed up by sleep, scattered across the soft white cotton. Her chest rose and fell, though it was hard to see from a distance. Jackie was only across the room, but he already felt so far away.

Au revoir. There was no time to waste on words. Ne parles pas, s'il te plaît. Ç’est adieu. If she woke up, he could spit out an excuse, but the window of escape would slam shut on his fingers. So his goodbyes would have to be silent thoughts and prayers. 

Indeed, it was a good time to start praying. Though he believed in nobody watching him and nothing after death, it was worth a try. He closed his eyes for a long moment. 

Heather didn’t stir. She didn’t make a sound.

It was a sign from God: hurry up, idiot. Hallelujah. Amen. So he opened the door. It creaked, and he winced, but she didn’t move an inch. 

Jackie stepped out the doorway. He walked into the hallway. She was still asleep. 

He closed the door. Excuses would be a little less believable, now, but he could still make them. He could go back, if he wanted. Tap out. But nothing worthwhile was ever easy, so he needed to just bite the bullet and get on with it.

There was nobody else there. The walls were plain white. There was some kind of stereotypical hotel pattern on the carpet, some kind of odd hexagon checkerboard. A dreamy feeling permeated the air. He made his way to the stairs, though every footstep felt like walking through liquid lead. 

His journey came in bursts in starts, stopping and taking breaks more often than he would like. He paused for an entire minute on the second floor because his vision went white—Heather told him why it happened, at some point, but he couldn’t remember now—and he had to blink the hotel back into view. For a while after that, he felt lightheaded. But it was a fairly uneventful walk otherwise.

He entered the lobby itself. Rather unimpressive, compared to the last few, but cozy. There were a few soft and worn sofas. No aquarium, but there was a water fountain, and a receptionist busy with a stack of loose-leaf papers.

It was otherwise empty, and completely quiet. And he wasn’t getting any younger. Jackie adjusted his backpack again, then he pushed the lobby doors open.

Outside. Good Lord. Out in the cold air without Heather. It pierced his lungs, scratched at his throat, vivid and pure. At this point, his hypothetical excuses were sounding more like desperate apologies. He would promise to never try anything like this ever again, plead and beg, maybe shed a few tears. But it was time to stop thinking of hypotheticals. This was really happening. He needed to focus.

His steps crunched through thin ice, which was scattered all over the sidewalk. The snow was starting to melt, though the weather was never predictable in that regard. Thinking of these things kept him moving, kept him from breaking down and cowering on the concrete, and kept him walking to the parking lot. 

There was nobody else there but himself. The concrete was cracking and the painted lines were chipping away. Weeds sprouted through all the potholes. Beyond a picket fence, there was a perfect view of the street, which was just as run-down and empty.

So this was his great Houdini trick. It wasn’t that exciting. There was not much to see. The sky was getting a bit more color in its complexion. It was faintly cobalt now. His mouth tasted of the cold air. 

Birds sang. Branches rustled, though they were quiet in the absence of their leaves. There were a few houses, down the block and up past the stores, although this was mainly a commercial block. A tailor’s, an antiques shop, a restaurant, lined up one after the other. But nobody was around. It was making him nervous.

He reached into his coat’s pocket and dug out the car key. He unlocked the doors. Although it was a faint sound, he could hear how the mechanisms clicked into place inside. He pulled the handle, and it opened without resistance. 

A pigeon landed on a faraway telephone wire. He turned his head, just for a second. No, it was too sleek, too dark to be a dove. Too haughty. It was a crow, or a raven. Something ominous, anyway. It spread its great fanned tail and set about fixing its feathers up. 

There was something comforting in that, the compulsive grooming of a bird, the repetition and the routine, the preemptive fluffing of wings before it flew—

“Turn around, Jackie.”

It had the effect of being pushed into an electrical fence, or being plunged into ice water. That overwhelming first shock. His throat closed up. His heart appeared to simply stop beating. 

And he knew this wouldn’t work. It never did. He would never be anything more than what he was—whatever that was, a rat or a doll, whatever you wanted to call it. This was a terrible, terrible mistake, and now it was time to pay the cost of ever wanting anything more.

“I didn’t tell you to ignore me. Turn around.”

