#I've been stuck for so long- I'm convinced enough that I cannot be helped. Still I cling onto the tiniest spark of hope.

[sunlit-mess]

I can only take so much, but lately, they have replaced my reflection. And realize I'm just as bad as them.

[rosekasa]

“I was going for the cheek/forehead and I missed 😳” kiss for any side of the square ❤️

AHHH ANON THANK U!!!

92. “I was going for the cheek/forehead and I missed 😳” kiss - from this amazing list by @kisspromptsforthelovesquare !

Ladybug hates Hawk Moth for a lot of reasons. But interrupting the first date she's had with her boyfriend after his month away in Verona truly takes the cake.

Coming to a halt at Champs de Mars, she sets Adrien down on his feet. The power still hasn't come back on after the attack; the safety announcement hasn't been broadcasted yet, and no one has been brave enough to come back out and return to their picnic blankets.

"Thanks, Ladybug." He dusts himself off once he's out of her arms. Despite being cornered in an alleyway for two hours, he still looks gorgeous -- brand new white shirt perfectly pressed, not a strand of hair out of place. "You really didn't have to trouble yourself, though. I could've just walked."

She knows that very well -- but she wasn't about to let Hawk Moth win. He can interrupt all her dates as much as he wants, but he cannot stop her from exercising her God-given right of enjoying how attractive her boyfriend is up-close and personal.

"What are superheroes for?" she says with a smile. "I mean, I know Chat Noir is your favourite, but unfortunately you were stuck with me today."

He laughs awkwardly. "Chat Noir? My favourite?" he says. "I'd like to have a word with some of your sources. I've been a Ladybug fanboy since day one."

She rolls her eyes. "Your flirting is even as bad as his."

"You should meet my girlfriend. No one thinks my flirting is as bad as she does."

She can't help but laugh. Of course he wears that like a badge of pride. The thing he'd lamented the most while in Verona was how text messages 'didn't do justice' to his awful lines.

"Maybe you should follow her example more often and I won't have to save you from akumas all the time," she says.

He smiles. "But it's always nice to see an old friend."

She goes in for a casual, habitual side-hug. As if he's just a regular-schmegular civilian she's been saving for months and not the guy she was close to building a shrine for to get him to come back to Paris early.

Just as they begin to pull away, Ladybug leans in and presses a polite kiss to his cheek.

Except Adrien, about to say something, turns his head at the last second, and her lips land squarely on his.

They both freeze.

A beat passes, then two. He hasn't moved yet. Neither has she. One of them probably should, though.

But also... she hasn't kissed Adrien in a very long time.

No. Maybe enjoying how attractive her boyfriend is is her God-given right, but Hawk Moth would definitely have a field day if he found out Ladybug was kissing supermodel Adrien Agreste while his girlfriend was nowhere to be found after an akuma attack.

She leaps back, lips smarting. "I am so sorry."

He blinks a few times, as if she'd just hit him with her yo-yo. "No, I mean-- it's fine."

She opens her mouth to speak. Before she can, he reaches up and wipes a thumb over his chin. Pink gloss comes off. He looks at her, nonplussed. Blush shoots up to her hairline.

"You're not wearing your passion fruit lip balm?" he asks.

Silence passes over them for many seconds.

"...What?" she says.

He rubs his fingers together, pouting. "This is sparkly," he says, as if that's any kind of explanation.

"...What?"

He looks up, and his expression shifts. "Do you not... know?"

Eyes wide, she shakes her head.

More silence ensues.

"...How?" he finally says.

She stares at him. "What do you mean, 'how'?"

"I've seen you de-transform before almost every single one of our dates," he says. "You got to the airport five minutes after class ended to see me off. I thought you wanted me to know you were Ladybug."

Before, at least, she might've been able to convince herself they were talking about different things. Not after that.

"But you-- you said I'm an old friend!" she says. "You referred to your girlfriend!"

"I thought we were doing a bit!"

She sighs deeply, scrubbing her hands down her face. This is Hawk Moth's fault. She doesn't know how, but it is.

"Why were you shocked when I kissed you?" she asks quietly.

His face turns sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck, looking at the grass.

"I missed you," he says. "We haven't kissed in a long time."

Ladybug's heart leaps in her ribcage. No, she's not giving Hawk Moth credit for this.

Flying forward, she wraps her arms around him and brings her mouth to his, kissing him entirely on purpose.

The power comes back on after two minutes. While she's not sure about Hawk Moth, Twitter, at least, certainly has a field day.

[silentmassacres]

sun, nov 3

nostalgia, jealousy, and neglect

i have an odd experience with dissociation, one that occurs again and again. not constant, but familiar enough. i can feel as my brain latches onto certain memories or ideas, trying to bring me back to them.

of course, i can't go back.

the christmas of 2012 at my grandparents' house won't return. my cousins are older now, no longer carrying around toys and a ds with games for me to explore. i got yelled at until i cried that night, for reasons i can't remember. i still miss the glowing lights of the tree that i helped decorate.

my elementary school library is, undoubtedly, different now. kids are no longer playing poptropica on the computers while i check out every i spy book. i miss the way they smelled.

—

many times, i find myself giving in. mentally living at least a decade ago. it's easier, i guess. i know it furthers my dissociation, to be solidly convinced i'm in another place and time. my brain is stuck there, and i don't feel there's much i can do.

i'd rather be there and disoriented than here and miserable

—

i didn't like school as a child. i found it boring and my peers frustrated me. many times, my teachers did as well. i was an easy target, i suppose.

yet, somehow, despite all of it, i miss it. i shouldn't. i don't know why i do.

i'd like to go home now.

—

i don't like calling myself disabled. i know that, realistically, i am. sometimes i'll use the word as if it proves anything, as if i am somehow more heard.

my body is deteriorating from the inside out. they don't know what's wrong with me, and nobody bothers to care or check. so i remain a mystery. of course, it's internal. there is never a moment i am without pain and i will try not to collapse when my body decides to give up on me — but that is unseen.

it feels like a cruel joke at times. if i were a character, it'd be some parallel or metaphor or other literacy device; a play on how, with all of my mental suffering internalized, i am now facing the same with physical issues

—

i'd like to hope there's something solid wrong with me. maybe they could do something.

for another day and another week and another month, i will ignore the concept of chronic pain and fatigue and what basically amounts to rotting internally being as a result of trauma. i will not receive help for that.

even if it is physical, i still don't receive help.

—

i dislike feeling jealous. it makes me feel like a bad person, in all of my misdirected anger. it's not the fault of those who have what i cannot, and they shouldn't be the target of my frustrations.

yet i can't help but compare myself.

maybe it's worse in some aspects for others, but i still find myself fighting to prove that i'm somehow more worthy. i begin to believe that worth means nothing if not recognized — worth is only built on recognition after all, is it not?

i keep it to myself, most times. no need to express it

—

it's not just hormones, i've decided. it's part of it, i guess. the hormones make me irritable with others. but they're not what's causing me to be miserable. suicidal ideation used to be reserved for the week or two before. we're past that now, and i still feel depression wrapping around me.

i don't know what i'm going to do. i'm told it's fine (of course, what else are you to say?), but i still worry.

it still lingers with me, having been abandoned during arguably the worst bout of depression in my life, and then claiming i was neglectful. i don't want to go through that again.

i'm not wonderful with being. openly caring. not in the way people want. it's easy for people to assume or say that i don't care and paint me in a negative light. and when the time comes in which i can barely care for myself, will i continue to extend that towards others?

i fear it only breeds resentment.

does it matter if i hurt myself, so long as i behave normal enough? so long as i'm caring?

i worry she'll be mad at me for it. i don't remember where that feeling comes from.

[babylooneytoonz]

The Vessel [Pt. 3]

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem! Reader

Summary: While you are trying to figure out why the Witcher is so abhorrent towards you, he finally gives you a hint as to why he doesn't like you. Also, you realize something— Yennefer and her spells can never go wrong.

Warnings: Geralt being a dick is what.

[My Masterlist] [My Witcher Masterlist - Read the other parts here!]

It had been weeks since you slept with Geralt of Rivia, but you hadn't been feeling any different. If it were up to you to say, you would say that Yennefer's plan didn't work— although you couldn't muster the courage to ask her directly if it did.

What made you so sure that the plan hadn't worked was the fact that Geralt and Yennefer had been fighting about something since a few nights and you could feel the strain in their relationship starting to show up. This hunch that you had only strengthened when one day, you unknowingly stumbled upon an argument between the Witcher and the Mage.

It was almost a week after that night on the Great Mount. Geralt had been indifferent towards you since then— not even bothering to spare a glance in your direction when the four of you were in the same proximity.

You were now back at Redania— your home, but so were Yennefer , Geralt and Jaskier— staying at your place like unwanted guests who were exceeding their stay.

Jaskier held two heavy logs in either of his arms, while your own hands were stuffed with the eggs from your coop, that you were intending to cook up for dinner tonight, when you heard shouting from one of the rooms upstairs.

"It was you that said that the plan would work. It didn't work, clearly."

You could recognize Geralt's voice from afar; broody, low and devoid of any emotion.

"Aren't you going to go check in on them?" You turned towards Jaskier and frowned, your eyes shooting upwards, fixing on the topmost stair before you withdrew it and fixed it on him again.

"Me? Stuck between a broody Witcher and a scary Witch? God save my poor soul then." Jaskier commented back as he placed the logs by the fireplace and began to light it.

"Jaskier—" You couldn't help but smile at him, as you placed the eggs on the table and blinked, turning towards him, "Yennefer isn't a witch, she is a mage. Besides—"

Before you could complete your sentence, Yennefer's shaky voice reached the both of you, and you couldn't help but wonder what was actually going on between the two of them.

"I don't understand what's gotten into you, Geralt. These things take time. Why won't you let the spell take it's due course?"

"Yen, your spell failed. It's high time you realize that."

You shook your head to yourself as you busied yourself with trying to prepare the stew for dinner, but your ears were fixed on them.

"You don't question my spells, Witcher. I know what I'm doing. Besides— now to come to think of it, did you even fuck her right?"

