drop beliefs

Tips For Subtle Witchcraft

There are plenty of places & times when you may feel that openly being a witch will negatively affect your quality of life. Whether that be because of a hostile work environment, living with roommates who may not appreciate altars and spellwork, or something else.

For witches who can’t afford to have physical representations of their work / beliefs, here are a few tips:

🌰 Paint a sigil for beauty on your face with foundation before blending it into your skin.

🌰 Stir a sigil or your intention into a cup of coffee and drink to experience the results.

🌰 Charge water in a windowsill and use for anointing candles, doorways, or cleansing spaces by sprinkling a few drops.

🌰 Research popular folk beliefs / superstitions that you can co-opt into spells - think sprinkling some salt.

🌰 Learn to read playing cards - folks will assume you’re playing some kind of elaborate solo game.

🌰 Make use of meditation as a time to practice and ground.

🌰 Go out into nature and make use of your time with the wise old trees and friendly squirrels.

🌰 Explore kitchen witchery and herblore as mundane-friendly practice methods.

🌰 Use art as a mode of practicing. Paint sigils into your work, create images in place of an altar, and draw your intentions into being.

Don’t forget that you don’t need fancy tools, or physical objects to witch. You just need focus and a healthy dose of creativity.

Life is magical,
No less than a dream

Drop the beliefs that tell you otherwise,
No matter how accurate they may seem.

You can have what you wish for and more,
You can have tons of fun and become happier than ever before

What should you do to make it happen, you ask?
The answer is simple—an easy task.

Relax, flow with life like a river
And watch the Universe deliver.


onlyjihoons  asked:

50;mark please!♡♡

prompt: 50. “I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.”

Off guard  | MARK

summary: even the coolest NYC hero gets to fall in love with a pretty smile.

genre: spider man!au | slightly florist!reader | super super fluff (like 1000%)

pairing: mark lee / reader

word count: 2.7k

Originally posted by dimplesjae

a/n: this is a draft i wrote for another writing blog (i’ll be posting there too anyway) but i really thought you’d like it :)) i really hope you do!!! ((though i’ve started another spider man au with mark and i intend to dedicate it to you because this prompt inspired me ^^)) ah!! lowkey inspired by spider-man homecoming i love tom holland so i hope this is at least good ^~^

First encounters are not always very magical, neither are they like we dreamt.

When Mark Lee first landed his eyes on the hysterical form of you, there were paper sheets flying over the wind and a very frustrated body running from one side to other of the street, aimlessly trying to gather as much documents as your hands could hold—and to be at least honest, you could not pick even three of them. You wheezed, annoyed by the fact that your chemistry essay was vanishing from your vision and traveling to a place very far away from where you were.

That, you thought, was my only salvation. Without that piece of work you would probably fail the subject—considering that the essay was a component for the last test you’d to take (to be exact: 40% of your mark depended on that stupid assignment). You sighed; you’d have to manage the entire night for that, making the whole thing again.

Mark shifted the weight of his body and gulped—Haechan (his friend) rolled his eyes, completely aware of his friend’s new-born platonic love—he peeked a paper close to where he was standing, and with all courage he had ever had inside his physique Mark took his way to you. To Haechan’s eyes his actions were clumsy and his words sounded like whisper and made no sense at all. He remembered how Mark had been when Liz was still around and how he had heart eyes over her—it was annoying.

Haechan called Mark once, warning him to just let the thing go, after all they still had to go to class, but the brunette boy simply ignored his friend’s cries.

Mark touched your shoulder. “Hum, excuse me.”

You turned your body to face the him. “Ah, yes?”

“I guess,” he said, stuttering “I guess this belongs to you” Mark handed you the paper.

“Thank you” you gave him the sweetest smile you could.

You didn’t know, but Mark Lee melted under you gaze, completely amused by the beautiful sight of you and your smile. He had never seen you before that day, but he’s utterly sure you were the most gorgeous girl in the universe; not only because your eyes were almost closed when you smiled, neither because your perfume was a mixture of lilies and mint—which made Mark feel a little dizzy due to the dulcet scent—but yet because you showed him the purest reaction he had ever expected.

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It is time to acknowledge the sacred divine partnership that you Are. The richness of the diversity you express, at all levels, human and divine, made manifest in you, right here.

The wide-range perspective you have as Spirit, the refined frequency of Love, delicate fragrance of Roses from the Garden of Paradise, the multiple perspective on everything that you have as a Divine Being of Light, comes into playful partnership with the amazing miracle of a human that you are.

It is time to drop the old belief that human is limitation. Human is focus, and now, it is also divine awareness manifested.

You have the body, and you know how to navigate the physical world. You know how to nurture yourself, you know how to sail through a dark night of the soul, you know what to do to enhance your luminosity, to maintain your balance, and all of this happens within your scope.

With this partnership with Divine You, everything expands, in all areas of you. You are the dream you had since Eternity, and you are manifesting it, due to your Masterful Human Choice.

No longer talking to god like it is over there and you are over here. You have witnessed yourself bringing Creation into existence, you have witnessed life from many other people’s eyes, you know that you are both Sovereign and One with All.

In this new Beingness, there’s nothing to deny, nothing to repress or suppress. You want to live it all, with new awareness, you are now Embodied, and you want to feel it all, enjoy it all, laugh, cry, love, LIVE! You are discovering how the energies are more docile, more responsive to your refined expanded focus, and you feel excited in the now.

And the way to actualize this Integration is to acknowledge it as done. Done deal. Active and operational right now. If you so choose. If you breathe it in right now, it IS.

No limits. All Love.

by Marco Antonio Gómez

Background: Innermost sarcophagus of King Tut, pure gold

Foreground, Left: Outer sarcophagus of Tjuyu, the mother of queen Tiye, wife of pharaoh Amenhotep III., grandmother of Akhenaten, and great grandmother of Tutankhamun.

