#the one where I’ve gone through and journaled my own tarot understandings

[lazywitchling]

“Jes, what do you have?”

A NEW PROJECT!!!

“NOOO!!!”

[th3goldenretr1everboyfriend]

I saw this and thought it would be fun 🖤

1. Are you solitary or in a coven?

I am solitary.

2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other?

I just consider myself a witch. There are aspects of Paganism I follow and enjoy but if I had to choose a title I'd say "Witch".

3. What is your zodiac sign?

Sagittarius ♐

4. Do you have a Patron God/dess?

I don't currently.

5. Do you work with a Pantheon?

I do not.

6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or 
any other kind of divination?

I enjoy tarot, pendulums, and reading tea leafs.

7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any)

Rose petals, elderberry, hibiscus, juniper, lilac and sage are my go tos.

8. How would you define your craft?to.

Oh that's a good one. I would define in as simply witchcraft. I practice my own gifts woth the gifts the Earth and God's provide.

9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do?

I strongly believe in the rule of 3 so I try not to, and if I do I make sure I am putting out good to others. If others do that is their business, I am in no place to judge how other practice.

10. How long have you been practicing?

Since I was about 14.

11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars?

I do not currently no.

12. Do you believe in Karma or
Reincarnation?

I believe in karma, I believe in the rule of 3, I believe reincarnation can happen, but I do not believe it is the default for most beings after death.

13. Do you have a magical name?

Nope!

14. Are you “out of the broom closet”?

In-plain-sight yes.

15. What was the last spell you performed?

A spell to rekindle love that's gone cold.

16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable?

Yes, but always learning!

17. Do you write your own spells?

On occasion.

18. Do you have a book of shadows?
If so, how is it written and/or set up?

I do as well as a hroloir. Both are pretty free form.

19. Do you worship nature?

I wouldn't say I worship it, I am thankful for it and make sure the Earth knows that.

20. What is your favorite gemstone?

Opal.

21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work?

I don't but I wouldn't say I would be opposed to it.

22. Do you have an altar?

Not a proper one at the moment (small apartment) but I have a shelf of my oddities

23. What is your preferred element?

Fire (it's my own). I like how it embodies both beauty and uncontrollable chaos depending on how you treat it.

24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist?

I guess I've never thought about it. No?

25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch?

Nope!

26. What got you interested in witchcraft?

My mother is a witch, as are many of my family members

27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch?

I have not no.

28. Have you ever used ouija?

Nope.

29. Do you consider yourself a psychic?

Psychic? No. Aware and ability to see potential outcomes better than most? Yes.

30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it?

I do not.

31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started?

There is no "right way" to do it.

32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite?

Yes! Beltane because ya boy likes to bone 😅

33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children?

Of course, it's in our blood

34. Do you meditate?

Often!

35. What is your favorite season?

Autumn.

36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform?

Anything consumable.

37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life?

Devotions, prayers, using sachets and stones.

38. What is your favorite witchy movie?

Hocus Pocus (I'm a basic witch I know 🤣)

39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction. Why?

Funnily enough I haven't read that many.

40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not.

Oh I could never choose just one!

41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you?

Accidentally setting something a blaze and it reacting as if it was untouched.

42. What is your favourite type of candle to use?

Taper.

43. What is your favorite witchy tool?

Wand! I love my platinum and clear quartz wand I use it daily.

44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools?

I have not!

45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fea or spirits?

Yes.

46. Do you practice color magic?

I incorporate it.

47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind?

My mother and aunt.

48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies?

Local shops when I can, personally owned online shops if I cat find stuff in person.

49. Do you believe in predestination or fate?

Fate, yes, predestination, no.

50. What do you do to reconnect when you are feeling out of touch with your practice?

Write in my grimoir.

51. Have you ever had any supernatural experiences?

Too many to count.

52. What is your biggest witchy pet peeve?

People who try to push their own rules, gate keep, or scare others.

53. Do you like incense? If so what’s your favorite scent?

Yes! Bergamot!

54. Do you keep a dream journal of any kind?

Nope!

55. What has been your biggest witchcraft disaster?

Using none organic roses to make rose water and poisoning myself with pesticides.

56. What has been your biggest witchcraft success?

I consider them all to be success because even if they don't go according to plan I learned something.

57. What in your practice do you do that you may feel silly or embarrassed about?

I always feel a bit silly speaking out loud 🤣

58. Do you believe that you can be an atheist, Christian, Muslim or some other faith and still be a witch too?

Of course. Gate keeping is fucking gross. You do you babe.

59. Do you ever feel insecure, unsure or even scared of spell work?baby.

Haven't we all?

60. Do you ever hold yourself to a standard in your witchcraft that you feel you may never obtain?

Nope.

61. What is something witch related that you want right now?

A unakite geode!

62. What is your rune of choice?

I don't have one.

63. What is your tarot card of choice?

Death because every good reader knows he is never literal

64. Do you use essential oils? If so what is your favorite?

Yes! I love grapefruit.

65. Have you ever taken any kind of witchcraft or pagan courses?

Nope.

66. Do you wear pagan jewelry in public?

Sometimes a pentacle or pentagram.

67. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your faith or being a witch?

Haven't we all?

68. Do you read or subscribe to any pagan magazines?

Nope.

69. Do you think it’s important to know the history of paganism and witchcraft?

Having an understanding of anything you are apart of or want to partake in is important but being a walking text book isn't helpful.

70. What are your favorite things about being a witch?

The connection with so many things normal people will never see or know.

71. What are your least favorite things about being a witch?

Being an empath can be so painful. Seeing the auras of evil people always hurt me too.

72. Do you listen to any pagan music? If so who is your favorite singer/band?

I have a Playlist, I wouldn't say I listen to any Pagab bands, more so Celtic stuff and creepy compositions.

73. Do you celebrate the Esbbats? If so, how?

Nope.

74. Do you ever work skyclad?

Yes. I prefer to meditate nude and do most things in just my underwear (hot wax/embers/sharp tools + my pens = no thanks)

75. Do you think witchcraft has improved your life? If so, how?

Of course. I have been exposed to so much most people will never enjoy.

76. Where do you draw inspiration from for your practice?

Call me basic but it's true: The Earth and Mother Nature.

77. Do you believe in ‘fantasy’ creatures? (Unicorns, fairies, elves, gnomes, ghosts, etc)

Can you call them fantasy if they're real?

78. What’s your favorite sigil/symbol?

One I created for impulse control.

79. Do you use blood magick in your practice? Why or why not?

Only my own to create magical ties.

80. Could you ever be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t support your practice?

I don't think so no.

81. In what area or subject would you most like your craft to grow?

Healing.

82. What’s your favorite candle scent? Do you use it in your practice?

Vanilla reminds me of my Nana baking in the kitchen. She's Chrustian but she inspires me to be a good person.

83. Do you have a pre-ritual ritual? (I.e. Something you do before rituals to prepare yourself for them). If so what is it?

Yes! I meditate naked, burn some blue sage and wash my hands.

84. What real life witch most inspires your practice?

My mother.

85. What is your favorite method of communicating with deity?

Offerings.

86. How do you like to organize all your witchy items and ingredients?

Alphabetically.

87. Do you have any witches in your family that you know of?

My mother, sister, aunt, grandmother, great aunt, great grandmother, and probably everyone in that line of sucession. I also have a great uncle who was gay so I assume he was too being that I am one of the few males witches in my family and I am gay.

88. How have you created your path? What is unique about it?

I always put intention into things, you can carve a path through a mountain of you acknowledge the fact that as a magical being you can do it. Our biggest hurdles are ourselves.

89. Do you feel you have any natural gifts or affinities (premonitions, hearing spirits, etc.) that led you toward the craft? If so what are they?

Seeing auras, being an exceptionally heightened empath, seeing super natural creatures, and premonitions.

90. Do you believe you can initiate yourself or do you have to be initiated by another witch or coven?

I am a solitary witch my blood you tell me.