Jaskier couldn't help but snort, but when he looked at how red you suddenly were, he immediately masked his expressions as he propped himself next to you.

"Did he, [Y/N]?"

"Jaskier, I'm not having this conversation with you," You shook your head at him, exasperated that he was still bugging you with this question, "Now can you please help me out? I need help with the stew, Jas'." Jaskier stood up, whistling to himself as he fixed himself next to the pot, stirring it while you began working on getting the bread ready when the door above slammed shut and heavy footsteps began descending down the stairs. Both you and Jaskier turned to see a very annoyed Yennefer walk towards the front door, without her Witcher in tow, just like he already was.

"I've got some business to attend to in Novigrad, Jaskier." She pointedly ignored you, and you couldn't help but bite back the words threatening to spill out of your mouth. Living under your roof, she was behaving like you were an outsider. Secretly, you were thrilled that she was leaving , even though it was for a short while.

You watched, through the window as a portal suddenly emerged just outside of your barn, and she disappeared through it, leaving you and Jaskier gawking at each other, Jaskier finally speaking, "I say, trouble in paradise?"

"It's none of your concern, Jaskier. You really need to stop meddling with other people's businesses. Now would you be kind enough and go ask your friend to come down? Dinner's almost read—"

"Jaskier, come on now. We're leaving." Geralt cut you off as he finally appeared, all dressed in his tunic and breeches, his sword peeking out from behind him. You parted your lips, ready to ask him where he was off to but it was like he had already anticipated that this was going to come, so finally he looked at you, but with the same indifference with which he had treated you so far.

"It's time we move on. Keep the coin. Seems like Yennefer's plan failed after all—"

The sheer coldness in his voice stung you like a thorn but you didn't let him realize that. Slowly, you lifted the cloth, wiping your hands with it, trying to act just as indifferent towards him— even though you felt like you had been betrayed, which you mentally cursed yourself for.

This was going to happen one day or the other— and wasn't it better that they were finally going to be out of your life now? And not later when they would mercilessly pull your babe away from a mother's breast and call it their own?

"Where are we going, Geralt? We can atleast stay for dinner, a man needs to eat—"

"We will roast a deer on our way, Jaskier." Geralt's irritation was evident from his tone, so the bard turned towards you, choosing now to ignore the Witcher with a sulk on his face.

"Oh Jaskier," you whispered, softly, "Don't you worry. I'll quickly pack some food for you, for the way."

"Oh hush, woman, don't go so soft on me, I would want to switch the roles with that broody gentleman over there."

Your cheeks suddenly felt like they were on fire; and you were sure you had turned a tomato red. You instinctively looked away, quickly finding yourself a distraction at the table as you began packing some bread and ham in a cloth satchel for him to take along with him— fighting back the smile that craved to break out.

"Jaskier, you are free to stay here for as long as you want, the minute I get on Roach, I leave," grumbling, the White Wolf slammed the front door shut as he walked off, your eyes suddenly widening, as the smile was quickly replaced by a lingering hurt upon listening to his words. Why did he hate you so much? Was it because you couldn't give him— them— the child they so desperately wanted?

"Okay thank you for the dinner, and don't, like DO NOT mind him, he has always been a grumpy ham."

Jaskier took the satchel, flinging it over his shoulder, whilst at the same time grabbed his lute and immediately darted out, and by that time, the Witcher was already trotting towards the main path. You fixed yourself by the front door, watching the poor bard struggle to catch up with him and once the two of them were out of sight, you went back inside.

If there was anything that turned a bright way for you after the three of them stepped out of your life for good was the fact that you had enough coin on you now to last for atleast a year. You bought three new goats so you could milk them and sell the milk in the village, along with the eggs.

But the void remained—

The night's were the most difficult, because there were nights when you woke up to a dream where a certain white haired, amber eyed man was laying in bed with you, his thick palm resting on your waist, your back pressed against him as he spooned you.

Maybe it was because you couldn't sleep that night too, that you did not miss the strangled groan that you heard from outside your window. You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes as you leaned over the window to look out but you couldn't see anything. Just then, someone began pounding on your front door, startling you.

It didn't take you long to run down the stairs, still dressed in your chemise, your arms wrapped around your arms as the knocking became frantic and urgent. When you opened the door, you felt like someone had kneed you in the gut—

"Jaskier?" The bard looked a mess, his clothes were bloody and dirty, his hair slick and sticking to his face.

"I didn't know who else to go to nearby. Geralt needs—" Jaskier began, and the two of you turned towards Roach. Geralt was although perched atop, he was now arching forward, his body almost limp, his head resting against the saddle.

"What happened, Jaskier?" You ran out towards Roach, who whinnied at you, perhaps having sensed that something was wrong with her owner. You placed your palm on Geralt's shoulder, but the minute your palm came in contact with him, he grunted and looked up, and you saw how weak and pale he looked, "I told J-Jaskier — I'm f-fine.. Jaskier.. Jaskier..fuck.. Novigrad.. I asked you to take us to ... Novigrad."

Geralt of Rivia was injured, the flesh on his side had almost been ripped apart by what looked like claws, and yet he was being a stubborn pig. You grabbed him by the fabric of his tunic, balling the fabric as you began literally dragging him off the horse, paying no heed to his annoying murmurs.

"Jaskier, can you help? I alone cannot get him off, you know?"

Helping Geralt walk into your home was a difficult task but somehow, you and Jaskier convinced Geralt to do it. You sat the very injured Geralt by the fire and knelt down in between the space of his legs, using gentle fingers as you rolled up the torn fabric of the tunic. He hissed when your fingers came in contact with his clawed flesh and that's when you saw how massive the claw marks were.

"Who did that to him, Jaskier?" You let go off the big man as you stood up, your hands now caked in Geralt's blood. You ran up to one of the wooden racks that stood by the fireplace with a dozen glass bottles on it. You grabbed the mortar and pestle, placing it on the table in front of you, as Jaskier lowered himself on a chair, now wiping the blood off his face with a washcloth.

"I swear you should have seen it, it was the tallest harpy I have ever seen— well technically, it's the first harpy I've ever seen," he mumbled, and you couldn't help but give him a weak smile as you began to look for the ingredients to make a paste for Geralt's wounds.

"What are you looking for?" Jaskier asked, intrigued, as he watched you fiddle with the glass containers.

"Turmeric, Jaskier. It will stop his bleeding, although had he been human, that injury would have killed him— instantly," you pointedly stared at Jaskier, and he gulped nervously when your words finally registered into the back of his mind. You quickly turned away, resuming your search for the other ingredients. You pulled out two containers; one with lotus petals and the other one containing chamomile, placing it on the table, next to the mortar and pestle.

"Jaskier, while I prepare the paste, can you get Geralt to lie down by the fire? And take off his—" You pointed towards his tunic that was already ripped apart, hanging loosely by his side. Jaskier immediately nodded, getting to work.

You knelt down next to Geralt. His eyes were open, but his face was sweaty and his breathing was uneven; his lips tightly pressed together as he stared at the fire. Your fingers delicately moved over the gashes on his side, and he didn't flinch as much now.

"Can you sit up, Geralt? I need to bandage your waist."

That's when he turned towards you, regarding you briefly as he grunted, pushing himself up slightly and you quickly bandaged his wound with a cloth, securely tying it around his waist before he fell back against the makeshift bedding you had created for him by the fireplace.

You were finally done tending to the man's wounds so you stood up, moving to wash your hands by the sink, when Geralt's voice reached you, startling you.

"I told Jaskier not to bother you. Yennefer could have fixed this."

Your head sharply turned towards him, and you parted your lips, but it was as if your words were lodged to your throat, refusing to come out.

"You can't put all the blame on Jaskier. He could have left you to rot, stolen your mare and left, but he stuck around to ensure you were brought back to safety. You need to learn to swallow that thick ego of yours and give the bard some credit," you intentionally chose not to talk of Yennefer.

He grunted in response, shifting slightly so he could get comfortable, his body tilted at an angle towards the fire that you could see more of his back— full of old scars— this one will be adding to it soon.

"Are you a healer?"

His question pulled you off track.

You shook your head, wiping your hands with a clean cloth, reaching out for one of the blankets that you had stored for yourself as a winter supply, placing it over Geralt's legs— with half a mind that you will have to fight him for this act too— but much to your surprise, Geralt of Rivia accepted the blanket, pulling it over his chest.

"No, not a healer, just a woman with a passion to know things. You see, living alone you need to know certain things as you never know what life is going to throw your way."

"Hm," he fell quiet, and all the two of you could now listen to were the embers erupting from the fire.

The next few minutes, Geralt was quiet, so assuming that he had fallen asleep, just like the bard had; already snoring away to glory, you pulled your chair closer to the fireplace, lowering yourself against it as you began working on another blanket for Jaskier.

"You should have said no."

Startled to hear the low broody voice again, you looked up but this time found Geralt sitting on the makeshift bedding, the pads of his feet resting against the floor, his back turned towards the fire but his face turned towards you.

"Geralt, you should lie down—"

"You should have said no to Yennefer, but you agreed although you knew what she wanted to make you do."

"Says the man who makes a living slaying monsters. Would you say no to a good bounty if that meant being paid enough to last you a year?" You snapped at him, not meeting his gaze.

"You needed coin, there were thousand other ways to do it."

"Like what, Geralt? Don't you think I tried all these ways you are talking about?" The half done blanket now lay forgotten at your feet, and you were standing, towering over Geralt, your lips trembling with rage. How dare he?

"There are many brothels in Redania that I know of that would have gladly taken you in."

"You know what, Witcher?" You spat, "I'm NOT having this conversation with you. I don't like you anymore than you like me, so there's no point in even speaking. Once you are well enough, I would gladly have you out of my home."

You turned away from him, and then blinked, for you couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, as a thick chunk of a tear rolled down your cheek. Swallowing bitterly, you began climbing up the stairs, rather loudly, when Geralt mumbled, "You won't see us when you wake up tomorrow, don't worry."