Her voice was remarkably calm, which meant that Jackie was going to have nightmares about this for months. He turned around, though every bone in his body told him to run, though even the marrow and the soft tissue resisted his obedience, every nerve and muscle. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Heather, so he stared at the concrete instead. Cracks of gray, pieces of gravel and sharp edges.

“You’re so selfish," she said. “After everything I’ve done for you—“

“I can explain, I swear. This isn’t what it looks like.” He stepped closer to the car, as if that would help at all. This wasn’t supposed to happen. There were no rules here, no games to win. This was failure by default. The trap had already snapped shut. 

“Then explain. Right now.”

He stuttered. “It’s—I—It’s not—“ He glanced around. Maybe if he ran—

“Don’t you dare move.” She shoved him further against the car, held him trapped there between the metal frame and her presence. 

“I just…” He couldn’t come up with anything. “Heather. Please. Don’t make a scene, we’re in public.”

“I don’t care. I’ll scream. Don’t test me.” He believed her. There was nobody around to help, anyway. It was too early in the morning. “Tell me why you did it.”

Jackie had completely blanked out. His body had gone numb, nerve impulses all dead in their tracks. It was like he couldn’t even think, like he couldn’t perceive anything beyond his immediate senses—it was like he wasn’t even there, that this was a dream. He certainly had many dreams like this. None of them were very reassuring. But he didn’t have an answer for her.

“Fine.” She placed something at his throat, something small and sharp. Faintly, he recognized it as her Swiss Army knife. “We’ll discuss this at home.”

Home sweet home. How had she found him? Did the receptionist talk, or did she follow him that whole time? Jackie thought he would faint, but he managed to look up. He barely registered the action. He barely registered what she had said, and later on he wouldn’t remember that part at all. 

What he remembered was this: he saw the hotel windows. He hadn’t thought about them. They overlooked the parking lot. Anyone could see him perfectly clearly, and nobody except for Heather was awake. The curtains of their room had been drawn—roughly drawn, torn aside. He felt his stomach drop. 

He felt Heather’s hand on his wrist, felt his heart beating faster and faster, each breath shallow and rough and short. He didn’t want to go home. 

Heather had him pinned, but the street was only a short distance away. He tried to run. He pushed away with all the strength in his body. 

That only left him exhausted and got him stabbed straight through the throat. He hit his head against the car’s frame. He attempted to inhale, felt the warm bubble of blood, felt the pain of his flesh and failing lungs, and began coughing uncontrollably instead. Her grip on his wrist was too tight. He couldn’t pull himself away. 

Jackie was down on the ground before he could stop sputtering blood—gravel dug into his face—his wrists, pulled behind his back and bound with the cuffs—he tasted metal stinging his tongue, the roof of his mouth, and he could not breathe at all—something along his ankles, as well, and now there was a gag in his mouth. Not a chiffon scarf, this time. Something rougher, tasting of detergent. She did it all so quickly, without hesitation, like she was gutting fish.

As soon as it began, it was over. The world tilted, then something slammed shut. He did not have the energy to struggle. Jackie closed his eyes.

Pain came in heavy waves, all over his body, fading away as his pulse slowed. He exhaled and did not inhale again. Consciousness left him in privacy. One last comfort before… whatever happened next. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Taglist:

@theelvishcowgirl @lthrboy @whumpy-wyrms

@yassifiedinformation @creppersfunpalooza

@vidawhump

[angelbxxy]

Hey y’all idk how this works I’ve never been struggling this hard before. My two daughters lost their dad my fiancé a week ago from a heart problem we didn’t know he had. It was sudden and now I have to plan a funeral alone. I never imagined that he would be gone we were just talking about getting a life insurance policy like a month ago but never did it. I already have our two daughters I gotta take care of on 1 income now I don’t know how I’m gonna pull this funeral off of anyone can help us send him up the right way plz consider donating 🥺😭❤️

Cashapp $prettymom18

January 15th 2023🚨⏰⚰️

Update!!!!!

Still waiting on donätîons I currently only have $250(I took out a loan that’s all I was approved for)/$3,400(cost of funeral service and funeral home plus casket. The $3,400 DOES NOT INCLUDE THE BURIAL 🪦🥺😭⚰️😣♥️

Please help us if you are able and I would appreciate it if you can not help us financially, a reblog and prayers will always be appreciated.

