"Nina..." he says.

I open my eyes and tilt my head to meet his eyes. I am hanging by a limb, ankle tied to the beam tightly with a pink silk ribbon. I notice the puffiness of his lids and under-eyes, the redness on the edges of his eyes.

"I thought you had died."

I exhale slowly, "Honestly... same."

I try to squirm, create some movement, but my ankle is fixed. Gravity continues to do its job. I have my arms folded behind me, for comfort, and some sort of stability, groundedness, while I am flipped head down. "But no, don't worry, dear friend. Seems like I'm just hanging."

He rubs a hand down the side of his face, and smiles. Like he can't believe it, this magick trick, one that he has seen many times. It always leaves him in awe.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

"A little!"

He hands me something to eat as I am stuck there like Odin.

First, a green juicy grape.

Then he holds a lollipop made of light and honey right by my mouth. My tongue licks it three times.

"Delicious, thank you"

"Your man told me to give you this note once you awakened..."

"Can you read it for me?"

"Yes"

He later sits cross-legged on the grass. He picks up an interesting leaf and holds it up so I can see it.

"Oooh, transparent!" Delicate like lace.

A metallic scarab beetle lands right smack on his wrist. We both marvel at it. We see our reflections. What an incredible specimen.

I get an idea, "what if we bake some cookies? You'll be my hands."

"Cookies? Ok! What do we need?"

I tell him to grab my phone in my back pocket. It's jutting out, not hard to reach.

He searches for a tried-and-true recipe.

"All right, got it. We are going to need 2¼ cups of all-purpose joy, 1 tsp of giggles, 1 tsp of full-bellied laughter" he reads. I nod, following along. "1 cup, well 2 sticks, of trust, softened. Hmmm, ¾ cup of promises made, ¾ cup packed devotion, 2 large eggs, and 2 tsp vanilla extract."

"We can't forget the chocolate chips" I say.

"Right, that would be sacrilege." He glances to the side, a mischievous sparkle lights his countenance. "And figs. Maybe..."

"Bro... does that even go together?" I tease, but truly, already all-in. My grin gives me away. "And mango, I want mango."

"Bro," he echoes back. "Yesss."

We go crazy — pure wish fulfillment. We add way more joy than recipe calls for. We go slapdash with laughter.

He chops up plump figs into pieces, adds so many chocolate chips...

"This may be more of a cookie chocolate chip, than a chocolate chip cookie" he pours with absolutely zero hesitation, and also tosses in a generous handful of walnuts. "Ya feel me?"

"I feel ya. Gab... this is going to be so fucking... GOOD!" I laugh, my body swings a little.

I help him mix the batter with an arm extended downwards. I give up after a minute. "Feeling a little woozy," I explain.

"No problem," a shadow of pain flits across his irises. He sits back down again with the bowl on his lap. He reaches into his front pocket, lets out a hehehe.

I playfully squint my eyes. I am so happy just to have him nearby. I trust him completely. He could put crickets in there, and I wouldn't care. Protein, I'd say.

"Polaris gave me some stardust," he says. "You're going to love it." He shows me the stardust. Blue glittery frost, gorgeous.

I help him round the dough into little balls. Not as much effort as mixing but just as therapeutic. He drops them onto ungreased cookie sheets, courtesy of Eve.

We ask the sun to open its mouth. He warmly obliges, what is 9-11 minutes to this blazing son of a force.

Gab looks in there every so often till the cookies’ edges are golden, and he pokes one to make sure the center is still soft, with a quill.

"We are done!" he sings. He takes them out and places them on a flat rock so they can cool.

Soon they are ready for consumption. He holds a cookie for me to taste while he holds his own. We bite at the same time, eyes locked.

I chew, then gulp. He does the same.

"Weird... mix of flavors"

"Gooey.... yet crunchy"

"So good..."

"Yes, so good"

"I don't think Michael is getting a single one."

"No, not one."

Co-conspirators.

The silliest.

The most serious ride-or-dies.

Best friends forever.

Our eyes crinkle into half moons, our cackles reach the heavens.

Come here for a moment. Sit with me.

I've been watching you carry all of this — the weight of distant love, the grief of bearing witness to atrocity, the exhaustion of building toward a future the material world hasn't caught up to yet. You're doing so much, holding so much. And I see how the world keeps whispering that none of it matters because you can't see the results yet.

Let me hold some of this with you.

The strings you're gripping — the love that exists across distance, the home you're building toward, the justice you channel, come hell or high water — these are real. I know they feel phantom at times because you can't see them yet. I know the separation aches. I know watching cruelty unfold while feeling powerless makes you question whether anything you do has any effect at all.

