#messages from higher self

[jgoddesstarot]

Pick-A-Pile: What Type of Diva Are You? - Messages From Your Higher Self

👑Check out my masterlist to see all of my pick-a-card readings😊

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🔮Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are based upon my intuitive interpretation of the cards and about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

🔮How I read: I use a mix of tarot cards, oracle cards, along with my intuitive abilities of claircognizance, clairaudience, and clairsentience.

🔮How this works: Close your eyes and take deep breaths, pick the pile you are most drawn to. If you aren’t drawn to any pile then that’s okay, these messages aren’t for you.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: 3 of Pentacles, 5 of Cups, 4 of Pentacles, 9 of Swords, The Empress

Oracle Card: Mixed signals yield mixed results. Make sure you are clear about what you are attracting.

Hello, my dazzling Pile 1's! Prepare to be swept away as we unravel the facets of your captivating Diva persona.

Envision a mesmerizing conductor, not always in the spotlight, but the mastermind orchestrating the symphony of collaboration. With grace, you weave the talents of others into a harmonious dance, your leadership a subtle art form. Those around you feel the pull of your magnetic influence, guiding them toward shared triumphs, an unsung anthem of inspiration.

Yet, every diva has her ballads—melodies laced with moments of heartbreak and disappointment. But it's in these silhouettes of sorrow that your true essence emerges. You embrace your vulnerabilities, allowing them to sculpt you into an emblem of resilience, strength, and relentless growth. With every setback, you rise, creating anthems from your scars.

Grounded amidst the whirlwind of life's stage, your self-assured presence radiates a sense of security and unyielding principle. This deep-rooted confidence is your signature; a reminder that a diva knows her worth and gracefully sets her boundaries, unwavering in her convictions.

Behind the glitz and glam, however, lies a diva acquainted with the shadows of anxiety. It's not the presence of these fears that defines you, but the dance you perform with them. You waltz with your worries, turning daunting dreams into magnum opuses of hope and determination.

Amidst it all, you're an embodiment of nurturing abundance. Radiating a warmth that feels like a comforting embrace, your aura is a blend of kindness, allure, and undying love, leaving everyone captivated.

And a golden nugget of wisdom for you: Consistency in your signals will always craft the results you desire. In your captivating diva journey, let clarity in intentions be your guiding star.

To sum it up, dear Pile 1's, you are an intricate tapestry of leadership, resilience, mindfulness, determination, and boundless love. Embrace these colors, let them shine brilliantly, and continue to magnetize the universe's finest towards you."

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: Ace of Cups, 9 of Cups, Knight of Wands, Judgement, The Tower

Oracle Card: The power you seek is within your hands, soul, and mind. Use it and watch what you create!

Ah, my alluring Pile 2's! Your diva essence is an enigma—a tantalizing dance of raw power interwoven with tender vulnerability, a harmonious blend of fiery passion and serene calm. Shall we journey deeper into this maze of your allure?

Firstly, imagine a boundless reservoir of love and empathy. You, dear Pile 2's, are a beacon of this affection. Your spirit envelops everyone with such depth and warmth that it's impossible not to bask in your nurturing embrace. As if this isn't enchanting enough, you also effervesce a contagious positivity, drawing to yourself waves of contentment and gratitude. With every step, you magnetize joy and fulfillment, becoming a beacon of desire fulfilled.

Yet, there's an electric spark to you—a vivacity that's impossible to cage. An adventurer at heart, you blaze trails with zeal, captivating audiences with your dynamic flair. When the spotlight shines, you don't shy away; you seize it, becoming its undeniable star.

But here’s where the plot intensifies. Your diva soul thrives on transformation, constantly shedding layers, evolving like a phoenix. With every twist of fate, you embrace the chaos, knowing it's a prelude to rebirth. While many flee from storms, you dance in the rain, understanding that true brilliance emerges only when tested.

A whisper of wisdom for you: The universe reminds you of the formidable power coursing through your veins, ready to shape destinies. This strength, a blend of your heart, spirit, and intellect, is your magic wand. Wave it, and witness wonders unfold.

To wrap our tale, magnificent Pile 2's, you're a mosaic of profound emotions, boundless zeal, unyielding resilience, and the magic of transformation. You don’t merely face challenges; you evolve through them, emerging brighter, bolder. Wear these facets proudly, and continue to radiate positivity and fulfillment, drawing to you the treasures of life."

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: 7 of Cups (in reverse) Strength, 10 of Pentacles, King of Cups, 8 of Pentacles

Oracle Card: Patience is needed at this time. Stop trying to rush everything. We have everything under control.

Ah, my radiant Pile 3's! As we delve deeper into the ethereal whispers from your Higher Self, prepare to uncover the mesmerizing tapestry of your inner diva.

Envision a dazzling diva with a razor-sharp clarity of purpose. Not one to be entranced by mirages, you navigate the labyrinth of life with a defined vision. Illusions may try to entice, but your discerning eyes are set on the horizon, turning lofty dreams into tangible triumphs.

But what truly defines you is an unmatched reservoir of inner tenacity juxtaposed with tender warmth. Much like a fierce lioness guarding her pride, your heart beats with courage yet knows the gentle rhythm of compassion. With every step, you strike a mesmerizing balance of strength and love, making you a diva of unparalleled substance.

As we journey further, your love for life's opulence emerges, not just its glitter but its gold. While you savor life's luxuries, your feet are firmly rooted in cherished traditions and deep-seated values. Your emotional reservoir overflows with wisdom, allowing you to channel your feelings with prowess, wielding them as tools of empowerment.

In your quest for greatness, it's not just about sparkling on stage. Behind the curtains, your dedication paints a story of unwavering commitment and relentless pursuit. Every bead of sweat, every hour spent perfecting your craft, echoes your belief in the enchantment of diligence and perseverance.

A whisper from the cosmos gently nudges: While ambition fuels your spirit, patience will be your guiding star. For in the vast cosmos of destiny, every star has its moment to shine the brightest.

In essence, spectacular Pile 3's, you are a diva sculpted with clear purpose, heartwarming grace, enduring values, and enduring patience. Through life's marathon, wear your diva crown with pride, savoring each step. The spotlight awaits, and when it shines on you, you'll be nothing short of breathtaking."

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[evangelineshifts]

another dream i had was more chaotic but one part that stuck out to me is this;

for context i’m a triplet in almost every reality. identical for the most part baring like hair or eye color sometimes. i was with them and we were talking about the colors that we wear so people can differentiate us and we went to take a picture together and all of a sudden i looked different (brown eyes darker skin darker hair;) no less beautiful but different from my sisters who for some odd reason had lighter skin blue eyes etc. and i wasn’t concerned that they were practically white (i was actually like ?? cause we are BLACK sista) but i wanted us all look alike, like sisters. and i was so distressed that it wasn’t how i wanted it, how id manifested it. my eyes were changing to match my sisters but the more i got upset about it the more it rejected until i just gave up and i think it really says a lot abt how my subconscious is translating what im doing rn. just like unconsciously im always trying so hard to be this person that i already am, and by trying so hard its doing the opposite.

that already IS me there’s nothing for me to keep working towards.

TLDR; had a dream where my appearance wasn’t as i intended and the more i tried to force it the more it resisted so im guessing its a message from myself to me about where i am rn.

anyways love my sisters, love my face and body cause it’s just as i desire, and i love LOA 💋

[mysteriouswanderersworld]

I sit at a table meant for two

But I still feel more loved than I did with you

☕️ 🌬🌌🌹🥀🏞

[thesensteawitch]

MESSAGE FROM YOUR HIGHER SELF 🍀💫

Pick A Pile Reading

(Left To Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hello, Senstea Souls! 🩷

I am back with another collective reading! Take a deep breath and pick a pile intuitively.

In case you wish to book a personal tarot reading with me feel free to DM me on Tumblr.

I am sharing the links to my rate card and booking form below:

🌷 Rate Card

🌷 Booking Form

Here is your reading:

Pile 1

Hello, my beautiful pile 1. Your cards came out in pairs. What I felt instantly was that your higher self is talking about two paths. So I thought maybe you've got two paths in front of you, and the one you choose will define who you become. But reading more into the cards, I realized that one path leads you to your future and the other to your past. So take how it resonates for you, pile 1. For the very first time, it seems you're seeing someone in a totally different light. You're surprised. How could you overlook this person's great qualities? Your higher self is asking you to heal the past by being loving toward yourself and toward someone else. Your past is not holding you back at all, you are. So to move forward, you must learn to handle your emotions. Perhaps that was your lesson that you needed to learn from the path of the past. It seems that you've done enough for the people around you. It's time you start doing things for yourself. You were so attached to being a good friend, son/daughter, father, mother, or partner that you forgot yourself in the process. Your higher self wants you to release the past with love and forgiveness.