91. When you first started out in your path what was the first thing or things you bought?

Tarot cards! I still have them almost 10 years later.

92. What is the most spiritual or magickal place you’ve been?

Hmmmm. The house I lived in when I was in Kansas. But not in a good way.

93. What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone who is searching for their matron and patron deities?

Seek out what feels right. Do not listen to anyone who tells you that you "have to" praise anyone.

94. What techniques do you use to ‘get in the zone’ for meditation?

A bit if wine, some good meditation and honestly some good sex. Not mesacriky in that order.

95. Did visualization come easily to you or did you have to practice at it?

Practice practice practice.

96. Do you prefer day or night? Why?

Evening because I like times of transition.

97. What do you think is the best time and place to do spell work?

Depends on what you're doing.

98. How did you feel when you cast your first circle? Did you stumble or did it go smoothly?

I was young and stumbled. Don't give up though.

99. Do you believe witchcraft gets easier with time and practice?

Yes and no?

100. Do you believe in many gods or one God with many faces?

I am polytheistic.

101. Do you eat meat, eggs and dairy?polytheism.

Yes.

102. What is your favorite color and why?

Baby pink because it's my aura colour.

103. What is the one question you get asked most by non-practitioners or non-pagans? How do you usually respond?

"How does it work???" and "Oh so you're evil?"

104. Which of your five senses would you say is your strongest?

Taste.

105. What is a pagan or witchcraft rule that you preach but don’t practice?

Don't drink and cast. Ya boy likes mead sorry not sorry (that being said I don't ever do anything woth chemicals or fire while drinking).

[amorrdemiel]

I am ready for cherry pie.

I was trying to write this in my journal, but sometimes the feelings want to come out faster than my little hand can scribble so I came here to frantically type it all out. 

I asked God to walk deeper into the Garden of Life. Earlier this summer, I knew I had found Heaven, I felt myself forgiven, I felt everyone forgiven, I felt us all to be love. But what I thought was living in Heaven was actually just the entrance, and I comfortably pulled up a chair to gaze lovingly at its doors lol, and I realized I could actually walk within.  But I was afraid. I asked God for the courage and the clarity to walk deeper into the joy of life. And I heard her joy calling me, a song just for me.  I heard her calling me to music, to sit at my piano keys and play. I heard her calling me through day dreams of traveling in a camper van of my own, of watcher her Holy sunrises at different oceans, to gaze at her freckle stars in the night, in deserts I had never crossed before. I heard her call upon the wind of peace, of sleep. I saw her show how gentle life truly was, how it was willing and wanting to caress me, to be caressed.  BUT I still felt fear, and even worse a strange itch overcame me to purposely look for terrible things, things I don’t even want to look at on a regular basis. Wanting to purposely look at murders, at violence, at suffering. And I didn’t understand why. I knew better than to succumb to the itch to seek these things out, I knew it wouldn’t give me wisdom and I felt something strange about the itch. After a really good tarot reading from my sister, she helped me clarify that weird itch to find things horrific.  Joy requires vulnerability, she said. And it is difficult to be vulnerable when you lack trust in life, down to a bone psychological level.  She helped remind me of how when I broke my arm in the summer before third grade, it was a traumatic experience for me that changed the psychology of me forever. I didn’t know this until this week, but apparently because I was a child, they couldn’t give me anesthesia and the two options for my very large break in my arm, was either preform surgery on me while I was very much lucid and awake or rearrange my bones back into place blindly so they wouldn’t have to make a cut on me. Somehow, the best bone doctor in Texas at the time just so happened to be at the hospital in El Paso and he chose to blindly rearrange my bones back into place. and he told my mom and my dad to watch the pain I was about to go through because it would change me forever. My sister stayed too because she is brave and loving and wanted to be there for me, even though she too was just a child. They always tell me about how traumatic it was for them to see me screaming in pain as he was rearranging my broken bones, and I remember just searing pain lmao I just remember it being hours of pain, as they made me twist my arms for X-Rays, and when they kept twisting my arm to put my bones back into place. Truly painful lmao  BUT point of the story is, I used to be a very active child before that, I was always running, playing music, I was always smiling and happily in my garden, I was a straight-A student in GT. And after that I wasn’t, and all the details to me don’t matter any more. (EVEN THO, I felt a little upset that my mom remembered how the doctor told her that I would be changed forever and my parents STILL screamed at me for hours when I stopped getting straight A’s, and couldn’t focus anymore. if the doctor told you I was changed forever, how come you still screamed at me for hours because I got a C? how come you literally told me: When you broke your arm, something got damaged in your brain, you must have hit your head and scrambled something, so try really hard to think what happened and change it, just change it. Go back to how you were. IDK I FEEL LIKE THAT KINDA CONTRIBUTED TO ME CUTTING AND HITTING MYSELF OUT OF FRUSTRATION, WOULDN’T YOU THINK? Like my sister summarized it the best, which was that they were holding me accountable, a child, for understanding the trauma I went through and working through it just so I could get the grades they wanted me to get. -___- BUT WHATEVER I AM LEARNING TO FORGIVE THEM FOR WHAT THEY COULDN”T UNDERSTAND THEN.) The beautiful thing I rather focus on, is after reminding me of this, my mom and my sister both cried and hugged me for a good solid ten minutes and kissed me, and told me that I don’t have to feel afraid anymore, that life isn’t what I feared it to be anymore, and that I am free and can be vulnerable to joy, and that is truly what I rather focus on than the past parents that didn’t know how to cope with what I had gone through.  My sister also reminded me of how I conveniently forgot how earlier this year I went to see a physical therapist finally for my knee which hurt me a lot and made me feel like I couldn't go hiking or any of the adventurous things I wanted to do bc it hurt too much and he straight up told me that it was all PSYCHOLOGICAL. Which was super wild for me to hear, because I think he’s right! lmao.  It reminds me of when I was a child, and I used to run out in my little garden in the sun all the time, and how sometimes I was suddenly forced to stop because I couldn’t move without feeling a lot of pain, and I would look down at my feet and I saw how all those thorned stickers were on my laces, my socks, my shoes and it hurt too much to move so I was just stuck. (Which makes me feel happy about that dream I once had where a large field beckoned me and I began running in its vastness barefoot, and I remember looking down and seeing a bunch of those thorned stickers and somehow missing every single one, and feeling so free.)  Anyhow, I resolved to allow myself to be vulnerable to go into joy, and that even with this psychological, bone deep memory of trauma happening when I move.  The day before yesterday, my sister made it aware to me that our betta Artemis has fin rot (mild) and I felt so in pain because of it. One thing I could never stand was seeing the people (or animals) I love in pain, and I’ve never acted on this impulse, but the first impulse I have when my sister tells me about a traumatic experience she’s had or I see my animals hurt is to say “NO! That’s NOT how you feel, this isn’t real.” BUt it’s so irrational to me, to say this, that I never act on it but I do have to convince myself by becoming more objective to handle the pain of seeing them in pain.  But I guess I have allowed myself to feel more vulnerable and more sensitive to life (I used to allow myself to be sensitive when I was a toddler but I was just so overwhelmed and my parents would yell at you if you cried so I just capped it.) But I’m letting myself be sensitive, so I did feel angry at my sister initially for telling me that Artemis had fin rot, and I felt very upset, but I let it be there and we researched how to heal it and took immediate action the next day and even though my sister was sensitive about it, and I was sensitive about it, we did a great job at getting everything we needed, staying calm and supportive of one another, and it just always surprises me how much me and my sister haven’t adopted the way my mom and dad do things which is screaming, and panicked and violent. (Well, we worked ourselves out of it through love and patience.)  But as we were driving to the pet store for the second time to get something else to help us out with Artemis’s tank, I told my sister about how allowing myself to feel the pain I felt at Artemis being sick, when I got home from the pet store this morning and went to say hello to my pug before getting started with my sister on deep cleaning his tank and getting salt in it to sterilize the wounds, I felt a much deeper and softer joy at hugging Qipsi and holding her in my arms and I realized that joy came from allowing myself to feel the pain of Artemis. That when I let myself feel the pain, it also let me feel the pull, the desire to tend to his tank, his little body and soul, his water much more diligently and the joy that arose in that, and it let me feel the pull and desire to tend to Qipsi more tenderly, and tend to myself more tenderly. And so pain, allowing the suffering allowed joy as well.  My sister told me about how she read or saw that when you allow yourself to feel the pain, you allow yourself to feel the pathway to the healing of it.  And that just shook me because I never looked at it like that. I always thought pain was useless, or was just to burn your ego, or just frustrating, but I see now how it led to more joy, it led to truer joy. How it led to truthful joy, and I never let it show me the healing. I was so afraid of pain, I never let it show me how to heal, I just hated how I was hurt to begin with. But if I could just focus my attention and the pathway to healing, and to feel the healing, the joy of it.  AND SO, here I stand, on the precipice of fate, on the road I am asking to help guide me to the purpose of my life, the highest good of my life, and I feel I understand what joy and pain truly are.  I asked God to lead me deeper into the garden of life, so that I may understand what I am here to provide, what of my highest good can I give back, and I was given clarity and courage. Clarity to understand the truth behind pain, the way it shines a path to the healing of you and me, to the healing of body and soul and courage to face the vulnerability that joy requires, that pain requires to open you to deeper joy, and so it goes.  I want to play and create and enjoy this sandbox of life. 

