It was a rough day

Today I had to go to this guy’s house with my friend to make sure she was safe. Not going to publicly get in too many details other than the fact that he was 52 years old, and an alcoholic who was drunk while we were there, he kept smoking which triggered my asthma, and to top it all off every charistic about this guy reminded me of my emotionally abusive alcoholic grandfather who I grew up with and still see to this day. We were stuck at his house for an hour and a half he degraded us verbally, he was being borderline inappropriate, I had two panic attacks and then an asthma attack. We were there for a good reason but it got to the point where I felt like my safety and my mental health weren’t going to be okay so I had to leave. I came home and collapsed on the bathroom floor and just cried. I used my nebulizer and took some of my anxiety medicine. I’m finally feeling human again. What I have learned from tonight is that I need to trust my gut instinct and not get myself into a situation like that again. I did not know that my grandfather fucked me up so bad from my childhood. I did not know that I was this terrified of men.

Summer’s here and everyone at Mousai Institute of Advanced Arts is ready to celebrate with its Annual Bonfire party.

Please join us at the beach by the deck for these even that will include:

Rules for Staff and Students:

  • Since there will be alcoholic drinks served at the party, all the students over 21 will be wearing a green neon bracelet that will allow them access to those drinks.
  • Staff members are allowed to drink but invited not to and to make sure the students don’t abuse the alcohol consumption.
  • Underage students are not allowed to drink alcohol but there will be non-alcoholic refreshments at the Alcohol-Free Bar.
  • For one night and one night only there will be no curfew.


We invite you all to dress as comfortable as you like. We expect an 87°F but don’t forget to bring sweater for the late evening when the temperature drops.



The Annual Bonfire party event will last a week, from June 23rd 6 pm CST until June 29th 11 PMCST.

The event is supposed to last only one night in IC time, which means that we will bend time so we all have time to be part of the event during the week.

Once the event has started, please only post starters which are related to it and tag them with miaaevent. We suggest putting your prior threads on hold, so no one gets confused with the posts on the dash. That, of course, is your choice.

Please like this post if your character will be attending the event.

please help me

i really hate doing this i really really do but it’s come to the point where i physically, emotionally and mentally cannot take it anymore.

my family physically, emotionally and mentally abuses me.

long story short, i live in an abusive household. my parents are forcing me into debt by threatening me to go to university (when my job career path does not call for it). 

i cannot come out, i am not safe. they do not believe in mental illness and have THREATENED ME (physically as well) if i chose to take medication (which i desperately need for my mental illnesses, i still take it even with the backlash from my parents). they have threatened to kick me out and block my bank card and phone if i do not go to school, even when i dont need and and they make me take a ridiculous amount of classes, hence digging my own grave of debt. ALSO, adding to the school thing. i will have NO INSURANCE AND NO FINANCIAL AID (if i drop out) for my mental and physical illnesses in which i need medication for.

basically, im living in a house that in inhibiting me from transitioning, draining me of all my money and forcing me through an expensive education and debt and threatening me to do so . im sorry if this isnt making sense but im so tired and stressed.

i’ve done my part though, i have gone to school (from highschool, summer classes and university without a break), kept up my grades, DROPPED ALCOHOL AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE, i am now straight edge (this has saved me tons of money and has helped my emotional state tremendously, ive spent more time being productive and less time in the hospital and in therapy which also costs money) and even gotten 2 JOBS. i do commissions and i work COUNTLESS HOURS at mcdonalds, unfortunately because i have mcdonalds, my parents are now trying to make me pay for EVERYTHING, even things they want, and i really REALLY CANT AFFORD THAT.

my goal is to move out into the apartment with my boyfriend @animeadult and our awesome friend @cruciphix by april. however, my family has already drained my first paycheck and yet they take it out on me (even though it wasn’t a lot in all honesty, it was a lot to ME), ive been trying to earn DOUBLE by taking in more commissions and snagging as many hours as i can from mcdonalds.

im so tired and so desperate to leave my abusive family, and find a way to pursue my transition in a safe environment for me physically, emotionally and mentally. i genuinely apologize that it has come to this but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE if you can 

please donate to my paypal, its

and if u cant please spread this i just need to get out so badly i need to leave i really need to leave please help me.

if anything i will send a small drawing to those who donate as a thankyou, and you can even commission me its the same paypal just please.

i really need help and i know tumblr is a great place to go when someone needs it.

thank you for reading this and please share for me.

