#i mean Grant is more awkward and loves to be humiliated but otherwise what's the difference

[drowninginredink]

I'm picturing Tommy Bowe and Grant O'Brian in the same room together. And I don't think the world would survive. I need it and it's never going to happen. Just. You see the vision, right?

[blankdblank]

Acorn Castles Pt 5

Ok, bit of an open ending. had another idea for how i would end it but it crumbled before i could write it down and it would no doubt double the size of this. But i hope you enjoyed this series all the same as i have. From Sickness to the squishy center of the grumpy King here we go. :D

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea​, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​, @mariannetora​, @shes-a-killer-kween​, @ggbbhehe4455

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac​

x Thorin – @evyiione​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor​

@bun-bun-the-rabbit.

.

Cocoa, it was meant to be a simple offer. Dazzling as ever with a shimmering headdress and midriff bearing gown through the Feast of Starlight and between turns with the Dwarves and willing Elf Lords you were granted ample dance partners and excused yourself to bed before your head could droop once the first section of feasting over the three day festivities bed called and you did not answer alone. Sharing a kitchen with King Thorin, his Princes and the Lin brothers you stood waiting for the kettle. Meant to help you sleep the mug was beat to the punch on closing your eyes as a too long endured stare from the King mingled with wine found your lips on his. A shriek from the doorway however had you instinctually trying to dart away only to groan grabbing your face at hitting an open cabinet door ushering the open mouthed wide eyed King to grab a towel on the counter to place under your now bleeding nose.

Kili still with mouth covered by Dwalin watched wide eyed as Balin hurried over to usher you to the shared sitting room with no word on the stolen kiss. Mug in hand you sat silent as the Dwarves and Bilbo, now all returned sobered up quickly to your now bruising face and swollen nose with a cut coated in a cream that had an Elleth arriving with fresh towels for the bath assuming you all were sleeping to drop them and sprint to fetch the Healers. Among all the Elf Lords inspecting both your face and the cabinet in case of any malfunction, as if the door swung out maliciously on its own you were ushered off to bed assured the swelling and bruising would be gone by morning as you downed the tea to help you sleep soundly. Perhaps a bit too soundly too quickly as just after you’d changed for bed your body dropped to the floor signaling another burst of men into your room fumbling against one another to get you safe into bed.

Smacking your lips a death like groan escaped your frozen body in the first of ten slips in and out of consciousness until finally the weight subsided and a shoulder could be lifted. Eyes opened and on the chair beside your bed Thorin slept sideways sprawled across the armchair snoring loudly with mouth open as if his body was determined to suck the roof down due to the awkward slumped angle of his neck. Clearly he wanted to be here as you slept and you hoped it wasn’t to scold you on forcing yourself on him. You shouldn’t have drank, only the wine smelled so good and you rarely were allowed raspberries or blackberries in the Water Tribe due to the year round winter.

Greed had let to lust and now here you had gone and spoiled the reputation of the King in front of his family no less and been amply humiliated and karmic-ly punished for it. Up onto your elbow you propped with hand moving to rub your face in another pained groan for the pressure headache building in your temples making you plop down again. The plop had did it though, somehow that sound of a body struggling to rise snapped the King upright mid snore with what could be taken as a disturbing full body turn joined by a wide eyed stare if done by a doll would send even the toughest warrior running for their very souls. “Miss Pear,” he hummed in concern and in mere moments was at your side kneeling on the ground with arms crossed on the end of the bed supporting his chin in a timid lock of eyes flooded with uncertainty on both ends. “How is your head?”

“Attached, but quite determined for me to remain flat at the moment.”

“Kili has apologized profusely for startling you, that was not his intention.”

“No,” your eyes shut, “I deserved it. I shouldn’t have sullied your reputation by assuming the right to touch you, even intoxicated.”

“You have sullied nothing,” he said moving a hand in an inch closer to the bed to claim yours tucking his fingers underneath the hand visible to him otherwise he’d have claimed and cradled both. That action had your eyes opening to find a much softer pleading gaze from him in a deep seeded ache to get his point across to you, “You have every right to touch me. Never had I presumed to have been worthy of your affections. My family have shared a fondness of my company which they had taken impression of some deepening bond I assured them was merely friendship. Perhaps wine loosened a hope in yourself possibly of a shared intention, which I can now boldly state to be truly valid.” Hastily he wet his lips to the quickening of your pulse and breath, “The painful home you once claimed placed no comfort in a future for you, here however you bear incredible power, over flame and myself. I will never from my position force any bond onto you, though from my heart I would humbly request to grant you my token to wear as a means of displaying a consideration of my courtship. And I would very much wish to request your approval on introducing you to my relatives upon their arrival to Erebor.”

From his breast pocket inside his vest he drew a tied chord on a small thick pouch form which he one handedly brought out a silver polished bead with runes and sapphire rectangular stones nestled around it. Timidly he set it down on the sheet looking between it and you and released your hand allowing you to prop up onto your side foregoing the pain in your head to do so as you lifted the bead. “This is to consider courtship?”

“Yes, I would never assume to have gained your heart and trust to consider matrimony. There will be no shortage of admirers on your behalf, merely quite selfishly I might wish to have it known to be a hopeful suitor, that I am proving myself to be a suitable husband against others.”

From his eyes to the bead again you looked saying, “None could offer a more suitable offer of comfort as a King.”

Halfheartedly he let out a breath of air and replied, “Of that I am aware, but could you love me?” Your eyes met his nearly tearful gaze and he continued, “Never, could I live with myself if I bound you to me out of simple comfortable livelihood. You are due a fifteenth of that hoard as per the contract, you could offer your own comfort without marrying should you wish it. Merely, you are not a possession and none would demand a union of you for status or any social expectation. I would wish to love you, and shower you with all the adoration due to you from decades away from me and all the more for all the years of our life together should you choose me. Yet I will not force my adoration of you to pressure any bond past friendship. All I may ask is for a chance to prove to you unlike so many others in your past that my intentions of a courtship are pure and centered around your every happiness.”

Carefully he eyed your still expression in the wetting of your lips and gave a brief nod as you readied to speak as if you might need encouragement to speak your mind or heart. “Your people, they would accept you marrying out of your race?”

“I am a quarter Hobbit, as is my sister Dis, mother to my heirs. My people will soon admire your heart and dedication as we have. Pay no mind to that.” Unsteadily you moved to sit up and concerned he rose to kneel on the bed to help you settle upright, “Do not push yourself.”