And I want cherry pie. 

[arthur-morgan-slap-my-ass]

The Progress of Arthur Morgan | Chapter 2

A/N: I’m pretty satisfied with the response to the fic!!!! I really really REALLY enjoyed writing it and quite frankly, it’s my baby! Special thanks to @verai-marcel​ for chatting briefly about it with me, you rock??? Also, remember this fic has a playlist! You can see it below!

Playlist

Word Count: 5,200 words

Chapters: 1 | 3

After a number of sessions in, roughly three months and half of having gotten to know him, Arthur entered the room slowly, somewhat avoidant, but he did offer a half-smile when you greeted him. The man seemed disheveled, a creased t-shirt with a perhaps too beaten shirt on top, his hair tousled to the side like he had just woken up and bags under his eyes. You shifted somewhat uncomfortably after he sat down, quiet as a hermit.

“You seem quiet today,” you said in a soft voice, taking your place across from him, “would you like to talk about that?”

He looked to the side, hesitant once more, deciding on keeping silent.

You watched him with a clinical eye. Arthur seemed… tired; through and through, clamped up and unwilling to breach — but he wasn’t moody, per se, as if he could snap at any given second, leaning more towards a difficult sort of upsetting, like he longed for some kind of emotional break.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, seeming as if he wanted to talk, before growing silent once more.

With a twist of your lips, you cocked your head to the side in an understanding manner. “We can keep quiet too, if that’s what you want. Sometimes, peace and quiet is nice too, isn’t it?”

At that, he smiled half-heartedly. “Would you look at that,” the man croaked, almost to himself, “not even half of the appointment in ‘n you can read my mind.”

You giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “forgive me for not bringing the tarot cards and the crystal ball for the session, I’m told some patients find that rather upsetting.”

Arthur laughed then, moving his hand to hide the free smile that had appeared on his face after your humorous quip; and you noticed he had a hearty laugh, easy to the face by the lines around his eyes and how his shoulders shook slightly. It almost made you sad to see him hide it.

“Yeah, don’t think that’d be very nice,” he said in a good-hearted voice, “walkin’ in here to see ya in a black robe, with candles ‘n shit.”

Shaking your head, you felt more at ease to see him smiling now. It gave you some kind of satisfaction, as a therapist. “How are you, Arthur?”

He kept smiling, although sadly now. “That’s a tough question now,” he picked up the same pillow he had the last time, setting it on his lap and draping his arms over it in a protective manner. “Would be nice to avoid it, but I feel like yer not havin’ it.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable?,” you asked honestly.

“Not particularly.”

At this, you raised your eyebrows at him. Arthur huffed, then.

“Mary has asked me to leave the house,” he confessed, nodding sagely as if reflecting long and deeply on the matter. His eyes cast downwards, towards his clasped hands, “she wants to sign the papers, this week.”

This came as an icy-cold water bucket and you couldn’t help but feel bad for him.

Some patients would confuse the therapy as some sort of silver lining to save their own sinking marriage, something that you’d have difficulty explaining at times, as you had gone through the same thing not too far back. Your heart clenched painfully.

Before you could open your mouth, he continued. “Not surprised, not really, I knew it’d come to this, but…,” he trailed off, shrugging, “she says I’m too closed off.”

You nodded at him, genuinely concerned. “Are you, though?”

He shook his head, clearly wanting to clamp up once more. “Am I?”

“I’m asking you, Arthur,” you pressed on, feeling somewhat cornered yourself. It resembled a younger version of yourself, scared and helpess. “You don’t have to rely on the opinion of others about yourself.”

He stayed silent instead, settling for watching you with a distant look in his eyes. The man seemed to be at loss, searching for something to say after your upfront commentary. “I can’t really tell,” Arthur said with finality, resting his eyes on a sunflower painting to your right, “don’t wanna know neither.”

“I see,” you said gently, blinking slowly at him with something akin to sympathy. “Where are you staying, Arthur?”

His teal colored eyes widened slightly as if surprised by the question, clearly not expecting you to ask about something so trivial. “My brother’s,” he shrugged, “John’s fixed me the guest bedroom, said I can sleep there.” The silence stretched for a while, his hands fidgeting with the strands of the pillow and you feared that he’d pull the threads apart before the end of the session. “My dads don’t know ‘bout that yet.”

Nodding, you tried to give him your best understanding look. “How’s it at your brother’s home?”

“It’s nice, ‘suppose,” he answered quietly, thankful that you didn’t focus on the last thing he said, “Abigail is a good woman, his wife. Jack’s a good kid too, he pesters me a lot to teach him ‘bout art n’ stuff,” Arthur smiled at that, obviously fond of the boy, “he’s five now.”

“I’m glad you could find comfort at such a time,” you smiled placidly, keeping the professional composure even though you felt terribly sorry for him. “Your brother seems to care a great deal about you.”

Arthur sneered, amused by your speech. “The way you put it sure is weird, but I can’t really say it’s a lie,” he stated lowly, giving you a quizzical look, “if you were to ask me, I’d say John’s too lucky to have Abigail in his life, but that ain’t none of my business.”

“Why do you say that?”

He closed one eye, grimacing slightly, as if the subject was a tad bit too touchy for him before he remembered about being able to talk freely to you. “They been on and off a couple times,” Arthur commented off-handedly, “Abigail is stubborn alright, but John is even worse than an old mule if you were to ask me.”

That made you chuckle half-heartedly, keeping close track of his expression. Arthur seemed torn apart, like he wanted to say something before finally deciding to speak up.

“I guess ‘s just hard to take in, you feel me?,” he frowned at you, somewhat antsy. “John’s fucked up a lot of times, but…”

“But?,” you prompted him on, curious to see where this would lead. Maybe you knew where.

Arthur closed his eyes, clearly upset. “Abigail’s been nothing less than comprehensive with that old ass,” he offered, as if it were a secret, “I guess I’m just touchy Mary ain’t had to worry about less than half of John’s bullshit from my part n’ even then, I’m the one getting divorced.”

He stayed silent for a bit, eyes trained on the tissue paper on the coffee table. You felt sorry for the man, but also somewhat glad at how he seemed to quickly open up to you, jumping from one subject to another with much more ease than the first session, even if you had to coax him a little at the start.

“Getting divorced isn’t the end,” you said softly, smiling when he looked at you with a doubtful face. “You can always meet new people, Arthur.”