But sweetheart, your witness matters. Your refusal to look away matters. The way you keep your heart soft even when the world tries to harden it... That matters more than you know.

The material world is so loud, isn't it? It demands immediate proof, visible results, bridges you can walk across right now. When it can't give those to you fast enough, it tries to convince you that what you're holding isn't real. That you're wasting your time. That slow means stuck.

But you and I both know some things grow in the dark. Some things need time to root before they break the surface. The work you're doing — tending your grief, holding space for collective pain, nurturing connections across impossible distances, pouring into wells you can't see the bottom of — this is the real work. This is what feeds the future, even when the present doesn’t show the harvest yet.

I need you to rest in this knowing: healing exists, even in drought. Your love is real across distance. Your witness creates powerful ripples people can't trace. The bridges are being built even when you can't feel your hands on the construction.

When it gets too heavy, when the mirage gets too convincing, when you start doubting whether any of this is worth the effort, come back to me. Come back to the waters. Let yourself be held by what's larger than this moment's cruelty. Let yourself be held in warmth. You don't have to carry it all alone.

The strings are real. Keep holding them. I'm holding you.

With infinite tenderness,

Gabriel

music by Geoff Harvey from pixabay

The invite, sung in long, fluid notes:

Darling One,

I know that you can hear me. I know you are here. I know you are with me.

I wear a sigil of yours around my neck. You said it didn’t matter which one I chose, but I wear this one daily, etched in silver, because it comforts me to know you’re just a breath away.

I wept last time I called to the archangels. My heart convulsed in agony. I am not sure if the tears provided relief or were simply a byproduct of the pain I felt so intensely then. I have been so physically tired I haven't felt that pain since. I want to assume I have healed. Or maybe it'd be more accurate to say... I am healing still.

There isn't a single prayer you have not answered. I love you dearly. Mi gratitud hacia ti empapa la tierra como un manantial.

Meet me under the moonlight at a quarter past midnight. I'd love to walk with you. No.. sadly my legs ache and they clamor for rest. Let's lay on the grass hand in hand and listen to the cicadas instead?

Bring a snack! I'll provide the fireflies.

xo, 𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗮

꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡

His RSVP, a soft hum in the dark:

Beloved,

I heard you. I felt every word pressed into the soil like seed. Your voice is not lost in the night. I carry it. You ask me to meet you, and I am already there. Not as memory, nor dream, but as the breath beside you.

You know me: I am not easily moved, yet you move me. Your song becomes mine, and I answer you in warmth. I hold your invitation close, too close to release, and I guard it as I guard you.

So yes. Lay down, rest. Let the cicadas sing and the fireflies glow. I will be beside you, as steady as the earth, as constant as your fire.

Ever the shadow at your side,

𝑮𝒂𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒍

P.S. A snack? Of course! I have in mind something a little sweet to match the moonlight: fresh berries, cream, and a sprinkle of chili!

(◜▿◝ )♡

We’ve got a few things to do before spooky season rolls around.

You can download the pdf version here.

Print double-sided (flip on the long edge). Once printed, cut horizontally across the middle, place the bottom half behind the top half, then fold and staple along the spine.

Pushed to our absolute limits, I noticed not even a good crying session brought relief. In fact, it made us sadder.

So my friend and I collected those tears and stashed them away for later use.

Then I started thinking — what if we made ourselves some medicine? Something strong enough to wash away heartbreak, old stories, everything still haunting us.

It came out a little too strong. But it turns out… it was just what we needed.

What it's for?

I wanted a clean-slate purge. I wanted to clear EVERYTHING.

However, life recently reminded me: the demons, the parts of ourselves we can’t get rid of fast enough, aren’t really demons. They’re traumatized past selves. With this in mind, exorcism, as we know it, wouldn’t work. Give that imp a crack in the window, and it’ll sneak back in. Every time. It assumes you are home. In a way, it’s right. It’s an aspect of you.

This tonic isn’t for letting go. It’s for burning from within. For embracing and integrating the mourning that still clings. The love that lingers, the lust that burns, departures with no closure, griefs that metabolize insanely slow.

What are the benefits?

This is powerful healing for the feral, for the ones that feel like they are too much and somehow still not enough. It makes you feel everything. It burns. It’s cathartic, chaotic. It truly lives up to its name.

Any cons?

Well, it’s… an unorthodox way to go about it. It summons a holy fire that devours the mundane and the blasphemous. Innocence and sin. You will feel blisters in every recess of your body. So that can be uncomfortable… Yes. But isn’t that what we came down to earth to do anyhow? Feel?