Waking Days Ch1 - Enter Bill Cipher

A/N: Helllooo and thank you for being so patient with me. I know, I know, with that little joke I had it coming, but look, I’ve finally delivered!

I took a long while with figuring out a title for the long fic, and I may change it later, but this is what I’ve got for now, so feedback is appreciated. (And yes, the chapter title is literally the same one as from Flat Dreams. I am a nerd.) Enjoy, you guys. :3

Warning: Implied substance abuse. 

AU by @doodledrawsthings. Based on Flat Dreams by @pengychan.

“He that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache.”

W. Shakespeare, Cymbeline

Ever since he took that deal, he’d been regretting it.

Looking back now, he would take a million years in that stone tomb over what that giant salamander had subjected him to. He hadn’t expected on getting his power back, not really, but the least that jerk could do was give him a proper form. Hell, or at least keep him a triangle. But he’d never expected this. He’d been thrown into this form with no directions, no explanation except “You must absolve your crime.”

Yeah, great, what the hell did that even mean.

He hated it. He hated everything about this stupid body, about this weak pitiful meat sack that frilly asshole decided to shove him in. He had nothing, no power, no immortality, no means of escape. And if that wasn’t enough, he was slowly dying. He could even feel it. The slow, painful way each cell was loosing its energy. In just a few decades he would degrade, grow cold and end up feeding worms before he knew it, if this sack of flesh didn’t give up on him even sooner. After watching humans for so long, he’d seen just how easily they could die, hell he’d even been the cause of a lot of them. He’d found it funny, how easily they can break.

He didn’t now.

Keep reading


Eleventh Doctor Oneshot/ X-reader.

A/n: Sooooo, Doctor Who is on in a little while and I’m just real excited. I wanted to write something and I literally just came up with this hella fast so yeah, I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading. Hope you all enjoy the new season! 

Summary: Both the Doctor and reader have a crush on each other, the reader has been travelling with the Doctor for a year now and he wants to take the reader somewhere special. The Doctor finds this beautiful planet that made him think of you but little does he know what the events of that planet will conclude. 

Tags: Springtime, mild smut?

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol abuse, language, make-out session, mild smut? 

Words: 1.25K


You’ve been travelling with the Doctor for a while now, a year to be exact, and there has never been a time in the whole twenty-five years that you have been alive that you have loved someone to this extent.

Keep reading

She tells me
she hates the taste
of whiskey
except for when
she tastes it on my tongue.
And I want to be the one
for her but
loving me is lonely
and the hangover is hell.
I don’t want to become
the bad habit that
she has to recover from.
—  The Taste of Whiskey, V.P.

Expensive holes to bury things by ElisAttack

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 14828

Some days Derek thinks his life would be infinitely less complicated if he hadn’t bought the condo simply because he got a deal when the previous owner murdered his wife.

Or the one where Derek is a jaded author of thriller novels, fascinated with the mysterious boy next door.


Summary: The moment when Jughead can’t take his dad’s drunken stupors anymore and decides to leave.

The slam of the door.

The whoosh of the fridge door opening.

The telltale clink of the bottle cap being removed.

Jughead knew these sounds all too well, and didn’t even bother checking to confirm his suspicions.


“Your old man’s had a rough day, Jug. I need this.”

Jughead ignored his internal dread as he watched his father plonk down in front of the box television, drowning out his troubles one swig at a time.

While he understood why his dad sought out alcohol every night, once the lights had been dimmed and curtains shut; he didn’t agree with his method of coping.

Jughead’s eyes followed his father as the older man got up and limped to the fridge, opening it and grabbing another beer.

He bit his lip, contemplating whether to bring this second one up, and let his gaze meet FP Jones’s, as he limped back to the chair in front of the TV.

He must’ve already had something before coming home; his eyes were unfocused and red.

“Um, how was your day, Jug?” His father mumbled.

Jughead looked back down at the macbook in his lap. The cursor of the next chapter in his book blinked before him, like it was uncertain; it mirrored Jughead’s thoughts.