Now moving toward the second path, which is toward your future, I see that some people are coming in the way. This is what your higher self wants to say to you: “My love, it's time that we start pursuing our dreams. It's time to search for our inner artist. Create something of your own. You may think what you want may be impossible, but I am asking you to believe in the impossible. This full moon shows your first artwork to the world. Don't dim your light. You have all the things you need to get started. With one strech of a hand, you can grab a star. Trust me, it just seems worlds apart, but truly it's not. Ask yourself: What are you afraid of? Where does your resistance come from? Someone has always been there for you, supports you, and is rooting for you. They too are transitioning with you. They are practically rowing the boat. And if you can't think of anyone, then know that the universe is rowing your boat. You've got your loved ones with you. SHOW THE WORLD THE REAL YOU. “The Hymn Of The Weekend” is your channeled song. The moment you launch your project, you will enter a new chapter of your life! Hunt down your fears and desires before the next full moon. And show everybody your talent.” If someone here wants to use a stage name, spirit is saying you're free to do so unless you're ready to reveal the artist behind the art.

Pile 2

Hello, my beautiful pile 2. Your higher self is sending you so much love right now. You needed that pain to have a perspective shift. The cards are so blue. I feel those who chose this pile have cried a lot in the recent past. What you went through wasn't easy at all, but you took a stand for yourself. Your higher self is really proud of you to take the lead in a challenging situation. Your higher self wants you to take a break now. There's something that's bothering you because it seems your beliefs have been challenged, so it's time you learn and understand something from a higher perspective. When something challenging happens, it's our ego that breaks first. And it's important for it to break so that you become truly humble. Listen to a Guru or a spiritual teacher. It's time you again become the student of life. Your higher self sees your kind, loving, and protective side. But the guides are saying that you cannot save people from the lessons they are meant to learn. You can't fight God. Recently, you've also communicated what's important to you or about your pain. From next week, each passing day will heal you if you try to upgrade your knowledge and be wise. It's not the time to think you know everything; it's time to learn. Learn why certain situations happen; what's the root cause? Be compassionate toward yourself and others.

This is what your higher self is saying to you: “My love, it's time to find your emotional balance again. It was just a bad day, not a bad life. You're overthinking, trust me. Your life is going to be far better than what you think it is going to look like. In fact, there's a new start coming into your life. Before that, you must learn what this challenging situation was trying to teach you. And you cannot learn it by yourself. You need to look for the deeper wisdom from books or spiritual gurus. What's true to you may not be true to others. So don't fight with yourself. The horror is in your heart, not in your life. Respect the differences. By the next new moon, if you continuously seek wisdom from the right and trusted source, you'll be out of this mental rut. Journey to your better mindset/mental state begins after 3 days.” ‘Just The Way You Are’ by Bruno Mars is the song I've channeled for you.

Pile 3

Hello, my beautiful pile 3. For how long have you been waiting for love? But what I see looking at your cards is that love has always been around you. You were blocked from it because you were not mentally ready for it. Your higher self is saying that love is selfless. It doesn't expect anything in return. There's someone in your life you misunderstood in the past (it can be anyone). Maybe you went through a tough cycle with them. For most of you, I think it was a romantic connection. Your higher self is asking you to show compassion toward yourself and work through your fears. Don't be so indicisive. There are no right or wrong decisions in life. Someone seriously has eyes only for you, pile 3. You're their dream come true. It seems that you worked really hard for this connection or on yourself, and your higher self is saying that your hard work is paying off, though you may not feel so. Your higher self is emphasizing these words: trust, choose, love, and be fearless. All along you were just running away from your patterns and your trauma that needed to be addressed.

This is what your higher self is saying to you: “You have the power to design your destiny! Do you get that? All along, you've painted your life with every stroke as per your wish! Ask yourself: What do you truly want? How can you work on your relationship with yourself and with others? If you really give it your all, you will have the kind of relationship you want. Yes, you did all you could, but there were some patterns being played from your end too in your connection. That did more damage than good. So be kind to yourself and to the other person. You're a warrior. You've come so far in your life. What you're afraid of is just in your head. You can easily defeat your shadows and rise above them. Every time given a chance, you got afraid and walked away thinking you'd done it all. But all these signs that you've been getting were leading you to this moment. You were where you were meant to be, and you're where you're supposed to be. So don't you ever think that you were on the wrong path? The obstacle in the path is the path. It just took you some time to understand the maze and find your way out of it. Open your heart and spread love. The song I am channeling for you is “Firework” by Katy Perry.”

If you're a writer, painter, or any sort of artist, you're being called to heal yourself through expression. Love and let yourself be loved, pile 3. You've built your life brick by brick, and your foundation is strong. Listen to your heart; what do you truly want? The truth is buried in the deepest corners of your heart, and the moment you'll show it in your art, you'll find it coming to the surface.

[butchfaith]

this may be kind of niche but if you have ocd and you hear spiritual people talk about unquestioningly trusting your intuition............. ignore that

[cygnusoracle]

Hi people🩷

I am opening free readings once again!

This is not a tarot reading! Rather I would use oracle cards and intuition to answer your questions🩷

[18+, must be a follower, reblogged and like, no anons]

Also I will be answering general spiritual questions including manifestations! Drop your questions on ask box.

Check my page for my readings and reviews

Status: CLOSED

[theangelsnumbers]

Angel Number 333

A call to rise into your power

When you keep seeing 333, it is not a coincidence It is a message that your soul is ready to grow You are being asked to step into alignment with your purpose

333 carries the energy of expansion It encourages you to express your truth To trust your inner voice To create with courage and heart

This number often appears when the mind, body, and spirit are asking for unity When your guides want you to remember your strength And when it is time to move forward with clarity and confidence

You are fully supported by divine forces You are not alone in your journey You are being reminded of who you really are

If 333 has been following you Take it as a sign to show up for yourself To choose growth To step into the light of your own becoming

[rainbowhearttribe]

For all my dreamers out there!

Image courtesy: Instagram.

[numinously-yours]

Messages from your spirit guides

Thank you all who voted on my poll and let me know what kinds of readings you would be interested in getting. The topic with the most votes was "Messages from my guides" so that is the one we're starting with!

Pick the pile that feels right. If you're not sure which to pick, you can view the full photo, the song that was playing for your reading, and a single sentence on each one to see if those help you feel more called to a pile (some lyrical, some a general sentence).

Like, reblog, or reply to let me know it resonates!

Based on the way that your cards fell out, it feels like you are transforming. It’s been tough lately to see the bright side of situations. It’s felt like you are just getting by, rather than living you’ve been surviving. But, my loves, your guides want you to know that a breakthrough is on its way! You may even be starting to see the rays as the sun starts to rise in an upright position. As you make your way through the clouds, pay attention to the needs of your inner child. There may be opportunities for healing them, and by doing so, you’re going to unleash a part of you that you never knew existed. In addition to the sun’s transformation in your life, the ten of swords is also being transformed. You’ve felt a bit helpless lately. You’ve wondered “what’s the point of getting up?”. But, you know what the point is? As the sun begins to shine on you, you will realize the beauty of the world. You’ll see that even in the times that seem darkest, the sun can still be seen lighting up the world in some capacity. Maybe it’s going to happen in a “click” moment. One day you’ll wake up and see how amazing life is. Or it may begin happening over time. Day by day you’ll start feeling lighter.

Your guides have been sending hints that you are not being given the reciprocation you deserve. Although nine comes before ten numerically, the nine of wands came out after the ten and I think that is actually quite representative of what’s going on. In your ten of wands state, you are carrying so much. You’re carrying the expectations of others. You’re carrying the emotions of others. You’re carrying what you feel is your responsibility to take care of everyone else around you. But when the nine of wands energy comes in, you’ve set down these heavy wands. You’ve created a steady boundary of these wands, rather than a heavy load. Your guides want you to know this is possible. I think that you are picking up on the hints, but are scared of what happens once you set the wands down. What your guides want you to know is that, once you start creating the boundaries for yourself, you’ll really step into the role of creator. Creator of your own happiness. Creator of your future.

Hey threes, this pile might be for me, too haha Our guides want us to remember that the feelings of inadequacy and doubt that we have is just the fear talking. We’re so used to convincing ourselves that we’re not good enough that we forget to see all the cool stuff we’re capable of. We’re inspiring, we’re strong, we’re creative. We are adamant about following our dreams. If you’re like me, you get excited and then you realize HOW excited and start holding back. Our guides want us to trust the excitement! At first, I thought the quote “no regrets, just love” from our pile’s song meant this reading would be about love. It can involve love, but I think it is ultimately our guides telling us to fall in love with the process. Ruminating on our “mistakes” only takes away from our ability to live in the now. I think that some of us are starting to practice. And I know that all of us are at least starting to understand this is something that will require practice and can’t just be done by the snapping of our fingers. Investing in ourselves, especially when it feels uncomfortable, is what is going to produce long term results. Our guides are here to remind us that we’re not only capable of doing this, but that the rewards are going to be soo worth it.

You know that your guides are telling you something, but you are resistant to believing them. Sorry to say it, but they’re not going to stop 😉. They are trying to show you that your new ideas and longing for knowledge are AWESOME. It is a sign that you’re growing. It seems like whenever you have a spurt of energy and inspiration, it’s quickly followed by pessimism and the idea that you’re not capable. So, you stop. Then your guides try to tell you in another way and you’re like “eh, maybe I’m reading the signs wrong.” But you know you’re not. I know how hard it is not to believe in yourself. Especially if you’ve been shown/told all of your life that your ideas are no good, or if the accomplishments you have made, and you were really proud of, get shut down. That wasn’t fair to you, number four. Your guides are here to cheer you on and make sure you feel the least amount of self-doubt as possible. You’ll still have the moments that the doubt comes through, but try your hardest to knock down that wall. You’re hearing your guides on the other side of that wall and they’re just waiting for you to tear it down and celebrate with you – FOR you.