Ignoring him, you reached the topmost stair, but when Jaskier began speaking to Geralt in a low voice, you couldn't help but pause, inching your ear towards them so you could listen to what they were saying.

"Why do you insist on being like that with her, Geralt?"

Jaskier's words were followed by what sounded like a bitter laugh, and a cough.

"I knew you were awake. I wondered why you didn't jump in to defend her like you always do, Jaskier."

"That is not the point, Ger—"

"If you must know why I can't stop being the way I am around her is because every single time I see her, I'm reminded of the false hope that Yennefer gave me, Witchers are sterile, and that's how it is, I should have known than to fall into Yennefer's words."

He was hating for you something you hadn't even done. You gave him hope, or Yennefer did?

You would have stood there and continued listening to what more he had to say, but you couldn't help it— your face turning sour, when sudden nausea hit you. Your palm instinctively flew up to your lip; making you almost double over and your eyes lifted up, scanning the area for anything you could use to relieve yourself. Grabbing an empty basket that lay close by, you fell down on your knees, your knees scraping against the wood of your flooring and you began wretching out the contents of your stomach, sweat trickling down your forehead as dread filled you up. You were scared that Yennefer's spell had worked. Your palm flew to your flat belly and you pursed your lips together, blinking away the tears and wiping the corner of your lips.

Now that you had wished for the spell to fail, it had perhaps, worked. Maybe things weren't destined to go about the way you wanted them to— all you wanted was to watch Geralt of Rivia leave you alone for good and never come back [Wishful thinking]. But if, the spell had worked, it meant that you were probably carrying his Witcher baby, and that meant, you will have to see more of the white haired man with amber eyes, whether you liked it, or not.

The Vessel Taglist:

@kawennote09 @viking-raider @raspberrydreamclouds @pterodactylterrace @singeramg @historianwithaheart @ayamenimthiriel @crazynocturnalkiki @xxxkatxo @coffeebreathy @miss-emilia-cavill @little-jana @auds24 [I don't know why Tumblr won't let me tag you! 🙄]

Want to be tagged to my list? Please do let me know via Ask, Message box or via a comment. Thanks! 💗

[youbloodymadgenius]

Over and over again (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: Please, read the warnings!

This is for @a-mess-of-fandoms ‘s 400 followers writing challenge. The prompt I chose was: But I choose you, even when you’re not an option. This is the first time I've ever taken part in a writing challenge. Thank you 🌺

Ivar is significantly older in this one, in his early to mid-40s probably. 

@inforapound: I know how much I owe you 💖

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff. Breast cancer implied. 

Words: 1669

The gif belongs to @honestsycrets​ 💜

Light kisses…

Light kisses on your inner thigh wake you from a deep sleep. Dizzy, it takes you a few seconds to realize what is going on.

"Ivar…", supressing a yawn, you stretch lazily, "… what… what are you…"

"Shh… Don't talk my love. Just let me take care of you…"  

Even if you wanted to, you don't have time to object as his hot breath against your clit and his fingers grazing your folds make you moan.

"Hmm... So good…"

You manage to say, arching your back while gripping the sheets, shivers running through your body. He stops for a moment. The darkness doesn't allow you to see his eyes or his features clearly, but you know that his piercing blues eyes are looking towards you and you're sure that a cocky grin stretches across his handsome face.

"That's all I want, my love… I want you to feel good…"

His husky voice sends chills down your spine and you can't help but giggle, feeling free and oblivious to everything from the numb pain in your upper body to the struggles in your mind.

"Shh… Keep quiet and don't move my love, I'm not finished yet."

Adding force to his soft yet bossy words, his left arm settles down over your belly, preventing you from moving, as he lowers his head once again. Immediately whining as his mouth finds your core, you gasp when his tongue licks your folds before twirling around your clit. There's no rush though, and no harshness. In the privacy of your shared bed, Ivar has always known how to be gentle when necessary, even if he prefers rough sex.

Still, since you've been discharged, gentleness has become his mantra, soft kisses on your cheek or in the crook of your neck, grazing fingers along your thighs, delicate words of love whispered in your ear… Sometimes you feel like a porcelain doll… The truth is that's probably what you are. And that is definitely what you need.

Gliding his fingers in and out from you, you can feel him smile against your thigh as he readjusts his position, faintly groaning. You should be worried about his comfort but you cannot, not when his fingers are working wonders.

"Ivar I'm…"

"Yes my love, let it go."  Curling his fingers inside you, increasing the pace of his tongue on your clit, your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, clenching and unclenching, endlessly pulling his braids. Wrapping your shaking thighs around his head, your hands scratching at his scalp, you can't breathe anymore, stars blowing up in your head, tears filling your eyes. You come hard, shuddering, moaning, crying his name. Hopelessly.

Still slightly dazed, you suddenly freeze, barely able to talk.

"Ivar, what are…" His hard cock presses against your leg, his hand runs across your belly, up to your chest as your voice breaks. "Stop Ivar, I..." Your hand grabbing his arm, you beg him, swallowing before you can go on. "Ivar, no. I… I cannot…"

Placing his hand just above your navel, which he knows is a safe place, he speaks softly.

"I'm not turning on the light, you know that?"

"Ivar," you respond in a shaky voice, almost pleading, "you don't need your eyes to feel it."

Or the lack of it.

Moving you to tears, the thought makes you feel sick and you hiccup before freeing yourself from his grasp. You don't want to reject him but there's nothing you can do. You cannot. You cannot. You cannot.

Rolling on your side, curling up on yourself, you let your dark thoughts get the better of you. Ivar deserves so much better. You're not worthy anymore. You’ve denied him for so long, barely allowing him to pleasure you. He never complains. You'd like to, no you'd love to make love to him, again.

But you cannot.

You cannot.

You cannot.

Sobbing, you drown in self-pity, hating yourself for what you put him through, and for what you've become.  

You can hear him shift in the bed and when he groans, you raise your head to look at him, sitting straight against the headboard.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" His soft voice stirs you up, making you cry even more.

Fighting the panic setting down in your heart and your head, you take a sharp breath. "You know what's wrong, Ivar. Look at you! Look at us! Look what I am doing to us! I know you, you're craving for more. And you have every right to. But I can't give you more and that's not fair. You deserve better, better than me. You deserve everything I can never offer you again. You deserve joy and happiness and bliss, and you deserve to cum and—"

His pointer finger grazing your lips, he shushes you tenderly. "It's not about me, my love. I'm fine. Don't worry, I promise I'm fine. For now, it's all about you. So please, talk to me and keep in mind that I love you, no matter what. You do know that, don't you?"

One of his hands strokes your hair and baby kisses brush your temple, overwhelmed with his love, you wish you could let go. But as much as you would like to, you cannot.  

"I do. But sometimes love is not enough, Ivar.” Catching a half-choked and obviously outraged cry, you feel the need to explain, your entire body shaking. "Love is not pleasure, Ivar. Love is not sex. I cannot pleasure you. I cannot have sex with you. I. Can. Not. Not anymore." Your uneven breathing gives away your distress and you try pointlessly to steady it, inhaling deeply.  "Look at me, Ivar. Look what I am. I'm a mess. This… this fucking disease stole my femininity, stole who I was. I'm no longer the woman you knew, Ivar. I cannot be this woman anymore. I don’t know where she is, and I don't even know if she will ever come back. I'm not sure. Now, I'm just an empty shell, Ivar. A scarred and broken empty shell."

Anger. That's what you expect. You know Ivar, and you know your words hurt him deeply. But you have to tell him. He must understand.

You cannot. You cannot.

But there's no outburst. No fist hitting the mattress. No tightening grip. There's nothing but silence for a few longue minutes. When he speaks again, it's with a quavering voice.

"What are you trying to tell me, Y/N? What does it mean, my love?" Fear and distress noticeable in his words, you know he doesn't really want to hear what you're going to say. But you have to. He must understand.

"You deserve a whole woman, Ivar, and not who I became; an ugly and misshapen body. I can't look at myself in the mirror anymore. How could you?  How could you even look at me? Ivar, I'm no longer an option."

Your words exhausted you, drawing on what little strength you had left.  Weeping and crying, you bury your head into your pillow, wishing you could disappear and forget.

Ivar has a different take on it.

"Come here, Y/N, please."

Whispering and softly grasping your arm, he pulls you close, resting your head on his chest. Too weak, you don't try to fight back, allowing him to do so. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he grabs your hand, putting it on his thigh.  

You may be numb, but you know he's doing it on purpose. His thigh. His right leg. The worst. Scarred, bony, bumpy. Gruesome. Disgusting. Useless. They're not your words, they are his.

"You have no right to talk about yourself like that, my love." His firm tone startles you. "And I don't intend to hear any more of this nonsense."

"Ivar…", muttering, you wish you could argue, convince him, but he's talking again before you can collect your thoughts.

"No, my love. Now, you're going to listen to me. I wasn't an option. I couldn't be an option. Because of my temper. Because of my legs. Shit Y/N, I couldn't even walk when we met. A fucking cripple stuck in a fucking wheelchair because of his fucking repulsive and stupid legs! That's all I was. Nonetheless, you chose me. You did choose me, Y/N.  I still can't understand why, but you did. And for that I'm grateful every day. You taught me love, Y/N. But most of all, you taught me to love myself."

Sighing, he gently kisses your forehead as you snuggle into his arms. "And that's exactly what I'm going to do now. I'm going to teach you to love yourself again, as much as I love you. Because you deserve it, and because you're everything I want. The disease took a lot from you, I'm aware of that. I won't deny it and I will be patient. I can wait, Y/N. I will wait. But fuck, my love, you're alive. And as far as we know, you're healthy. Your body is different, it's true. But it doesn't change anything for me. To me you're perfect the way you are. You're perfect how you are. You may not believe me but I choose you, even when you're not an option. Because I love everything about you. I love these tiny wrinkles in the corner of your eyes. I love your stubbornness and your bad faith. I love the way you laugh, even if it's too loud, I love that you always want to have the last say. I love your old stained, patched jumper you refuse to throw away, I love that you keep making sure I took my meds, even though sometimes it pisses me off.  I love all your flaws, I love all your scars… As you love mine… And above all, Y/N, I love you for who you are, and not for how you look. I love you very, very much, more than my own life. And that's why I choose you. And I'll choose you, over and over again."