With legs crossed you locked eyes with him again, “My family, we never spoke of love,” he nodded and shifted his hand to your knee wishing to comfort and have contact with you. “But there wouldn’t be another person I would want to love, even if I am a stranger to it,” softening his gaze incredibly at the powerful words, “I doubt I could ever trust a stranger to try with, so, my answer is no,” parting his lips. “I will not accept your offer to claim a chance to prove yourself for courtship.” Closing his mouth to accept the assumed rejection he drew in a breath that sharply left him in a confused grunt as you continued. “I will accept an offer of courtship, there is nothing to prove.”

“You, are certain?”

“Our cultures differ, greatly, so I have much to learn, beginning with this,” you said lifting the bead, “How am I meant to wear it?”

To himself he chuckled and smiled a growing elated smile, “Braid it, into your hair.” Passing it to him he chuckled again eyeing it in his palm then looked up to you, “You wish for me to braid it?”

You nodded saying, “You know the rules, and I wish to serve-,”

Suddenly his free hand rose to cup your cheek almost reducing you to tears at the heavenly warmth of the palm you’d wished to do just that, “I serve you, not the other way around. Fili and Kili are my heirs, there are no enforced number of children for you to bear. Should I be too old to grant you children or we simply never conceive due to a wish to not share a bed chamber, of which you are perfectly within rights to decide even after marriage, I serve you, always.”

“Why would I refuse to share a bed chamber?”

Thorin wet his lips and said, “There have been other spouses, in our kin’s past who were cherished through certain traumas and youths leaving them uncertain of trusting another to share a room with while sleeping. This is deep rooted in our culture, respect for our partners. There is so much more to love and marriage than consummation or even sharing bed chambers.”

“I will try my best to find a happy medium should we hit a snag in the future.”

“I could ask no more than that while promising my every ounce of patience. May I touch your hair?”

With your nod he readied to shift around you off the bed only to stop in your next lean in. Restraining his grin that he might have earned a second try for a painless first kiss Thorin inched closer melting into the tender kiss. Lost to this blissful moment only to drop off the end of the bed to the floor not remembering how close he had been to the edge. With a soft chuckle he popped up and shuffled back to the edge of the bed smiling wider at your try not to giggle in a scoot forward to grant him room behind you.

From your pitifully knotted braid your curls were eased out with a tentative smoothing of fingers over your scalp to lighten the tension lingering in your head before his fingertips smoothed down to the ends combing out the knots. Separating sections to begin braiding them back again with a strip left aside. Next to the end of your side swept bangs the strip sat and again from the now open doorway another elated shriek came from the boys causing Thorin to tug you into his chest at the snapping of the bead into place to keep you from falling off the bed. Within moments all the Company were there to share in the news welcoming you as their future Queen.

Interesting times were coming ahead, with a lot of questions, but thankfully overall it seemed while they assured they could never repay you enough for all you had done the truth was quite in reverse. Aside from the gold and courage to face Balrogs, orcs and even a Dragon, together you had all found something so much more, a home with family you could trust.

[blkmxrvel]

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (16) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In  the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their   Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount   Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El   finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of   her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so   terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

“Come here.”

She shook her head. “Please, Sir, I don’t want to.”

Her eyes were fixed on what he held in his hand. The end of it glowed white hot, casting an eerie shine on his smiling face. Feral.

His smile left in an instant. “I said, come here. You’re my bitch, you do what I say.” He waved the rod. “And this will make it permanent.”

She scrambled backwards, scarcely able to do so with her wrists bound to her ankles. She was nearly hogtied, helpless, and there was nowhere to go except further back into the wall that she pressed up against. She wished with all her might that it would open up and swallow her.

The wall didn’t open up, but her mouth did. “No.”

Time stood still. The earth froze and so did he, so did she, locked in the staring of disbelief and anger. He advanced towards her.

“You stupid slut.”  Her head rocked sideways with the force of the slap, then back as he sent another. “You will never, ever say no to me again.”

His hand to her throat held her against the wall as his other hand brought the rod closer. She felt its heat touch her skin like a kiss from the devil himself.

Y/N screamed.

“What do you think you might like for dinner?”

She shrugged. “Just whatever.”

From the doorway of the kitchen, Miss Kara turned to look at her. “Are you all right, Y/N? You seem rather tense.”

“I’m fine.”

The nightmare had woken her up at 4 a.m. The morning before that, it had been 2 a.m. And before that, three. And each time, Y/N hadn’t been able to get back to sleep.She’d talked to her therapist about them before, but no amount of deep breathing exercises, no warm milk or bath, no calming music had been able to stop them. Although the calming music might have been a problem; she’d asked Miss Kara for some cds, and maybe going to sleep to Seventy Six Trombones wasn’t helping.

The nightly phone calls and texts from Miss Kara, though, those did help. After every nightmare, when she’d lay in her bed at Nia’s unable to sleep, Y/N would grab her phone and read the texts with a small smile on her face. Full of smiles, good cheer, and little stars, Miss Kara’s messages were comforting, and Y/N would soon find herself curled on her side with the phone held close to her. It wasn’t Miss Kara’s hand in hers, like that first night, but it was something.

But she was tired. She sat on the couch in Miss Kara’s house, aimlessly flipping through the TV channels, trying to settle on something, and she couldn’t. Her eyes burned, her hands shook as she held the remote, and her mind was full of the images from her past. Images that weren’t forgotten, but had mercifully been pushed back in favor of Alex and Maggie, Theo and Nia, soft pillows with warm blankets tucked around her and Miss Kara’s lips on hers.

They’d kissed more since their “first date” a few days ago; shy, awkward brushes of lips against lips, Y/N never having known what a gentle kiss felt like, and Miss Kara afraid to cross already tenuous boundaries. It frustrated her even as it made her feel safe; there were things going on in Y/N’s mind and heart (and her body, if she was being honest) every time she kissed Miss Kara that confused her. But Miss Kara always had the power to bring her back to herself with just a touch of her hand on Y/N’s cheek. With a smile.

A smile that now seemed strained as she came back from the kitchen and sat next to Y/N on the couch. She glanced out the window, at the rain that fell hard and heavy against the glass. “It’s a day for comfort food,” she announced. “Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, what do you think of that?”