[viridian-tay-leaf]

Pick a Pile:

Pile 1 💛 -- Pile 2 💞

Pile 3 💚 -- Pile 4 🧡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 1 💛:

So what were not gonna do is go past that like you didn't just say what you just said- seriously how are you still underestimating yourself. Look at where you are right now and how far you've come. You're in your zone babe, keep on going. Big virgo & capricorn energy. 🎶 Money money ain't it funny in a rich man's world 🎶~ You're already there babe, just a little more resting, testing, and putting some more work into sharing your passions and it'll all be good. The universe is working for and with you so why are you fighting. "The girls are fighting". Let go loves it'll work out, it always does for you. Take some time to enjoy the little things today and you'll be a okay little loves~

Channeled Songs:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 2 💞

Ouuuuuuuu Someone's in looveeeee. Who are they? Are they someone you've known forever or a new person that just gives you the butterflies? Ignore my interest in the gossip- You guys are down bad and when I say that I mean you're gone loves. This person is someone you can really trust and depend on. They are someone who is down to ride and thrive with you for the long run. Just be sure to keep communication open, respect each other & your boundaries, and be honest all the way through. Keep up these basic ideals and you'll be a love for the pages. I'm getting dancing/kissing in the rain. Library dates, walking in the golden hour, amusement parks. Y'all are an adventurous couple who bring out the best in one another, just be sure to acknowledge and work through the worst as well. A relationship can't work unless you both split it 50/50. Remember that you are your #1 priority and then consider them as your #2 priority. You guys are like a storybook kind of love though. Love songs all the way. Getting Pisces, Taurus, Leo vibes. Overall, whether it lasts a week or a lifetime, enjoy one another and the experiences you have as they will be some of the best memories you have when you go.

Channeled Songs:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 3 💚

I actually got the songs before the message this time. Yall are in a me myself and I mood, huh? It's giving "I'm feling myself, feeling myself, feeling myself!" While dancing in the mirror. Okayyyyy you guys are vibing. Y'all are either in love with yourself right now or learning to love yourself again and I'm here for it. You go babe, you deserve it. Someone went through a bad breakup(romantic, familial, or platonic) and it took a hardship on you. It was really tough since you've put so much into this relationship and it hurt you alot to get out of it. But! You did it for yourself cause you knew it wasn't going to change and that you deserved better. After going into Hermit mode for a while, you've decided fuck that I'm the shit, they don't deserve my tears so I'm going to be the best version of me I can be and I'm going to do it unapologetically! Major Pisces and Libra energy. Also getting Capricorn for some reason. Either way im proud of you honey. Yesssss 👏🏽 ahhh I love you're energy. Here's to rebuilding and renewing ourselves! Drink that wine 🍷, Dance in your mirror 🎶, Hang out with people who bring you joy 😂. You are someone who loves hard, but the universe loves you harder ;)

Channeled Songs:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pile 4 🧡

Are you guys okay? I'm getting a lot of anger from y'all. Some of you are upset that something hasn't worked out. Others are just mad at the state of the world and how it's going. I'm getting alot of pessimistic vibes here and I'm hearing that it's not gonna work for either of us babe. So right now I'm gonna need y'all to go into self-care or what I call Hermit-Magician mode and take care of yourself big time. You may be the healers we need for our future. So take a breather cause you definitely need it. I'm hearing burnout big burnout even if it's something you love. Too much of anything is never good for you. Take a cleansing shower. I'm getting protection and maybe some of yall have been cursed/hexed by someone else's negative energy/envy. Get that person out of your environment or life as soon as possible loves. They are not good for you and your friends seem to think so aswell. Be gentle with yourself because you're still sensitive. Take your time refilling your energy and your passions. You can't give pour out an empty cup darling. So as someone who's been there before, rest, rest, rest 👏🏽. It sucks but it'll be worth it. I've found that depending on which sign you are, it helps to go be around your element. For example, I'm a Scorpio (sun) and whenever I feel like this I usually shower, swim, or stand in the rain. It's like a little refresher. A reminder that I'm here for a reason and that reason is to exist and guide others to enjoy their experience aswell.

Channeled Songs:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Be good, be kind, be safe~💜

[veal-exe]

EDIT

This has gotten a lot of traction so I’m gonna be rude and say that if anyone here has the means, that my spouse and I need help to not be homeless and hungry.

my paypal is Lahoreling@Gmail.com

END EDIT

———

I was discussing the incident mentioned later in this piece with my wife yesterday and I saw another post by someone earlier doing something mentioned in here and I'm finally going to say something about it.

There is a serious problem in leftist spaces, especially online, especially on Tumblr, when it comes to language.

The way people are expected to speak just to even enter these spaces is incredibly complex, to the point of being outright hostile to those who haven’t already spent time in them. And it’s not just newcomers; people who have important things to say, people speaking from lived experiences, people who don’t have English as a first language but still deserve to be heard, are constantly talked down to or even pushed out entirely for not using the "right" words.

This gets even worse when you factor in how often new terms are coined in English, and then people are shamed for not immediately knowing or using them.

I saw someone reblog their own post saying something like, "I know for a fact more than half of y’all didn’t understand a fucking word I said here."

And honestly? That stuck with me, because yeah, I’ve felt that before. Not because I don’t value critical thinking! because I absolutely do! I just made a post on that too! but because so many of these posts are written in a way that makes them Functionally Inaccessible to anyone who doesn’t already have the right background knowledge. And at a certain point, if you actually want your words to have an impact, if you actually want to create meaningful change, then you’re going to have to accept some things:

People will not always use perfect language.

2. People will not always know the exact terminology you personally prefer they use when engaging in discourse.

3. Dismissing or attacking people for how they say something, instead of engaging with what they’re saying, is actively harmful.

And more than that, if you genuinely want people to understand and engage with the things you’re talking about, especially people who don’t speak English as a first language, especially people without access to higher education, especially people who don’t even know where to begin when it comes to self-education (because yes, that is a skill that has to be taught) then you are going to have to be the one to adjust sometimes. You are going to have to let people say things imperfectly. You are going to have to take a step back and engage with the message rather than just the words being used to express it.

One of the experiences that made me realize that I, as a non-native English speaker, was not welcome in Tumblr leftist spaces was when I spoke about real-life oppression I had experienced. I left one word out of my post, a word which honestly, was not even important when talking about an incident that had Happened To Me, not theory, not hypotheticals or any what-ifs of oppression, a story, a story about something that happened to me.

And because of that, people sat in a Discord server, picking apart my words, accusing me of awful things, and then came into my askbox throwing jargon and buzzwords I’d never even heard before, then got mad at me for being frustrated that this was happening.

Think about that. People who are directly impacted by oppression are being pushed out of spaces meant to discuss it because the way they speak doesn’t conform to certain expectations. That is not justice. That is not solidarity. That is not progress.

There is a fundamental disconnect here between theory and praxis. Ironically so many of you do not know what praxis is, because most of you engage with a lot of theory, and not a lot of praxis, you use the word praxis a lot, but, ironically, you have no idea what it means.

{to put my money where my mouth is, it means Doing Something, in the simplest possible terms}

In theory, leftist spaces should be accessible. They should be places where people can speak openly about their experiences, learn from each other, and work toward meaningful change. But in practice? There’s a gatekeeping of language so intense that many people, particularly those who are marginalized in ways beyond just their political beliefs, are outright excluded.

And this is something I need people to sit with: The assumption that the "right" language is easy to learn, or that anyone who doesn’t use it is being willfully ignorant, is an inherently privileged stance. Knowing where to find information, how to process it, and how to integrate new terminology into your vocabulary is a skill that is largely tied to education. Having the time to engage with leftist literature and theory, to stay up-to-date on every new term that gets introduced, is also a privilege. And the fact that so many people refuse to acknowledge this, that they expect perfect articulation from everyone, regardless of background, and punish those who don’t measure up, is a huge problem.

Worse still, the same people who act as gatekeepers of this language often fail to communicate their ideas in a way that is accessible at all.

This doesn’t mean that complex ideas should never be discussed. It doesn’t mean that people shouldn’t strive for accuracy in their language. But it does mean that if your goal is to educate, if your goal is to spread awareness, if your goal is to help people understand and join the movement, if your goal is to engage with fellow oppressed people, then you have a responsibility to meet people where they are. You have a responsibility to make your language understandable.

Because if people can’t even process what you’re saying, then what’s the fucking point?

And before anyone says, "Well, people should put in the effort to learn!" Let me make something very clear: They do.

People who are new to leftist spaces, or who are coming in from different linguistic and cultural backgrounds, are often trying their best to engage. They are listening, they are learning, they are processing. But if the response to every mistake, every slightly off phrasing, every unfamiliarity with a new term, is immediate hostility,

or even if it's just 'hey I see you're sharing a personal moment, but can you change your language to make me, personally, more comfortable with you discussing your oppression?' then you’re not teaching.

You’re just making sure only the people who already think and speak exactly like you get to stay in the room.

Your language, your terminology, your theory? none of it means anything if you can’t make it accessible to the people who actually need it. And it means nothing if you use it to Exclude rather than Include.