Foreground, right: Innermost sarcophagus of Tjuyu

When I go NBK, and people say things like, “oh it was so tragic” or “oh he is crazy” or “It was bloody” I think, so the fuck what, you think thats a bad thing? just because your mommy and daddy told you blood and violence is bad, you think its a fucking law of nature? Wrong, only science and math are true, everything, and I mean everyfuckingthing else is man made. My doctor wants to put me on medication to stop thinking about so many things and to stop getting angry. Well, I think that anyone doesnt like me is just bullshitting themselves. Try it sometime if you think you are worthy, which you probly will you little shits, drop all your beliefs and views and ideas that have been burned into your head and try to think about why your here. But I bet most of you fuckers cant even think that deep, so that is why you must die.

The End of All Things (A Preview for the upcoming Antisepticeye X Reader Series)

(( AN: Preview Cause Im Really Nervous 😂

Okay well this takes place way before the story starts and it’s kinda a tester and advice for how I write Anti cause I want it to be decent?

But I guess I can start getting some feedback and my other ones as well since I don’t plan on releasing any until October….

So let me know if you wanna see some NateMare, Gear or Dark previews as well :)

Cause I am way too far ahead in most of these series.

It’s kinda based on what I think these things are. A smol heads up 😬

And soooo this is gonna be nothing like the story… it’s kinda like a little trailer.

And yeah I misspelt things on purpose. Give it more of a child vibe and it’s also supposed to be taken kind of like you’re intruding.

At first, anyhow.    

So yeah! Sorry I am crazy about dramatic details and overuse of extreme detail!!

I would love to get some feedback!!! Both on my writing and the characters!  So lemme know what you think :D

And most importantly  @justwritingscibbles who is first of all, an extremely talented writer but also just a rad human being who agreed to give me feedback! So again, thank you so much!  So go check her blog out!!!

Sorry for the long A/N

And without further ado-))

E N J O Y  T H E  S H O W

Originally posted by lum1natrix

“Happy birthday!”

He chuckled bitterly, swinging himself into the room as he stared at the sleeping figure in darkness, tear stains still remain on her cheeks from the past two hours of sobbing before she fell into her slumber. He even mused how you still sniffled slightly as she turned as he twisted the blade in on his palm, not digging into the flesh but creating a small circle as he pondered his position and options.

So many times he had desired nothing more that slit her throat, deep enough so that you wouldn’t wake back up from the impact of the blade and would die in slumber, blood staining your bedsheet. Or perhaps he would drag it through your arm, cutting out the trace were he once held.

The other half of him, the half she had brought out, screamed at him to just hold you again, feel your flesh, warm and gentle and comfort her. Her to apologize. Beg. Hold him. Comfort. Turn away from your world and back at his with the same wonder you once held.

But he knew better.

It was over.

She didn’t need him.

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daydream, night watch

summary: peter parker was never good with words nor actions, but when he first sees you he knows—deep inside his heart—that he just can’t let you go.

pairing: peter parker / fem!reader

genre: romance, fluff, slightly florist!reader

w.c.: 2.7k

warnings: mild language (but not so much, just lil bit) and maybe minor embarrassment      

Originally posted by mortallyburningperfection

a/n: hello there fellas! this is my first post ever here on this blog so i really hope you who’re reading this piece of work enjoy my story :) requests are welcomed too!!

First encounters are not always very magical, neither are they like we dreamt.

When Peter Parker first landed his eyes on the hysterical form of you, there were paper sheets flying over the wind and a very frustrated body running from one side to other of the street, gauchely trying to gather as much documents as your hands could hold—and to be at least honest, you could not pick even three of them. You wheezed, annoyed by the fact that your chemistry essay was vanishing from your vision and traveling to a place very far away from where you were.

That, you thought, was my only salvation. Without that piece of work you would probably fail the subject—considering that the essay was a component for the last test you’d to take (to be exact: 40% of your mark depended on that stupid assignment). You sighed; you’d have to manage the entire night for that, making the whole thing again.

Peter shifted the weight of his body and gulped—Ned rolled his eyes, completely aware of his friend’s new-born platonic love—he peeks a paper close to where he was standing, and with all courage he had ever had inside his physique Peter took his way to you. To Ned’s eyes his actions were clumsy and his words sounded like whisper and made no sense at all. He remembered how Peter had been when Liz was still around and how he had heart eyes over her—it was annoying.

Ned called Peter once, warning him to just let the thing go, after all they still had to go to class, but the brunette boy simply ignored his friend’s cries.

Peter touched your shoulder. “Hum, excuse me.”

You turned your body to face him. “Ah, yes?”

“I guess,” he said, stuttering “I guess this belongs to you” Peter handed you the paper.

“Thank you” you gave him the sweetest smile you could.

You didn’t know, but Peter Parker melted under you gaze, completely amused by the beautiful sight of you and your smile. He had never seen you before that day, but he’s utterly sure you were the most gorgeous girl in the universe; not only because your eyes were almost closed when you smiled, neither because your perfume was a mixture of lilies and mint—which made Peter feel a little dizzy due to the dulcet scent—but yet because you showed him the purest reaction he had ever expected.

It didn’t take much, though, for you to perceive some hesitancy coming from him. The boy in front of you had locked his eyes with yours for a moment, and then the silent had paired. After that, he’d coughed and gulped repeatedly; he’d rubbed his hands and slid them inside his pockets, then had taken them out and massaged the back of his neck. He’s so embarrassed, you noticed, but there was no reason to be. Now, with the funny scene before you, the only thing you could possibly do was chuckle.

The brunette widened his eyes and watched you laughing at his posture. He turned his head to his friend, who was starting to giggle too.

You took a deep breath. “What’s your name?”

He blinked once and then twice, not believing you really asked that question.

The boy cleared his throat. “It’s Parker,” he coughed “I mean, Peter Parker.”

“Well Peter Parker,” you winked “nice to meet you.”

Peter nervously grinned; his words were stuck on his gullet, willing to slip out of his mouth and yell to the world that love at first sight was indeed real, but all he did was keep his lips glued. To your eyes, he was completely uncomfortable with the entire situation—maybe he just wasn’t very good with conversations, or when it comes to girls he was always unprepared—so you slightly shrugged your shoulders and

“So,” you said “I better get going.”