“Like I said, just whatever.”

If she’d glanced over, Y/N would have seen a twitch in Miss Kara’s face as her jaw tightened, but she didn’t tear her eyes away from the television as she finally paused on cartoons. She’d always liked them when she was little, and the fact that James had liked some of them too, and she’d get to catch a glimpse of them every now and then, was one thing to be grateful for.

The only thing.

Yesterday, Y/N’s therapist had warned her against getting “too far inside her own head.” “It’s good that you’re thinking,” Miss Grant had said, “Good that you’re starting to work through things. But remember to put aside past Y/N sometimes and just be Y/N.” She’d tried to drive home the point by making Y/N write a list of things she liked, now that she was on her own and could discover for herself. Y/N had come up with five things. Miss Kara. Miss Kara’s cooking. Miss Kara’s house. Reading books with Miss Kara. Seeing Maggie and Alex with Miss Kara.

Cat had looked at the list, and then brought out another blank piece of paper. “Now write things you like that don’t include Miss Kara.” Y/N had glared at her, but the message was loud and clear.

So was Nia’s message about the grocery store, when yesterday Y/N had found herself standing at the door of one, staring in at the seemingly endless aisles of things she didn’t know. Her first instinct was to turn around and get back in the taxi, because it was too much; she had no idea where to get started. Her heart thumped wildly and her breath came hard and fast as she’d walked through the sliding doors.

She’d come home with a pack of bacon, a box of Lucky Charms cereal, and a bone to give to Theo the next day. Nia had hugged her, beaming and effusive with her congratulations. Miss Kara had chuckled on the phone, telling her that Theo was going to get far too spoiled. And Y/N had felt awkwardly proud, and more than a little scared.

“What would you do if you let go of all the pain he’s caused you, all of the memories, and just gave in to the happiness?” Cat had asked her.

Y/N didn’t have an answer.

“If there’s something else you’d rather have, Y/N, you can tell me. I assure you I won’t be offended if you reject my culinary offering.”

Y/N couldn’t help it; she rolled her eyes. She loved Miss Kara’s voice more than anything, and she couldn’t wait for the time when maybe, maybe, Miss Kara might sing for her. She’d heard little snatches of it in the last week, Kara humming in the kitchen or singing softly to herself as she did paperwork for the department. And her voice was… magical. It was as if everything stopped for her when Miss Kara spoke, or when she heard those soft little tunes sung absently around a pen jammed in her mouth.

But Y/N was tired and Miss Kara sometimes used a lot of words to say, well, not much of anything.

“I said it was fine, Miss Kara.”

“And it’s clearly not,” Miss Kara said, and this time her lyrical voice had an edge to it. Y/N tensed with a little shiver running up her spine. “You’re clearly not fine, and I’m just trying to make sure you choose what you want.”

“Well, I don’t want to choose,” Y/N snapped before she could stop herself. “Maybe I just want you to fix something and not force me to make up my own mind.”

There was silence, and out of the corner of her eye Y/N could see Miss Kara pinch the bridge of her nose. She heard a breath of frustration being let out, and finally, Miss Kara said quietly, “Y/N, sweetheart, I know you’ve been having a rough week but I really don’t think taking it out on me is the solution, for either of us.”

“Then do something about it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, do something about it. Punish me.”

What was she doing? Y/N asked herself. This was too much, she’d pushed too hard. Images began to flash through her mind again. Herself, bent over. A belt, lashing across her bottom and her thighs. A rough hand in her hair, holding her in position as the belt was relentless in its cuts. Only when she lifted her head, when she forced back against the hand holding her to look, it wasn’t James behind her. It was Miss Kara. Y/N felt herself begin to shake; she wrapped her arms around herself.

She turned on the couch to face Miss Kara, who was staring at her with her mouth slightly dropped open. Y/N steeled herself, not sure if she should wait for harsh and angry words to come tumbling out that same mouth, or if Miss Kara was going to drag Y/N over her lap.

“Absolutely not.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

Miss Kara stood up and then sat back down, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. “I am not going to punish you.”

“So you’d just let your submissive speak to you that way?”

Miss Kara looked at Y/N, and the expression on her face made Y/N swallow hard. “You can be sure,” she said evenly, “That if my submissive were to speak to me with the manner in which you’ve been speaking to me today, they would learn a swift lesson about why it’s unacceptable.”

“Well, then—“

“What would you have me do, Y/N? Get out a paddle?” Y/N froze; she stared wide-eyed at Kara. “Do you want me to drape you over the back of this couch and whip you? Put you in the corner? Humiliate you? Because if that’s what you’re hoping for, if that’s what prompted this behavior—“

“It’s not!” She felt suddenly frantic; this wasn’t what she’d intended at all, and now Miss Kara was acting as if Y/N had manipulated her. But she’d thought it was just a simple request… “I wouldn’t do that to you, Miss Kara. I’m just… you said you wouldn’t let your submissive talk to you that way.”

“You’re not my submissive.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Y/N bit out, her hands clenching into fists and digging into her thighs. “You keep reminding me of it at every point.”

She saw Miss Kara close her eyes and reopen them, before she reached out and gently untangled Y/N’s hands, holding them in hers. “Sweetheart,” she said, and the tears sprang to Y/N’s eyes at the softness of the word, at the care and the small touch of disappointment in it.

She’d made Miss Kara disappointed in her. And that was worse than any blow, any mark. Miss Kara had been so good to her, and Y/N had been a complete brat, just because she was tired, just because she was cranky.

“Y/N, I know that this dynamic is strange for you. It’s strange for me too, it’s very hard for me to… well, not be dominant with you.”

Y/N tilted her head and looked at Miss Kara; she imagined it looked a lot like Theo, when he was confused. “It is?”

“It is,” Miss Kara nodded. “But sweetheart, you’ve been through some of the most horrific experiences a person should never have to go through. You’re still learning about yourself, about what you like and what you want. I want you to see what life is like when you can have your own choices.”

Y/N let out what sounded like a growl and got to her feet, beginning to pace around the floor. “Everyone keeps saying that. ‘Make your own choices, Y/N.’ ‘Do what you want, Y/N, not what someone tells you to do.’ ‘A good Dominant would never be like him, Y/N.’” She whirled around to face Kara again, her fists once again clenched.

“How do I know what a good Dominant is if no one will dominate me?”

