honeyedhyacinths:

hellenic-polytheism:

Hey, Hellenic polytheists!

It’s always been in the back of my mind that I want to be buried with a coin under my tongue so I can have passage to the Underworld. I’ve been wondering what other Hellenic polytheists thought about that issue? What do you want to have happen? I realise that death is kind of a touchy subject, but if you’re willing to share your two cents, I’m all ears.

Ha, two cents

Personally, I’d like the whole ordeal to more or less follow the old traditions when I die. Depending on the circumstances, that may or may not actually happen, but thats a whole other Thing that we don’t really have the time to get into

Honestly, since my parents and most of my friends and family are Catholic all I thought that I might be able to get away with is to be cremated and have some of my jewellery mixed with my ashes. If I’m old enough to be open about my paganism and have the means to get myself buried the way I want, then having a pyre with a coin under my tongue and two coins on my eyes and my favourite knife (weapon) with traditional prayers is the way I want to go, with my ashes then spread in the forest. 

hello, i’m sort of making my way back around here, slowly but surely. my grandma’s funeral is on Thursday, but i’m hoping to sorr of be around more. i have a LONG train journey tomorrow and i’m hoping to use it to catch up on some fics, if my dumb brain will let me.

but more than anything i just really appreciate everybody’s kind messages & words, more than you can know ❤️ i’m getting back to everybody, i promise, and i appreciate you all so very much !!

i would like to once again apologize for my radio silence—my grandmother passed away and my family isn’t doing so hot. we won’t be able to attend the funeral but we’re doing our best. i hope you can all understand. thank you for your support as always.

A White Rose (Pt. 5)

(This series is created using the prompts from @summer-of-whump)

Continued from here

@sparrowsage

CW: Blood, funeral, broken nose, dehumanization, beating

Shea was at the funeral. Nicholas had ordered him not to cry— he said it would cause a scene— but Shea was having trouble obeying. At the reception after the burial, Nicholas pulled him aside.

“I see tear stains.” He remarked.

“I’m sorry, sir, please forgive me…” Shea dipped his head.

After a moment of silence, Nicholas said, “No.” He took Shea by the arm and pulled him into a side room. “Look at me.”

Shea was getting used to that command. Master Wilson had never allowed Shea to look him in the eye, but Nicholas seemed to find it disrespectful when Shea didn’t look him in the eye.

Nicholas punched Shea in the face, sending him stumbling backwards and onto the ground.

Tears of pain streaked down Shea’s cheeks and his vision clouded as he felt blood dripping from his nose. He didn’t try to get up.

“Hm.” Nicholas said. Shea could hear him walk closer. “I always wondered how it would feel to make you bleed.” He picked Shea up by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against a wall. Shea gave a sharp cry as one of his wings hit the wall at a wrong angle. “Do you want me to stop?”

Shea took a shaky breath. “S-sir, I wish for you to d-do what you see fit… I-I disobeyed an order. If this is my punishment, I won’t protest it.”

Nicholas scoffed. “You can’t stay strong forever. I’ll break you if it’s the last thing I do.”

Shea was confused by that. He wasn’t strong. He was weak. There was nothing to break— Shea knew he was as good as worthless— especially to Nicholas.

Just as Shea’s vision started to clear, Nicholas punched him again. This time, Shea felt his nose crack. He tasted blood as it poured down his face. Shea winced as he felt Nicholas pull his hair.

“Why is your hair so damn long?” Nicholas shoved Shea into the ground. “It’s like you’re asking for people to drag you around with it.”

Shea wheezed as Nicholas kicked him in the ribs and then pulled him back to his feet by his hair.

“Clean up. You’ve got blood everywhere. All over the floor, too. Rejoin me when your done.”

“Yes, sir.” Shea breathed, trying to catch his breath.

Don’t tell me that the crew of the Stargazer didn’t put together a proper, Starfleet funeral for their captain.

And don’t tell me that the crew of the Stargazer didn’t fill an empty photon torpedo casing with cigars and pictures of mermaids hand-drawn or painted for their captain.

And don’t tell me that the crew of the Stargazer didn’t follow Chilean funeral traditions of songs and prayers, ritual cleanings of survivors, and remembrances for their captain.

And don’t you dare tell me that Cris’ first officer didn’t place a hand on the photon torpedo casing and with a whispered, “Dale,” send the Stargazer crew’s memorial to their beloved captain to a final resting place in space.