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @waiting4inspiration​ @gearhead66​ @readsalot73​ @hecohansen31​ @saldelys​ 

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Hii, I'm actually sad-sweet-cowboah and I've always wanted to request something from you! How about modern AU, Arthur surprises reader with a horse she's been really eyeing for a while? Maybe it doubles as a cute proposal? (and just for reference, a gorgeous golden Palomino Quarter Horse!)

Ah I’m so glad you sent this in to me! This was a lot of fun, and Arthur is fucking adorable! 16/10 best boyfriend/husband material, you cannot change my mind! (Will someone make that into a meme?) Anyways, have fun! 

Masterlist 

Read on AO3

(BTW, Arthur’s hot as hell in this pic.....) 

Arthur stands on the deck of his house, lost in thought. He really should be in the barn, finishing up the last of the day’s work, but he’s worried. You should’ve been home half an hour ago and yet he still hasn’t heard from you. He’s texted you, but nothing. Maybe you’re just stuck in traffic. 

You and Arthur have lived together for over a year, and been dating for over two years. He remembers how he convinced you to move in with him, as you’d been adamant. Hell, it’d been hard enough to get you to date him. 

When you both first met, it was like a spark between you. However, you were scared of taking the next step with him, as you were just a natural loner. Not only that, you’d been alone for so long you didn’t think there would be anyone who wanted to be with you. So when Arthur asked you to be his girlfriend, you almost ran off, sure he was pulling your leg. However, something told you that you needed to be brave, to take the leap, so you did. 

About 8 months later, Arthur really wanted you to move in with him on his little ranch, tucked in a canyon not too far from a small mountain town. But again, you were hesitant. It’s not that you didn’t love him, just the opposite in fact. You were so in love, you were constantly terrified that you’d mess up, that he’d end up hating you when you ended up living together. The last thing you wanted was to mess this up. 

Then, shortly after your first year anniversary, the Coronavirus pandemic hit and everyone was sent into quarantine. Luckily you were able to work remotely, so you didn’t lose much money. It was nice working from home, you could stay in your pj’s all day, not worry about makeup, none of that stuff. But you missed seeing your boyfriend and he missed you. The two of you did plenty of video chats, but it wasn’t the same. You couldn’t smell him, hug him, touch him, kiss him… nothing. You tried doing some video sex, but you got outrageously uncomfortable doing it over video chat (what if some hacker got in?), and Arthur wasn’t all that comfortable either. 

Those 60 days were some of the longest and loneliest of your life. You would’ve easily gone to his home and see you, but his little town wanted absolutely no outsiders to come in, so they blocked the roads, preventing you and Arthur from visiting. When quarantine was lifted, that was when you decided to move in with Arthur. After all, you didn’t know if there would be another one. You could work remotely, only having to go into the office a couple times a month for meetings, so the work situation with you was easy enough. 

That was over a year ago, and despite your fears that the two of you would end up breaking up after a few months, the opposite happened. Your relationship grew beyond what you thought and the two of you have never been more in love. Sure, there’s been a few arguments, but nothing bad enough to break things off. For the most part, you and Arthur get along famously. 

Arthur sighs again, still feeling worried. Today was one of the days you had to go into the office for meetings. They never run past five, and the office is nearly an hour away, but it’s nearly eight in the evening. You should definitely be home by now. You must be stuck in traffic, which is why you’ve not answered any of his texts. He pulls out his phone and dials your number. Why he didn’t do this earlier is beyond him. 

A few rings go by and you finally pick up. “Hey, babe,” you say. 

He smiles. “Hey, darlin’. Just worried about ya. Everything okay?” 

“Yeah. Just a big accident on the freeway. I stopped and got dinner too since it’s late. Should be home in like ten minutes.” 

“Good. Kiss ya when I see ya,” he says and hangs up. That’s always how he says good bye to you over the phone and you love it. 

Like clockwork, ten minutes go by and you pull into the driveway. He walks out of the house to greet you, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing you like he always does. He wants to tell you so badly what he’s got planned, but it’s gotta be a surprise. Under no circumstance can he spoil it. Not like this. 

After dinner, the two of you cuddle up on the couch and watch a show before going to bed. He can tell you’re exhausted. These meeting days are your least favorite and they always wipe you out. Arthur cradles your head to his chest as you lie in bed. Within seconds, he hears you snore softly, making him smile. He goes back to thinking about tomorrow. 

Arthur’s owned this ranch for most of his life. It wasn’t always his though. He grew up here with his adopted fathers, Hosea and Dutch. However, Hosea was killed very suddenly a few years ago in a car crash after he’d been hit by a drunk driver. His death had been so sudden that it hit Dutch extremely hard. Dutch ended up just vanishing one day, driven by grief and confusion. Arthur hasn’t seen him since. 

The ranch fell into his hands after Dutch disappeared. He secretly hopes that maybe Dutch will come back someday, if he’s still alive that is. He’d love you two to meet, as he’s sure Dutch would like you better than his last serious girlfriend Mary. 

His thoughts drift to her and he feels even more nervous. He’d been engaged to her for three months before she’d broken it off. She claimed it was because she hated his location, that she wanted to live in the city, not some small mountain town where everything was far away. Perhaps that was true, but he suspected there was more to it than that. After all, when Mary’s father discovered that Arthur had two fathers, he was extremely upset that Mary was dating someone raised by homosexuals. He’s always suspected that her father had a big reason behind why they broke up. Not only that, but he wonders if she was seeing a guy on the side. How could she go from being engaged to being in a new relationship only three weeks after they broke up? Good riddance, though, he thinks. He loves you a hundred times more than he ever loved her. 

You’ve never cared about his upbringing, stating that Hosea and Dutch were at least good parents to him. You’ve known far too many heterosexual parents who were awful, and how many gay couples are out there who’d love to have kids and be the best parents. You weren’t in contact with your parents anymore (he still didn’t even know what they look like), so they aren’t an issue. 

Arthur starts thinking about how sad and lonely your life has been. How you spent so many years alone and how you believed you’d die alone. He’s so grateful for having met you. You don’t deserve to die alone, you’re too good of a person. He kisses your head as you sleep, overwhelmed with his sense of love for you. A smile makes its way to his lips as he thinks about tomorrow. 

Over the past year, as you’ve grown more comfortable to ranch life, you’ve been thinking about maybe getting your own horse. Arthur has a few that you’re certainly welcome to, of course, but you’ve been wanting one to call your own for a while now. A few weeks ago, you’d both been in town to go to the one grocery store there. As the truck went down the highway and passed another ranch, you saw the signs “horses for sale”. In the pasture was a beautiful palomino quarter horse. It looked like it was made of gold as it grazed in the sun. You begged Arthur to stop the truck and just go see the horse. 

He pulled over, unable to resist your excitement, and you went to the fence. The palomino, along with most of its pasture mates, came over to investigate you and Arthur. You patted her nose and Arthur could tell you were already in love with her. However, he had no idea what her temperament was like, so he came up with a plan. 

On the days when you had to go to meetings, Arthur went to the horse’s owner to ask questions and get acquainted with the horse. She was young, only three, but the owner had raised her and trained her himself. He invited Arthur to go on a trail ride using her so he could see how good of a riding horse she was. After only twenty minutes on her, Arthur knew she was perfect for you. She responded to his lightest touch and command. After the trail ride, Arthur bought her, but he kept her at her former owners so you wouldn’t see her too soon. 

Yesterday, while you’d been gone, Arthur went and picked the horse up and brought her back. She didn’t have a name yet, but he wanted you to have that privilege. The man who raised her called her Sierra, but he knew that was your mother’s name and you were unlikely to keep it as you had no desire to see her for as long as he’s known you. He struggles to fall asleep, feeling like a kid on Christmas, excited to show you his gift. He’s also terrified as he’s going to use the horse as a segway for the biggest decision of his life. 

************************************************

The next morning, Arthur gets up much earlier than usual. He’s normally up a bit past sunrise so he can feed the animals and get an earlier start on cleaning before it gets hot. This morning, though, you wake up at the crack of dawn and find his side of the bed empty. After grabbing a cup of coffee, you go out and find him just finishing feeding the chickens. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, a big grin on his face. 

You say good morning and he comes over, leaning across the fence so he can kiss you. 

“Hey, I got a couple more chores to do, but once they’re done, I got somethin’ to show ya.” 

“Okay, I’ll help. What needs to be done?” 

He smiles, loving how willing you always are to help him out. It makes his life a lot easier. He struggles though, as most of the remaining chores were in the stables with the horses, including yours. 

“Um… well, why don’t you go through the chicken coop, see about eggs.” 

You nod and go off to grab the collecting basket. Arthur asks you to finish feeding the chickens as well so he can go into the stable. After collecting nearly a dozen eggs and placing them in the egg storage so they can be sold this weekend, you brush off your hands and start heading into the stables. Arthur darts out, slightly sweaty from his work. 

“Woo, it’s hot. Hey baby, um, maybe you can go get us some drinks?” he says. His tone is weird, like he’s hiding something. 

“Um… okay. Everything okay?” 

“Everythin’s just fine.” He kisses you again real quick and then shoots back into the stables. 

After retrieving two beer bottles, you go out to find Arthur in the paddock, which is attached to the right side of the barn so the horses can go in and out of their stalls. He’s wringing his gloved hands a bit, but smiles when he sees you. What is going on with him? 

“Thanks, darlin’,” he says when you go into the pen and hand him his beer. Instead of opening it, he places it onto a post of the fence. “I wanted to show you somethin’.” 

He looks to the barn and whistles. Odd, he’s looking at one of the stalls that’s been empty the entire time you’ve lived here. Something snorts and out walks the golden horse you’d been admiring for the past few weeks. You gasp and put your hands over your mouth. 

“Arthur, is that…?” 