RIP my one and only Prince Charming 🥺❤️🪦⚰️

Cashapp $prettymom18

UPDATE JAN15th 8:54pm

Still 0 help but I’m still great full for all the reposts and likes if you know anyone who may be able to help or has a big following on here PLEASE don’t hesitate to tag them in ur repost or just tag them on the comments ❤️🙏

PS my friend said if someone wants to donate but they don’t have cash@pp I can give them her Venmo or chime or PayPal so if that is what is stopping you from donating DM me and I can send you her vënmø or paypãł

Thank y’all again♥️

XO XO XO and GOD BLESS🙏🏽

Katie 🥰⚰️🪦��🏽👩‍👧‍👧❤️‍🔥💔✝️

I probably should’ve put this in the original post but I’m having trouble getting donations and I’m doing this all by myself his family hasn’t even called me since I told them he passed and I was a foster kid so I really don’t have anyone to help. The only person that is helping me is financially struggling too but she took out a loan bc my credit sucks so I was denied anyway thank u if u have anyone on here who u talk to a lot see if they can repost it too I wanna get some type of traction lol

UPDATE JAN 16th

Tumblr BLOCKED ME FROM MESSAGES WTF HAPPENED!!!! Someone plz help me get my messages back

Plus still no donations so please keep reposting and thank you for all the support from the reblogs

Jan18 update

Thank you to whoever sent $5 that’s the first and only donation I’ve gotten so far

Please if u can’t donate repost and tag your friends!!! I don’t know what I’m going to do if I can’t raise enough for the funeral, I don’t even have enough for a cremation

Jan 20 update

Im $30 short to start a payment plan with the funeral home I have an appointment tomorrow morning at 9am PLEASE SEND HELP either repost or dono

Anything helps us!

Help us bury my kids dad and my fiancé!

GOD BLESS PRAYERS ARE WELCOME TOO!

Jan 30th update♥️❤️‍🔥🥺😭🚨

So I DIDNT get enough money to have a funeral for my fiancé 😖😭 we had to cremate him and they put me on a payment plan. I still want to have a repass but I need to get a hall or something to gather everyone. The cheapest one I’ve found is $350 for 5 hours

ANY HELP WOULD BE APPRECIATED AND HELPFUL

I want to celebrate his short life and the memories we all have with him ♥️

It’s been 3 almost 4 weeks since he’s been gone and life being a widow mother of 2 is a lot harder than I ever imagined. Please repost even if you can’t help ❤️‍🔥

@localmacguffin @laymedowninsheetsoflinen @enderamethyst @transgendz @othert @pixelstx @spongebobssquarepants @queenpandaxoxo @pukicho @shareyourdollar @mutual-aid-booster @horangi @jacklant3rn @bugs-for-hugs @difficult @commie-cosmo @yellowgirl93 @racism-inc @mousedetective @vaspider @shineemoon @queenpandaxoxo

[arabriddler]

If this ask makes you uncomfortable and you don't want to answer it, I full understand, I just saw your post from a few hours ago about how if you're feeling helpless, to pray, and I just wondered how someone who isn't in any real religion at the time would do that. Can someone pray if they don't know who they're talking to? I was raised in a toxic Christian household, so I have a bad relationship with religion, but I admit in times like these especially with the tragedy going on right now, I just wish I could pray to someone or something. I don't believe in god, or at least the Christian view of him, and I never explored or learned about any other religion because my parents didn't let me, now I'm 17 and I've broken off fully from what I was raised on, and I just don't know what to do as far as prayer goes. I know this is kind of a weird, heavy ask and a lot different than what you typically talk about, but I had been thinking about this for a while and your post made me finally just need to ask. So yeah. Have a lovely morning/afternoon/evening, and again, I will take no offense if this goes unanswered.

hello! It’s alright and thank you for reaching out. I’m sorry you’ve gone through a bad experience, you don’t deserve that. from an Islamic perspective, as it’s what I’m familiar with, we believe that Allah is All Hearing. He hears everyone no matter what. So I’m sure he’ll hear you. You just talk. As simply as that.

people sometimes believe their prayers are unheard when they’re unanswered but there are many ways prayers are answered. Sometimes what you pray for comes, sometimes the prayer just deflects something bad that’s supposed to happen to you, or they’re just counted as good deeds.

it’s also not always about being heard in my opinion. Sometimes you’re put in situations where you’re just… helpless or lonely. There is nothing you can do but it’s a thing to do. It’s always been a comfort for me whenever things happen. Just someone to talk to. Like talking to a friend except he’s unlimited and can’t be burdened by it.