“Fine, dad. I got an A+ on an English essay.” He said, his eyes following the upward motion of the brown bottle as FP Jones took another sip.

“Good, good.” The older man turned his attention to the TV set in front of him, slouching downwards, swiveling the chair from side to side.

The next few minutes passed in silence. Jughead tried to focus on his writing, but continued to keep an eye on his dad.

In all honesty, he was afraid. FP Jones had gotten drunk the last night, and the one before that, and countless times before. His mom wasn’t here to chastise him (not like it helped anyway) and Jellybean wasn’t here to let her innocent gaze guilt their father into putting that dreaded liquor down.

He let his mind wander to three weeks ago- the day his mom had decided she’d had enough, packed up her suitcases, made Jellybean do so too, and stormed off to her parent’s house. Jughead was meant to go with them, but some part of him forced him to stay and look after his dad.

It wasn’t like he was succeeding, anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted when his dad stood up once again, albeit unsteadily, lopsidedly stalking to the fridge.

Jughead set his laptop aside and stood up. “Hey dad, it’s late.”

“Then go to sleep, Jug.”

“Dad, I mean-”

“Goodnight, Jug.”

Jughead walked forward and grabbed the bottle in his dad’s shaky palms. “Dad, that’s enough, please-”

“What are you gonna do, huh? Jug? You don’t understand. Go to your room.”

“Dad, please, stop-”

Jughead’s dad took a step forward. Jughead took one back, skin paling.

“Listen, Jug. You love me, yeah?”

Jughead pursed his lips and nodded.

“Then go and sleep.”

“Dad, I can’t, if you keep downing one beer after another.”

FP Jones placed a threatening palm on his son’s chest.

“You don’t know what it’s like. Your wife hasn’t left you. You haven’t lost your job. You haven’t been forced to do ungodly things just for some cash, just so I can sustain you. You didn’t have to give up half your savings for hospital bills. You didn’t-”

He broke down, putting his head in his trembling hands.

Jughead’s heart broke, unused to seeing his father so fragile and open. He took a step forward, reaching out to comfort his dad, but stopped midway when his dad shot up and flipped a table over.

Jughead’s eyes widened in fear. “Dad, stop-”

Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Second paid no heed to his son, dragging his hand across the small kitchen’s counter, sending condiments, empty beer bottles and papers to the floor. He slammed the cabinet doors, his scream of frustration mingling with its noise.

Jughead moved in front of his dad, throwing caution to the wind.

“STOP!” He yelled, wincing when his dad’s hand came down and struck him on the cheek.

Everything stilled. Time froze. Both men stared at each other, one with surprised wide eyes and the other with bloodshot ones.

Yes, Jughead had watched his dad fall into a multitude of drunken stupors, but not once did his dad ever raise his hand against him. Not even when the whole family lived under the same roof.

But now, things had obviously changed. An alarm blared inside Jughead’s mind, telling him to leave immediately, before it gets worse.

Jughead stepped away, arms in front of him, incase the stockier man decided to take things further.

The latter was the the first to break the silence. “Jughead, I didn’t mean that-”

“I know you didn’t, dad.” Jughead’s voice came out soft and broken. He stepped away and gathered whatever belongings he could see.

“Jughead, I’m sorry, please stay…”

Jughead looked up at his dad. The man was strong, years of working at a construction site had ensured that, and Jughead’s cheekbone ached. Hopefully, a bruise wouldn’t form.

“I need to get away for a while, dad. Only temporarily.”

“No, Juggie, don’t-”

“Temporarily, dad.” Jughead said, not meeting his eyes. He didn’t know if the words coming out of his mouth were true. “I’ll call you.” That included. His dad clamoured after him, begging him to stay, but Jughead couldn’t bring himself to give in.

After ensuring that he took some spare clothes and the bare necessities, he opened the door of their less-than-adequate trailer and spared a look back at his dad.

“I’m sorry, dad.”

And then he shut the door behind him.

Little did he know that it would be the start of the worst period of his life till date- misery and loneliness awaited him, but Jughead remained oblivious as he walked away from the pleas of his father, gritting his teeth and planning his next course of action.

When did you become my enemy?