“She’s yours, sweetheart. I took her for a ride a while ago, she’s a good horse.” 

The filly walks over to you and snorts in greeting, stretching her neck out to bump her nose to your hand. Tears leak out of your eyes as you start rubbing her neck, going down to her withers. 

“Arthur, she’s beautiful!” 

He chuckles softly and walks over to hug you, grinning as you bury your face into his chest. God, you couldn’t ask for a sweeter boyfriend. 

“Thank you so much, Arthur! I love her.” 

“Good. What’s her name?” 

“Did she not have one before?” 

He tells you what her name used to be, but as he predicted, you don’t like it. You think for a moment, studying her golden coat. She swishes her silver tail. 

“Maybe… Freyja? I know you like having names of gods and goddesses for your horses.” 

Arthur chuckles as he thinks about his two favorite horses, Boadicea and Artemis. “If that’s what you want, darlin’. She’s your horse though, you name her whatever feels right.” 

You look at her and smile. “Freyja feels right.” 

Freyja snorts, not giving a single damn about her name. Her eyes are soft as you pat her neck again. 

“Well, why don’t we groom miss Freyja? Maybe you can ride her around the pasture, see how you like her.” 

You nod and go into the stables to grab a brush and hoof pick. Freyja’s very patient as you groom her, standing still as you clean out her feet. Arthur hauls out the heavy saddle after you throw on her saddle blanket and grab her bridle. After cinching on the saddle and adjusting the stirrups, Arthur says, “Oh I forgot somethin’, hold on.” 

He goes into the stables as you pat the horse’s neck again, anxious to hop into the saddle. He comes back out, empty handed and looking frustrated. 

“I thought I left it in there,” he grunts, coming back over to you. 

“What you looking for?” 

“A thing,” he says, ignoring you and shoving his hand into the saddle bag. “I thought I left it… ah ha! Don’t know how it got in there.” 

He pulls his hand out and you see a small, velvety box. He brushes it off quickly and then holds it out to you. 

“Sweetheart, I uh… I been thinking about doin’ this for a while. It would… it would mean a lot to me.” 

You take the box, your stomach clenching. Is this a ring? Or is it something else and you’re just being hopeful? Your heart pounding in your ears, you open the box and see the ring. You gasp. It’s not a diamond, you always hated diamonds. Too common and overpriced. Instead, it’s a silver band, the metal engraved with fancy, swooping curls, a gem in your favorite color perched on top. 

“Arthur?” you say, your voice squeaking as you take out the ring. 

He clasps your hands in his, the ring nestled in your palm. “I wanna marry ya, sweetheart. You… well, you’re more than I could ever hope for in a companion. I never thought I’d wanna marry someone again after Mary…” he looks down and swallows. You know all about her of course. “But that was until I fell in love with you. There’s no doubt in my mind that I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” 

Fresh tears are cascading down your cheeks. You look at the ring again and Arthur’s suddenly afraid you’ll say no, or that you’re not ready. He worries that he might have to try and talk you into this like he had when he wanted to date you and then have you move in. He doesn’t want to do that with this though. Just as his stomach begins to sink, you smile up at him. 

“Yes, Arthur. I will marry you, a thousand times.” 

He smiles, swallowing a wave of his own tears and cups your cheek. He takes the ring and slides it onto your finger, then he presses his forehead to yours. For several moments, you both stand there in this position, letting the world go by as you bask in one another’s presence. You slide a hand over his neck, wanting to be even closer to him, your future husband. 

Suddenly something shoves your shoulder hard and it’s followed by a loud snort. Arthur chuckles, pulling away from you. “Think Freyja wants your attention again.” 

You laugh and kiss him before facing your horse and climbing into the saddle (with his help of course). You adjust yourself in the saddle, sliding both feet into the stirrups. Arthur pats your thigh and tells you to just walk around the pen so that you and Freyja can get acquainted with the feel of one another. 

As Arthur watches you walk with your horse, he feels a sense of excitement and contentment. Excited for the future, of course, but he’s never been so sure about anything as he is about this. Marrying you is the only thing he could do, he’s never wanted anything more. 

[zebrashork]

For folks who still believe some of the principles and do not want to leave, here's other advice

If you're moving to a new area, try going "ward shopping" before you settle down. If you find that they may turn on you the second you say something even slightly worldly, then do not go, I repeat, do not go, this may seem obvious, but I cannot stress this enough.

Try to figure out your wards stance on mental health. I've been in wards with a really good stance on mental health, encouraging folks to seek help, and I've been in wards where they only tell you to "pray about it and ask for forgiveness, maybe even fast", which, if you want to do that, more power to you, but clearly that alone won't do anything.

How accepting are they of the lgbtqia+? Most younger folks are more accepting, but like in other religions, the older generations are going to be homophobic. Now, surprisingly, I have met openly queer people in the church before, and I have also found when being forced to study scriptures and talks that it's moreso the act of hookups and whatnot that they're opposed to, and that being queer isn't the issue, but a lot of people like to gloss over that. Even if you're not queer, knowing what the ward your with thinks about being queer can help you gauge how much (or how little) you can trust them.

Look out for hypocrites. You'll find that a lot of wards are made up of many folks with "holier than thou" mindsets. These will be some of the worst people you encounter. Imagine, if you will, teen girls wearing crop tops and short shorts calling girls they don't like "sluts" because they're wearing something without sleeves, grown men preaching to "love thy neighbor" and immediately afterward shun families they think are strange, etc. I've been in many, many wards like this, AVOID AT ALL COSTS. If it looks more like a giant high school clique, then that's probably what it is, with an added layer of religious trauma.

You don't have to go to anything more than sacrament meeting. The relief society gatherings right afterwards? No thank you. Ward youth activities? I'll pass. Potluck? Only if you want food. Don't feel obligated to go to more than you feel comfortable with.

Avoid the first Sunday of each month. This might sound like a strange one to outsiders, but if you know, you know. If you really want to go, you can, but proceed with caution. Talking about your personal experiences with the church can be a great opportunity if someone wanted to strengthen their faith, but it can quickly derail into how someone is so high and mighty because they're in a leadership position or how someone got stuck in a hurricane in Costa Rica (I've heard this story more than thirty times all from different families, I kid you not).

If you're under 18, consider if you really want to go on a mission or if you only want to because it's what's expected of you. Both my brother and I don't want to go on missions. He's been eligible for several years now, and has been pestered and almost peer pressured by grown ass adults. Luckily for him, he's a stubborn bastard and sticks to his guns. I haven't been to church in over a year, and I'm not eligible yet, so no one has started reaching out to harrass me about it, but they will soon. If you're AFAB, they might be easier for you. You won't have to be gone for as long and you have to be older, but that also means that have more time to mature, figure yourself out, and realize that you do not have to serve a mission. They will still try to convince you, so hold steady and don't give in. You also can't use a disability as an excuse, since yoy can still go on a mission of sorts, and it may be closer to home, maybe not knocking on folks doors.

If after all of this, you still feel like going, that's great, I'm not going to tell you to avoid going. If it feels right for you and you feel at peace, then I'm happy for you.

If you realize that it truly isn't right for you, then I encourage you to find help and leave.

Probably the only good piece of advice my bio grandfather had was that he believed the church, the teachings, the principles. He never believed the people running the show.

mormon kids under the age of 18 being told their church is a cult

mormons 18-24 after they go through their endowment ceremony and receive their new name and secret clothing and learn the secret handshakes and passwords and realize everyone around them has been secretly doing this the whole time and now theyre going to be sent away from their family for 2 years where they will literally not be allowed to be alone for 1 second of the day except to go to the bathroom and they have no idea how to get out of what they just got into

[shall-we-imagine]

Loosen up. (Bodyguard!Klaus Goldstein x Reader)

Requested: 66. "I like you. You're different." + 73. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions." From the promt list.

Genre: Fluff/idk if this also counts as suggestive? Only if you're very innocent I guess? And if you're on tumblr then you probably aren't so nvm 😂

A/N: sorry for being so inactive lately I've been busy with studying and such so I generally couldn't find it in me to write so yeah :/ (I have a trial tomorrow so like idk pray for me 😂) but here I am! ヽ(゜～゜o)ノ Also yes I'm aware this isn't how Vincent acts and he's not filthy rich but for now we're gonna let it slide okay? Cool. 😂

(Second Person Point of View)

"That's when I decided it was time to buy my fifth car; I mean who attends their first day of college with the same old cars, right?" The man laughs. You suspected that if he stopped boasting for longer than 2 seconds, he'd suffocate and die. You kind of hoped to witness that.

It'd been 2 hours already, yet you weren't allowed to leave the party until your dad says you could. You'd even tried to convince your bodyguard to let you leave without your father knowing anything of the incident, but Klaus was far too strict and responsible; he'd never do such a reckless thing.

Yeah, sure, it's good for your dad to have found such a trustworthy employee, but when you've been stuck talking to these blatantly boring and arrogant people that only viewed you as a good deal to obtain more wealth, well, let's just say: it makes you sort of wish Klaus cared less.

However, that was not the case. In fact, while all bodyguards waited outside, Klaus remained inside -only a few feet away from you at any given time. He also seemed to always be giving you a look that could only be describe as the look a mother gives when you have people over, and she's daring you to mess anything up.

Now, you weren't the stereotypical bratty child that refuses to take over their parents' company. You knew your responsibility and always hoped to make them proud; you just weren't a big fan of the world surrounding all the important people in business. Therefore, it made you yearn for messing around from time to time.

Today was one of those days. You so desperately hoped Klaus would get off your back for even just a few moments, so you could escape the exhausting setting. But he continued with the angry-mother-glare; it almost seemed like he'd gotten the expression tattooed on his face after the endless times he had to get you out of trouble.

There was definitely a bright side to that extra attention, though. You suspected Klaus had a thing for you. After all, he was known to be very good at his job; he could easily quit and get a job less demanding with an equal pay or even a bigger pay if he wanted, but he didn't. He decides to stay with a teenage girl that enjoys pushing his buttons. He was professional, so he wouldn't say anything or let it show, but you had this feeling in your guts that he at least felt intrigued by you.