Moreover, it’s an expression of love. Muslims exchange greeting cards and messages and in them are just lines and lines of prayers and it’s just a way to express that “ I love you so much I talked about you to the heavens “ and so and so. Sometimes my friends from different religions tell me they prayed for me and I always feel appreciative of it. It’s big

[cheerfullycatholic]

Hello--I have sent asks to other Catholics and am a little scared that I will confuse details between them because I am upset and afraid right now, but will you please pray for me?

I have been failing miserably at following any of the plans I set out for Lent, and on Ash Wednesday, our priest told us that Lent is a contract with God, meaning that if we don't follow through or aren't really committed then it isn't God who comes to collect and give you blessing, but it is the Devil who swoops into fulfill his job as Satan.

I'm sorry for sending this on anonymous--this plan is posted very publicly on my side blog, but it wouldn't let me ask under that name and I don't want people connecting the two. Anyway, I would talk to my current and local priest about this, but I have previously been involved in a controversy with members of the Diocese because of some things I believed, and I don't want to drag those still active members into more drama, nor do I want to end hurting new people who are only trying to serve my community as best they can.

I'm scared of judgement, drama, and unintended consequences. I only want to do the right thing. I'm scared, upset, feeling very alone and worried that God is not happy with me because I am failing so hard at these things I agreed to. I've been getting positive signs, but I am afraid that I am only reading into it what will comfort me and not taking srsly the consequences or the intentions of my actions. I know my current priest believes very heavily in spiritual warfare and I am afraid he will try to exorcise me or that I will end up being condemned.

{{{{{Lenten Plans from the Universe/The Messiah/The Golden Timeline (02/13/24)

Okay so basically, here is the plan--handed down through divine intuition or signs or whatever gave me the information--I trust the information source--so here's my spiritual cleanse for the 40 days:

3 days of (as close as possible) no sleep--72 straight hours--then 2 days of regular sleep schedule for the next 40 days

40 days of no more than 1200 calories every day

40 days no spend (outside of food and bills)

40 days (at least) of no medication (exception--Excedrin Migraine but only in extreme situations...)

Increased prayer/communing/sign reading

***I want to be clear that this is something that I am doing for my own spiritual cleanse and enlightenment and enrichment and etc; I'm not advertising this as a responsible or safe or anything--this isn't a recommendation--you're welcome to join me in an attempt but consult with your own support system including mental health team.***}}}}}

I am in contact with my mental health team, including my therapist and they are aware of what I am doing, and they are trying to support me, but they aren't Catholic, and they don't know the anxieties that come with the rituals and traditions of the Church. I am very scared, and I hope you are having a beautiful Lent. God bless you; I know if you find my side blog that it has a lot of very controversial statements about the Church and my beliefs--but I'm trying my best to make sense of what is happening, and I do not want to be insulting. I'm scared about that too--that all the Catholic blogs I admire will find that place where I explore spirituality and think I am being flippant or cruel or sacrilegious when I don't mean it that way at all. I am confused, scared, and very, very much trying to do what is right. God bless you and thank you for reading this--I understand if you do not post this, but I would still appreciate prayers--I know you are kind enough to pray for me even if I am a blasphemer. I will keep you in my prayers as well.