He snickered, reluctant at accepting your advice. “Like you know what that’s like, doc.”

“I’m a divorcee, Arthur,” you said in a levelled voice, watching as Arthur’s eyes flickered to your left hand and then back to your face. “Things don’t always work out and that’s not the end of the world, you can still keep going. Life keeps going.”

Arthur shifted his gaze to his hands pressing his lips together for a moment. He stayed quiet as you allowed the silence to stretch for longer. “I’m sorry,” he started, voice slightly flustered, “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“It’s okay,” you said mildly, following the rimming of your glasses with your fingers, “I’m sure you wouldn’t do that on purpose,” a quick smile and you could tell he still felt guilty over having said such a thing. “I promise you I’m not upset over it, I’ve heard far worse,” you chuckled, pushing your hair back with steady hand, “you don’t have to worry.”

He sighed, somewhat dissatisfied, “major fuck up right there.”

“I’d say minor, but whatever floats your boat.”

Arthur smiled slowly at you, surprised at your demeanor. “You’re a weird type, doc.”

Laughing softly, you rubbed your hands together, as if appraising his words. “In a way, we all are weird. Don’t you think so?”

He shrugged lightly, shaking his head in amusement. “Guess you’re right.”

Arthur was easy enough to get to know and even easier to entertain, you’d come to find out. Every minute with him felt like more and more unraveled from the complicated threading that made him whoever he was. You cocked your head to the side, smiling softly.

“Have we given the journal some thought, Arthur?”

With a sigh, he shook his head. “Didn’t have much time to think about it, if I’m bein’ honest,” he confessed, with a dissatisfied press of his lips. “Not sure if I will, neither. Feels like with everything that’s happenin’ it might be a lil’ too dark for my likin’.”

“Voicing your feelings is important, Arthur,” you reminded him, “even if only by doodling. You don’t have to write.”

He grimaced, looking away — this was always a sign that he felt uncomfortable about you being right, but would rather not agree upfront. “I’m still thinking ‘bout it.”

You offered him a gentle smile, crossing your legs and leaning to the side in the armchair. “When do you plan on letting your parents know about you and Mary?”

Arthur blinked a few times, as if trying to push away the tears from welling in his eyes. “After… everything is signed off and dealt with, I suppose.”

“How would you feel about telling just Hosea, then?,” you asked, aware that Arthur found it easier to speak to the silver-haired man rather than Dutch — you had come to learn his name through Hosea himself, after a fleeting call to discuss Arthur’s progress.

Arthur stopped for a second, weighing your words. “I could tell him,” he said painfully slow, “but I’d rather not worry him. ‘s not fair on Hosea…”

“He raised you, Arthur,” you reminded him gently, “how come he wouldn’t want to know what’s happening with you?” He didn’t answer at that, instead clasping his hands together. “You’re here because Hosea asked you to. He cares deeply—“

“I know,” he cut in with a crack in his voice, allowing the tears to well up in his eyes and streak down as he blinked rapidly, “I know, it just— I just—,” he trailed off with a shuddering breath, wiping roughly at his face as he cried quietly. It was the first time you had seen Arthur cry in your sessions and his shoulders shook with the might of it, months’ worth of pent up emotions coming out all at once.

You couldn’t help but feel bad for the man. You had gotten to know him, in the sessions — and he was caring, you had deemed, and warm, easy to get along with and even more so to please; he literally asked for so little in return it was difficult to believe his marriage had been falling apart. With every client, you tried not to get too one sided, but it was inevitable as you never got to hear the other side of the couple — and you were quite frankly thankful you didn’t have to. Things always tended to get messy in marital counselling and you were glad for never striving towards that branch.

Arthur was far too closed up, you had to remind yourself sometimes, he only opened up to you because it was your job to listen to him. He didn’t have enough self-confidence to reach out for the things he wanted, to initiate situations he thought he deserved or call out someone who has wronged him. He rode his life as a side character in his own book. He was far from perfect.

In a sympathetic streak of sympathy, you reached out for the small tissue box and got on your feet to stand beside him as he tried to keep his emotions in check. With a murmur of comfort, you rested a hand on his shoulder, offering the tissues to him — which he took gratefully as you rubbed his back in a gentle motion.

“You deserve nice things too, Arthur,” you said in a quiet voice, ignoring the better judgment at the back of your mind that screamed at you to back off, “you deserve kindness, remember that; you just need to realize it.”

He took the tissues rather hesitantly, sniffling loudly in the quietness of the room as you muttered soothingly at him. The impropriety of the moment fueled by your own personal feelings went by unnoticed or preferably ignored by you both, and you resumed the gentle touching of your hand on his shoulder. You wanted to deny it, but you felt Arthur ease down a little bit as you stood there, your mind racing until he fixed you with a thankful look.

“Thanks,” he croaked with a teary face, smile wavering slightly before he turned away to wipe his face as he commented in a humorous quip, “ah, that’s quite embarrassing, ain’t it?”

You tried to smile at him, managing only a sad quirk of your lips. With a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder, you let go of the tissue box opting for leaving it on the arm of the loveseat. Your mind buzzed slightly — you weren’t quite sure if you saw too much of yourself in Arthur, but…

“It’s okay to show feelings, even to your therapist,” you commented off-handedly, trying to remind yourself from your own position.

You ignored the nagging sensation and giddiness of having gotten away with something wrong.

Arthur snickered, huffing out a breath of laughter through his tear stricken face, “yeah, guess that ain’t gonna kill me.”

“How are you feeling right now?,” you asked tentatively, smiling encouragingly when he risked a glance at you.

“Well, you know,” he started with all the propriety of a gentleman, “like shit, if I’m being honest.” The man chuckled slightly, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the palm of his hand as if in thought. “Doc?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yes, Arthur?”

He seemed to be hesitant to ask, “did you really mean that?,” he asked tentatively, focusing on you finally, with a look that could be translated by a mix of confusion and doubtfulness, “… ‘bout the nice stuff n’ all that shit, that is.”

Letting out a sigh, you rested your face upon your hand. “We’ve talked about this, haven’t we?,” the man nodded in response, fleeting his gaze away, “you know the answer.”

Arthur dallied himself, instead busying his mind with the intent focus on the tissue paper box. “Sometimes… it feels like it’s the wrong answer, ‘s all.”

With a press of your lips, you felt like you had made a breakthrough. This was going into the patient log, definitely. “I see,” you offered in an understanding voice, “have you ever felt like that or is this just redirected towards Mary?”

He seemed to look up at you in surprise, as if caught off guard by the question and sudden reality of it all — and then he frowned, not knowing the answer.

“It’s okay if you don’t know, Arthur,” you said softly, “I’m just here to help you realize things. You don’t have to tell me everything, you know that.”

Arthur nodded slowly, easing down again. “No, ‘s alright,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose with a slight smirk, “jus’ wanted yer to say it to me, ‘s all.”

Ah, so he was in search for reassurance. Your mouth dried up slightly as you offered him a placid smile.

“You don’t need me to tell you that sort of stuff, Arthur,” you said quietly, highly aware of how clinical your voice sounded, holding him at an arm’s length. You could tell he seemed dissatisfied by your approach, but you kept going. “Therapy is about realizing your own self-worth without the need of third parties on that.”

He grimaced slightly, as if expecting that sort of reaction even though it displeased him. “I know,” he paced around the question like a particularly stubborn cat who insisted on climbing the countertop. “Just… forget it.”

Your heart clenched painfully and you spoke up against your better judgement. “I’ll say it to you again, nevertheless,” you offered in a mellow tone, a gentle smile on your face as he looked up at you. “You deserve the good things that come to your life, Arthur,” you noticed he listened to you avidly, almost leaning forward as if to hang onto your every word, “and once you realize you do deserve them, you should go after it. Learn to reach out for what you want, it’s not forbidden to be selfish every once in a while.”