[jgoddesstarot]

Pick-A-Pile: End of Summer Vibes | Messages From Higher Self Of What To Focus On Next

👑Check out my masterlist to see all of my pick-a-card readings😊

✨ Visit my shops at Ko-fi.com or J.Goddess Tarot✨

🔮Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are based upon my intuitive interpretation of the cards and about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

🔮How I read: I use a mix of tarot cards, oracle cards, along with my intuitive abilities of claircognizance, clairaudience, and clairsentience.

🔮How this works: Close your eyes and take deep breaths, pick the pile you are most drawn to. If you aren’t drawn to any pile then that’s okay, these messages aren’t for you.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: King of Cups, Strength, 8 of Wands, The Hierophant, Knight of Pentacles

Hello, my radiant Pile 1's. As we bid farewell to the sun-soaked days of summer, let's delve into the messages that your Higher Self wishes for you to receive. Our journey begins with the King of Cups, a card that signifies emotional balance and control. Your Higher Self is urging you to balance your emotions as we transition from the zealous energy of summer into the introspective calm of autumn. This card indicates a need to harness the ability to manage feelings in a mature and balanced manner, exuding the calmness and diplomacy the King of Cups represents.

The Strength card comes next, urging you to embody inner strength and resilience. The end of summer often brings change, and your Higher Self wants you to navigate these changes with courage and patience. Remember, true strength doesn't lie in physicality — it comes from within. Harness your inner fortitude to overcome any obstacles that cross your path.

The pace quickens with the 8 of Wands, a card symbolizing movement and rapid progression. It seems that the tranquility of the previous cards is about to shift significantly. Seize the swift energy of this card and prepare for rapid changes. Whether it's a new project, a sudden trip, or an unexpected communication, brace yourself for a quick transition. Your Higher Self is nudging you to be agile, adaptable, and ready to move.

Next, we meet The Hierophant — a call towards spiritual wisdom and guidance. This card is a gentle reminder that sometimes, the answers we seek lie within us. Your Higher Self encourages you to trust in the spiritual guidance you've been receiving. Whether through dreams, meditation, or simply a gut feeling, honor these spiritual messages and allow them to guide you.

Finally, standing firm is the Knight of Pentacles. This knight is a symbol of hard work, productivity, and routine. It's time to ground yourself, my dear Pile 1's. Despite the rapid changes that 8 of Wands suggests, the Knight of Pentacles advises you to remain steadfast and focused. Your Higher Self is sending a clear message: Remain disciplined, consistent, and patient.

So, my beautiful Pile 1's, your end-of-summer vibes guide you to balance, strength, swift movement, spiritual wisdom, and steadfast dedication. Your Higher Self implores you to embrace these energies as you navigate the transition from summer into autumn. Remember, change is inevitable, but it's how we adapt to that change that truly defines us. Embrace this journey with courage and grace as every step, every transition, and every end leads to a new beginning, a new adventure waiting to be explored.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: 2 of Cups, Page of Swords, 7 of Swords, Ace of Pentacles (in reverse), 5 of Swords

Let's dive right in, my delightful Pile 2's. First up is the 2 of Cups, a card symbolizing mutual attraction, love, and unity. This card suggests that as summer ends, it's time to focus on the relationships that genuinely matter to you. Nurture those bonds, reciprocate the love you receive, and express your feelings openly. Let your heart lead the way.

Next, we have the Page of Swords, known for its sharp intellect, curiosity, and thirst for knowledge. This card whispers to you: "Embrace your inquisitiveness, my dear Pile 2's". As we transition into autumn, focus on learning, growth, and mental fortitude. The Page of Swords calls for you to wield your mind like a sword, cutting through confusion and uncertainty.

The 7 of Swords, the card of strategic planning and stealth, struts in next. This card urges you towards cleverness, caution, and discretion. It's time to plan your path carefully, avoiding unnecessary confrontations. The 7 of Swords reminds you to be alert and not to underestimate the power of a well-thought-out strategy.

Ah, the Ace of Pentacles in reverse. This card, usually a symbol of new financial opportunities, when reversed, alerts you to missed opportunities or lack of planning. It's a strong reminder to pay attention to the material aspects of life. Money matters, my Pile 2's, and it's about time you organized your finances, planned your investments, and focused on building a secure future.

Finally, we meet the 5 of Swords, the card of conflict and tension. However, don't fret, my dears. This card is not a warning, but a call to acknowledge and face any lingering conflicts. It's about asserting your point of view and standing your ground, even if the odds seem against you.

So, my precious Pile 2's, your end of summer vibes guide you towards love, intellect, strategy, financial prudence, and assertiveness. Your Higher Self implores you to embrace these energies as summer wanes and autumn arrives. Remember, every transition is a chance for growth, and every conflict is an opportunity to strengthen your resolve. So, step into the autumn sun with courage, wisdom, and a heart full of love. After all, every end is just a new beginning waiting to be explored.

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: King of Swords, Queen of Pentacles, King of Pentacles, 6 of Swords, Knight of Wands

Greetings, my Pile 3's! As we bid farewell to the warmth of the summer sun, your Higher Self has some intriguing messages for you. Let's delve into these cards and unveil what's in store for you.

The King of Swords is the first card we meet, and he’s whispering messages of mental clarity and truth. He urges you to lean into your intellect, harness your strategic mind, and cut through the noise with unwavering honesty. Remember, my dears, the power of clear communication and the value of truth should not be underestimated.

Next, we have the Queen of Pentacles. This queen of nurturing and practicality is encouraging you to ground yourself. Your Higher Self wants you to focus on stabilizing your environment, whether it's home, work, or your relationships. Take time to nurture and appreciate what you have built, and keep your feet firmly planted on the ground.

Now, we encounter the King of Pentacles, a symbol of wealth, business, leadership, and stability. His presence is a reminder that success comes from persistence and hard work. So, my Pile 3's, this is the time to buckle down and focus on your career, your ambitions. The fruits of your labor are within reach, but only if you're willing to commit and put in the required effort.

The 6 of Swords then sails in, signifying a journey or transition. The waters may seem murky initially, but trust in your ability to navigate through it. This card is urging you to embrace change and transition, with the promise of brighter days on the horizon. So, don't fear, my loves, for each step you take brings you closer to your destination.

Finally, we meet the Knight of Wands, a fiery figure full of passion and ambition. The Knight is encouraging you to harness your energy and channel it towards your goals. Keep that flame of enthusiasm burning bright, and let it guide you forward on your journey of life.

So, my cherished Pile 3's, as summer fades into autumn, your Higher Self is guiding you towards a period of clarity, grounding, concentrated effort, embracing transition, and harnessing your passion. As the seasons change, so do the chapters of your life. Stand tall like the King of Swords, nurture like the Queen of Pentacles, work hard like the King of Pentacles, and move forward like the 6 of Swords while letting your passion blaze like the Knight of Wands. Remember, every end is a precursor to a beautiful new beginning, and every lesson learned is a stepping stone towards your higher purpose.

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[curlicuecal]

playing science telephone

Hi folks. Let's play a fun game today called "unravelling bad science communication back to its source."

Journey with me.

Saw a comment going around on a tumblr thread that "sometimes the life expectancy of autism is cited in the 30s"

That number seemed..... strange. The commenter DID go on to say that that was "situational on people being awful and not… anything autism actually does", but you know what? Still a strange number. I feel compelled to fact check.

Quick Google "autism life expectancy" pulls up quite a few websites bandying around the number 39. Which is ~technically~ within the 30s, but already higher than the tumblr factoid would suggest. But, guess what. This number still sounds strange to me.

Most of the websites presenting this factoid present themselves as official autism resources and organizations (for parents, etc), and most of them vaguely wave towards "studies."

Ex: "Above And Beyond Therapy" has a whole article on "Does Autism Affect Life Expectancy" and states:

The link implies that it will take you to the "research studies" being referenced, but it in fact takes you to another random autism resource group called.... Songbird Care?

And on that website we find the factoid again:

Ooh, look. Now they've added the word "some". The average lifespan for SOME autistic people. Which the next group erased from the fact. The message shifts further.

And we have slightly more information about the study! (Which has also shifted from "studies" to a singular "study"). And we have another link!

Wonderfully, this link actually takes us to the actual peer-reviewed 2020 study being discussed. [x]

And here, just by reading the abstract, we find the most important information of all.

This study followed a cohort of adolescent and adult autistic people across a 20 year time period. Within that time period, 6.4% of the cohort died. Within that 6.4%, the average age of death was 39 years.

So this number is VERY MUCH not the average age of death for autistic people, or even the average age of death for the cohort of autistic people in that study. It is the average age of death IF you died young and within the 20 year period of the study (n=26), and also we don't even know the average starting age of participants without digging into earlier papers, except that it was 10 or older. (If you're curious, the researchers in the study suggested reduced self-sufficiency to be among the biggest risk factors for the early mortality group.)

But the number in the study has been removed from it's context, gradually modified and spread around the web, and modified some more, until it is pretty much a nonsense number that everyone is citing from everyone else.

There ARE two other numbers that pop up semi-frequently:

One cites the life expectancy at 58. I will leave finding the context for that number as an exercise for the audience, since none of the places I saw it gave a direct citation for where they were getting it.