Of course I'll pray, but I also need to say something

Lent isn't a contract, it's a time of prayer and fasting in preparation for the Resurrection. God isn't looking down on us with a giant microscope to see who stumbles with their Lenten promises to add to His list of naughty kids, that's not how it works and your priest is wrong. It's human to mess up sometimes, especially with promises as extreme as yours. Thankfully, God is merciful enough to not condemn us for it. Now, I do believe the devil can use moments when we stumble for his own gain, but we can stop him by not feeling discouraged and continuing on as best as we can. Media has made the devil out to be this scary, unmovable force, but he's not. He's a weenie

I really like this quote from an article I once read on Grotto Network

If you have fallen away from your Lenten practice, there’s no scorebook where you’ll be penalized. It might be a good time to re-evaluate what you are committing to and why, and to listen for ways the Lord might be leading you in a new direction. In Lent, we remember Jesus who himself fell three times en route to Calvary. And three times he got back up and continued on. In Lent, as in all seasons, Jesus is our companion and guide. No matter how perfectly we’ve executed our Lenten disciplines so far, it’s never too late to continue to walk with Him toward Good Friday and Easter Sunday.

[mehoymalloy]

Hello 👀 can I please hear the potential Raven Queen and Imogen stuff in the Let Me sequel?

Warning: This got long lol.

Ok so... in Let Me, while everything revolves around Imogen and Otohan's interactions, there is still a heavy focus on plot, since it's following along with the canon campaign, with me making changes when necessary/interesting. (As opposed to the Won't You series, which purely serves to let me put those two in a box and shake 'em up, focusing more on characterization than plot).

So with that said, the Let Me Sequel will have a heavier focus on Bells Hells as a whole, even if viewed through Imogen's perspective. A big part of that will of course be Laudna, because she undeniably means so much to Imogen, and I don't like discounting or diminishing that. One thing Imogen will be facing is how she can help Laudna, with the gods as a whole being a potential if unnerving option.

Right now, the sequel outline is really just a list of chronological events and ways I can tweak them to serve the story, and there are lots of potential ways to do so!

Like imagine Otohan being privy to these "so about the gods" conversations. I imagine she would be dismissive/uninterested intially because it's not useful info to the Vanguard. But then the Raven Queen (or Duskmaven, and she's often called in Marquet) comes up, and suddenly Otohan is all ears, abruptly curious about Imogen's opinion of the gods and borderline cagey as to why ('Continue with your debates as long as you wish, but be wary of who you consort with.' <- that's Otohan lol.) And if that ain't a big red button that says 'Do Not Push' lol.

Maybe when Team Wildemount are in Uthordurn, Imogen slips away to the Matron of Ravens' temple and starts asking questions (as vague and awkward as she may be, going based on her recent Dawnfather temple visit lol). I imagine there'd be quite the warm up period for her; like's she's not just gonna become a cleric or paladin of the Duskmaven immediately. More so just asking questions and showing interest when the topic happens to come up, rather than actively seeking out information.

Meanwhile, you have Otohan in the back of her mind, clearly not liking this for some reason, even if she never says so directly. So then, maybe when Imogen exhausts surrounding sources of info, she starts asking Otohan. ('Didn't you follow the Duskmaven once? Heard you lost your faith during the war or something, though I'm guessing it had nothing to do with the 'horrors of war,' in your case.') And as you can likely imagine, Otohan doesn't appreciate this one bit. It becomes just one way Imogen can get under Otohan's skin, each question or mention crafted to hurt as much as weasel information out of her.

Imagine Otohan tuning in at very inopportune times (as Imogen is drinking from a clear fountain in an unnaturally dark chapel of sorts, as she's hesitantly stepping into a pool of blood, as the lid of one of those meditation coffins is being slowly pushed over her). Let Me Otohan will likely not have quite as sympathetic religious trauma as Moon Moms Otohan is being set up to have, but that's not to say she won't have any at all. And Imogen might quickly pick up that the easiest way to wring raw, honest answers out of Otohan is by exposing herself (and by proxy Otohan) to those types of rituals and situations.

Imogen may approach the Duskmaven very much as a 'here's the deal' sort of situation, bargaining for Laudna's life, but at the same time she has someone who is intimately aware of the intricacies of real faith and devotion. And I think that constant dichotomy between the two of them could be really cool (like imagine Imogen awkwardly attempting to perform some sort of prayer or ritual or whatnot, and Otohan abruptly snaps, 'Kneel, and bow your head,' because she's doing it wrong and can we please get on with this lol).