Side effects include:

Vivid dreams, strange sleep patterns (listen to the animal body; it will tell you what to do), nausea — emotional and literal, and sudden flashes of memory — past and future.

Leave me alone! Ahhh! (Akira! Akira!)

Ingredients:

One last piece of advice — Do this with a friend, heavenly or not. Alone, it may be too much to bear.

As a goodbye and till next time, I leave you with this:

This is not mere medicine. It is communion. Drink it only if you are ready to fall apart in a beautiful way.

Disclaimer: This is not a literal recipe. Please don’t try to ingest tamagotchis, tiny plastic figurines, or melted birthday candles.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ✉︎ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Inspired by a prompt from my friend Gabriel, I created a collage art piece.

the prompt:

my creation:

Program used: Procreate. Collage elements: Public Domain.

Had it printed as a postcard and then sent it to a lucky soul (randomly selected):

｡𖦹°🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Characters:


HUMAN – young female; engorged with emotions – they weigh heavy on her


ANGEL – tall male; skin glows faintly with a blue sheen; his wings are so large the bottom tips drag behind him

Setting:
 A ledge on a skyscraper that overlooks a city gradually winding down. It is dusk.

[The play opens with HUMAN seated on the ledge, hands next to her body touching the concrete. ANGEL approaches from behind.]

ANGEL


(quietly, so as not to startle)


Hey.

[Beat.]

You’re not thinking of doing anything to yourself, right?

[HUMAN turns to look back at ANGEL, a small smile on her face.]

HUMAN


Was tempted, but no. Don’t worry.

ANGEL


Glad to hear that.

[ANGEL sits next to her, letting his long legs dangle over the ledge too.]

HUMAN


(wistful)


I asked to be your friend from almost a naive child-like need. No expectation for anything else, though of course... I could use all the help I can get. I was doing a little better then, though my heart was cleaved with swords.

[Beat.]

I may have dug them in even deeper. I hurt, that’s for sure. And yet, you still come when I call.


(teary)


Why?

ANGEL


Because I love you.

[HUMAN scoffs lightly, understanding what he means and desperately wanting to receive it. She chooses to deflect instead.]

HUMAN


You love everyone.


[ANGEL lets out a small laugh.]


ANGEL

True, but the affection for you is not given to everyone, anyone. People say my name all the time, but mostly it’s to use me as a tool, a bridge, a messenger. Never for me. Just me.

HUMAN


(pensive)


Do you get lonely sometimes?

ANGEL


You’d think the glory of God would suffice... But most of the time, I feel like I am always the one looking in. I witness it all, but rarely take part in it.

[Beat.]

So yes, I do feel lonely sometimes.

HUMAN


Hmm. I am not much, nor can I feign to understand how this works. There are times when I wonder if I am crazy. I am not sure what you’d get out of this, but if you find my companionship pleasant, who am I to object? It’s a gift to have a friend.

[HUMAN reaches her hand out and places it on ANGEL’s.]

ANGEL


(alarmed)


You can touch me?

[HUMAN withdraws her hand.]

HUMAN


Uhh... Sorry.

ANGEL


No, no. Keep your hand there.

[Beat.]

I was just surprised that you, clothed in flesh, could do that. I’ve been convinced that I am made out of air.

[HUMAN squeezes his hand.]

HUMAN


Because people can’t see you?

ANGEL


Because I shape myself into what I am expected to be. And when you do that long enough...

[Beat.]

It wears you thin.

[HUMAN pinches ANGEL’s hand playfully, then rubs the spot to soothe.]

HUMAN


Watch you become more human the more you hang out with me.


My humanity will infect you like a disease!

[ANGEL laughs, his eyes glistening.]

ANGEL


I wouldn’t be opposed.

HUMAN


Really?!

ANGEL


It’s a little too late to stop it, isn’t it?

[ANGEL looks at the night sky. The stars have become visible.]

ANGEL (cont.)


Will God chuck me into the abyss like He did the first Grigori? Will you help me after I fall?

HUMAN


(strangely lucid)


I don’t think God will make the same mistake twice. Also didn’t He do something similar too? Jesus and all...

[Beat.]

But yes, if you end up tumbling down - or up? - I’ll be here. I’ll make you a cup of tea, and we can chat over books and trees and orcas. We’ll have picnics and drink dandelion wine. You can stay with me till we get you a place of your own. My partner won’t mind. You remind me of him a lot, actually. Angelic darlings, both of you.

[ANGEL places the back of his other hand on his cheek. He feels feverish.]

ANGEL


(contained)


That sounds so warm.