nxrco:

I need help – please at least read

My parents are reaching their breaking point with me, and I’m worried about my living situation right now. I’ve been applying to dozens upon dozens of jobs, but with no luck thus far, so I am still very much financially dependent on them.

My mother is verbally and emotionally abusive, consistently calling me ‘not normal’, psycho, and a monster- mostly on the basis of my poor mental health hindering me and the fact I’m trans. She’s also starved me, looked through my personal devices, and has even tested skin products on me before selling them at her spa- one of which gave me a rash over the palms of my hands and my arms that lasted for weeks and left scars. She mostly laughs about it.

My step-dad has been physically abusive, starting when I was 7, and has no qualms about calling me the r-slur on any slight mishap and is frequently homophobic.

I’m done with this. I have the means to potentially get into an lgbt host home program, but the process takes some time. I can’t stay in this house any longer for the sake of my health. I plan to stay in a cheap motel or use AirBnb, but my funds are limited as is and would only perhaps cover food costs.

If you can donate or spend some money, my paypal.me and Redbubble are linked here.

If you can’t donate, please reblog. I’m desperate.

bb-8:

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sansaregina:

SANSAWEEK | day 3: favorite book 

“Perhaps she was doing Margaery Tyrell an injustice. Perhaps the invitation was no more than a simple kindness, an act of courtesy. It might be just a supper. But this was the Red Keep, this was King’s Landing, this was the court of King Joffrey Baratheon, the First of His Name, and if there was one thing that Sansa Stark had learned here, it was mistrust.”  — A Storm of Swords – Sansa I

sansasnark:

“Someone had left a window open and a stack of papers had blown onto the floor. The sun was slanting through the thick yellow windows, and dust motes danced in the light like tiny golden insects. Though snow had blanketed the heights of the Giant’s Lance above, below the mountain the autumn lingered and winter wheat was ripening in the fields. Outside the window she could hear the laughter of the washerwomen at the well, the din of steel on steel from the ward where the knights were at their drills. Good sounds. Alayne loved it here. She felt alive again, for the first since her father… since Lord Eddard Stark had died.”

— Alayne I, The Winds of Winter