And as a final, fun note, most of Imogen's exposure to the Matron of Ravens has been through the Northern Hemisphere lens, where she is known as "the goddess of death, fate, and winter and watches over the transition between life and death" and is associated with ravens. But in Marquet, she is primarily referred to as the Duskmaven and is known as "the goddess of twilight, inevitability, and the passage of time in addition to her association with the transition into the afterlife" (Mirahaze). Certain sects also "depict her as a keen-eyed vulture with plumage varying from the shades of a sunset to the black of midnight" (Wiki).

On a more serious note, this will absolutely play into how both Otohan and Imogen view their own connection (with Otohan subconsciously placing a lot of value on the idea of fate and inevitability, no matter how much she claims the importance of seizing your own destiny, because of her history with the faith.)

On a less serious note, I think it'd be funny as fuck if the Duskmaven started sending a vulture to Imogen as a sign rather than the stereotypical raven, thinking, 'oh she's from Marquet so this is culturally relevant.' Meanwhile, Imogen, who knows jackshit about the cultural intricacies regarding worship of the Duskmaven in Marquet, is like 'did something fucking die in the hole? Why is this buzzard following us??' and poor FCG is having flashbacks.

Whew, this got way longer than expected. And I really shoudn't be suprised at myself; I hoped my ramblings were at least interesting!

[psychopomp-recital]

Hello , I hope you are well.

I work at a vet practice and was wondering if there are any respectful rites or prayers I could perform on deceased animals? I am often the one dealing with the bodies and I feel I should give them a respectful send off, especially for wildlife who may have suffered greatly in life, if I can but am unsure how to go about it. Any advice is much appreciated, thank you

I only just figured out how to look at the questions people ask! So I’m very sorry that I am only getting to this question now!

Working with animal spirits is similar to humans, but in my opinion, a little bit easier. For the simplest option, I would recommend saying their name, one last time, and thanking them for their time on earth and their time with their owners.

Lot of times, especially if they were a domesticated animal, they like to hear things like “you did a good job”.

You can also make some sort of blessed water to drop carefully on the bodies or put on your hands while you’re working with them. (For sanitation reasons I’d leave it to just normal water but bless it with your preference)

Over all since you’re not doing full funerary rights I think that’s the best option! Just showing them respect for their life and also their time and the relationships they carry with them to their afterlife.

They’re probably scared at that stage anyways, their owners are upset and crying and they won’t understand what’s happening so it’s just comforting them and respecting them.

[magickfromscratch]

Hey! I just read your post “Prayer For Pagan Unity” and I have a similar situation that I would like to take your advice on.

A city in my country (previously known as Teos) has started to organize Dionysia Festivals again to preserve cultural heritage etc (amazing, right??) and I am planning to attend.

I have this friend, -ex best friend- whose patron god is Dionysus. We had a fallout last year because she broke an oath we had, causing a devastating year, still influencing my life. (I don’t want to bother you with details unless you ask) Then she just vanished and didn’t apologize, (it was out of cowardice and indecisiveness, rather than malice) we recently started to talk again, sending memes and stuff. We still didn’t touch the subject, since it will be a heavy talk.

So my question is… I don’t think she knows about the festival nor will learn unless I invite her. Part of me wants to invite her, in behalf of Dionysus and the hope of having catharsis/closure/conciliation. And part of me doesn’t want to invite her because I am still very hurt, and doesn’t want to stain the event/experience with a possible fight.

I have to make a decision on that in 10 days and I very much would appreciate your help. And if you bump into Dionysus in the mean time and feel like asking this for me since I don’t have that kind of relationship with him yet… I would be immensely grateful. Or if you could suggest a ritual to “ask yourself”

Thank you so much in advance. I am sorry if there are any grammatical/semantical/logical mistakes, (probably there are) English is not my first language and I am very drunk.

Loves 💕

Wow, it sounds like you've been through a lot. It sounds very painful, and I'm sorry that you have to go through that. No worries about grammatical/semantic/logical mistakes, I make plenty of my own, even in my native language.

Very often, we are separated by petty grievances, but this is not that.

First of all, I want to say that you don't have to forgive her, or anyone, until you're ready, if ever, and that if someone did something to hurt you, and they know it, it's really best to tackle the emotions you're feeling internally at your own pace before moving forward.