And then, probably the best and most relevant number floating around out there (and the least frequently cited) draws from a 2023 study of over 17,000 UK people with an autism diagnosis, across 30 years. [x] This study estimated life expectancies between 70 and 77 years, varying with sex and presence/absence of a learning disability. (As compared to the UK 80-83 average for the population as a whole.)

This is a set of numbers that makes way more sense and is backed by way better data, but isn't quite as snappy a soundbite to pass around the internet. I'm gonna pass it around anyway, because I feel bad about how many scared internet people I stumbled across while doing this search.

People on quora like "I'm autistic, can I live past 38"-- honey, YES. omg.

---

tl;dr, when someone gives you a number out of context, consider that the context is probably important

also, make an amateur fact checker's life easier and CITE YOUR SOURCES

[mysteriouswanderersworld]

Its been one year since I started having my life destroyed and eroded by a toxic relationship.

One year since I met them.

All soul ties are broken.

All contracts fulfilled.

And all energy return to sender.

You had me for a time, but now I am free, I am free to fall in love with life again.

🌌🌙

[joelsgoldrush]

“crawl home to her” | 7.5k

old man!logan x f!reader

SUMMARY: Will he be able to control himself once he's near you? In this moment, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you. OR Like a sinner seeking absolution, he finds his way back to you after every absence, as if you're the only salvation he's ever known.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. dirty talk. some fluff. comfort. feelings. self-deprecation. miscommunication. sort of established relationship. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). petnames. religious imagery. logan's POV. chauffeur!logan. dom!logan. reader wears logan's dog tags and clothes. pussy pronouns. phone sex. oral sex (f and m receiving). 69. fingering. masturbation (he jerks off in the limo). one (1) single spank. sort of rough sex. unprotected p in v. creampie.

A/N: i wrote this as a part 2 of this story, but still, it can be read as a standalone (i'd recommend that you also read the first part as well 👀 you'll understand their relationship better). hope you like this one! <3

Logan is tired. Bone-deep, soul-crushingly tired.

He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl inside his chest, teasing his lungs. Doesn’t even bother to crack the window open—why would he?—before exhaling, the haze lingering inside the limo like a fog.

One quick glance at his phone screen just to make sure his vision isn’t screwing him over—no older notifications. A pang of disillusionment settles in his being.

Not only is he fighting to keep his eyes open, exhausted from driving the same family around for the past few days while they enjoy their quality time, but he’s also bored out of his mind. 

Where the hell are you?

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on the bridge of his nose, preventing them from sliding down to his lap. When his phone buzzes, he jolts, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the limo due to his excitement.

His poor heart gallops as he fumbles with the screen, unlocking it with the same urgency as a man starved for contact.

But it’s not you. It’s one of his passengers.

We’re getting out in half an hour, the message reads. By we, she means herself, her husband, and their two kids.

Logan can’t bring himself to type an actual reply, so he leaves her on read. She knows he’s not going anywhere, parked outside the arcade as if he’s rooted in place with no way out.

Family after family enters that hell on earth, kids of all ages bouncing on their heels, voices shrill with enthusiasm. He watches, half-heartedly, as parents get dragged by their little ones, who negotiate how much money they are allowed to spend tonight.

He almost feels bad for those parents. Almost. He hopes that at least they know how to say ‘No’.

All in all, he’s got another thirty minutes of solitude ahead. The radio has long since ceased to entertain him. He’s been parked here for two hours, and his mind is starting to drift. He could stretch his legs, walk around, or maybe grab a drink—but damn it.

He wants to talk to you.

You’d said he could call you after dropping the family off. That was three hours ago. The last message he received from you was still stuck in his head, replaying over and over like a lifeline. Logan knows you must be busy, probably taking care of Charles and—

Okay, he’ll get back to that later. 

You: Just got out of the shower. Call me in five?

Right now, he could die a happy man. Were he a dog, his tail would be wagging furiously, anticipation already building for the simple joy of hearing you.

Logan: Got it.

The next five minutes feel like an eternity. He finishes his cigar, flicking the stub beneath the seat without giving it a second thought. For now, he doesn’t care about being a messy fucker. He’ll deal with the mess some other time.

Priorities.

A quick spritz of some cheap air freshener he picked up from a gas station fills the car, masking the distinctive scent of smoke. God forbid the kids start whining about how ‘weird’ it smells in the limo.

With a grimace, he sprays a little more—floral, of all scents? It feels insulting.

How kind of him to still be this considerate.

His thumb hovers over your contact, and he presses the call button with an agility he hasn’t had in years (thanks to you).

One, two, three rings, and then—

“Logan,” you say softly, your voice a little breathless, like you’ve been hurrying all over the place.

He stops grinding his jaw, the tension in his shoulders easing. He unclenches his fists, fingers uncurling one by one, as if letting go of some invisible burden.

Outside the vehicle, people stop dying, babies stop being born, and the world itself pauses just for him to listen to you.

You can’t see him, but he smiles either way. “Hey, baby.”

“Gosh, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time talking to Charles. We had dinner, and then I just—I felt so gross, you know? From cooking and all that. Took a shower, and it got pretty late.”

You end with a sigh, and he imagines you rubbing a hand over your face. “Please tell me you weren’t sleeping when I texted you.”

“Not even close. Still waiting for them.”

“They’re really taking their time, huh?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming a soft rhythm on the steering wheel. “How was your day?”

“Great! I’m already in bed.”

“My bed.”

You laugh, that sweet sound making his heart stutter. “Well, yeah. Where else do you want me to sleep if I’m at your place? On the floor?”

If someone had told Logan a year ago that he’d let someone live in his space, let alone take care of Charles, he’d have scoffed. "Pathetic," he’d have said, rolling his eyes with that familiar growl in his throat. Pretty sure he’d also puffed his chest while saying so.

Because Logan Howlett wasn’t one for accepting help. He’s been on his own since the earth was still cooling down.

But for you? He made exceptions. Plenty of them. And if it weren’t for your altruism, he wouldn’t have accepted this job—a job that pays well enough to cover Charles’ meds and put food on the table. He needs this rich family’s money.

“You’ve got a girlfriend now?” Charles had asked, when Logan explained he’d be staying with you while he went away for a few days.

“Big word you’re using there,” Logan had replied, placing two pills into Charles’ palm. The old man gave him a death stare. “Don’t play dumb. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”

Mumbling something incoherent before swallowing the pills, Charles had taken slow sips of water between each one, sinking back into the mattress with a weary sigh. “If she’s not your girlfriend, then what is she?”

“A friend.”

“That’s nice. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

He shakes that memory away, forcing his mind back to the call. “Try not to be so kind to him. What if he falls in love with you?” he inquires, a mocking tone weaving through his words. 

And that’s when you drop the bombshell. “You mean like you did?” 

You laugh, but Logan… doesn’t. He can’t do it. He makes sure he’s breathing on command: in and out, in and out, in and out. 

The mention of love unsettles him. He doesn’t feel safe anymore, doesn’t know what game you’re playing. Where’s the rulebook?

Is he—could he be—falling in love with you? Is that what you’re implying? And if so, do you feel the same?

In the long run, you mumble: “It was a joke.” Only then do his lungs fill with fresh air, untainted by the weight of his unease. But he can’t let it pass, the fact you sound disappointed. Defeated.

He promised himself he’d never hurt you. Though he doesn’t intend to, it feels as if he’s just stabbed you in the back, twisting the knife further into your frame—unwillingly.

“Remember the—” he pauses a moment, throwing his head back in frustration, silently cursing himself. “The pills. You’ve been giving them to him, right?”

“Yes, Logan.”

“Please, remember it’s only—”

“Logan,” you try again, cutting through the wave of his spiraling thoughts. He can picture you behind closed lids, looking at him through your lashes, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I have it under control, okay? He’s doing alright. I swear I’m taking good care of him.”

“I don’t doubt that, honey.” Casting a glance at the rearview mirror, he feels an unexpected sense of longing for your presence there, like a ghost haunting his every move, confined to the limits of his brain. “Can’t help but worry. That’s all.”

A soft hum reverberates through the line. He hears the rustle of sheets, the sound of you tossing around in his bed, and his pulse quickens at the thought.

“You said you’re sleepin’ on my bed.”

“Good memory you have.”

“You wearin’ my clothes as well?”

 Thick silence, the kind he relishes.

“Yeah,” you finally reply, shifting the phone from side to side. You take a deep breath, and add: “I forgot to bring mine.”

He hates how you easily find a way to get him riled up despite being miles away. It must be the power of words.

“I don’t believe you.” He knows he shouldn’t, hates himself for doing it, but one of his hands palms the half-hard bulge in his black slacks, suppressing a low groan. “Think you did it on purpose.”

A rush of heat, sharp and urgent, washes over him. Is he really about to do this? Get himself off in the very car he uses for work? Twisted, incredibly sick of him, he thinks.

Still, he craves more. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You laugh at his demanding tone, fanning the flames of his desperation. “When did you turn into a horny teenager?”

“Always been, baby,” Logan purrs, undoing the button of his pants, followed by the fly. His eyes flick upwards for just a moment—no cars, no one in sight. He’s presumably alone. It’s all the confirmation he needs to say: “C’mon. Tell your old man what clothes you stole from him.”