He really wanted to hold your wrist and stop you from leaving, but all he did was follow you with his eyes, watching you go away and then vanish in the crowd of people. He foolishly smiled, already memorizing all your features and your delicate gestures. Ned stepped closer and called Peter’s name, finally bringing him back to reality.

“She was pretty,” he said.

“I know right” Peter agreed.

“Yeah,” Ned touched his friend’s shoulder and “but you didn’t ask for her name, dumbass.”

“Oh, man”

And that was enough to darken Peter’s entire day. He kept running the previous encounter inside his mind, trying the best he could to remember every single thing from the place where he met you—the coffee shop, the floristry, all the buildings and some houses. Ned told him to stop because it’d be so much in vain doing all that effort to find just a girl, but Peter ignored his friend once again.

It’s not just a girl; it was a girl who made his heart almost burst out of his chest.

He sat down on his chair inside the classroom—the next subject was physics so he was pretty comfortable with just driving his attention to anything else but the teacher. Peter rested his head in one of his hands and tapped his fingers on top of the desk; the noise following the pace of his thoughts.

It was so odd. He had never felt that way before; so desperate. He swallowed his saliva like it was poison, the liquid burning his throat all the way down—Peter Parker felt impotent. Not even his powers would bring you back to his vision; not even his powers would make you appear in front of him again. From once he wished he could go back in time and just make a question as simple as ‘what’s your name’, and then maybe he would not be feeling so regretful.

Truth to be said, he should not feel regretful at all. You did not know him, he did not know you.

Regardless, he still felt the necessity of having you around.

Ned tried his best to light Peter’s mood up, saying all sort of nonsenses to make his friend chuckle or at least smile; though it was in vain, he kept doing whatever he could to transform the disappointed expression on Peter’s face into something more…joyful.


The school day became a burden (it’s already, but especially that day it felt like ton on Peter’s shoulders), and when the bell finally rang Peter sensed the easiness filling his chest. He lazily walked home, not as excited to reach his room as he’d always be. All the way he had his earphones immersed in his ears, fulfilling his audition with his favorite songs and beats; he tapped his hands on his thighs following the music’s rhythm. He didn’t even bothered throwing web on the buildings and flying back home—no, he was too exhausted for that—but for once, he forgot how stupid he had been earlier on that day.

However, when he finally laid down on his bed all he could think about was you. 

“Peter,” Ned whispered “I said I’d be your guy in the chair, not your guy who spends the night awake watching an empty street

Peter sighed. “I know, Ned,” he said; the blame completely visible in his voice tone “I know.”

“Look,” Ned wheezed “we’d never seen that girl before, I am pretty sure it’s pure coincidence. There’s no need for us to be here the entire night—like we were psychos—guarding this dark and terrifying street.”

“Ned, I—”

“Peter, shouldn’t you be, like, webbing people or something?” Ned asked and it’s pretty much clear that he was already annoyed. “I mean, did you forget you’re Spider-Man?”

“Shit, Ned, no!” Peter shouts “I mean,” now he whispers “can you be louder? It’s just—”

“Shush” Ned said “I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was. Because” he wheezed “you must be really really idiot to fall in love so easily.”

“You have no words,” Ned sighed, shook his head and continued “I am doing this for once because I know how bothered you’ve been. But after this you should give up, it’s not like she’s the only girl in the world.”

Peter knew; he was fully conscious of that assumption. You were not the only girl in the world—but still, he couldn’t take you out of his mind not even for a second. He yawned and blinked his eyes for ninth times; he and Ned had been there since the beginning of the evening, the sleepiness reaching out for him like a positive polo of a magnet reaches out for the negative one. The worst part of it all: he knew he wouldn’t endure much longer.

The best part: Ned would probably wake him up. Or he thought so.

They both rested their bodies on a bench; Ned’s head leaning on Peter’s shoulders, and Peter’s head leaning on Ned’s. The cold air was freezing and it could snow in any moment, but Peter found it very refreshing—a new different feeling.

He’d been searching for you for dear life; jumping from building to building peeking girls with the same body shape, same hair color and same anything he could find. Similarities could bring you back to his sight, he’d say, so Peter kept his hopes high bringing his stamina to nearly 0% every single day. And a week passed by, then two weeks passed by—and soon a month since he had met you and Peter had nothing but your image in his mind. He hissed and hissed about it, not believing you could simply disappear.

So the last drop of belief he had was patrol the night. Exactly where you met him. Exactly in front of the flower shop.

Ned endlessly protested about it—and he would forever do it—because he was sure Peter would forget you soon, but for his despair it hadn’t happened. In the end, reluctantly, Ned stood by his friend’s side, immersing his hands inside his warm pockets and shrinking his neck as much as he could, causing it to be completely englobed by his scarf. He felt his eyelids heavy and before he could blink, Ned was already in deep sleep.

Peter only knew his friend had fallen asleep when the boy snored. He had never paid much attention on it, but now the sound of Ned’s growls caused him to giggle—and then the giggle became another yawn, and then Peter knew he was reaching his limit.

And, for his happiness, it’s already Sunday—and that meant I don’t need to worry with neither waking up early nor school. With the last drop of energy left, Peter straightened up his body, giving Ned as much comfort as he could, and then he fell asleep himself.

You, on the other hand, were completely worried with time. Sundays were not the correct synonym for resting and at 6AM you had your sneakers on and a very comfy hoodie covering up your torso. Slowly, you stepped out of home and walked your way to the floristry where you worked—you had this part-time job there, and once in a while they asked you to work on Sundays too—listening to your favorite playlist. You’d dance a bit following the song’s rhythm, but soon stop because it’s too weird to be so happy in a Sunday morning.

When you reached your workplace your pace slowed down and you held the front door’s key in your hand; you were excited—and that was so uncommon—that you didn’t even notice two sleepy bodies on a bench just feet away from the flower shop.

It’s around eleven o’clock in the morning when your boss touched your shoulder and gave you an odd look.

“What?” You tilted your head.

“Those two,” he pointed a finger to two boys, outside the floristry, sleeping “they’ve been here since—I don’t know since when to be exact.”

“Do you want me to call the police?”