I'm writing my reply with the assumption that it's a rather large event. If it's not, you might wait until you have a sense of where you are both at before you decide whether to tell her about it. If it is, then I also want to point out that even if she goes, you don't have to go together. She can also go by herself, or with her own friends, provided that she knows it is happening. You can and should set boundaries for your interactions at the event. This can include avoiding certain topics, limiting your interactions, and asking her not to discuss your collective situation with other attendees.

Before you see her in person, in whatever context, I think a conversation needs to happen. You can tell her that she hurt you, that it's still impacting you, and that you're still dealing with the consequences of her choices.

And before you have that conversation, on a spiritual level, it might be good to consider what it might be like to have wrestled with your own Shadow and lost in such a big way that it cost you a friend, and to feel like you'll never truly be forgiven. I've been there. I have made mistakes that have cost me relationships with people who were important to me, and I know what it's like to understand, in an emotional place of cold, dull horror, that I lost someone because I just couldn't make myself do what I intended, what I needed, to do. I'm not certain about you, but in my culture, breaking an oath is something very damaging to the person who does it. It costs you not just your honor, but a little piece of your soul. It feels like shit. That's probably where she's at right now.

I don't know what the situation is fully, but it sounds to me as if none of this is your responsibility to fix. It's hers. She has work to do that no one can do for her.

In every relationship, people have needs. Your job in that conversation isn't to make her feel better, it's to articulate your boundaries and to get an accurate sense as to whether or not she can respect those boundaries. It's really only after that conversation that you can decide whether or not you want her to be at that event with you. You need to tell her what you need from her. That kind of conversation, no matter how it turns out, may give you the closure you seek.

It can be tempting to focus your conversation on why she did what she did, but a more important angle might be, "I need my friends to be true to their word, and you weren't. That breach of trust is a problem for me. How can we work together so that we can continue to be in this community together without incident?"

The gods, I think, do want the people that honor them to be a community, to sacrifice a little bit of ego, where we can, when it's emotionally healthy for us to do so, so that their community can be a harmonious and peaceful. I think that they want us to work out our differences, when we can.

If you can make it work without sacrificing your personal, emotional, social, and physical safety (in which I would include the security of your home, job, and mundane social life/support network), then you should try. If you're not ready (and again, it's ok if you never are), then it may very well diminish the festival for you. Another important aspect to judge is as to whether conversations had between you, or her, and the other attendees might stir drama beyond just the two of you. You obviously know her better than I do, and how likely that is to become a problem.

It is also possible for you to tell her that you're not ready to spend any significant amount of time with her in person until you've had that conversation. The best context for this conversation will depend upon the nature of the situation for both of you. The prevailing wisdom is that such conversations should be by phone or in person, but sometimes, asynchronous conversations can give both parties time to think before replying. A good way to decide might be saying, "hey, I want to talk to you about the thing," and then discussing where and how to have that conversation.

Having a path forward to redemption, even if the two of you are not where either of you wants to be right now, might be of some comfort to her. Again, it's not your responsibility to do this, you don't have to, but it might give both of your some peace. Hope is a powerful motivator for people to engage in good behavior, and hopelessness is equally likely to drive a person toward less than stellar choices.

As far as asking Dionysos goes, I could. But if I did, the reply I got would only be my own gnosis. At the end of the day, I'm just a random person on the internet.

As for asking Dionysos yourself? The Theoi, in my experience, are very good with omens. My advice would be to make offerings to Dionysos, and to Hermes in his capacity as messenger, to send you counsel in a way that you can understand. The language, "a clear omen, presented in a way that I can understand" or something to that effect is important to include when asking for a reply.

If you receive nothing in reply, that's still an answer and means, "it's up to you and how you're feeling about it." If Dionysos has a strong opinion on the matter, and you ask, believe me, you'll get an something unequivocal. I suggest looking into bird omens, as that's easiest for them, but it's also possible for other kinds of omens to appear, if you're not ready to do that research. I haven't been able to find a good and concise resource for that as yet.

As you wrote this in a somewhat drunken state, and I have anonymous asks turned off, please let me know if you see this and want my reply taken down for your privacy or hers. A comment on the post will suffice.

I wish you the best. The festival sounds awesome. I hope this time is spiritually fruitful, and that you gain what you seek from it. I hope my thoughts on the subject have been helpful. Thank you for reaching out.