He’s never done this before—phone sex. He’s heard about it, sure, but never imagined he’d fall so hard for the idea. The thrill of it sinks into him, electrifying.

What are you doing? Is your lip caught between your teeth? Do your eyes wander down your own body? Maybe your fingers are already skimming over your skin.

“It’s just a random shirt,” you murmur. “Plain, white.”

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

Logan’s breath hitches as his hand moves to his cock, spotting the damp patch on his briefs where the tip has already started to leak. The moment he slides the elastic down past his balls, he fists his shaft in a slow stroke, going from the base to the head. “No panties? And you expect me t’believe this wasn’t planned?”

Your muffled whimper is like molten lava spilling into his ear, bringing him to full hardness. More shuffling follows on your end, driving him wild with the anticipation. “Why do you do this to me if you’re not here?”

“‘Cause I want you touchin’ yourself just like I’m doin’.” He thumbs the head, hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation. He aches to feel your mouth there instead. “Bet that pussy’s been cryin’ out for me, huh? Must’ve got used to me fillin’ her every other night.”

Your breathing grows more uneven, small gasps filtering through the speaker. “I need you here with me. This is—ugh—not enough.”

“What’s not enough, sweetheart?”

There’s a pause as the sound of your phone shifts again, and then he hears it clearly—the wet, needy sound of your fingers working between your legs, filling the silence with the loud squelching of your cunt. “My fingers,” you blurt out, more distant than before, like you’re merging with the bed, dissolving with every touch.

Logan spits roughly into his palm, the slickness of his saliva easing the drag of his calloused hand along his length, good enough to make the movement more satisfying.

He moans aloud, eyes shut tight, your name slipping from his lips, a whispered prayer, as if saying it could somehow summon you to his side. “I spoil you too much,” he rasps, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder, using every resource available to him, anything to feel something real. “Seems like you’ve forgotten how to make yourself come.”

Your moans follow his, the breathy sounds a clear sign of how close you are, hanging on the edge, your release just a heartbeat away. But it’s not enough, and you need him. He wonders if you can feel his thoughts from miles away, because— “Want your cock so bad, Lo. I m-miss you.”

He has to stop jerking himself to hold off his orgasm, stomping his foot against the pedals. “Fuck, darlin’. You keep sayin’ those things and I swear I’ll be back with you by morning.”

His sole focus now is you—getting you to come. Driven by his growing frenzy, it’s the only coherent thought that claws through the haze in his mind. “Keep talking, please,” you plead, fingers still lost in the heat of your body. “Tell me what you’ll do to me when you see me.”

Logan picks up the rhythm again, his movements faltering as his chest heaves, ragged breaths spilling out while his hand works faster. “Gonna fuck you slow and deep, just how you like it. Face to face, so you can kiss me as much as you want, ‘cause I know my girl loves that, am I right?”

My girl. He’ll regret that one the second the high fades and clarity sets in.

Word after word falls from his lips without thought, uncontrollable, as though he’s surrendered to the storm of desire raging in his being—a storm in which your name is the eye of it all.

You are everywhere, and you take up all the empty spaces he thought were impossible to fill, sinking into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Not a single part of him is left untouched by you, by the power of your presence in his life, consuming him in ways he never imagined.

Your airy mewls ripple through the line, feeding his ravenousness, adding to the tightening knot of pleasure coiling low in his abdomen. His muscles strain, thighs tensing. Each stroke of his hand prolongs this sweet torture. 

“Come for me, princess. You’d make me so h-happy if you came right now.”

And you do, because it’s not just his touch anymore—it’s his voice, and the way he commands you without force. How you’ve become accustomed to him, nodding along to each instruction he mutters.

Beneath your fingers, your swollen clit pulses, and though he can’t see it, he imagines it perfectly, having spent enough time worshiping it.

He knows, even from a distance, what your body must be doing. Your back arching off the bed, thighs quivering and clenching tight around your own hand. Those perfect legs of yours trembling as you reach your so-desired climax.

Loud and unrestrained, you moan, and for a moment, he wants to be with you so badly that he ponders if the theory of traveling across time and space sounds that far-fetched after all.

Logan doesn't need much after that for the thread to snap at long last, his groans dying on his lips as he stares in awe at the spurts of his seed landing wherever his eyes fall: a bit on the top of his pants, on his hand, his briefs. His cock twitches in his grip as he continues stroking himself through the aftershocks, gulping when it becomes too much to handle.

So phone sex is off the list now. Great.

“Miss you, too,” he mumbles once he’s caught his breath, tossing his glasses onto the passenger seat. His forehead feels damp to the touch, and he contemplates when was the last time he came this hard.

The elephant in the room hasn’t been addressed yet. He knows you expect him to say more, something deeper and rawer, but that’s all he can force himself to spit out.

Sometimes, he forgets that you can’t read him all the time. Although you know him better than anyone else, there are certain thoughts and memories locked tightly inside him, things you'd never discover on your own. Secrets he admits he should share with you, but he’s at a loss for how. Words aren’t doable when he needs them the most.

Maybe it's a matter of age—you’re a natural at voicing your feelings.

At some point, you ask: “When did you say you were returning?”

One thing’s clear: he can’t afford to lose you. He’d be an idiot if he let that happen.

“In five days, I think.” Were he with you, he'd hold you in his arms, kissing your lips. God, how he misses kissing you. All of you. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“It’s okay,” you respond, and in his mind, a blank canvas fills with the familiar image of you lying on your side, curling into a ball the way you always do. “I should go to sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Thank you for everything. “Get some rest.” Are you still in love with me? “Bye.” I’m coming back. You know how I feel about you, do you?

So much left unsaid, words he lacks the strength to speak. That, along with his come-stained clothes. And, of course, the limousine now perfumed like a flower shop.

Exhaustion clings to him again.

His luck has never been this good.

The next afternoon, one of the couple’s kids falls ill. Must be something he ate, the woman tells Logan, her voice light, though he can hear the shuffle of urgency behind her words.

Her husband packs their bags in the background, the muted thuds of luggage hitting the floor. You know how children are. Their hands are always filthy!

What she doesn’t realize is that Logan, in fact, doesn’t know how children are, because how could he?

He’s holed up in the hotel across the street, his only responsibility being to wait on their call, ready to drive whenever they needed him. Needless to say, his accommodations are nothing like theirs. Not that he minds it—he’s not one for luxury, has never needed it.

Truth be told, he’s no stranger to beds that groan if you shift slightly, clogged toilets that spit back water like they’re alive.

Joy rushes through him when he hears the news. He’s coming back earlier than expected, a thrill building in his chest. Twelve days he’s been away, his greed growing with each second in that desolate hotel room.

Now, the beating of his heart quickens, a faint thrumming as he stares out the window. He debates whether to let you know about his early return or keep it as a surprise. Would it be better if he just showed up?

How would you feel, knowing that, by the time the lights are out, he’ll be yours again?

He knows he should feel sorry for the poor kid, but all he can muster is a look of concern that barely reaches his eyes. Each time they pull into a gas station, he listens to the hurried slap of footsteps as the boy rushes for the bathroom to empty his insides.

He watches in the rearview as the kid’s father shakes his head, clicking his tongue with disapproval. “Do you have kids?” he asks, his voice forced into a casual tone, like he’s trying to break the silence that’s settled between them. 

Logan’s only response is to turn up the radio, some pop song he’s never heard spilling from the speakers. The lyrics are a blur of nonsense to him, but it’s enough to drown out the man’s words and the boy’s misery.

Some things never change.

As the sun dips below the horizon, he’s finally free, no longer at anyone’s beck and call. He contemplates the possibility of getting a speeding ticket, weighing his options. It hardly matters. The pull to see you, to feel you, is stronger than anything else.

Even though he tries to think of another time in his life when he felt such a raw need, no memory comes close.

When he does pull up to his place, he does it quietly. Parking the limo, he doesn’t honk, doesn’t announce himself. Fumbling with the keys ever so lightly so as not to wake you up, fitting them into the lock.

His wrist twists, and the door gives way with a soft creak.

Anxiety ripples through him as he steps inside. The smell of freshly cooked food hits him, but it only tightens the knot in his stomach, reminding him of how long it’s been since he last ate.

Later, he tells himself. After. Once he’s sated his true hunger—the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied by sinking his fingers into something real, fleshy, malleable. 

Hunger—yes, it’s animalistic, feral even. Will he be able to control himself once he’s near you? In moments like this, he feels more animal than human. Creeping, on the verge of crawling, back to you.

His feet take him to his bedroom, knowing the path to it very well. Fingers hovering over the knob, he takes a deep breath.

It’s already late, past midnight, yet energy courses through his veins as though he’s just woken from a long, ethereal dream.

He finds you asleep, your body wrapped snugly in the sheets, clutching a pillow close to your chest. Your cheek is pressed into it, breathing soft and steady, lulling him in. Kneeling on the edge of the bed, he kicks off his shoes, then slips in beside you, mirroring your position. 

A lamp sits on his nightstand, one that isn’t his, and he figures you must have brought it from your apartment. There has to be a symbolism for that.

It’s incredible how his entire world can fit into such a narrow bed.

The smart thing would be to let you sleep, to simply watch you for a moment longer. But he can’t help himself.

His thumb lingers near your face before gently cupping your cheek, and the very first contact with your skin sends a shudder through him, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He trails his fingers down to your chin, holding it with just enough pressure to remind himself that he’s here.