“No,” your boss violently shook his head “maybe they’re homeless, they must eat.”

“So,” you began “you want me to buy them something to eat?”

“Yes, yes. Here, take this,” he handed you some money “and buy them whatever they like.”

You took the money, not so uncomfortable with the idea as much as you thought you’d be. With fast steps, you walked all the way to the two tired forms on the bench and cleared your throat, aiming to wake them up with a sound. None of them moved an inch; you sighed and prepared yourself to yell a ‘hey, sup? Wanna eat something?’ but you stopped right after you recognized a face. Peter

“Parker?” You said; your voice sounding much louder than you wanted it to be.

“No, Mr. Stark, please don’t leave me without my sui—” Peter shouted, but shut his mouth when his eyes met yours “Oh, hey! Hi! Hey, hum, hi” he stuttered.

It’s cute, you admitted to yourself, when he stutters while talking to you; his nervousness showing.

“Hey, Peter.” You smiled—and once again, the brunette boy felt the adrenalin being lunched on his veins and increasing his heartbeat. “So, did you two sleep here?”

Peter looked down, only now noticing that Ned had fallen down and his head was resting on the bench’s cold material. He took off his own scarf and put under Ned’s head, transforming it into a pillow.

“Ah, no, no” he denied, vigorously shaking his head—and not convincing you at all “we were just walking and we were so so tired because ya know we’ve been exercising every morning and then Ned is not completely on shape so we just decided we should rest and we fell asleep and—”

You cut him off. “Peter, please talk slowly.”

He nervously laughed. “Ah, sorry.”

“Anyway,” you looked down to Ned and then moved your gaze to Peter, “are you hungry? My boss gave me money because he thought you guys were homeless and asked me to buy you something.”

“No, no!” Peter stood up abruptly. “No, no.”

“Well, if you don’t want to grab a meal with me is completely fine, don’t overreact.”

He widened his eyes. “No! I really really want to grab a meal with you. I mean I’ve been looking for you since that day you were trying to gather your—” he stopped as soon as he realized he was talking too much “I mean, it’s not that. I just don’t want your boss to buy us anything.”

You giggled. “You’re very cute, Peter Parker.”

He gulped, completely amused by your words. Peter thought it was a dream, so he roughly rubbed his eyelids and shook his head once and twice. He didn’t believe you were actually in front of him, smiling and calling him cute; Peter had a smile drawn on his face from cheek to cheek—and it looked so charming to you that you couldn’t hold the small laugh leaving your mouth.

Peter gathered as much air as his lungs could and said: “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

You shifted the weight on your body from foot to foot. “Oh, that’s correct Peter Parker.”

“So,” he began “what’s your name?”

“I’ll tell you, someday,” you said smirking at him “maybe after you ask me out.”

Peter nearly chocked with his own saliva, totally flustered by your words. Before he could say anything else you added

“Now you know, Peter Parker” your voice sounded like melody to his ears “I work at the flower shop, every day from 3pm to 7pm. Just pick the date and time.”

You turned on your hills and took your way in the floristry. Because you had your back to Peter, you didn’t see how he celebrated this event—neither did you see when Ned woke up startled by Peter’s loud whispers and when both of them said low ‘yeses’ throughout the air, truly happy because now Peter Parker had a chance with you.

“I’m sick of seeing people saying that the fact that Michonne loves Rick and doesn’t want to lose him means that the writers have made her weak. In fact, can we please just drop this ridiculous belief that in order for a female character (or any character really) to be considered “strong,” they have to be 100% strong, 100% of the time and never show even the slightest bit of vulnerability? Characters with no weaknesses whatsoever are boring.”

anonymous asked:

Carla at his daughters coorination please? (assuming she didn't dethrone him herself)

Carla: It was a day that he had hoped would reach his little Founder princess. Ever since she was born, Carla was afraid that his daughter would not have long to live, especially with the terrible Endzeit disease spreading around the demon world. But thanks to part of her human genetic makeup, the Founder blood was eliminated from his daughter’s genetics and she turned out to be a vampire demon instead, much like the Sakamaki triplets when Cordelia, his cousin, had given birth to them. Excusing himself from the bedroom he shared with his wife, Carla decided to pay his daughter a visit in her room, wondering if she was already dressed in her formal coronation dress. She had given him the honor of picking it out for her since he would no longer have her under his royal rule.

Knocking meekly on the door, Carla waited until his daughter gave him permission to enter the room. When he pressed down on the silver handle and opened the door to her room, Carla was surprised to see his daughter pacing back and forth, murmuring incoherent words here and there. What happened to his usual calm and collected princess? Did someone doubt her abilities to rule as a Founder Queen and she became aware of it? Worried that she may have a nervous breakdown before the coronation ceremony, Carla quietly approached his daughter and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, prompting her to snap out of her tentative state.

“What are you doing at this hour? Your hair is not even brushed yet. How will the crown fit upon your head during the ceremony?” Carla briskly asked.

“I know, Father, but I can’t help but be a little nervous. All of the clans will be here to watch me receive the crown and throne, and I’m worried. W-What if I don’t become a great Founder Queen like my mother or grandmother? What if I am dethroned in the future? My fears are slowly eating me alive with all the pressure of becoming a Founder Queen…” his daughter shakily voiced.

Carla quietly led his daughter to her ebony vanity mirror and sat her down on her chair as he reached out for her wooden brush. Her hair was just like his own, silvery and smooth with a deep shade of purple tinging the ends of her long hair. He decided to brush and prepare her hair since none of the maids were around, and he figured that it may be best for him to give her a pep-talk before the grand occasion. 

“No one will dare try to dethrone you. You will rise and become a respected Queen, so do not waste your energy or stress on this matter. I’ve trained and taught you everything that you need to know, so you are not unprepared for this. Take a look at yourself in the mirror, my dear. You were born for this.” Carla declared as he styled her hair into a neat bun with a few strands of her hair framing her face.

“I’ll surely be killed by the Bat clan one day…the Sakamaki family in particular would want me dead, even if I am faintly related to those triplets…” his daughter remarked sadly.