“Y/N—“

“No!” The word spilled out of her with more force than Y/N had ever felt, except for that night months ago. She began to shake again, but she tensed her muscles and held her ground. She took a deep breath… and deflated immediately. The tears began to course down her cheeks.

“Everyone keeps telling me what a good Dominant is. What a good Dominant will say, what a good Dominant will do… and then they tell me – you tell me, I can’t have one. I have to choose, everyone says. You, Nia, Alex and Maggie, Miss Grant. I have to choose what I want. But to do that I have to ignore who I am.”

Miss Kara was silent, staring up at her, and for a split second Y/N was confused. Why wasn’t she saying anything? Y/N was stood there, the words tumbling out of her in a rush and all Miss Kara was doing was watching her.

… listening.

No one had ever really listened to Y/N before, except for maybe her grandfather. And that had seemed so long ago. Her parents hadn’t, James certainly never had. But now, here was Miss Kara, looking at her and quietly waiting… It hit Y/N like cold water, and then it was as if she’d never be able to give voice to all of the thoughts coursing around in her head.

“I’m not your submissive, Miss Kara, I understand that, I do. And I-I would never manipulate you into dominating me, I’m not like that but I am submissive. And… and nobody seems to remember that.”

Miss Kara shook her head. “It’s not that we don’t remember, Y/N, it’s just that you’ve had your choices taken away for so long—“

“But what if that is my choice?” Y/N protested. “What if at the end of… all this,” She gestured around Miss Kara’s house. “What if at the end of my time at Nia’s, after all my therapy, maybe when I move into my own place and-and I don’t know, get a job, what if I still want to be submissive? What if my choice is to be dominated, to be punished when I’m bad—“

“Hold on,” Miss Kara held out her hand, palm up. “I’m going to stop you there for a moment. I know that he said horrible things to you, but let me say this now: no matter what behavior you exhibit, you are not bad. Your choices might sometimes be unfortunate, but you are not bad.”

Y/N wasn’t sure she believed that. How many times had she heard James say those words to her, while he was beating her?

Bad girl.

Bad slut.

Stupid, bad bitch.

Every single day. Every possible moment. His words were like a mantra of negativity, a list of everything that was wrong with her. Never once had he said “good girl” to her. The first time anyone had said it to her was when Miss Kara had given her a bath. And even though Y/N had had to ask for it, Miss Kara had said it so many times since then, for no reason at all other than she actually believed Y/N was a good girl…

“Y/N, come sit down, please.” Kara patted next to her on the couch.

Y/N hesitated, and then sat. “It’s all gone,” she whispered. “All of it. I-I mean I don’t hurt anymore, the bruises are gone and even the scars are fading thanks to that cream you got me but… so’s everything else.” She turned to Kara, and smiled a little when Kara lifted her hands and brushed Y/N’s tears away with her thumbs.

“Everything I know is gone. I don’t even have a home of my own, Miss Kara. And I don’t have anyone to… to help me do what’s right, to teach me and guide me. I-I know no one wants me to be hurt again but how am I supposed to know what a good Dominant is like if no one will be that for me? How am I supposed to choose between being submissive and… not living that way anymore, if I don’t know what it’s like to be submissive to someone who’s good? Someone like you?”

“It’s too much,” Y/N confessed. “Choose what I want to wear, choose what I want to have for dinner, where I want to go, what I want to do, what I want to think, what I want to say. I-it’s easy for everyone else, I guess, maybe it’s just stupid—“

“You are not stupid, and I don’t want you to say that again.”

Y/N smiled a little. “I don’t have any control, Miss Kara. And I want it. I need it. I-it’s all gone,” she said again. “My rules, what’s expected of me, and maybe I do need to learn to make choices but what if it’s my choice to be… to be little? To be taken care of, to be taught, to be controlled? I need… I need to feel safe.  I need someone to guide me. I need someone to dominate me.” She turned to look at Kara. “I need it to be you. Please.”

Miss Kara leaned over and kissed Y/N gently.

“No.”

“Miss Kara—“

“No.” Miss Kara got up and stood in front of Y/N, looking down at her. She felt herself tense, and Miss Kara smiled sadly.

“You look scared,” she said. “You look scared, and it’s just me; I would hope you’d know that I’d never hurt you. But I’m also a Dominant, and thatis what scares you.” Miss Kara shook her head. “I know that all of this is very frightening to you and unknown, but you’re doing so well, Y/N. You’re adjusting, you’re learning, and I am so proud of you.”

Y/N blushed and ducked her head. She was beginning to realize just how much she loved it, how much she craved to see Miss Kara smiling at her with those sparkling brown eyes, telling her proud she was of her. And Miss Kara was always so beautiful, whether she was dressed up in her work clothes or as she was now, in a simple pair of sleep pants and a tank top. This was the thing that was warring inside Y/N the most: she wanted to be like those birds outside, free to go wherever she pleased, whenever she pleased.

But then there was Miss Kara, with her soft smile and her laugh, the gentle way she ran her hand through Y/N’s hair just now even as Y/N’s heart was breaking. And Y/N wanted nothing more than to be on her knees for this woman, arms wrapped around Miss Kara’s stomach in adoration, doing whatever she could to please Miss Kara, to make her happy, to hear those few words that meant everything.

You’re such a good girl, Y/N. My good girl.

“You’re learning, and pretty soon it’s not going to be so scary and you’re going to love it. You’re going to discover so many things, about life and about yourself. And if you decide you want to be submissive, then that’s okay. But right now, you’re not ready.”

“When will I ever be ready?” Y/N asked bitterly. “Everyone else seems to know I’m not ready, should I wait for them to make the decision for me?”

“And that’s exactly what I mean,” Miss Kara said. “You want the authority, but you’re still struggling against it. You want the punishment, but the idea of me taking you over my knee or pulling you over the arm of this couch and disciplining you until you cry scares you. The very idea of a Dominant scares you, Y/N. And until it doesn’t, we can’t. We just can’t, sweetheart.”

“How can I stop being scared if you don’t give me a reason not to be?”

Miss Kara sighed, her hand still lightly tangling in Y/N’s hair, fingernails absently scratching at Y/N’s scalp like she’d done that day when giving her a bath. “It’s quite possible I’m not the person for you, Y/N. It’s entirely possible that somewhere down the road you will find the perfect Dominant for you, the one who is everything you need and more.”

“Neither one of us know until we try.”