And, surely, you were ready to use this to your advantage.

You glance towards the blond at the corner of the room, ensuring he was still staring (threateningly, but still staring nevertheless). His eyebrow arches slightly, sensing you were about to do something dumb. You could almost hear him think God, what is it this time?!

You focus your attention back on the man whose name you'd forgotten about 2 seconds after he introduced himself.

"So, I heard you're staying at the hotel here for the entire duration of the event." You smile sweetly.

"Yeah, I am." He takes a sip out of his drink.

You begin flirtatiously twirling a strand of your hair. "Well, how about you take me to have a look upstairs?"

Startled by the unexpected implications of your request, he chokes on his drink and starts coughing. You try your best not to appear disgusted, giving him a smile when he's done with his coughing session.

Sure enough, he agrees and links your arms together, leading you towards the exit of the section the party was held in.

"Miss (Y/N)," Klaus speaks through gritted teeth. He wore a smile and kept his voice quiet, but there was no denying he was ready to scold you. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Upstairs." You smile, playing dumb.

"What do you mean up-" after losing his calm for a second, Klaus cuts himself off to take a deep breath and let it out before proceeding. "Would you please excuse us, Mr. Knight?" Klaus bows lightly before dragging you to an empty corner.

"You think just because you're leaving with a guest, I'll allow you to go?" Klaus whispers in annoyance.

"What? Are you jealous?" You wiggle an eyebrow at him, knowing well enough that wasn't the reason (well, not the main one, at least).

Lips pulled into a pained smile, Klaus glares. "Are you asking for an insult? I think you're abusing that service I provide for you a hundred times per minute."

"Come on, Klausie; loosen up." You poke his chest with your index finger. You knew the redhead -or Mr. Knight- was probably still waiting for you, but you couldn't care less. You wanted to stretch out the process of bugging Klaus as long as possible, since it was the only way to spend time with him. It was also fun watching his nose scrunch and his eyebrows furrow in such anger. He would try to mask his frustration, but it was obvious he had a short temper when it came to you. To put it nicely, he was done with your shit.

"Don't, under any circumstances, call me Klausie." He threatens. "And I don't need to loosen up; you need to stop being so careless!"

"Sure." Rolling your eyes, you step away from him.

Before you could take two full steps, Klaus had already grabbed your arm. "Going somewhere?"

You pull your hand away. "The bathroom. Am I not allowed to answer the call of nature either?" You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

"Touché." He raises his hands in defeat, but once you begin walking away, he follows.

"Where are you going?"

"Just ensuring you don't get any funny ideas." He shrugs.

Huffing, you decide to ignore him. Thankfully, he was only planning to stand near the door; it didn't seem too strange imagining Klaus walking in for "safety measures": the guy was crazy when it came to his job.

"Man, another pretty dress gone to waste." You sigh, looking into the mirror. The sparkling violet fabric clung onto your body till your waist then flowed freely, reaching to merely graze the floor. It was one of the dresses you really liked; you loved the way it showed your shoulder blades and only a portion of your back; it was sexy yet classy. The glittery purple was certainly your colour too! Alas, your dad would scold you for rewearing a dress more than he would scold you if you were to kill a person (as long as you've hidden the evidence well, that is). Murder can be covered up, but 'horrible fashion choices' cannot be hidden, according to your father. Sometimes you went against that, but most of the time, you just complied, even though it's an absolute waste of money.

"You're taking too long, you know that?" Klaus calls from outside, impatience clear in his voice.

You bite back a response when you realize there's something much better you could do. Quietly checking the stalls, you ensure you're 100% alone inside.

"Could there be a valid reason you're not responding to me?!"

Ignoring his question, you just scream in response. "Klaus! Klaus, help me!" You screech frantically.

The door bursts open, and Klaus steps inside aggressively. Before he could realize what's happening, you push him back against the door, slamming it behind him.

Smug about catching him off guard, you smirk at the taller male, whose body was closely pressed against yours. "Were you worried?" You tease.

"About losing my job? Yeah." He scoffs, turning his head away from you but not bothering to push you away.

"Why is it always about the job?" You tilt your head to meet his eyes again.

"Because I'm at work?" He states with a raised eyebrow, as if it sounded stupid for you to even ask that.

You run your hands gently over his chest; even through layers of clothing, you could still feel the firm muscles concealed by the black suit. "Well, maybe it's time for a break." You grin innocently.

"You do know you can't fool me, right?" He takes one of your hands away from him but doesn't let go of it.

Rolling your eyes, you move away from him. "I'm not fooling you; I want us to have fun! Neither one of us is enjoying this anyway." You cross your arms.

An unexpected response sparks excitement within you. "Well, what do you suggest we do?" You knew he was only being sarcastic, but it gave you a pathway for more methods to push his buttons and witness his reactions.

Closing the distance between both of you once more, you stand on the tip of your toes as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. "Oh, I have a lot of suggestions." You whisper in his ear, feeling him flinch lightly at your suggestive remark. You could tell he was trying to hide it and pretend he wasn't phased, but you'd already noticed it, and he knew it.

"You're gonna get me fired." Cheeks slightly red, he turns his head away and gently parts your bodies from each other. "God, why is it so hard to handle you? It's like dealing with a troublemaking child."

"You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions." You stick your tongue out at him. "Plus, father won't know anything if neither one of us told him." You point out what seemed to have escaped Klaus's perception of the situation.

"You want me to lie to your father." He laughs in disbelief.

"Mmhm, not quite. More like not telling him the full truth."

"That's exactly what lying is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No."

"Yes."

"Okay, stop! Fine, lie! I don't know!" You fling your arms in the air out of frustration. A novel sound catches your attention, immediately flushing away the frustration. Klaus was laughing. Not sarcastically. No, a genuine laugh was echoing across the bathroom.

"I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing if we talk a walk for some fresh air and come back." He smiles. "Just this time though!"

An uncontrollable grin spreads across your face, and you immediately throw your arms around Klaus. "Thank you!"

"You gotta stop..doing..this.." He awkwardly pats your back, careful not to touch your bare skin.

"No promises!" You shrug, before grabbing his hand and rushing outside, making your way to the exit.

"Miss (Y/N)?" You freeze in your spot. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, um.." you stutter, not expecting to have to explain yourself to your companion from earlier.

"We got an emergency call; we'll be right back." Klaus, in his usual composed state, 'explains' to Mr. Knight.

"Ah, I see." Red head may be an idiot, but he wasn't stupid. He could tell something wasn't right, but he either chose to let it slide or he just didn't care. Regardless, you were thankful. "I'll be waiting for your return then." With a smile and a bow, he left and disappeared into the crowd.

"You'll catch a cold." Klaus states, watching you twirl and run around in the chilly October weather.

You weren't cold, or maybe you didn't dislike being cold. It wasn't the type of cold to make you unable to take a few proper steps and force you to do an awkward penguin walk; rather, it was the type of cold to merely caress your skin, decorating it with goosebumps. "Don't worry; I'm alright."

"Just take my jacket. Your back and shoulders are exposed; you must be cold." He spoke with such certainty that it almost made you rethink for a few moments about whether you actually felt cold or not.

"Are you worried or are you just intimidated by how sexy I look?" You strike a pose far from seducing.

Klaus, who had his jacket held out for you, resumed walking as he put his jacket back on. "You know, on second thought, it might be a good thing if you catch a cold and stay at home for a week or so." He passes by you, leaving you and your sexy pose alone.

"Hey! That was mean!" You catch up to him.

"Nothing new, then." He shrugs, a slight smirk forcing itself onto his pink lips.

You speed up a little then turn around to face him once you're slightly ahead of him; you remain walking, but backwards this time, allowing yourself to look at him during the conversation. "How could you be mean to such a beautiful lady?" You pout.

"What beautiful lady?" He looks around, pretending to search for something.

You let out a dramatic gasp. "How could y-" Your sentence was inconveniently cut off by your stumble; or perhaps, it was a slightly convenient situation when you think about it from a different perspective: Klaus, as sharp as usual, was able to grasp your arm, preventing you from falling.

"Uh, thanks." You breathe out, nodding slightly. Once you begin to straighten yourself up, Klaus lets go of your arm, only to watch you fall to the ground immediately after. "I think my heel broke.." you frown, staring at your left shoe, now with its heel lying a few inches away.

"You think?" Klaus earns a glare, urging him to put aside the sarcasm and help you up.

"Those were such a cute pair.." you sigh, placing your arm around Klaus's shoulder for support. Your arms were already hurting due to the height difference; it was like hanging from a cliff but not quite.

Klaus places an arm around your waist. "Well, I can buy you another one. You need another pair to get back to the party anyway."

"What if I don't?"

"Don't what? Get back to the party? That's not what we agreed on! Your father-"

You cut off his rant, "We'll get back there, and I'll call dad and inform him that my heel broke; he'd immediately allow me to leave. It's already late anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

######

"Yes, Klaus, I'm sure he'd let me go home if I tell him my heel broke! Of course, Klaus, there's no way he would have some other plans for me!" Your bodyguard mimicks your voice and tone (terribly), as you sit in the back of the car your dad sent with a brand new pair of shoes.

"How would I have known he would do this?!" You complain, tightening the straps of the new shoes around your ankle.

"Well, hurry up, knight dude is probably waiting for you." Arms crossed, he taps his foot impatiently. You merely groan in response.

"I can't believe he didn't even tell me he booked a room for me at the hotel! And that I have to attend the same event tomorrow too! I didn't even bring any change!"

"Um, Miss (Y/N), your father asked me to hand you this too.." the driver quietly places a small suitcase on the back seat next to you.

"There you go; he packed stuff for you." You weren't sure if Klaus was trying to tease you or comfort you, but either way, you just let out a sigh.

After a long, mentally and physically exhausting night, you were finally allowed to leave. And boy, were you delighted to recieve the news.

"This one." You pause in front of the room that had the same number on the keycard. Klaus had already placed your bag inside earlier, but it was your first time viewing the room. "At least the room is pretty." You shrug.