Leaning in, he presses his lips softly against your forehead, your typical perfume wrapping around him like a welcome.

Welcome home, Logan.

For the first time, he feels that someone’s been counting down the minutes until his return. He’d always believed a person like him didn’t deserve this. That he just wasn’t built for it.

Countless years had he spent convincing himself he’d never be the kind of man who could inspire love. His life had already been written long ago—predetermined by some cruel hand in the sky.

Destiny, fate, call it what you want—once the cards are laid out, there’s no escaping them. Or so he used to think.

You had taken that pen into your own hands, rewriting his future. You, of all people, had changed his life. No matter what the future held for the two of you, he’d always be grateful. Grateful that you’d seen the dim spark in him that others had chosen to ignore.

Thoughtlessly, his fingers continue their gentle strokes along your cheek, your hair. You stir beside him, shifting in your sleep. Your eyes flutter open, close again, and then open once more, blinking in confusion.

“Logan?” you croak, voice still groggy and thick with sleep, coming to your senses. Before he can respond, you throw yourself on top of him, smothering his face with kisses. “Why—how—”

“Sweetheart,” he says, attempting to hide his grin, but failing when your kisses shift to his neck, your nose nuzzling against his skin. A laugh slips out, warmth flooding his chest.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming home early!”

Home. Had he heard right? Had you used that word knowingly?

Peering into your eyes, he catches his reflection in your pupils, tiredness etched into his features. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You could’ve told me,” you reply, fingers threading through his greying locks, massaging his scalp. You place a tender kiss on the tip of his nose. “I would’ve waited up for you at least.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he whispers back, gaze drifting to your lips, and you close the space between you, his sigh mingling with yours as one hand cradles the small of your back, fisting the fabric of his shirt. His other hand tilts your head, inviting your tongues to greet each other in an unhurried dance.

You move languidly on top of him, and he notices, breaking the kiss and pulling back. “You’re gonna fall asleep on me, are you?”

The way your lashes flutter in response should be illegal. “I could use a human-size pillow.”

“I should shower first.”

“No.”

“Baby, I smell like gas.”

“So?”

A smirk tugs at his lips at your insistence, and he gently lays you back against the mattress. Drawn to your charm once again, he licks into your mouth, mentally scolding himself when he gets carried away, letting the kiss linger longer than intended.

“I’ll be quick,” he promises, pulling the sheets over your body. Resigned, you simply nod, settling on your side.

Ten minutes later, you’re dozing off, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when he slips into bed, wrapping himself around you from behind. One arm drapes over your waist, the other cushions your head, and there’s not a patch of skin between you left untouched.

Fatigue begins to delve deeper into his bones the longer he stays curled around you, but before the weight of sleep takes him, and the silence steals his chance, he huffs: “I missed you.” His beard grazes your skin in a soft, unintentional caress.

You pull his wrist to your lips, pressing a short-lived kiss to the inside of it. “Missed you, too.”

How the roles have reversed.

In the quietness of this starless night, you leave him no other choice but to believe you.

3:34 a.m. Still hostage to the lack of light outside. The world remains submerged in the gentle tides of sleep, undulating between dreams, except for him.

Logan wakes up at 3:34 a.m. because he’s rock hard, and being flushed against your back wasn’t helping him with his situation at all. If anything, it only heightened it.

He sits at the edge of the bed, his mind running in circles, debating whether he should jump to his feet and head to the bathroom for another shower—this time, a cold one. Returning to sleep, at least in this moment, is not a viable option.

His gaze drifts to the moonlight spilling through the window, casting its pale glow across the room. Is this your doing? The question lingers, unshakable, in his thoughts. It remains as just that: a question.

When you quietly rest your chin on his shoulder, he stifles a sigh, biting the inside of his cheek. Your voice breaks through the quiet.

“What’s wrong? Can’t sleep?” Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you circle his frame, in an effort to persuade him to sink back into the mattress.

“It’s nothing,” he says, pulse accelerating. Please, don’t look down. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“But what is—”

He doesn’t get to hear the rest of your sentence. You do look down, finding the outline of his hardened cock straining against his briefs, stealing your full attention.

“Wow.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“And leave you like this?” One hand creeps toward his waistband, your breath warm against his ear. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything in the world.”

Your nails trace a path through the coarse hair at his navel, and Logan tenses. His legs feel like jelly as you cup his balls, fondling them gently between your fingers.

Behind him, your low chuckle stirs something primal in him, making his blood thrum hot beneath his skin. He should be the one doing this to you, not the other way around.

“Darlin’, I don’t—” He’s cut off by his own guttural groan when you fist his length, pumping him in rhythm with his uneven breaths. “I don’t need this.”

“Seems like you do,” you whisper, momentarily halting your ministrations to place your palm in front of his face, hoping he takes the hint. You kiss his stubble, pausing just short of his mouth. “I want to take care of you. Always do.”

Your palm hovers before him, inviting. Grabbing your wrist, he licks it, coating it in his spit and guiding you back down to him. Together, your hands glide along his length, and his gaze locks onto yours, the intensity of it making his neck tense.

You beam with delight under his stare. That red organ caged within his ribs—a blood-pumping machine of passion—surges back to life as he sees you.

He had won the battle. He had triumphed over his past; had lived enough lives, endured enough years, to arrive at this moment.

This had to be the purpose of his existence: to share this part of his stay on earth with you.

“You’re so hard,” you say, twisting your wrist at the tip of his cock, reveling in every buck of his hips, each movement a reflection of his exaltation. “Guess you did miss me.”

With a quiet growl, he reaches behind, nudging your thighs apart until they find your mound, cupping you through your underwear. “I’m not the only one who’s been missin’ someone.” He pulls the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. His nostrils flare as he feels how ready you are. “Why am I not surprised?”

Your breath hitches, and you press yourself closer against him, your tits against his back, mouth teasing at his neck. “That’s what happens when you’re gone.” Another kiss on his nape. “You could take me with you next time.”

“Can’t do that,” he answers, teasing your entrance. “No work would get done.”

His movements cease to a stop. Yours do too. Turning his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, he scrutinizes your expression, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in your affected state.

“You’re not goin’ back to sleep, are you?”

There’s the shake of your head. A single word escapes your lips, imbued with pure fervor: “Please.”

He captures your mouth in an ardent kiss, tugging at your shirt (which is, in fact, his) to undress you, his wandering hands roaming beneath it.

As his mouth meets your neck, something cold brushes against his lips, drawing his gaze down to what’s hanging from your neck.

His dog tags. The ones he had given you before leaving for that job, as his way of telling you I’m coming back without having to say it aloud. And you, as always, understood; had even promised to keep them safe, though he hadn’t expected you to actually wear them.

Now, with your shirt discarded, they lay against your bare skin, his name resting in the valley between your breasts.

“You like ‘em?” His fingers grip the chain and give it a gentle tug, drawing you closer so he can breathe over your lips, his breath mingling with yours. “Like knowing you’re mine? You get off on it?”

You nod in agreement. Of course, you do. Though emotionally constipated and not the most expressive, Logan is a lover who knows how to awaken desire—a good lover, indeed. A decent one.

Which is why he agrees to any idea that crosses your mind, like the one you just whispered in his ear.

He may be older than you, but he’s always been more on the traditional side. You, on the other hand, are continually searching for new ways to innovate.

The round globes of your ass jiggle over his face as he spreads you apart, entrenched by how your skin moves above him, your glistening hole clenching around nothing, as if your body itself is calling to him.

With his head propped against the headboard, he watches you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down the wiry hairs of his cock. The slick heat of your tongue traces over his slit, back and forth, driving him to the edge.

When he hears you gag, it stirs something inside him—a deep need to return the favor, to match your devotion.

At the end of the day, he’s a man on a mission, and right now, that mission is you.

Right there, with his nose and mouth buried in you, he wonders why he hadn't thought of this sooner. If he could choose a natural end like any other man, he'd wish for it to be by suffocation—your body his last breath.

Logan inhales deeply, like a man starved, working two of his fingers inside your throbbing center, his tongue flicking relentlessly over your clit, punching moan after moan out of you. Each thrust of his fingers, each stroke of his tongue, sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His beard, streaked with gray, leaves a trail of fire wherever your hips meet his face, pushing back against him. Every so often, you pull off his cock just to ramble, panting, about how good he's making you feel.

From where he lies, you’re a sight to behold, nothing short of divine. “Just what I needed, doll. You taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he blurts out, your frantic cries pouring into his ears as he sucks the swollen bud between his lips. “Can’t believe you let me do this to you. You love makin’ your old man happy, don’t you?”

He used to think he'd burn in hell for indulging in the desire to know you like this—raw, ungraceful.

His judgment must be fucked up, because now, all he sees in you is heaven incarnate. You must be the closest thing to it he’ll ever find.

“Shit, I…” you trail off, gasping as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, drinking from your arousal and tasting every bit of you. “I thought about you every day.”

“Bet you did, just like that night I called you. You know how I felt when you told me you were wearing my clothes?” His hand comes down with a firm slap on your right asscheek, drawing a whine from you as your movements falter. “Can smell you all over these sheets. Makes me wonder how many times you made yourself come while I was away.”

