Meandering Emporium of the Weird and Delightful

“Whatever happens tomorrow, we’ve had today.”

It's one of my theories that when people give you advice, they're really just talking to themselves in the past.

“I feel myself shutting down, closing off, like I should tell people, ‘No, we don’t use this heart anymore. It’s too fragile.’”

it really gets me sometimes how utterly, obviously magical the world is if you’re willing to let it be. like, shadows out of the corners of your eye. tarot readings that are frighteningly accurate. three coyotes crossing your path, three days in a row: an omen, that, when you look up what it means, comes true within the next week. you see a white squirrel and have good luck for the next day. you sage and your stomach feels thick with negative energy, but afterwards the lingering sadness that’s been following you is gone. the same sensation in your gut around the sabbats, only to vanish when they’re over (but it’s comforting, this time). dreaming moments before they happen. candle magic. the feeling of a long-deceased cat curling behind your knees while you’re lying in bed, leaving a little round imprint behind where your visiting familiar slept. praying to the old gods for luck, for favour, for wisdom, and getting it, in whatever form you may have asked for. leaving chocolates for the fae and finding them missing. finding small pieces of jewellery deep in the woods, and wondering who left them there.

“be there for me, but give me the freedom to be there for myself.”