Arthur closed his eyes, as if meditating on your words, your voice being a beacon of reason for now. “And what if I don’t…,” he muttered tentatively, stopping to clear his throat, “what if I don’t know what I want?”

“We all do,” you spoke quietly, cocking your head to the side in a pensive manner, “most of the time we’re just too afraid to admit that to ourselves.”

“I want to divorce Mary,” he stated in a matter of fact voice, as if compelled by the serenity in yours. Then he flinched, tearing up once again.

You nodded your understanding, allowing him a moment to catch his breath.

“I’m not happy,” he continued, frowning at the way his voice wavered again, “maybe it has worked before,” Arthur commented, casting his eyes to the fluffy rug, “but it hasn’t, at least for some time now.”

The silence stretched and you allowed yourself to watch Arthur for the time being. It felt like he still wanted to say something more. He shifted in his seat, dabbing at his eyes to collect the unshed tears there, otherwise still as a rock.

“It feels to me,” you started tentatively, to see if he’d speak up, “that you were too afraid to admit that to yourself in fear of hurting her feelings.”

Arthur huffed out a breath, clearly amused. “Thought you’d said you had left the crystal ball at home.”

You smiled at his little remark. “Sometimes I do a reading before a session,” you shrugged with nonchalance, “do a spread of tarot, prepare a potion or two.”

“With newt eye and thyme?”

“You know my deal,” you turned your hands up in defeat and Arthur chuckled warmly. “How does it feel to voice that one out, Arthur?”

“Different,” he limited himself to say, smile still playing on his lips. “Never thought much of it that way.”

“Different in a good or bad way?,” you inquired sincerely and Arthur’s eyes shifted towards you.

“Good,” he admitted promptly, with a tone of vulnerability in his voice you couldn’t remember having heard, “definitely good.”

You rinsed the soap from your face slowly, the warm water a comforting presence after a long day.

Finally, you had allowed yourself to reflect on what had happened today — your hand on your patient’s back. Not that it was forbidden to touch, but most of the time it could lead to a misunderstanding of roles and feelings in therapy — a place where patients felt safe coupled with a good listener who was, perhaps, too gentle to them, usually ended up badly. You weren’t a rookie in this, you knew the Code by heart. Maybe it’d be for the best to pass him along to another therapist?

Staring at your own reflection as the mirror fogged with the running water, you frowned slightly. There had been some serious advances, nevertheless. Arthur was opening up, he trusted you, and you felt like referring him to a colleague would only further his feelings of inadequacy.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you tried to plan your next decision. Arthur’s next session were to happen in about 10 days from now, you reasoned; and even then, you found yourself worrying about him. When would he be signing the papers to settle the divorce with his ex-wife? You closed off the tap water.

You hoped he’d get a good deal.

Frowning, you sighed loudly. This wasn’t none of your fucking business. As if to get your mind off of it, you tied your hair up and moved towards the kitchen for a glass of wine. You needed to relax.

Arthur was your patient — nothing more.

“Hey,” you heard Arthur’s voice call from behind in a hesitant voice above the chit-chat and white noise.

You turned around, somewhat taken aback at the prospect of meeting a patient out of the listening room and, surely enough, Arthur Morgan stood there with a half-smile. His beard was maybe an inch too long, although the eyebags under his eyes seemed to be disappearing and his clothes were way less unruly than a few days ago.

He also smelled nice.

“Oh,” you gasped, recovering with a slightly sheepish smile, positively out of your element, “hey, Arthur. How are we doing?”

Arthur smiled back, holding the supermarket basket a little higher against his hip. “Didn’t expect to find yer ‘round here.”

“Well,” you tried to say casually, ignoring the burning questions at the back of your mind about his life, not really aware where to draw the line between the relation of patient-client and acquaintances — because you were not friends. “Believe it or not, we as therapists have to eat like everyone else.”

He snickered, amused by your teasing answer. “That came out as a surprise, thought you lot lived off of our eternal despair as human beings.”

“Oh, no,” you with a half-mocking surprised lilt in your voice and a smirk, “you have found out about my secret!”

“Nah,” Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to another, shaking his head slightly, “your secrets are safe with me, ma’am.”

You felt the urge to throw your shopping cart at him and run away, but resisted bravely. He regarded you in a warm manner, like one would to a close friend, before speaking up again.

“Signed the papers yesterday,” he commented off handedly, showing you his left hand, where a silver band of a ring rested up until your last session; now the only evidence of it being the slightly pale skin. “Could’ve gone worse.”

With a nod, you resisted the urge to ask how he felt about it — you weren’t in a listening room. You weren’t even supposed to be talking to him about life matters, to be honest.

“Not gonna ask me anythin’?,” Arthur teased and you felt the nervous lilt in his voice, the slight strain to it.

“I…,” you started, shaking your head slightly as you cocked your head to the side, “didn’t mean to intrude, is all.”

Arthur seemed confused at that. “I tell yer everythin’ ‘bout my life,” he shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but you could see the tension is his body language, “why’d I shy away from it now?”

“It’s not recommended for patients and therapists to maintain a relation outside of the listening room,” you said tentatively, trying not to sound too closed off, “I’m just trying to preserve your… privacy.”

He twisted his lips slightly, trying not to seem too upset at your demeanor. “I see,” he said quietly, shifting his gaze from you to his own basket, nearly empty. He tried not to seem too hurt about it. “Didn’t mean to put yer in a tough position, doc.”

“It’s—,” you started, reaching out to touch his arm in reflex, before recoiling, “it’s okay Arthur.”

The man refused to look you fully in the eye, uncomfortable. “Yeah,” he agreed quickly, looking around, “’s alright. Should be getting goin’ now, doc. See yer next week, yeah?”

With a tightening sensation in your throat, you watched as Arthur shuffled away from you and the cereal aisle. Closing your eyes, you pressed your cool hand to your forehead in a feeling not too far from despair.

Blinking slowly, you stared at the journal. It was leatherbound, with a thin leather strand to tie it up and keep the pages from being pried open when put into a bag. As if by reflex, you reached out and touched the coarse pages, thick enough to hold watercolor paintings without the color seeping to the next pages.

So much for a trip to the paper store to buy new markers.

You gnawed on your lower lip, taking the journal in your hands and running a hand over the smooth polished leather cover. Your mind immediately wandered to Arthur, obviously — the journal was simply beautiful, in a rustic sort of way, with a lovely simplicity and level of thoughtfulness that pleased you. On the inside, there were small pouches, sewed into it, for pencils and even a bigger one for what you guessed was to be placed a small case of watercolors.

“It came in just last week,” the cashier boy said lightly, with a well-practiced smile, “do you want me to add in to your list? It’s really good for scrapbooking or journaling.”

With a sudden wave of bravery, you smiled at him, passing the journal over. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

Arthur sat across from you in the listening room, with the airs of someone who’d rather avoid talking for the time being. He seemed cleaner, his beard had been trimmed and his face had adopted a healthy shade of pink that was common to people with a good disposition. He also dressed a little more neatly, with a light blue button up shirt and jeans.

You clasped your hands together, above your knee as if planning what you were about to say.

“I know you’re upset with me,” you started, annoyed at how soft your voice had sounded, “and I apologize for it.”

The man sighed and you caught the slight tremor at the corner of his lips. He seemed displeased, upset at nothing in particular, and a long pause issued before he spoke up again. “Ain’t nothing to it, doc.”

Cocking your head to the side, you gave him silence until he put his thoughts back in order. Arthur seemed to appreciate that, finally looking up at you, somewhat hesitantly.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” you repeated, doing your best to convey the feeling into words, “therapists aren’t supposed to maintain a relation of friendship with their patients outside of the listening room. That’s why I didn’t prod you with questions.”

He looked away, examining the sunflower painting beside your armchair. “I was just trying to be friendly.”

“I know,” you sighed, crossing your legs, “but it’s considered unethical.”

“From my side or your side?,” Arthur asked suddenly, turning his teal colored gaze to you.