Carla let out a low grunt and pulled his daughter out of her chair, knowing that the ceremony would start soon and their presence was required.

“You are stronger than all of them, so do not worry. I will always be watching you, even when I am not physically at your side. You must rule with an iron fist if you want to survive, my daughter. A Queen must not ever hesitate for anything.”

Realizing the truth behind her father’s words, Carla’s daughter would nod and quietly follow her father out of the room and into the main hall where the coronation ceremony was held. She breathed in and out slowly, and held her chin up when she finally made her entrance to the event. Carla linked arms with her and led her to the front, watching her as she grew confident with every step they took. For years, he had watch her grow into a fine young lady and consistently held her by the hand to lead her to different places, but now he was leading her to her final destiny. It wouldn’t be a lie that Carla was proud of this memorable moment, and he hoped that she would understand her true worth in this world one day. He wanted her to be more confident with her new powers.

As he placed the Founder crown neatly on top of his daughter’s head as a symbol for passing down the royal throne to her, Carla couldn’t help but wonder why there was a sudden gleam in her golden eyes when she looked up and smirked at him after placing the crown on her head. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he was sure that something had sparked in his daughter and replaced the skittish one he knew earlier in her room. 

Little did he know that his precious princess would soon drop her former beliefs of not being good enough for the position and have a field day with her new position as Queen. The empowerment and confidence she felt as she faced her subjects ran hotly through her blood, and she turned and smiled widely at her audience, ready for whatever the future held for her. 

-Admin Yuuzuki

‘I believed I was uncreative. What else can creativity be besides dancing and painting? How do I find out what my creativity is?’

Creativity has nothing to do with any activity in particular—with painting, poetry, dancing, singing. It has nothing to do with anything in particular. Anything can be creative—you bring that quality to the activity. Activity itself is neither creative nor uncreative. You can paint in an uncreative way. You can sing in an uncreative way. You can clean the floor in a creative way. You can cook in a creative way. Creativity is the quality that YOU bring to the activity you are doing. It is an attitude, an inner approach—how you look at things.
So the first thing to be remembered: don’t confine creativity to anything in particular. A man IS creative—and if he is creative, whatsoever he does, even if he walks, you can see in his walking there is creativity. Even if he sits silently and does nothing, even non-doing will be a creative act. Buddha sitting under the Bodhi Tree doing nothing is the greatest creator the world has ever known. Once you understand it—that it is YOU, the PERSON, who is creative or uncreative—then this problem disappears.

Not everybody can be a painter—and there is no need also. If everybody is a painter the world will be very ugly; it will be difficult to live. And not everybody can be a dancer, and there is no need. But everybody can be creative.
Whatsoever you do, if you do it joyfully, if you do it lovingly, if your act of doing it is not purely economical, then it is creative. If you have something growing out of it within you, if it gives you growth, it is spiritual, it is creative, it is divine.
You become more divine as you become more creative. ALL the religions of the world have said: God is the Creator. I don’t know whether He is the Creator or not, but one thing I know: the more creative you become, the more godly you become. When your creativity comes to a climax, when your whole life becomes creative, you live in God. So He must be the Creator because people who have been creative have been closest to Him.
Love what you do. Be meditative while you are doing it—whatsoever it is!—irrelevant of the fact of what it is.
Have you seen Paras cleaning this floor of Chuang Tzu auditorium? Then you will know: cleaning can become creative. With what love! Almost singing and dancing inside. If you clean the floor with such love, you have done an invisible painting. You lived that moment in such delight that it has given you some inner growth. You cannot be the same after a creative act.
Creativity means loving whatsoever you do—enjoying, celebrating it, as a gift of God! Maybe nobody comes to know about it. Who is going to praise Paras for cleaning this floor? History will not take any account of it; newspapers will not publish her name and pictures—but that is irrelevant. She ENJOYED it. The value is intrinsic.
So if you are looking for fame and then you think you are creative—if you become famous like Picasso, then you are creative—then you will miss. Then you are, in fact, not creative at all: you are a politician, ambitious.
If fame happens, good. If it doesn’t happen, good. It should not be the consideration. The consideration should be that you are enjoying whatsoever you are doing. It is your love-affair. If your act is your love-affair, then it becomes creative. Small things become great by the touch of love and delight.

The questioner asks: ‘I believed I was uncreative.’ If you believe in that way, you will become uncreative—because belief is not just belief. It opens doors; it closes doors. If you have a wrong belief, then that will hang around you as a closed door. If you believe that you are uncreative, you will become uncreative—because that belief will obstruct, continuously negate, all possibilities of flowing. It will not allow your energy to flow because you will continuously say: ‘I am uncreative.’
This has been taught to everybody. Very few people are accepted as creative: A few painters, a few poets—one in a million. This is foolish! Every human being is a born creator. Watch children and you will see: ALL children are creative. By and by, we destroy their creativity. By and by, we force wrong beliefs on them. By and by, we distract them. By and by, we make them more and more economical and political and ambitious.
When ambition enters, creativity disappears—because an ambitious man cannot be creative, because an ambitious man cannot love any activity for its own sake. While he is writing a novel, he is looking ahead; he is thinking, ‘When am I going to get a Nobel Prize?’ He is always in the future—and a creative person is always in the present.
We destroy creativity. NOBODY IS BORN UNCREATIVE, but we make ninety-nine percent of people uncreative.
But just throwing the responsibility on the society is not going to help—you have to take your life in your own hands. You have to drop wrong conditionings. You have to drop wrong, hypnotic auto-suggestions that have been given to you in your childhood. Drop them! Purify yourself of all conditionings… and suddenly you will see you ARE creative.
To be and to be creative are synonymous. It is impossible to be and not to be creative. But that impossible thing has happened, that ugly phenomenon has happened, because all your creative sources have been plugged, blocked, destroyed, and your whole energy has been forced into some activity that the society thinks is going to pay.
Our whole attitude about life is money-oriented. And money is one of the most uncreative things one can become interested in. Our whole approach is power-oriented and power is destructive, not creative. A man who is after money will become destructive, because money has to be robbed, exploited; it has to be taken away from many people, only then can you have it. Power simply means you have to make many people impotent, you have to destroy them—only then will you be powerful, can you be powerful. Remember: these are destructive acts.
A creative act enhances the beauty of the world; it gives something to the world, it never takes anything from it. A creative person comes into the world, enhances the beauty of the world—a song here, a painting there. He makes the world dance better, enjoy better, love better, meditate better. When he leaves this world, he leaves a better world behind him. Nobody may know him; somebody may know him—that is not the point. But he leaves the world a better world, tremendously fulfilled because his life has been of some intrinsic value.
Money, power, prestige, are uncreative; not only uncreative, but destructive activities. Beware of them! And if you beware of them you can become creative very easily.