"Didn't think you'd admit it." Klaus chuckles. "Well, I have to go; so, good night, Miss (Y/N); I'll be back here tomorrow." He bows.

"Wait!" You stop him before he steps outside the room.

As I have reached the 100 block limit, I'll complete this in Part 2...which I'll literally post now and it'll be shorter than this cuz it's just the ending 😂

[welllpthisishappening]

So I've been flying a lot recently and there's been some turbulence, but every time it makes me think of blue line and Will (I'm pretty sure will) and how he hates turbulence when flying. Basically whenever there's turbulence ona flight I now think of blue line and how much I love it!

You are absolutely right, anon! Will…hates turbulence. Like. Hates. It. I’m sorry there’s been anything except fabulously calm flights for you, so this happened because your message was very nice and everyone knows how much Will hates turbulence. 

“Scarlet, I need you to move your elbow, like, two hours ago.”

“We weren’t on this plane two hours ago.”

“Yes.”

Will glared at him, eyes narrowed and jaw almost obviously clenched, and Killian tried not to sigh too loudly, far too aware of the head on his shoulder and Ariel had slept the entire goddamn flight – even through the turbulence.

There was a lot of turbulence.

Enough that there’d been some kind of proclamation from whoever was in charge of air-traffic proclamations and they couldn’t fly home that night.

Killian was not pleased.

Will still looked kind of terrified.

“You’re going to do damage to your knuckles,” Robin pointed out, slumped in his chair on the other side of the aisle and Ruby’s limbs were everywhere. She’d unbuckled her seatbelt at some point, which might have been at least three quarters of the reason for Will’s white-knuckled grip on the arm rest, and they’d been sitting on the tarmac for what felt like several days.

Killian was going to dramatically sigh himself to death.

Maybe then Ariel would get her head of his shoulder. He was only slightly worried she was pinching a nerve. Or twenty.

His whole body hurt, bumps and bruises and one very solid check that earned that rookie in Minnesota two minutes, and they’d been on the road for over a week, a string of games that felt far too long, particularly when they weren’t winning any of them.

They hadn’t won any of them.

Arthur must have set a record for whiteboard damage.

He was probably pacing in the cockpit.

And Killian really just wanted to go home and see Emma and Matt and they hadn’t actually told anyone anything else yet, but thinking about that made his heart doing something absurd in his chest and he really hoped it was a girl.

He kept telling Emma that.

It made her laugh.

“Shut up, Locksley,” Will hissed, pulling Killian back into the moment and the general frustration of a team that was probably not going to make the playoffs. “This is—“

“—An overreaction,” Ruby mumbled. She didn’t lift her head off Robin’s knee, voice just a bit muffled by league-mandated dress pants, but Killian was fairly certain she still managed to glare at all of them at once. “And you are talking way too loud.”

Robin hummed in agreement. “Screaming more like. Sometimes I wonder who’s the actual child in this hockey family. Gives Matt a run for his money.“

“Yeah, that’s super funny, Locksley,” Will said. “Did you not feel what was going on before? They tried to fly us into a hurricane.”

“Eh,” Killian argued, and he’d apparently moved his body too much if Ariel’s not-so-quiet grumble was any indication. “Sorry, sorry, Red,” he added, shifting further into his seat, but that didn’t help the pinched nerve or the bruise on his left hip. He really wanted to make out with his wife. “Go back to sleep, Scarlet’s just whining.”

“Too late,” Ariel sighed. Killian groaned when she pressed the heel of her hand into his thigh, propping herself up, and she looked vaguely traumatized by that. “Oh shit,” she gasped. “Shit, shit, shit, Cap, did that hurt? Did you get hit?”

“We just played a hockey game against a team that had one of the worst starts to its season in, like, ten years.”

“Is that supposed to be an answer?”

“He’s saying Chicago was pissed about how their season went,” Robin explained, and Ruby had sat up, but her legs were perpendicular over his now and they were all far too comfortable with each other.

“And that meant they had to try and kill Cap?” Ruby asked.

Killian rolled his eyes. “No one was killing anyone and there were no hurricanes involved in anything that happened tonight. It is March.”

“There can be hurricanes in March,” Will said, but he was met with several different types of laughter and something that sounded like an actual guffaw out of Ariel.

“No, there cannot, Scarlet,” Robin said. “And Henry just took Earth Science, like, two years ago, so my meteorological knowledge is unquestioned.”

Will did not looked convinced. He still hadn’t let go of the armrest.

“We have been on this plane for hours,” he grumbled, huffing loudly and crossing his arms and it was a pretty spot-on impression of Killian’s two-year-old kid. “And the whole thing shook. That was…that was not fun.”

“Scarlet, were you freaking out?” Ariel asked, a distinct lack of humor in her voice. Will flushed. “Oh my God, you were, weren’t you?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Liar, liar, liar,” Ruby muttered, and Killian glared hard enough the he felt like he was disciplining all of them. Ruby laughed at him. “Dad face.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“I promise it is. Emma does it too. But, you know, the mom version. It’s super cute. Also, the word you were all looking for before was nor’easter. So, clearly, I’m the one with the science degree.”

“You do not have a science degree,” Robin said, hooking his chin over Ruby’s shoulder and it couldn’t have been comfortable when she shrugged in response.

Will groaned again – a mess of limbs and emotion and the absolute, deep rooted fear of turbulence that even a decade in the NHL hadn’t been able to shake. “God, I hate all of you,” he sighed, snapping his jaw when Ariel tried to reach around Killian to tug on his very loose tie. “Leave that alone, A. I don’t need to choke before all the air pressure gets yanked out of this cabin.”

“That is not how air travel works,” Killian reasoned.

“Do not try and dad me, Cap. It’s not going to work.”

He opened his mouth to disagree, something about he wasn’t dad’ing anyone, whatever the hell that meant, but Killian absolutely knew what it meant and he was far to busy answering his phone to care about anyone on a plane that seemed as determined as Arthur to set several different, equally frustrating, records.

“Did you have that on the whole time?” Will shouted, jumping up and Ruby mumbled something about seat belts, Scarlet under her breath. He flipped her off.

“Whoa,” Emma muttered. “I was not entirely prepared for the parental advisory on this conversation.”

Will blushed again, lips pursed and breathing heavy, and Killian wasn’t sure if Ruby or Ariel was laughing louder. Arthur yelled from wherever he’d been pacing. And probably breaking whiteboards.

Killian widened his eyes. They were still at the restaurant – chairs on the tables behind her and he could just make out a clearly sleeping Dylan hitched over Eric’s shoulder while he tried to stack stools on top of the bar.

Henry and Roland were quite clearly playing hockey, the sound of what might have been an actual puck hitting against the wall and it was a wonder they hadn’t done permanent damage to the walls yet.

“Are they hitting my walls?” Ariel asked sharply, but Killian brushed her off and his heart was doing that stupid pounding thing again.

A girl. They were definitely going to have a girl.

“No parental advisory, Swan,” he said, smiling despite the pinched nerve and whatever Ariel was asking and how freaked out Will was by several normal meteorological activities. And maybe Killian had kind of hated the turbulence too. “Just Scarlet being irrational. Par for the course.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what I figured.”

He couldn’t quite hold back his laughter – Robin shaking underneath Ruby when he nearly cackled a few feet away – and Will looked vaguely scandalized. “That’s rude, Em,” he mumbled. “A hurricane. They wanted to fly into a hurricane.”

“I don’t think that’s what it was called.”

“Told you,” Robin said. “Thank you, Emma!”

She grinned, eyes impossibly green and hair practically shining in the dim light of the restaurant and Killian was a giant, sentimental sap, who thought even more absurd, sentimental things when he hadn’t kissed his wife in a week.

His pregnant wife.

HIs pregnant with their second kid wife.

“What are you doing with your face, Cap?” Ruby asked knowingly and, yeah, definitely too comfortable together.

“Nothing,” Killian said quickly. Ruby arched an eyebrow. And some voice was making some kind of announcement, Arthur shouting to be quiet, but they were a plane full of children masquerading as professionals and every single one of them groaned as soon as they learned they’d be stuck an extra night in Chicago.

“Damn,” he sighed. Emma was still smiling. “Did you know already, love? Is that why you called?”

She shifted in her chair, a body colliding with her side in a flash of dark hair and something that looked a bit like a jersey. “Maybe I was just trying to talk to you. Also is your hip ok?”

“What happened to your hip?” Ariel screeched, at the same time Will and Ruby muttered gross. Robin was texting Regina. Killian could hear her phone through his phone.

God.

“Nothing, nothing, Red, I’m fine,” Killian promised, and possibly, lied, and Emma widened her eyes in disbelief. “Fine, Swan. Hey, Mattie,” he added, the blur of colors jerking up and he probably should have been asleep, but he’d also probably been trying to play Roland and Henry in whatever game was currently destroying the restaurant walls.

“Hi,” Matt shouted. He waved with both hands.

Killian was going to walk home.

He could probably get there before they let them off this goddamn plane.

“I had a hunch,” Emma said, answering a question Killian almost forgot he’d asked. “About the nor’easter. That’s what it’s called, Scarlet.”

“God, I told you,” Robin yelled. Killian shook his head when Emma’s eyebrows pinched. Matt was still waving.

“Whatever,” Will scowled.

“That’s the spirit,” Emma laughed. “But also part of the reason why we called and why we’re not sleeping like some other slightly better behaved children in this restaurant.”

“And because he wanted to cheat a hockey,” Roland added, voice not quite even when he groaned at whatever Henry did, but there was more laughter and Regina chastising both of them, and Dylan was some kind of professional sleeper. Apparently. He probably got it from Ariel.

Her eyelids were starting to flutter again.

“Anyway,” Emma said pointedly. “I’m ready to use our kid’s inherent cuteness to our benefit.”

Killian arched an eyebrow, but he could feel the smile on his face and his heart should probably be studied at this point. “That so?”

“Yes, we practiced.”

He needed to look up how long it would take to walk home.

Will let go of the armrest.

It was a miracle.