“And I could get in trouble!” Y/N winced when Kara snapped, and Miss Kara moved to kiss her quickly. “There are rules in the department against this sort of thing, Y/N,” Miss Kara explained. “I am already on very thin ice maintaining a friendship with you while you are still in recovery; and now we’re dating?”

Y/N knew what Miss Kara was saying was seriously, but still she felt her blush deepen at the words. They were dating.

 “The department prefers that recovering submissives stay in the company of other subs until their therapy is complete. Just because they don’t want the subs becoming influenced. If the department finds out we’re dating, that’s one thing. If I started dominating you and the department found out, Y/N, I don’t want to think about what could happen.”

“They’d hurt you?” Y/N said, her voice high and alarmed.

Miss Kara hugged her. “You see, that’s always your first instinct, is that you or someone will be hurt. No, sweetheart, they couldn’t hurt me, but I could lose my job. And I need it.”

“You wouldn’t need it if you’d go to New York and sing like you want to.”

Miss Kara’s eyes flashed. “We are not talking about this right now; in fact I’ll thank you not to bring that up again.”

She had told Y/N, late one night on the phone, again about how her father had gotten ill and how she had put off going to school in New York. Y/N had caught the wistfulness in Miss Kara’s voice, had wondered what was holding her back now. Miss Kara had only said that she had work in Lima to do. “Maybe someday,” she’d said, and quickly changed the subject.

“Why not?” Y/N countered. “Afraid that I’ll start talking about you not being ready? You keep saying that I’m not ready because I’m scared, well, you’re scared to. I don’t see why we can’t be scared together. Who knows, I might not be the only one who learns about herself.”

“We are done with this segment of the conversation,” Miss Kara said. “And I do believe that this entire conversation needs to be closed. I am not going to dominate you, Y/N. I’m sorry, but that’s final.”

She didn’t know what to say, then. The tears had stopped but were on the edge of falling again, and Y/N stared wordlessly at the television, at the cartoon cat constantly being foiled by the mouse. She wondered which one she was in this game called her life: the cat or the mouse. She looked up when Miss Kara’s voice found her again.

“What do you say we have those sandwiches now?”

“I think I should go.”

Miss Kara stopped and turned, her face falling. “O-oh,” she said, sounding shaky. “If that’s what you want to do, of course.”

It wasn’t what she wanted to do. What she wanted was for Miss Kara to tell her not to leave, to tell her to sit down and have her sandwich and stop being ridiculous. She wanted Miss Kara to put her in the corner, or pull up her baby doll dress and spank her for being such a brat earlier. She could handle the pain, if it was Miss Kara. She wanted Miss Kara to pull her into her lap and rock her as she cried, to tell her that she’d been brave, she’d taken her punishment well, and that she was a good girl.

But there would be none of that.

Y/N stood up. “I-I’m just going to go back to Nia’s and read.”

Miss Kara nodded slowly, and Y/N’s heart sank when she saw a tear streak down her cheek. “Okay, sw- Y/N.” Y/N winced, and the pain only got worse at what she said next. “You’ll call me later?”

Miss Kara. The Dominant. The sweet, caring, gentle, perfect person. Asking if Y/N would call her. Asking, when all she wanted was to be told.

“Maybe tomorrow, Kara.”

There was a hitch of breath, a stifled sob, and Kara nodded again. “Right, that’s... that’s… I’ll just call the taxi.” She did so quickly, and then came back to Y/N. “Oh, here.” She picked up Y/N’s coat from where it lay on the arm of the couch. “It’s still raining; you need to put this on.”

The tears were falling again as Y/N allowed Kara to put the coat on her; Kara’s hands were gentle, fastening each button and adjusting the coat’s collar against Y/N’s neck. She hesitated, then tipped herself up to kiss Y/N’s forehead. Kara managed a smile, though it wavered, and she squeezed Y/N’s arm.

“C-can’t have you catching cold out there. I… I need you to be warm.”

“Thank you…”

They stood there saying nothing, standing together awkwardly with Kara’s hand on Y/N’s arm, until a car horn outside signaled the arrival of the taxi.

“A-are we going to be all right?” Y/N asked, looking toward the door then back at Kara.

“I don’t know,” Kara said. “I hope so… but I don’t know.”

In the taxi, the driver looked at Y/N in the rearview mirror. “You okay kid?”

“Just take me home,” Y/N sniffled, not able to wipe her eyes fast enough as the tears fell. “I’m fine.”

[rangerofpelor]

(„ᵕᴗᵕ„) ಥoಥ 「(°ヘ°) (ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*) For Kian and another (or two) of your pick!!

(„ᵕᴗᵕ„): Does their face turn red when embarrassed? If so, how else do they react when embarrassed? (I.E. Shifting of weight upon foot, etc.)

KIAN. ooooh yeah he gets red, chest to the tips of his ears flush when he gets embarrassed. and he generally just looks..uncomfortable....u kno like awkward coughs and clearing of the throat and maybe some stammering of his speech.

VALKO. embarrassment isn’t really an emotion he feels very often, just because he doesn’t really have much to be embarrassed about....he does feel shame tho, so whenever he slips and falls into that deep sea of an emotion it’s always...a rough time...he gets quiet and he physically curls up in on himself, shoulders hunched, back bowed, he tries to make himself as small as he can...he’s quiet, he can’t make eye contact with anyone, and he positions himself as far away from people as he can.

BRYNJA. lmao yeah she does and it’s super noticeable because she’s pale. and her embarrassment kind of translates into anger (mostly directed at herself) and she kind of storms off fuming...

ಥoಥ: How are they like when they cry? Do they just stream tears nonstop? Does their nose get clogged to the point that it’s hard to breathe? Is it easy for them to speak when they are sobbing? Do they hiccup when they cry?

KIAN. kian...is very in control of his emotions for a member of the summer court, especially when they’re more negative ones just because he doesn’t want to slip into his winter emotional state. he really doesn’t like his winter emotion state....so i guess the answer is that it’d take a lot to get him to feel such sorrow/grief and cry but once he feels that and gets going, it’s...intense...and probably not very pretty. and yeah he would have trouble speaking, which would be humiliating to lose his composure like that

VALKO. he’s an ugly crier. god damn it’s so ugly. to be fair, most of the time when he’s started crying he’s been piss drunk so...that’s not very pretty either...but even when he’s sober crying it’s ugly. he’s usually more talkative (with varying degrees of success) when he’s drunk crying and yeah he’ll hiccup too, but when he’s sober crying he’s just...quiet...and he cries himself dry or until he falls asleep...whichever comes first. his crying is generally triggered by him feeling guilty rather than him feeling sad. i mean he’s sad yes, but the core emotion is guilt. 