I am not saying that your creativity is going to give you power, prestige, money. No, I cannot promise you any rose-gardens. It may give you trouble. It may force you to live a poor man’s life. All that I can promise you is that deep inside you will be the richest man possible; deep inside you will be fulfilled; deep inside you will be full of joy and celebration. You will be CONTINUOUSLY receiving more and more blessings from God. Your life will be a life of benediction. But it is possible that outwardly you may not be famous, you may not have money, you may not succeed in the so-called world. But to succeed in this so-called world is to fail deeply, is to fail in the inside world. And what are you going to do with the whole world at your feet if you have lost your own self? What will you do if you possess the whole world and you don’t possess yourself?
A creative person possesses his own being; he is a master. That’s why in the East we have been calling sannyasins ‘swamis’. ‘Swami’ means a master. Beggars have been called swamis—masters. Emperors we have known, but they proved in the final account, in the final conclusion of their lives, that they were beggars.
A man who is after money and power and prestige is a beggar, because he continuously begs. He has nothing to give to the world.

Be a giver. Share whatsoever you can! And remember, I am not making any distinction between small things and great things. If you can smile whole-heartedly, hold somebody’s hand and smile, then it is a creative act, a GREAT creative act. Just embrace somebody to your heart and you ARE creative. Just look with loving eyes at somebody… just a loving look can change the whole world of a person.
Be creative. Don’t be worried about what you are doing—one has to do MANY things—but do everything creatively, with devotion. Then your work becomes worship. Then whatsoever you do is a prayer. And whatsoever you do is an offering at the altar.

Drop this belief that you are uncreative. I know how this belief is created: you may not have been a gold medalist in the university; you may not have been top in your class; your painting may not have won appreciation; when you play on your flute, neighbors report to the police. Maybe—but just because of these things, don’t get the wrong belief that you are uncreative. That may be because you are imitating others. People have a very limited idea of what being creative is—playing the guitar or the flute or writing poetry—so people go on writing rubbish in the name of poetry.
You have to find out what you can do and what you cannot do. Everybody cannot do everything! You have to search and find your destiny. You have to grope in the dark, I know. It is not very clear-cut what your destiny is—but that’s how life is. And it is GOOD that one has to search for it—in the VERY search, something grows. If God were to give a chart of your life to you when you were entering into the world—this will be your life: you are going to become a guitarist—then your life would be mechanical. Only a machine can be predicted, not a man. Man is unpredictable. Man is always an opening… a potentiality for a thousand and one things. Many doors open and many alternatives are always present at each step—and you have to choose, you have to feel. But if you love your life you will be able to find.

If you DON’T love your life and you love something else, then there is a problem. If you love money and you want to be creative, you cannot become creative. The very ambition for money is going to destroy your creativity. If you want fame, then forget about creativity. Fame comes easier if you are destructive. Fame comes easier to an Adolf Hitler; fame comes easier to a Henry Ford. Fame is easier if you are competitive, violently competitive. If you can kill and destroy people, fame comes easier. The whole history is the history of murderers. If you become a murderer, fame will be very easy. You can become a prime minister; you can become a president—but these are all masks. Behind them you will find very violent people, terribly violent people hiding, smiling. Those smiles are political, diplomatic. If the mask slips, you will always see Genghis Khan, Timur Leng, Nadir Shah, Napoleon, Alexander, Hitler, hiding behind.
If you want fame, don’t talk about creativity.
I am not saying that fame never comes to a creative person, but very rarely it comes, VERY rarely. It is more like an accident, and it takes much time. Almost always it happens that by the time fame comes to a creative person, he is gone—it is always posthumous; it is very delayed.
Jesus was not famous in his day. If there were no Bible, there would have been no record of him. The record belongs to his four disciples; nobody else has ever mentioned him, whether he existed or not. He was not famous. He was not successful. Can you think of a greater failure than Jesus? But, by and by, he became more and more significant; by and by, people recognized him. It takes time.
The greater a person is, the more time it takes for people to recognize him—because when a great person is born, there are no criteria to judge him by, there are no maps to find him with. He has to create his own values; by the time he has created the values, he is gone. It takes thousands of years for a creative person to be recognized, and then too it is not certain. There have been many creative people who have never been recognized. It is accidental for a creative person to be successful. For an uncreative, destructive person it is more certain.
So if you are seeking something else in the name of creativity, then drop the idea of being creative. At least consciously, deliberately, do whatsoever you want to do. Never hide behind masks.
But if you really want to be creative, then there is no question of money, success, prestige, respectability—then you enjoy your activity; then each act has an intrinsic value. You dance because you like dancing; you dance because you delight in it. If somebody appreciates, good, you feel grateful. If nobody appreciates, it is none of your business to be worried about it. You danced, you enjoyed—you are already fulfilled.