Emma nodded once, something that felt like amusement on her face as she tugged Matt onto her lap, and his entire expression changed as soon as he saw so many familiar faces. Ruby might have melted. Or sighed dramatically. She did, at least, move, stepping around Ariel and perching on an arm rest to get into the phone frame.

And that probably would have been enough for several professional hockey players to mock, if they also weren’t impossibly charmed by the kid on the screen in front of them too.

“Hey mini-Jones,” she said softly, and Matt tried to jump through Emma’s phone.

“Thanks a lot, Rubes.”

Ruby was definitely melting. “I make no apologies for how much your kid loves me. You score on, Rol, mini-Jones?

“Hey Dr. J,” Will said quickly, ignoring Ruby’s clicked tongue at the interruption, and Killian rolled his eyes. “You use that move we practiced before?”

“Oh my God, he’s not even three, Scarlet,” Killian groaned, but Will didn’t pay any attention and Roland was shouting again.

“It’s cheating, Uncle Will! You can’t go for the ankles like that!”

“What are you teaching them?” Ariel gaped.

Will made a face, but Killian had some fairly strong suspicions and there were probably bruises on Roland and Henry’s ankles too. “A child,” Robin said again. “The most child.”

“Childish,” Emma corrected. “That’s the word you’re looking for. And you guys are distracting me from my point and my plan, so can you just be charmed by my kid for, like, two seconds and then we can all try and sleep.”

“Maybe,” Killian said. Will gagged.

“What’d you practice, Dr. J?” he asked.

Matt’s eyes widened, a hint of nerves, and Killian’s eyes met Emma’s. She smiled. “It’s ok, kid,” she said, tugging lightly on the side of his jersey and the ‘C’ on his shoulder was almost too obvious.

He made a noise, not quite an agreement because he wasn’t quite three, but he tilted his head slightly and it was a bit like watching a replay of several decades before and Killian barely heard Ruby’s quiet laughter over the ringing in his ears.

“A record,” Matt yelled. “Chic…chich…Chickaaago had lots of snow and no planes. And there were snowmen!”

“We looked at pictures,” Emma explained, and Killian’s laugh was shaky and a bit emotional, but Ruby might have still been melting and there was a snow job win there somewhere.

“That was good, Dr. J,” Will grinned. “Thanks for the facts. And the interesting pronunciation attempt.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

“Ah, I’ve got no doubt.”

“A record, Swan, really?” Killian asked, and she was already nodding.

“Oh yeah, something historic this February and more snow this month and some other things about global warming that I figured were way too heavy to talk about with a toddler, but we looked up some stuff and Henry was almost interested in the information before Roland reminded him that he’d won the first round of hockey. And we’re horrible influences because they made some kind of bet about rules I don’t understand.”

“They wrote them down,” Robin said. “Gina made sure if they were going to keep doing this, there was some kind of plan. That way when they shout at each other about cheating, we know what they’re talking about.”

“Proactive.”

“I’ve got some dad-type experience.”

Emma hummed, eyes flitting back towards Killian and he was going to sprain several face muscles. “I’m fine, love,” he said, answering a question she hadn’t asked. She held onto Matt a little tired.

“Long week” she muttered, and they were finally starting to get off the plane, Phillip shouting for them from the back of the cabin and he refused to sit near any of them ever, something about sleep and voice levels and it was more than fair.

Killian nodded. “Yeah, it was. Tomorrow, love. Thanks for the facts.”

“Figured it might be a good distraction.”

“Good instincts.”

“Something like that.”

“I love you,” he said, and Will had the good sense not to make any noise.

Emma’s eyes definitely got greener. “I love you too. Tomorrow. No snow. Except maybe the snowmen.”

“Did you promise to build snowmen, Swan?”

“There had to be some give and take in this practice, Cap.”

“Ah, of course.”

She shrugged, but she was still smiling and Matt appeared to be on the cusp of sleep already, exhausted once his job was done. “Tomorrow,” Emma repeated, and Killian didn’t really sleep that night, but he didn’t have to walk home, and there wasn’t any turbulence on the next flight.

There were, however, several detailed drawings for snowmen and photos on their next off day and no one got bruised in the rather extravagant snowball fight they staged in Central Park.

[enlightened711-blog]

Enlightened The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. Albert Einstein Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. Albert Einstein Enlightenment: The act of enlightening or the state of being enlightened. Enlighten: Give greater knowledge and understanding about a subject or situation. Give spiritual knowledge or insight. Enlightened: Having or showing a rational, modern, and well-informed outlook. Spiritually aware. Meditation and mindfulness are useful tools in this process of creating a more accurate perception of reality, a more focused life and a more joyful experience. As we delve into our inner world the study of the sciences, psychology, the brain and consciousness can help us interpret our experiences. Our enlightenment is effected by our ego's need to see the world in a certain way and to maintain it's own existence. Meditation can help us see the world more clearly, not as we as we think we need to see it. When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. Mark Twain All this worldly wisdom was once the unnameable heresy of some wise man. Henry David Thoreau Delusions are normal parts of existence, assume that they are there even though you can not see them.   Mindfulness helps us live in the present without the demons of the past tearing at us or the desires and fears of the future distracting us. It's not that I'm so smart, it's just that I stay with problems longer. Albert Einstein We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us. Joseph Campbell And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. Anais Nin Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy. Joseph Campbell The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up. Paul Valery For all life is a dream, and dreams themselves are only dreams. Pedro Calderon de la Barca Myths are public dreams, dreams are private myths. Joseph Campbell Living in dreams of yesterday, we find ourselves still dreaming of impossible future conquests. Charles Lindbergh One of the most tragic things I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today. Dale Carnegie The Universe is one great kindergarten for man. Everything that exists has brought with it its own peculiar lesson. Orison Swett Marden There are always flowers for those who want to see them. Henri Matisse Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls. Joseph Campbell Most sets of values would give rise to universes that, although they might be very beautiful, would contain no one able to wonder at that beauty. Stephen Hawking The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it. Henry David Thoreau To live is so startling it leaves little time for anything else. Emily Dickinson Who will tell whether one happy moment of love or the joy of breathing or walking on a bright morning and smelling the fresh air, is not worth all the suffering and effort which life implies. Erich Fromm It takes a long time to become young. Pablo Picasso There is always some specific moment when we become aware that our youth is gone; but, years after, we know it was much later. Mignon McLaughlin An intellectual is someone whose mind watches itself. Albert Camus Alas, after a certain age every man is responsible for his face. Albert Camus Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time. Albert Camus For if there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life. Albert Camus He who despairs of the human condition is a coward, but he who has hope for it is a fool. Albert Camus How hard, how bitter it is to become a man! Albert Camus That God does not exist, I cannot deny, That my whole being cries out for God I cannot forget. Jean-Paul Sartre There is only one day left, always starting over: it is given to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk. Jean-Paul Sartre We do not judge the people we love. Jean-Paul Sartre When we love the world we do not judge it, rather we make a choice in the moment. Respond intelligently even to unintelligent treatment. Lao Tzu Always respond intelligently to unintelligent treatment even if to an outside observer it appears that you are not responding intelligently. Everything happens to everybody sooner or later if there is time enough. George Bernard Shaw Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. Henry David Thoreau Until you value yourself, you won't value your time. Until you value your time, you will not do anything with it. M. Scott Peck The more you value yourself the more that you will be able to focus your efforts. He that would live in peace and at ease must not speak all he knows or all he sees. Benjamin Franklin Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. Confucius Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. Lao Tzu For in all adversity of fortune the worst sort of misery is to have been happy. Boethius The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched - they must be felt with the heart. Helen Keller All men are children, and of one family. The same tale sends them all to bed, and wakes them in the morning. Henry David Thoreau As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives. Henry David Thoreau A pathway starts with a single footstep. Friends... they cherish one another's hopes. They are kind to one another's dreams. Henry David Thoreau It is a difficult decision to wake someone from a delusional dream. Wake oneself first. How can any man be weak who dares to be at all? Henry David Thoreau If you can speak what you will never hear, if you can write what you will never read, you have done rare things. Henry David Thoreau Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them. Henry David Thoreau The greatest compliment that was ever paid me was when one asked me what I thought, and attended to my answer. Henry David Thoreau The squirrel that you kill in jest, dies in earnest. Henry David Thoreau There is no remedy for love but to love more. Henry David Thoreau There is no value in life except what you choose to place upon it and no happiness in any place except what you bring to it yourself. Henry David Thoreau True friendship can afford true knowledge. It does not depend on darkness and ignorance. Henry David Thoreau You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Henry David Thoreau A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou. Omar Khayyam Drink! for you know not whence you came nor why: drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.   Omar Khayyam Living Life Tomorrow's fate, though thou be wise, Thou canst not tell nor yet surmise; Pass, therefore, not today in vain, For it will never come again. Omar Khayyam The moving finger writes, and having written moves on. Nor all thy piety nor all thy wit, can cancel half a line of it. Omar Khayyam That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind. William Wordsworth Thinking isn't agreeing or disagreeing. That's voting. Robert Frost Adapt or perish, now as ever, is nature's inexorable imperative. H. G. Wells Fame will go by and, so long, I've had you, fame. If it goes by, I've always known it was fickle. So at least it's something I experience, but that's not where I live. Marilyn Monroe For every person who has ever lived there has come, at last, a spring he will never see. Glory then in the springs that are yours. Pam Brown Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair. Kahlil Gibran I've made an odd discovery. Every time I talk to a savant I feel quite sure that happiness is no longer a possibility. Yet when I talk with my gardener, I'm convinced of the opposite. Bertrand Russell Let us learn to appreciate there will be times when the trees will be bare, and look forward to the time when we may pick the fruit. Anton Chekhov Every religion is true one way or another. It is true when understood metaphorically. But when it gets stuck in its own metaphors, interpreting them as facts, then you are in trouble. Joseph Campbell I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today. I can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn't arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I'm going to be happy in it. Groucho Marx A truly good book teaches me better than to read it. I must soon lay it down, and commence living on its hint. What I began by reading, I must finish by acting. Henry David Thoreau