“Mine,” you confessed with a sad smile, “we can’t be friends while I’m treating you. And even then, when I’m no longer seeing you, it’d be considered morally ambiguous. You’re not in the wrong here, don’t worry.”

The silence stretched for longer with Arthur picking at his nails to avoid talking about it. “’s alright,” he said finally. “Just needed to tell someone about it at the time, saw you there and thought that… well.”

You couldn’t help but feel guilty as you got up on your feet and moved to the tiny desk at the corner of the room. “I know this, Arthur,” you said in a gentle voice, “and I know you’d never do this on your own,” you pulled the leatherbound journal from the drawer, “that’s why I did you the favor.”

Arthur’s eyes widened a bit at the sight of it, shifting to look at you with something not too far from bafflement. “That for me?,” his voice rose an octave with his eyebrows, not really reaching to take it from your hands when you offered. “That… I’m sorry, yer didn’t have to—“

“It’s okay,” you waved your hand in dismissal, setting the journal on the arm of the loveseat, “consider this a peace offer, will you?”

He smirked, shaking his head slightly, looking at you as if to ask for permission to touch the gift, “you sure?,” he squeezed his eyes a little, lightening up a little, “that sounds highly unethical, doc.” Stopping on your tracks, you turned to watch him like a deer caught in the headlights until he broke into a warm chuckle, smooth and hearty. “Ah, just teasin’ yer, no need to look at me like that.”

Cocking your head to the side, you gingerly sat back down on the armchair. “It’s a good way to put your thoughts in order,” you gestured to the journal that Arthur now inspected, slightly surprised at the thickness of its pages, “at least until next session and keeping in mind that you won’t be in therapy forever, it’s a great alternative.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably at the mention of it. “I suppose it is,” he closed the book, tying it up with the leather strand, “you still shouldn’t have bothered, but…,” he smiled now, setting it beside him with a warm smile your way, “I’m glad you did, doc.”

You smiled back, trying to keep the tenderness out of your gaze as you did so. “Me too, if I’m being honest,” you crossed your legs again, pushing your hair back. “Do you want to tell me how it went now? Signing the papers?”

He shrugged, still somewhat giddy. “Could’ve been worse, I guess. She left me the car n’ the apartment, but I think I’ll sell it, move to a house,” he shrugged. “Think she can afford to do that, what with all the money her daddy has.” Arthur rubbed his chin, trailing off, “never liked me much, her father. But at least it’s settled now.”

“How are you feeling about that, then? About going separate ways?”

“I still miss her,” he said quietly, not avoiding your gaze like he would before, when you inquired about his feelings, “now and then. But sometimes… it feels like I miss what we had, before.” The man shifted, hand slipping to his side to make sure he wouldn’t sit over the journal, “Guess I just didn’t wanna be alone.”

“There’s nothing wrong about being alone,” you said gently, blinking slowly as your chin came to rest on your hand, “some people prefer it that way, even.”

Arthur watched you as if he knew what you were talking about before deciding to indulge into his curiosity. “Are you of the kind, doc?”

“My company is delightful,” you limited yourself to say with a huff of laughter, to which Arthur replied with a smirk.

“Can’t argue with that,” he said in a tone of voice that made something flutter in your chest and left your head fuzzy. Did Arthur just flirt with you?

[learntolxve]

healing

its been awhile but the time just feels right to blog. Don’t get me wrong, I love my journal and all, but I just wanted to share some thoughts and feelings abit more publicly, without it actually being super public. Plus, I feel like its been so long since I’ve typed out something. It feels nostalgic typing this out on here to be honest. I do love me some nostalgia though, i’m very sentimental. Anyways, I could ramble and ramble and ramble but this is what I really want to say: The past 5 years of my life has been such a ride, but i’ve been spent so much time feeling lost, that when i look back, it feels so amazing to have the chance to rebuild myself and my foundation. I’ve been on a path of spiritual healing, along with physical healing, and I can hardly even comprehend the amount of growth i’ve made, and most of the growth seemed to all happen within the past year lol. It really really truly feels like everything really does happen for a reason, which i’ve always believed duh, but it’s like i’m actually experiencing the truth of that statement. When I was about 17 years old, I started learning about spirit science, and the Chakras. I spent awhile watching those little youtube videos, not actually implementing anything, just was super inspired by the concept and knew that it was something i believed in. Now I’m 23 years old, I’ve experienced Reiki, I meditate everyday (mostly lol), i have my own alter, my own “zen room” in my new home with the love of my life, who i’ve been through hell and back with, but we ascended together rather than focused on our independent growth, I have crystals, i have my tarot deck, i go through waves, but im definitely starting to feel that strengthened connection with my intuition and the Universe (I have a Pisces sun and moon so there’s maaaaaad emotion and intuition going on at all times) I just tend to engage with alot of my thoughts rather than observe, which causes confusion between negative thoughts and intuitive feelings. I went from wanting to end my life, crying to my grandparents for help, cheating on my boyfriend, acting in a self-sabotaging, self-destructing way, to showing up for myself and changing my path and breaking that shitty cycle. Yeah I still have my rough days, where I question my growth and the steps I’ve made and I still feel super lost most of the time lmao, but growth is NOT linear, it’s a spiral. SO of course I’ll have days where I feel like i’m resorting back to old ways, but I will also have days where I’m at my highest self and I feel so divinely connected and like i was meant to go through every single thing i have gone through. Growth is inevitable and growth is apart of this human life. Who knows where I’ll be in my next life, so why not enjoy this FULL human experience? The good, the bad, the crazy, the ugly, the magical, the beautiful, the wonders that the Universe brings. I looked at a post from this account from when I was 18 years old and it said how much I wanted to die and couldn’t get out of bed. Now, even on my bad days, I’m still so excited to get up and sit at my alter with yumyum coffee. Theeeeen i get a little anxious about the rest of the day cause I’m not really working right now. It’s like i’ve done so much inner work to the point where i dont want anything that will make me unhappy or waste my energy, but im also so overwhelmed with ideas of what i could do with my life, i just dont quite know where to go from here. BUT thats okay, because I know that I’m here for a reason and have felt this feeling many times before, except this time, ive made HUGE steps from the last time i felt this. I confessed everything ive done in my relationship, same with him, we are working on healing together with integrity, I recognize my anxiety and it’s triggers and am working on healthy outlits, I still smoke a ton of weed lmao, but I’m eating better everyday and prioritizing my health, I am showing up in my truths and setting boundaries for myself. I’m being more open and honest, and expressing myself in a healthier way. And honestly I could go on for hours about little things ive done to break my cycle, and i could also go on about the things that trigger me TO cycle again, but no matter what, you are always connected to everyone and everything. The more positive you put out, the more positive will flow in. After everything I’ve been through, I am a deep deep believer of Karma, and since i’ve been putting out better vibes, not sneaky negative ones, i’ve noticed a huge change in the things and people that flow into my life. To be honest, ive actually been super super unsocial and distant from alot of my friends and family, but I know that the ones that understand and love me, will know I am doing this for me, and when I am ready to be interactive with people, i will be. I will still have my rough days, things have actually been more emotional lately cause the more inner work I do, the more things tend to resurface, even moments or feelings I had completely forgetten about. New levels, new devils, am i right? I am just so grateful to finally be at a point where I understand that healing is the hardest part of growth, and that you really can’t have the good, without the bad.

The tallest tree grows to heaven, as it’s roots grow down to hell.

Life is balance.

[everly-kindred]

Everly’s Diary - Entry #7

Synopsis: Everly learns about St. Patrick's Day, and celebrates Ostara & the Full Moon!

Words: 1,232

Date: 20th of March, 2026

Dear Diary,

I know I haven’t written in you in a while, and I’m sorry about that. The days here have been all relatively the same. Relaxing, reading, taking my English and maths lessons. I haven’t had any remarkable dreams in awhile - they’ve all been the same nonsense. I’ve also been neglecting to do any tarots beyond a one card reading a day, which I admit I feel sad about. However, this past Sunday was exciting, and today is a day for celebration!