BRYNJA. i mean...her emotions are as tempestuous as the skies so....when she’s crying it can be like a storm....a lot all at once but when she’s done, she feels refreshed and renewed...the last time she cried she flew up into a raging thunderstorm and just screamed into the wind to release her emotions, and then she walked back into camp, dripping wet, but feeling a least a little bit better. 

「(°ヘ°): How does one calm them down when they are freaking out? Do they prefer physical comfort, or would they rather be left alone?

KIAN. it would take a lot to get him really freaked out i feel, but he’d probably prefer to be left alone and isolate himself and just...connect with nature and summer to calm himself down. search for something growing and green. search for something warm. something to connect to spiritually and remind him of his mission and duty to the court. 

VALKO. he says he’d rather be left alone but the truth is he needs the physical comfort. he needs something to ground him. this question reminds me of the incident after valko., uh...got angry and tortured a guy in orikai and his mark of pelor was burning and he just..chose to ignore it because he’s an idiot...anyway faylen took notice and...it could have gone better....and she ended up just kicking the shit out of valko for being selfish (she was right, he was) and yelling at him to talk to pelor. he tried. really he did, but it just wasn’t working. but then ovak came over, took pity on him (i guess) and took his hand in hers and began to pray. and it was with her help that he was able to talk to pelor. but yeah i think a firm grip is the best way to calm him down, something to hold onto and ground him in the present, remind him where he is, who he’s with. he needs something real, otherwise he’ll just spiral and lose himself in his mind

BRYNJA. i feel like she could calm down with both. she’ll accept physical comfort from her friends and she’ll feel better because she knows they care about her, but she’ll also take comfort being alone, praying to thor and reminding herself that he spoke to her, chose her, for a reason and for that reason she must be strong and persevere. 

(ꈍᴗꈍ)ε｀*): Do they prefer kisses on the cheek? Forehead? What about neck kisses?

KIAN. i’m pretty sure that in canon it’s eladrin custom to greet friends with cheek kisses and/or forehead kisses depending on how close you are, so like...yeah, he doesn’t mind those....neck kisses aren’t something he’s experienced and something he’d deem erotic.....and of course the height of romance would be gentle “back of hand” kiss and he hopes to someday grant a person with such a kiss. 

VALKO. forehead kisses are good but only if they’re from his mom or dad. he’ll accept a kiss on the cheek from faylen but that’s it. and neck kisses are from lovers and sexual partners....that said he loves neck kisses and will bear his throat for them very quickly if given the chance....not that he’s had that chance in a long time and he doubts he’ll get that chance ever again....:’(

BRYNJA. forehead kisses are the big ones for her. those were the comforting ones she received from her older sister when she was younger, and they’re the ones that she gives to her friends when they need comfort as well. i think she considers cheek kisses to be more playful and teasing she would gladly accept them (and maybe give them too) if she felt drawn enough to a person....and, like with kian, neck kisses aren’t something she’s experienced herself, and she considers them to be kisses more on the erotic side.

[ivemetyouathousandways]

Second chance at the top of the world

Saturday morning - 6: 15 am -  Skibbuveien 32-36

Wind was chilly this morning but to my sour disappointment, it failed miserably to whisper some enchanting soothing remedy to the misery of my burning heart. I had left Sven with a friendly hug yesterday morning, his soft cologne haunting me throughout the day, which I had spent under the heavy duvet in my room at the guest house, plagued with the unavoidable pain of me fucking up. I had thought of going back to the rocks and from there to his house, I had remembered the easy path we had taken. I remembered the house number. But it would have been awkward and silly and stupid and... Would it, though?

"Hva er det med deg? Begravet du mannen din?”

“He’s asking what’s wrong with you - have you buried your husband?” The wife translated. 

I tried to smile. Maybe? But... Was there even something to justify all this emotional bullshit bigotry or was it all in my head?

"I'm fine." I assured them. "Sometimes, I enjoy peace and quiet." I forked a juicy piece of meat. "I don't understand those tourists who spend all day outside. My body may be young but my mind is at least ninety years old and needs peace and quiet."

Magnus laughed and commented that it was nonsense. I should be out there enjoying local youth and wild adventures to be told later at dinner parties, not inside with two old nondescript oldies going over stamp collections and old photos.

“And sheep head. You and your soul need sheep head.” He added.

But I loved my time with my hosts. I loved their adorable couple life, their old style home from the previous century full of odd trinkets, their ways, their chitter-chatter in Norwegian, completely forgetting that I was there, on the couch of their living room, snug like a bug in a heavy warm blanket watching the evening news of which I didn’t understand much but the main gist of.

The woman, Vilde, did inquire more intimately later that night, when we found ourselves alone in front of the dying fire, what was really up with me and I briefly summed up the encounter with Sven. I guess, there is nothing like an Empress to inspire a young Queen of Swords to actually open up and set afoot on the the teary shores of an emotional relief.

"I'm dumb. That's the root of the problem." I mumbled.

"You have been hurt one too many time so now you run away before you even know the color of their socks."

I snort laughed at her expression. But she was right.

"But in the process of my stupid thick shield, I have hurt him, and I just feel so bad about it. He didn't need that, right now."

Vilde hugged me tight.

I finally managed to fall asleep around two in the morning, after an extended "quick chat" with Magnus about his own father's love tribulations. Olav was the light house keeper from the tender age of nineteen to his death. A role and duty he held to sacred heights, somewhat disregarding an otherwise devoted loving wife and kids. Love tribulations which were of incendiary repercussions when it was let to be known that he had more than a few love interests and mistresses around the next villages and islands over. His wife had kept a cool face to save the family name but she died of broken heart.

"Not even humiliation” Magnus insisted, like a fairy tale troll cautioning the wandering hero “broken heart.” He paused to let that sink in. “If you like that poor bastard, go back to his house, take him to his bed and settle things down!"

I mean, yeah, sure,that's an easy way to go about it.