But this belief of being uncreative can be dangerous—drop it! Nobody is uncreative—not even trees, not even rocks.
People who have known trees and loved trees, know that each tree creates its own space, each rock creates its own space. It is like nobody else’s space. If you become sensitive, if you become capable of understanding, through empathy, you will be tremendously benefited. You will see each tree is creative in its own way; no other tree is like that—each tree is unique; each tree has individuality, each rock has individuality. Trees are not just trees—they are people. Rocks are not just rocks—they are people. Go and sit by the side of a rock—watch it lovingly, touch it lovingly, feel it lovingly.
It is said about a Zen master that he was able to pull VERY big rocks, remove very big rocks—and he was a very fragile man. It was almost impossible looking at his physiology! Stronger men, very much stronger than him, were unable to pull those rocks, and he would simply pull them very easily. He was asked what his trick was. He said, ‘There is no trick—I love the rock so the rock helps. First I say to her, ‘Now my prestige is in your hands, these people have come to watch. Now help me, cooperate with me.’ Mm?—then I simply hold the rock lovingly… and WAIT for the hint. When the rock gives me the hint—it is a shudder, my whole spine starts vibrating—when the rock gives me the hint that she is ready, then I move. You move against the rock; that’s why so much energy is needed. I move with the rock, I flow with the rock. In fact, it is wrong to say that I remove it—I am simply there. The rock removes itself.’
One great Zen master was a carpenter, and whenever he made tables, chairs, somehow they had some ineffable quality in them, a tremendous magnetism. He was asked, ‘How do you make them?’ He said, ‘I don’t make them. I simply go to the forest: the BASIC thing is to enquire of the forest, of trees, which tree is ready to become a chair.’ Now these things look absurd—because we don’t know, we don’t know the language. For three days he would remain in the forest. He would sit under one tree, under another tree, and he would talk to trees—and he was a mad man! But a tree is to be judged by its fruit, and this master has also to be judged by his creation. A few of his chairs still survive in China—they still carry a magnetism. You will just be simply attracted; you will not know what is pulling you. After a thousand years!—something tremendously beautiful.
He would say, ‘I go to the forest and I say that I am in search of a tree who wants to become a chair. I ask the trees if they are willing; not only willing: cooperating with me, ready to go with me—only then. Sometimes it happens that no tree is ready to become a chair—I come empty-handed.’ It happened: The Emperor of China asked him to make him a stand for his books. And he went and after three days he said, ‘Wait—no tree is ready to come to the palace.’ After three months the Emperor again enquired. The carpenter said, ‘I have been going continuously. I am persuading. Wait—one tree seems to be leaning a little bit.’ Then he persuaded one tree. He said, ‘The whole art is there!—when the tree comes of its own accord. Then she is simply asking the help of the carpenter.’
You can go and ask Asheesh—he has a feel for wood, and wood also has a feel for him.
If you are loving you will see that the whole existence has individuality. Don’t pull and push things. Watch, communicate; take their help—and much energy will be preserved.

Even trees are creative, rocks are creative. You are man: the very culmination of this existence. You are at the top—you are conscious. Never think with wrong beliefs, and never be attached to wrong beliefs, that you are uncreative. Maybe your father said to you that you are uncreative, your colleagues said to you that you are uncreative. Maybe you were searching in wrong directions, in directions in which you are not creative, but there MUST be a direction in which you ARE creative. Seek and search and remain available, and go on groping until you find it.
Each man comes into this world with a specific destiny—he has something to fulfill, some message has to be delivered, some work has to be completed. You are not here accidentally—you are here meaningfully. There is a purpose behind you. The Whole intends to do something through you.

—  Osho

khaleesimaka  asked:

“… Why are you… eating tacos at 3 AM?” “Why not?” for SoMa please ^u^

I hope this is okay!

He finds her on the floor behind the line; she molds a taco from a plate full of leftover shredded cheese and lettuce. Stray, straw-hued wisps of her hair move in the breeze from the creaking, antiquated limbs of the pizza oven. He realizes very suddenly how serious and focused she is on every aspect of life: even eating. Even after four years of knowing her - intimately and then not - it’s the smallest things about her that he loves the most: the darkened edges of her green gaze in the dimmed light of the kitchen, the way her bangs drift, her sun-freckled shoulders revealed from her loose-hanging shirt.

“Why are you eating tacos at 3 am?” he asks as he slides to sit beside her.

She shoots him a dagger-sharp glare. “Why not?”

“Didn’t you have a wedding party? Where’d the tacos come from?” He swipes off his cook’s cap and runs his hand through his hair. Some flour falls away from his grip.

“The wedding party had a taco bar,” she says, and he can see her try to bite back a laugh.

“That’s actually a great idea,” he says with a grin.

“It was until the bride got hammered beyond belief and dropped an entire taco on her dress. Then it was party over. And all the leftovers up for grabs.”

“I mean, she’s never going to wear the dress again.”

“I know,” she assents, “but it is her day.”

“And the groom’s.”

“That’s not usually how the bride takes it.”

He leans his head back and closes his eyes for a breath. “Good point.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hello I’m an infp I’d like some advice. I am a weak willed person and i always have been and have been told and understand that I have a deterministic mindset, but I don’t know how to get rid of it. Like that some people are just more talented than others, which shouldn’t be true, but I end up thinking that anyways and get discouraged that I just was weak and did not have as much potential to do certain things as other people from the start. (1/2)

[con’t: I know how I should think but I can’t seem to move past that fixed mindset. My friends also joke about this, I know they don’t have bad intentions since they actually told me, but I still get anxious that I’m annoying, stupid, and too sensitive to them. I’m not sure how to break out of this… sorry if anything sounds vague, thank you in advance!]

The belief that “some people are just more talented than others” is an example of incorrect Te reasoning. You are suffering from inferior Te issues, inappropriately trying to “universalize” your subjective opinions, extrapolating from your personal feelings of disappointment/dejection to formulate the wrong “facts” about how the objective world works. Feelings and facts are not the same thing. Inferior Te issues stem from Fi-Ne underdevelopment, so these two functions need work, consult the Type Development guide. If your Fi was healthy, you would correctly believe that every person is unique in their strengths and abilities, therefore, you shouldn’t make inappropriate comparisons between people or use the wrong standards to measure people’s achievements, otherwise, you would be devaluing their individuality by trying to force everyone into the same mold. However, since your Fi is underdeveloped and you have trouble accepting your negative feelings about yourself, you unconsciously deflect those feelings by blaming the world for your problems, by telling yourself that “the world is stacked against me”, then you don’t have to do anything because you’ve convinced yourself that you CANNOT do anything when you are just a nothing and a nobody. This self-limiting, deterministic mindset is a sign of Si loop: using your past feelings/experiences to define (read: limit) your future possibilities, thus causing you to be blind to new potential, entirely cut off from Ne. This mental shortcut of deflecting responsibility and seeing yourself as a passive victim of a world that makes things too hard is a defense mechanism, it protects your self-esteem for a short fleeting moment but the long term consequence is that you will have no self-esteem because you don’t DO anything to take control of your life and develop your unique potential, thus gradually turning yourself from a feared failure into a real one. 