Sunday was St. Patrick’s day. My mum’s side has some relatives in Ireland, so she does encourage enjoying the festivities. I, however, didn’t really fully understand the meaning of the holiday until today. It is a muggle celebration that goes back to the 1600s, celebrated by various churches and marked as the day that Saint Patrick died. I believe it is mostly a Catholic religion, but I could be wrong.

There are many ways to celebrate this day. It seems adults, muggle and magical alike, tend to use the day as a reason to drink. My parents like to have Irish cream in their coffee, and will also drink Firewhiskey as well as ale. I’ve always had butterbeer that my mum will colour green with magic. My dad, however, is Pagan, so he doesn’t really celebrate like the rest of our family does.

I personally enjoy searching for four-leaf clovers on this day and pressing them in the pages of books. I’ll also make wreaths out of clovers and the first few flowers that grow in our garden. Especially narcissus and daffodils, which seem to have suddenly appeared everywhere! After this, in the spirit of learning, I decided to do a bit of reading on if Leprechauns were real or not. Often times the creatures of muggle fantasy are very real, and I found that this is no different! According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Leprechauns are creatures that are human-like in appearance and are quite the pranksters.

They grow to be about six inches in height and wear leaves. They also primarily eat leaves and other plants. They live in Ireland, in forests, and are generally harmless, classified as XXX to the Ministry of Magic. However, they do enjoy tricking muggles. You see, in muggle stories, if you go to the end of a rainbow, you’ll find a pot of gold and a leprechaun. These stories are treated as myth, and they are not completely true, but they aren’t false either. Leprechauns do have the capability of creating gold with magic, however, the gold will disappear within a few hours - making it completely useless.

As far as events go, there are parades in the bigger cities, but I’ve never gone to one, myself. My parents will usually go to pubs later in the day, but I, of course, have never gone with them. This year is different, though, because they went to a Scottish wizarding village and took me with them! We went to Hogsmeade!

My mum had a Ravenclaw girl watch me while she and my stepdad went to the Three Broomsticks. The Ravenclaw’s name is Bonnie. She’s a sixth year and is seventeen, which is why she wasn’t in the castle at the time. Her family is familiar with mine, so I knew of her vaguely before I had officially met her. Lucky for me, she turned out to be a nice person!

We went to Honeydukes and got candies. I got myself some cakes from a brand of candy-makers called the Feathersweets. They were pretty tasty! The ones I had were flavoured with lavender, rose, chamomile, and green tea. I also got chocolate cauldrons and cauldron cakes. I ended up only eating one of my sweets, and took the rest home for later.

After we stocked up on sugar, we went into the streets of Hogsmeade. Most people were either at the Three Broomsticks or the Hog’s Head, so it was fairly empty. Bonnie showed me her wand and told me she had made it herself! It was carved to look like a unicorn. I had never considered the idea that someone so young could make their own wand! She also showed me one of her other inventions, which was a clockwork niffler that would take notes during class. It was very fascinating. She’s probably one of the smartest people I’ve ever met so far!

Using a spell she said I’d be learning in my first year of Hogwarts, Bonnie filled the streets with green sparks. This was because I had told her about a leprechaun firework I had once seen, that danced. We weren’t able to actually find one of those fireworks to buy, but this worked just as well.

Then we got a little closer to the bar, and she shot some green sparks at some adults who I think was drunk. One of them was a man who fell bum first into the snow! None of them got mad at us, though, because they couldn’t figure out that Bonnie was the one who had done it since she was hiding behind a box when she did. It was pretty funny! We had probably been talking for a couple hours at least, and I’ll get to see Bonnie this year when I start school. I think I’ll send her an owl, and maybe some candy before then, though. After that, my parents were done at the Three Broomsticks, and we went home.

The next few days were somewhat boring. But, today is Ostara, also known as the first day of spring! So, to celebrate, during the day I had gone out to look for bird’s eggs. Not to collect or even touch, it was more so just to see if I could find any. And I did! I found a nest of hummingbird eggs, and the eggs were as small as a Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Bean! And then I found a nest of nightjar eggs, but they were all hatched. I also went back to the place where I had found the fairy eggs, and saw that they were all hatched as well! I couldn’t find any fairies, though. I ended up taking home some of the shells of the eggs I’ve found. I’m not sure what I’ll do with them, yet, but I’ve washed them (with care!) and put them into a jar until I figure that part out.

For dinner, mum made egg drop soup to mark the holiday. Once dinner was over, I had a bath with some lavender bubbles. Afterward, we went out onto the roof with blankets and watched the full moon. I could have sworn I heard something howl in the woods, but mum says it was my imagination. I didn’t feel worried at all about hearing it, though.

Having a bath, a full belly, and blankets wrapped around me under the full moon made me sleepy. I nearly would've fallen asleep right then and there! Luckily mum woke me up and I went down to my room, and now I’m writing this. I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open, though. Maybe I’ll do an in depth tarot reading later, but for now, I want to sleep. I look forward to warmer days and greener gardens, and I’m happy that we’ve gotten more sun. Until next time!

Sleep well! - Everly ((OOC Note - Happy Hufflepuff Day as well! ♥))

About the Character: Everly Rosemary Kindred is an imaginative Hufflepuff attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She keeps up with her magical journey through a series of diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings, all documented for future reflection. Her diary is a small glimpse into her enchanted life, and her adventure into the wizarding world and all its splendors. If you’d like more information about Eve, visit her wiki page. 

About the Author: My name is Elowen! I am a 21-year-old Hufflepuff & Pukwudgie from Louisville, Kentucky. This page is my creative journey into the magical world, through the lenses of Second Life. Here I post diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings all from my character’s perspective. If you’d like more information about me, visit my Flickr! 

Outfit Credits:

Head: GENUS Project - Genus Head - Baby Face

Hair: bonbon - cobi hair

Wreath: Boudoir - Sain't Patrick Shamrok wreath

Stars: +Half-Deer+ Starry Girl Face Stickers - Rainbow

Dress: Bowtique - Breeze Dress (Maitreya)

Necklace #1: Kibitz - Magical moon and star necklace - copper

Necklace #2: SPELL : Felix Felicis Potion

[the-horned-paladin]

I have kind of a personal question you don't need to ask it's more of curiosity and to understand my own practice at the same time but please don't feel pressure. That being said how do you feel sure of what's swimming around in your head with a reading? I feel there's so much and it's so loud it's hard to pick up what I need or what's most important or ANYTHING singular? Does it just come with practice? How do you practice?

Hi there anon! Not a problem at all, I like offering help when I can, I’m flattered you came to me of all people when there’s other super popular blogs out there :) As a warning, I’m giving you QUITE a long answer and telling a bit of my story, in hopes it will help you. I can tell you that it took a lot of time to really figure out how to be sure of what I was interpreting, and largely MY problem came from what I understood divination to be.  

At first, when I started with Tarot, I thought that the cards were the dictator of all and that I knew nothing and that they were telling me the answers. At that point, basic card descriptions were accurate, but suddenly when I considered practicing more hardcore- the basic descriptions made no sense and I was pretty lost and confused. With time, I found that my definition of divination changed considerably. I felt that divination needed to be more about me- I was the one finding the answer, the tarot was just a tool to help me understand what I was already sensing. They were giving me inside information that I needed to understand the scenario I was reading about. Then, the way I read tarot changed astronomically! Now I’m practicing energy readings and really starting to trust my intuition! So, now to get onto your other questions.

I’d say a good thing to consider for long-term meditation is to figure out what is causing you to feel disorganized- for me it was how I saw divination and how I was approaching it. I think the first thing I also consider is my space. If everything feels loud and overwhelming, I look at how I’m doing at the time. Am I stressed about other things? Is the TV on? Is my space clear and not cluttered? Because that can all be ‘noise’, ESPECIALLY if you are in an emotionally destructive environment. Second, I ask if am I centered and focused. If not, I sage myself real quick or take a few deep breaths to just calm down and focus. Or maybe I put off reading till I’ve slept well.