Vilde laughed, shook her head and made me promise not to follow her husband's directives. I escaped the discussion by asking if I could visit said lighthouse, to which, after a bit of an back and forth in Norwegian, to spare my touristy ears of colloquial slang, I was promised to be granted the set of keys and directions first thing in the morning, which normally would have meant around 8 am, but I pleaded my touristy case and epic sunrise photos to be taken, moment to be lived, and I got both instructions and keys before we all called it a night.

And so here I was, on this cool Septemberian Saturday morning, walking in the dusky darkness en route to Oksøy Lighthouse. 

And there he appeared, smack in front of me, his shoes touching my sneakers. I could have seen him but I have had the brilliant selfish indulgence of being touristically absorbed in my phone screen, journaling as much as I could of the previous nights events in minute details, capturing and framing fleeting emotions.

“God morgen Illy”

“Jó reggelt Sven.”

I smiled. So we had a thing now, with our respective mother tongues.

"Where are you headed to?"

"The lighthouse over at Oksøy."

"It's an abandoned location. And you need a ferry to get there. Or a boat."

I snickered and fetched the ring of keys from my pocket.

He looked at me with a blank face.

"I'm renting a room over at Flekkeroy Inn and it so appears that the owner is the youngest son of the previous lighthouse keeper."

I pocketed the keys and looked at his boots. Had he gone to the rocks?

"Want to tag along?"

If I could of, I would have smacked myself behind the head. Way to go Illy!

Please accept. Please don't say no. Please say yes.

“Do you know how to operate a motorboat ?” He asked concerned.

“No... but Magnus explained me...”

“And you’ll end up in China.” 

“Is that all the faith you have in my abilities?” I asked a little offended.

“Yes.” He smiled proud and smug.

And on that note, and just like that, his arm found it’s way around my shoulders and his steps joined mine. 

6:44 am

If it was chilly on land, it was bloody freezing up here on top of the world and the warm layered outfit I had planned was no match against the biting cold. And then there was the deafening constant roar of the waves breaking against the rocky shores. And there was Sven, who for the better part of an excruciating wait for the sun to deign peek through the dark clouds lazily loitering on the horizon line, had gallantly imposed his barricading warmth against aforementioned cold and wind, his mutton doubled leather jacket opened and both arms solidly cloaked around me. 

“What is your obsession with sunrises ?” He asked just as the sun finally shot his first ray, coloring the sky from a dark vine purple to a slightly warmer red stained eggplant to finally lightening up to boysenberry and settling for vibrant violet purples where the first shy hints of watermelon and punch pinks would shyly peek through. 

“Isn’t this absolutely ... magnificent though?” I whispered in awe “Isn’t this magic?”

I let the sky change faces, slowly, like a painter adding layers of color; salmon pink fading to lemonade, the farther corners from navy berry blue to azure, to lapis and softly settling for pale sky. The sun’s first reflections on the ocean of deep crimson cherry slowly warming up to rusty amber, to fiery tiger, before setting for the day’s river of sparkling diamonds. 

“Sven...” I called him and my heart choked in my chest.

“Mhm?”

“About yesterday morning” I continued and felt his body tense up, ready to separate from mine “I’m sorry I coped out.”

“Hmm?”

I turned around to face him.

“I should have kissed you. When you were so close.”

He didn’t answer for a long moment and I felt completely stupid. Yup. I was wrong. I had imagined all that. There was nothing there. 

“You could have.” He finally spoke and I about felt faint. “You could have, instead of should have.” He corrected me.

I swallowed my fears and my doubts.

I loved the way the wakening light blushed his cheeks of taffy punch and crowned him in an aura of honey butterscotch. And more than anything, I loved the warm glimmer in his silver eyes, that faint smug smile he tried so hard to contain. and the fuzzy peace coated happiness blooming in my heart. 

“I was hoping to somehow stumble on you, this morning.” He commented, locking his hands behind my back. “You are not aware of this, I fairly certain you haven’t noticed, but we were at the same restaurant Wednesday evening. You were at that small two seats table by the last window in the back. I was having a business dinner at the other end of the place. You ended up sharing your table with a complete stranger, I believe.”

I stood there shocked. 

“Was your business dinner that boring?” I laughed.

“Theo is a good man, but Lord have mercy on all our souls, he cannot shut up once he opens his mouth.”

I flat out burst out laughing and hid my face in his chest. 

Hey, Sven, I wanted to kiss you, but you are derailing the situation! And I love your cologne. I took a deep breathe of his scent and tried to not make it look creepy as it actually was. And this is silly. I came here to forget a silly heartbreak, not to develop an equally silly crush on a local. 

“I believe you promised me a coffee.” 

Yes, indeed, I did. 

I quickly toed myself to his height and stole what I naively believed to be a swift inconsequential kiss, already planning the next move in the forefront of my mind, but Sven, the good male protagonist of this improvised romance telenovela or soap opera or what ever they called it here in Norway, sneakily locked me in his arms and demanded more. My cheeks burned but I more than gladly gave in. 

[parallax-princess]

I'm a Heroin addict. It's the only reason I'm alive. This is not "an excuse." I'll tell you why.

When I was 13 to 14, I was targeted by a predator who masked himself as a teacher. I was in a school of 10 pupils, never even having held hands with a boy. He took advantage and I did nothing. I blamed, and continue to blame myself. I thought I had to marry him. I used to picture this while I showered after these "lessons". I told the first person when I was 17. Nobody noticed and I was refused therapy. When I was 21, I was finally allowed therapy - only to have an old, obviously "traditional" religious therapist tell me it was my fault. Not only that, but that I was somehow worth less because I had 'engaged in something only for a husband and his wife.'

I started training to be a pilot when I was 16. I was juggling school work, ballroom/Latin dancing, extra curricular art, school outreach, chess club, Latin society, flying, social life, family life and a turbulent relationship. My family begun to accuse me of avoidance and being "anti-social." They damn near forgot about me sometimes, occasionally even forgetting to prepare dinner for me - though my mother, father and younger sister were all well fed... With second helpings. My friends turned against me without warning, mistaking my fatigue and my pain for what I suppose was 'plotting and scheming'. People got an odd feeling around me. I could read them, but they couldn't read me. I guess paranoia kicked in or something. I cycled through friends - a new group - at least once every year. I loved them all dearly. I would still give my life for my eighth grade best friend, and I mean that. 'Twas not me who wished to move on. Still, I kept trying. I was still having PTSD nightmares and couldn't bring myself to tell anyone, so I tried still. I told several versions of what happened to several people. All versions with different levels of 'terribleness' - I wanted to spill, but I got cold feet at the very last second, so I downplayed what happened. I wasn't lying - all these things still happened. They just were not the whole truth. I can still remember everything, and I still wish I did not.