Imagine that you put a bunch of different fruits on a table and you suddenly decide that apples are the best fruit because everyone eats apples and they’re everywhere. Is that how you should define what the “best” fruit is? Factually, every type of fruit has its advantages and disadvantages so it is quite useless to say which one is the “best” one, yet, if you keep insisting that one particular fruit is the “best” fruit, you will limit yourself to only eating that fruit and nothing else, thus severely cutting off the range of nutritional benefits you can receive from the fruit world, perhaps even going so far as to pointlessly deride all the other fruits in order to defend your erroneous belief that apples are the best. Similarly, you’ve managed to convince yourself that there is only “one” way to define what a “good” person is, thus limiting yourself in believing that since you’re not that kind of person, you are nothing. Your low self-esteem is the direct result of holding problematic beliefs and valuing the wrong things, then using the wrong standards to measure human worth. Therefore, reflect upon your moral values and how you define your worth, whether the standards you use lead to good outcomes for you. If your beliefs are wrong as indicated by the bad outcomes you get, then you should drop those beliefs and get better ones by broadening your thinking via extraverted functions. There’s more than one way to define human worth and you would know this if you developed Fi-Ne properly.

Angelkin as a role being played, as something to be proved

I have noticed that many, many angelkin, consciously or not, see being an angel either as something they have to prove or as a role they have to play. It’s like it’s a -character- they get into. It’s an act they have to put on, an image they have to maintain. They will carefully dress/behave/speak in ways calculated to maintain this image. Please do not judge or shame yourself or anyone else you realize may be caught up in all this. It is a very natural and normal thing to happen.

Having identified this opens the way to talk about dropping the act. The first step to that is getting really, really honest, finding out what the fear driving the behavior is (because it -is- fear in the driver’s seat) and losing it. ‘But if I stop behaving in specific ways, I’m afraid I’ll find out I’m not really an angel after all.’ Do you think non-angels are worth less than angels? ‘But what if I drop the act and people stop thinking I’m an angel?’ That’s their problem.

In fact I would suggest dropping -everything.- Don’t just drop fears and behaviors; drop all beliefs and expectations. Drop everything you know. Drop the word and concept ‘angel’ itself. Let it all go completely, and without words or any kinds of ideas, just relax into the Here and Now direct experience of That energy which is beyond words.

Okay, I’m calling it here and now.

In the days leading up to the Season Four premiere of The Flash, I was of the belief that the Barry who emerges “reborn” from the Speed Force could be an impostor, namely Eobard Thawne. However, I dropped that belief after the episode aired and, due to not watching it (I am not going to reward them for shoving WA down our throats), I hadn’t heard of it holding any clues pointing to that being the case. Well, turns out it did, and this guy picked up on them, even though he thinks it won’t actually happen because it’s “too crazy” or some such. *taps chin* Gee, what did they say about “Savitar” actually being Future Flash? Anyway, here it is:

If this bears fruit, if Barry is really Eobard, there’s still an important question. Is he the youngest version seen so far, meaning this will be their version of “The Return of Barry Allen” in which he impersonates the Flash for a while until he gives in to his psychosis and becomes the Reverse-Flash? Or is he the Eobard from Season One, the man who pretended to be Harrison Wells for fifteen years and knows Team Flash in and out, having finally cheated death and managed a sneaky comeback? Either way, it could allow the writers to have their cake and eat it, too, when it comes to the wretched farce of a wedding. The real Barry not returning until after it’s gone through would be the easiest way to render it null and void, should they have the sense to do so.

monaramis  asked:

Unpopular opinion: Sera sudden intolerance with elves religion when romancing a Lavellan express a struggle with her own acceptance and it's based on confusion, low self esteem and her poor capacity to express herself, and /not/ she trying to imposed "I will only like you if you drop your beliefs"

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

Now I wish Sera’s feeling of alienation from other elves and Elvhen religion was handled with more tact, but in essence, yes.

Careful, it’s just my interpretation and it is subjective.

Remember. Sera is very young. 19? I think? That’s number one.
Second of all, she’s been raised to think of herself as ‘not like those other elves’, that elves are stupid and if she doesn’t want to be stupid, she best not embrace who she is.
And third of all, I wholly believe that she’s put off with Dalish attitudes towards anybody, especially elves who reject the Dalish and who seek to move away from the Dalish and Elvhen great past. In all games we can see the Dalish attitudes towards those who don’t consider themselves Dalish. It’s not pretty.

I can sort of see Spiridon bonding with Sera over their inability to process the ‘new’ stuff. But where Spiridon just escapes into the bottom of the bottle and becomes severely depressed, Sera gets aggressive. There’s so much new happening, so many of her beliefs are being shattered, and her entire sense of self is being shaken. I feel like she feels being made inadequate… again. The humans don’t want her. The “true” elves don’t want her. Everybody wants her to be something else. And everybody wields ‘history’ and ‘power’ and ‘bloodlines’ while shitting all those who don’t have such pasts and histories and bloodlines.

There’s security in laughing at everybody, detaching oneself from their roots and their social status and beliefs, especially after you’ve lived a life in which nobody considers you good enough. And that security is taken away when bits of the identity she’s constructed are being chipped away or proven ‘false’. 

And on top of everything, again, she’s so young. She hasn’t had any upbringing to speak of, no spiritual counsel. Everything ever she’s had to figure out on her own. I can absolutely understand why she gives a romanced dalish inquisitor the ultimatum: it’s not between “your belief or mine”. It’s between “your religion and my entire self”.

Except of course instead of expressing it eloquently, she does what she always does: gets aggressive at things that she feels threaten her in whatever way. And I don’t blame her for being scared.  The world hasn’t been kind to her.