If those things aren’t the issue, I would say if you don’t already, take out a journal and write down anything and everything in your head during divination before interpreting the meaning of your readings- I mean EVERYTHING. Get all that loud noise out on paper where you can actually consider organizing it. For me, that helps my brain calm down and not get confused by setting a clear boundary of what I’m interpreting. Draw lines between words or symbols that relate to each other if it helps you. I work very well when I get all my ideas out on paper because that makes them concrete and then I can elaborate on them and go, “Hm, what do I think this means, what is this trying to tell me?” instead of being bombarded by five other thoughts- because I wrote them down already. 

The way I set this up with a tarot card, lets say I drew the 2 of Cups. I’ll write that down, I’ll write the number 2 and four bullet points,  Cups, four bullet points,  Picture, four bullet points, My thoughts, four bullet points. Then, on those bullets, I write down what I feel is relevant about correspondences of the number 2. Then with the suit of cups. Then details from the image on the card, and then my own thoughts- either separate of these previous lists I’ve made OR bringing them all together. If I sense that the 2 of cups indicates this person is lacking emotional connection with their partner, I write that down. It doesn’t have to be exactly like the given definition of the two of cups, my intuition is indicating that there is lacking connection somewhere and I trust that. The way I ‘feel’ these things is...I don’t know how to describe the physical feeling of a hunch. But I let myself have hunches when I do readings. I write them down and run with them.

I do think these skills come with practice, I could never have started doing energy readings if I hadn’t gone through two years of figuring out how to work with tarot. I practice by doing free readings for people on tumblr, by doing readings for my friends, by doing readings for myself, by doing readings to communicate with my deities. Read for people, ask for feedback, take the praise to heart. 

I hope this helped! Happy reading~

[everly-kindred]

Everly’s Diary - Entry #27

Synopsis: Eve details her first few classes of the year, and the process of getting adjusted to her new life. Herbology, Potions, & Flying oh my!

Words: 1,190

Date: 3rd of September, 2026

Dear Diary, 

Yesterday, I took my first classes! Also, I finally got to see Ruby!

As predicted, he was very upset over being put in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin. I tried my best to help him see the bright side, but I can tell he’s having a really hard time with it. I guess I can’t understand where he’s coming from, because I would have been happy in any house. I just want to make good memories with the people I care about. Hopefully I was able to comfort him just a little bit. I missed him dearly and hadn’t gotten to talk to him in a long time, so at least I was finally able to see him.

We went to Herbology after that, and met Professor Durmoney. I think that’s how you spell her name, anyways. And we talked about toadstools! One of my favourite kinds of plants! She even asked a question and I got it right! She says we’ll be going out onto the grounds to try to find toadstools, which is very exciting. I wanted to ask her if there was any magical significance to fairy rings, but I didn’t have a chance to. 

After that class was potions theory with Professor Green. She asked a question that ended up being kind of hard for the rest of the class. She had two potioneers in mind, one that was extra special, and wanted us to name them. Marigold was able to name the extra special one, which was Professor Fox, and earned Hufflepuff five points! I was able to name the other one, which was Zygmunt Budge, the author of The Book of Potions, who apparently discovered hundreds of magical properties in all sorts of plants and magical creatures. 

Once that class was done, I followed the older students to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower. There was a girl, Elaine, who was going on and on about how Professor Vikander was really a spider, and was getting everyone wound up. Some people even agreed! Then, there was a loud noise in the classroom (we were waiting outside of it) and so I panicked and ran away.

I ended up having a panic attack in a courtyard. Ruby came and found me, about an hour later. He was very sweet, and even told me he thought of me as his best friend! I think of him as my best friend too, so I was very happy to hear we felt the same. After he cheered me up, we both went back to our own common rooms. I had a shower, and met him in the Great Hall for dinner.

I sat next to Ronan again, and a Hufflepuff named Jasper who had gone to the class. He said that the professor wasn’t a spider, but that there was an acromantula in the room. Apparently, the professor exploded it and got guts everywhere, and was really mad about… Well, I think he said someone tried to hug a dragon? Anyways, I’m really glad I ended up not going to that class. I hear there’s a professor named Professor Lane who also teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts, so maybe I’ll like his classes better. I do want to give Vikander’s classes another chance, though.

I had some french onion soup for dinner, and then ran off to flying class. We all met in the long gallery, and there were a lot of professors there! First there was the flying professor, Professor O’Rourke, and his wife, Matron O’Rourke. Then there was a red-headed professor who I think is the Gryffindor Head of House, Professor Riley. Lastly there was a brunette woman, who wore a belt with a lot of keys and had butterflies on her trousers. That was the other Herbology professor, Professor Dracheblume. She’s the keeper of keys! So she’s the one who had to unlock the doors to let us go to the quidditch pitch.

The pitch was much, much larger than I imagined it to be. There are towers that surrounded it, and three golden hoops on tall sticks on either side! The professor had us all pick a broom from a pile of brooms that he had, which were all used and property of the school. He said throughout the year, we’d be working to keep the school’s quidditch equipment in good shape, which is a nice idea, I think.

I picked up a broom that had a little carving in the handle. It looks like a student drew a heart with some initials inside, though I can’t tell whose initials they belong to. Then, the professor had us put our brooms on the ground, hold our hand over it, and say ‘Up!’ to get it to fly into our hand. It took me a couple tries, but I was able to get it fairly easily. 

After that, we were supposed to mount our brooms, kick off the ground, hover, and then touch back down. I was able to do all of that… minus the touch back down part. I have ridden a broom with Ruby before, but I’ve never ridden one by myself. The professor said to lean forward to touch back down, but I guess I did it in a way that made my broom think to move forward and go faster, instead of down and slower. I ended up hitting Professor O’Rourke right in the back with my broom! He caught me though, and told me it was okay. I think he said when he was first learning, he couldn’t get the broom to fly at all. I felt really bad, but he seemed perfectly fine. 

Then, he told me to try again. Now, we were allowed to fly freely, as long as we stayed in the pitch. And let me just say, I think I’ve found my new favourite thing. I flew everywhere! I got to experiment with going fast, and testing landings and such. I had to have the knees of my pants mended, and some grass stains cleaned out of my clothes, but it was so, so worth it. I can’t believe I’ve never flown before now! It’s such an amazing feeling!

Towards the end of class, one girl was falling out of the sky, but Talula caught her with a spell where she said, ‘Aresto Momentum’ and made the girl fall slowly so she wouldn’t get hurt. I had considered trying to catch her on my broom, but what Talula did seems a whole lot safer. I wonder what year that spell was? 

After flying, I went back to my common room. I’m feeling pretty good about everything, honestly. I enjoyed all the classes I took today and look forward to taking more. I’ve also settled pretty nicely in my dorm, and decorated my bed a bit. Venus and Cornelius seem to get along in their shared cage, and Puck has been enjoying exploring the castle and sleeping in my bed. So I think things are gonna be pretty okay here at Hogwarts.

P.S. I learned Pre-Oh’s name is spelled Priaulx. 

Much love, Everly

About the Character: Everlina Rosemary Kindred is an imaginative Hufflepuff attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She keeps up with her magical journey through a series of diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings, all documented for future reflection. Her diary is a small glimpse into her enchanted life, and her adventure into the wizarding world and all its splendors. If you’d like more information about Eve, visit her wiki page. 

About the Author: My name is Katherine! I am a 21-year-old Hufflepuff & Pukwudgie from Louisville, Kentucky. This page is my creative journey into the magical world, through the lenses of Second Life. Here I post diary entries, dream journals, and tarot readings all from my character’s perspective. If you’d like more information about me, visit my Flickr!