When I was 17, my male best friend and I were sitting next to one another on a school bus, on a 45 minute long bus ride (school outing) to view a prominent university's grounds and offered courses. Fifteen minutes before reaching the destination, I noticed a couple of... What I first thought were cat scratches on his wrist. He was a lively but shy spirit. Incredibly bright. Top of our grade, and good looking too... Unpopular only because of his shyness and his trauma-caused 'high pitched voice' - which is a false voice, by the way. I made some remark about the "scratches," completely convinced they were inflicted by an enraged feline. I knew he'd had several of those. The immediate pallor in his cheeks and the way he reflexively flinched away instantly told me otherwise. He was hurting. He was hurting badly, and I refused to allow it to continue - at least, I refused to let him suffer in loneliness because he was too shy, and too considerate to reach out. He tried his damndest to avoid me, and succeeded for about half of the day. When I managed to corner him, he told me something that made my heart ache in my chest. He told me he didn't want to live any longer, and that he was cutting to try feel better. I did not leave his side. Not as far as I could help.

Some weeks later, he told me he wanted to ask another girl out. A popular girl, but beautiful and kind. I was absolutely elated for him. More than I can express. He confessed the only thing holding him back was that he'd not had his first kiss yet, at 17, and was terrified he'd mess up, freeze up, or disappoint her. Being a very open, honest, and unconventional friend - I invited him over to my house. I had no interest in him romantically but I loved him for everything he was, without expectation or longing. I loved him truly unconditionally - and I knew I'd never make him awkward about it! The plan was to come over, watch a film on my laptop - in my bedroom - and I would kiss him. I wasn't in any relationship, and the idea elated him. He'd finally be able to ask this girl out, without worry! As planned, he arrived one Saturday. I introduced him to my dog. I played 'The Perks of being a Wallflower' (still a favourite)... And at the part where Emma Watson goes in for the kiss, I did so too. His heart was beating so loudly I could hear it a half meter away. He did just fine, and I told him so! Imagine my surprise when he sighed happily and said "it's so wonderful to have a girlfriend finally! I've just told my mum."... I had been duped! But instead of being selfish about it, I went with it. I decided I would learn to love him romantically, and I did just that. There was so much to appreciate, and my objective was to build him up - bit by bit, until he no longer considered the sweet relief of death... A year and a half later, and his ego outgrew little old me. He left me heart broken. I let him go. He's successful today and hasn't been with another girl since. We'd slept together and everything! I was his first kiss and first sexual encounter, and I treasure that for what it was. It broke me to be tossed aside so coldly, but I rose up. I had to. Nothing could break me!

When I was 19, I'd earned my pilot's license (PPL) & driver's license within a month of each other. I'd been granted a future dated scholarship by a national airline carrier. I'd become a gym bunny. I didn't drink alcohol, smoke or even drink coffee. I had a job, while I waited for 2015 - my scholarship date - to arrive. I met a guy. I was with him for three years. He had an engagement ring. He slept with my "best friend" multiple times and told me it was my fault because I'd allowed it to become 'normal' by continually forgiving him.

When I was 21, I was based in a different province on this aforementioned scholarship. I'd begun struggling to concentrate on studies (developing psychosis-spectrum), and I had a sociopath boss [who has since been fired] who emotionally abused me for over a year and a half. Various tactics. Some of which include inciting paranoia (telling me the whole company was laughing at me), unjust threats of expulsion, unrealistic demands with regards to exams - which ONLY applied to me, humiliation tactics (insulting me and framing me as incompetent in front of 15 of my colleagues), refusing to call me by my name - only [insert my father's name here]'s daughter. The worst was telling me I was shaming my father... You see, I had told him my Achilles heel was my extreme fear of ruining my dad's reputation at the same airline... He used this against me almost daily. The pain still hasn't faded. To top this all off, the owner of the flying school was taking advantage of my loneliness and attempting to groom me to be his mistress - I eventually figured this out. Obviously I didn't sleep with him. On April 28th, because I'd dared to postpone an exam by two days to ensure a pass, harassment from my parents, manipulation from the school head, my now-ex having slept with my best friend again, and a multitude of other things, led me to (incorrectly) believe I would be expelled if I didn't write and pass THAT DAY. Well set-up mock exams told me I wouldn't pass, not even by luck {the aviation syllabus had recently changed, no new textbooks had been released, and nobody knew what was in the exams as the instructor briefing conferences were only to be held many months in the future}. I couldn't bear the idea of my father having to tell people his daughter had failed the program. So rather than that, I dressed myself in my pilot's uniform, sent goodbye voice notes to those I thought would only find them much later, wrote a note, wrote out a list of my online passwords, placed my identity documents in visible locations, lit a candle, played one last song (Unsteady by the X Ambassadors) and promptly overdosed on a strong cocktail of rizatriptan, Tramadol, sleeping pills, mild benzos, and 42 ibuprofen-paracetamol-codeine capsules. I carefully calculated a lethal dose for EACH medication. I was found 15 minutes before death. All I can remember is sitting on the grass, which moved like the ocean, paramedics sticking a tube down my throat, then hospital lights... And this feeling of bliss. Finally I could have some rest. Finally I could die.

I am now 22. The Aviation Authority won't allow me to fly despite me having no mood disorders, and there were mitigating circumstances. My best friend and now-ex fucked off and fucked each other. I lost ALL my friends and my 3 year relationship one week after hearing I'd never fly again. I thought helping my Heroin-addict friend through withdrawals would help. I suppose it did in a way. I started inhaling speed, and inhaling Heroin, and I am alive because my psychosis spectrum causes me to feel pain so much more profoundly than should be possible. I get so scared and anxious I can't talk or move, just from a door slamming. I have days where it's so hard not to kill myself that I pace and claw at myself, and have trouble breathing. My parents have all but disowned me. My dog is with my parents. My Heroin addict friend is now my boyfriend (we've dated 3 times and he was my first love). I broke my meth addiction a couple months back... And now Heroin keeps me alive. Sometimes it's all that keeps me alive.

-B