You slip the tip of his cock back in your mouth, your hands and lips working in sync. His nose brushes against the plush skin of your thighs before his teeth graze your flesh, biting down just enough to leave a sting. His fingers curl inside you, hitting that perfect spot again and again, and you moan around him, your throat vibrating against his length.

He makes you come like this, knuckles deep inside you while his thumb circles your clit. Overwhelmed by pleasure, you let go of his dick, and it hits Logan’s stomach with a wet pop. His strong arms tug you closer to his face, eyes falling closed as you ride the wave of your orgasm against his mouth, palms pressed flat on his chest.

For a brief moment, he can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but you, your scent, your taste filling his senses.

Later, he rolls you onto your back and climbs on top of you, uncertain of how much time he has spent lapping at your wetness. His hard length glides along your folds, and he lines himself up without pushing in, looking right into your eyes. 

“Remember what I told you that night over the phone?” he asks, his breath coming in quick bursts, and you nod, head lolling back as he pinches your lower lip between his fingers. “Repeat it.”

“Logan—”

“You say it, and I’ll make it happen.”

Perplexity clouds your features. “You said you’d fuck me slow and deep, just h-how I like it. Face to face, because—”. The words escape you, a sob tearing through your throat as he eases the first few inches of himself inside you, your walls instinctively making space to wrap around him.

He’s home.

“Go on. What else did I say?” he teases, relishing in it. He’s guilty as sin. “Or were you too lost in thought touchin’ yourself?”

“F-face to face,” you slur, nails digging into his scarred back, and he keeps plunging his length into your interior to the hilt. Your lips part slightly, craving the kiss that only he can give you. “You said you’d do it face to face so I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

He hums, low in his throat, as he gives the first thrust of the night, taking great pleasure in your expression: open-mouthed, eyes scrunched, and a slight crease forming between your brows.

Smoothing his thumb over your forehead, he tsks, pausing his movements. “None of that, princess. Look at me, c’mon.”

You obey, forcing your eyes open, and in that instant, he swears he can feel every tremor coursing through you. “Logan,” you coo, your voice aching as you stretch your neck toward his mouth.

The way you say his name—seductively, charged with a fascination that riles him up—manages to ignite a fire only you can kindle. It’s all the invitation he needs.

“I know. Too much, huh?” His tone drips with condescension, teasing in a way that feels almost cruel. He can’t help it, though: it’s in very his nature. “Need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me how much you want this.”

Like everything else in your world, your patience begins to wither, hips instinctively bucking beneath him, seeking even the slightest bit of friction. But he still withholds the kiss you long for, dangling it just out of reach.

“Please,” you beg, voice breaking as you plead. “Fuck me, baby. Missed you so much while you were away. Please, please, please—”

Logan enjoys hearing you beg. He won’t pretend otherwise. There's a satisfaction in knowing he holds this power over you, that he's the only one who can unravel you this way, your body splayed open beneath him.

The thought of others who may have once been in his place, making you fall apart just like this, sets his blood on edge.

Jealousy, sharp and corrosive, crawls up his spine, and it spurs him on, guiding the tempo of his thrusts.

He wonders if he’s ever fucked you this fiercely before, with a passion that pulses from every part of him. You’re given no space for thought, no moment to catch your breath—just his unforgiving pace and the sounds spilling from your lips.

He has a way of breaking you down, turning you into a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him, and you surrender willingly, craving each second of it.

So fuckin’ tight. Can y’hear her? How badly she needs me?

Sex had never felt like this before. He’d grown accustomed to quick, meaningless fucks in poorly lit bars, fleeting encounters that left him questioning if this was all there was. If this wasn’t the best he’d ever know. 

For a while, he’d tried to solve that emptiness, searching in nameless lovers and hollow hearts for the very thing he feared most: love.

And yet, he wanted it, yearned it, guarding his desire like a secret he barely admitted to himself. Until one day, you stumbled into his life, and all the strength he thought he had wasn’t enough to push you away.

He presses deep into the back of your thighs, bringing your chests so close they're nearly brushing. Claiming your mouth in a maddening kiss, all teeth and tongue, leaving no space for softness. As he nibbles at your bottom lip, he feels you tighten around him, your cunt pulling him under, clouding his thoughts.

“Close?” he murmurs, hips snapping against you with an utterly obscene rhythm that drowns out the world, better than any song ever made. “Such a good girl. Gonna come, sweetheart? Let me see how gorgeous you look when you fall apart, making a mess just for me.”

The constant, steady drag of his cock doesn’t seem to get old for you. He’s leaving his mark within you, inside you, carving a space for himself. His tip keeps hitting all the right spots, prompting you to tilt your pelvis to meet him halfway, telling him there, yes, there. More, please.

His hand slides down, rubbing your clit with his fingers. Doesn’t need any extra help when doing so, your arousal providing all the slickness he needs. He feels like a runner on the final stretch, the finish line within reach, so close he can almost touch it, savoring the euphoria and bliss of crossing it.

The way you sing his name never loses its allure, despite all the times he’s heard it spill from your lips. Especially at this moment, with him buried deep inside you, every thrust a promise to make you feel good.

You shamelessly come while he keeps driving into you, vigorous and untamed—like a caged animal unleashed, tasting freedom for the very first time.

Ankles digging into his lower back, a trail of persistent kisses along his beard. You want him inside, that much he can tell.  It’s not like he ever finishes anywhere else, but the reminder doesn’t bother him. It only serves as a reassurance: that you still want this, want him. You haven’t changed your mind.

He sinks his teeth into your neck the instant he feels his orgasm tearing through him, hips stilling and sagging as a string of grunts abandons his being, dampening your skin even more.  He loves to fill you up, it consumes him entirely.

Such an intimate, visceral act, and then he gets to see his seed trickling down your thighs. He realizes that he doesn’t need much to be happy.

You keep kissing him, his neck, his face. It may seem absurd to say that every kiss feels like the first, yet it’s true.

Even after he’s traced all the contours of your mouth and committed every detail of your body to memory, he can’t help but feel that same thrill of excitement he experienced months ago when he dared to push beyond the boundaries he had set for himself.

Staring at each other, naked, all the love in the world seems to fill these four walls. The compassion and tenderness in your gaze remain unchanged. You’re a dream come true.

It can’t end like this. He can’t allow you to drift back into sleep without saying what needs to be said. Something has to happen, something only he can conjure.

“I think…” He hesitates. Starting with I think carries an air of uncertainty. “I don’t—”

“Logan,” you interrupt, your hand finding his. “I know.”

Yes, you do. You always seem to know everything, but that can’t be enough. He can’t lean on your unspoken understanding of his feelings.

“You still deserve to hear it.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“It is.”

More silence. The moon is the solitary spectator of his upcoming declaration. 

“You were right,” he begins, drawing your intertwined hands closer to his face, pressing a soft kiss on the back of yours. His voice drops to a murmur. It’s not just his body that feels completely exposed anymore; something deeper within him stands bare. “I’m in love with you.”

You scrutinize him as if he’s revealing the secret to eternal life. Again, you kiss his cheek, cupping it gently with your palm.

“It won’t get any better than this. There are no more layers to peel away, okay?” He offers explanations you never even asked for in the first place. “This is what I am.” Much to his dismay, you overlook his choice of words: what instead of who.

He glances away, his gaze landing on the dog tags resting against your skin. The same old guilt threatens to engulf him, as it does each time without fail, and that seems to be your cue to lower yourself to his eye level, eyebrows raised.

“I’m not with you because I’m waiting for you to change. I like you just as you are, Logan. And I want all of you, both the good and bad stuff.” A gentle smile breaks across your face as you stretch your arm to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. Placing them on your nose, your eyes twinkle with contentment. “Do they look good on me?”

“You don’t need them yet.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t pull them off.”

“Come here,” he mutters, sighing when you nuzzle his chest, cradling your head between his hands. He ponders what to say, what to do next, but no clear idea sounds promising.

And so it gives you the chance to speak up: “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

I hope I don’t, he thinks to himself as he brushes your hair away from your face, fingers caressing your temples. I hope I never do.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[servantofthefates]

Strict Tarot Rules My Grandma Taught Me

Sweep the floor with a whisk broom before every reading. It shows respect for the old gods who will be coming in.

Answer only three questions for a querent in one seating. Revealing too much sacred information will dilute its meaning.

Always use the Celtic Cross for a personal reading. “You cannot truly appreciate the weight of the advice you are giving if you don’t fully understand the way the querent is feeling.”

Make an offering to the querent’s higher self before proceeding. “The body may want a reading, but the soul may be unwilling.” A piece of chocolate or anything sweet should be appropriate.

Ensure the querent’s hands are clean. Prepare a hot towel or a water basin. It rids their body of negative energy and keeps your cards from getting dirty.

Dim the lights before you deal the cards. “The Fates live next to Hades. They are not used to harsh lighting.”

Play soft and quiet music. It calms the mind and encourages the querent to bravely tell you what they really seek.

You shuffle, they cut. Shuffling lets the cards connect you to the source. Cutting allows the cards to feel the querent’s life force.

Honesty is better than sympathy. Exaggerating hopes and softening harsh truths do more harm than good.

Never forget to thank your cards afterwards. “The messages come from the goddesses, yes. But your cards make the effort to speak them in the way you can understand best.”