#the dumpyard

[inpursuitofnunchi]

literally just happened to me - thought "where is my phone, is it ringing?" While holding the phone in my literal hand where i am scrolling tumblr 🤡

[jungshookz]

y/n is some rich badass boss of some huuuugge corporation and bts is working under her (reception, assistants, janitors, errand boys)......valet!tae and valet!jin are DOWN BAD and one day y/n pulls in and one of them makes a sly comment about y/n stepping on them OR about ruining/ripping her clothes

➺ wordcount; 1.2k

➺ currently spinning on the record player; i know this is such a short little drabble but it’s really giving be mean by DNCE 

»»————- ⚡ ————-««

“i desperately need coffee,” jin’s mouth opens in an obnoxious yawn as he turns his head so that taehyung doesn’t have to look into the depths of his giant mouth, “how are you never tired in the morning? our shift starts at six and i’ve never seen you yawn, ever. it’s actually kind of concerning.” he exhales slowly, blowing out his lips as he tries to shake the sleepiness out of his system 

“maybe i’m just more suited for this job than you are,” taehyung whistles, dancing along to the music crackling out of the little radio sitting on the podium (taylor swift’s new album just came out and even he has to admit some of the songs on there are a vibe), “but also i chugged, like, two redbulls before the start of our shift, so there’s that, too-"

“okay, well, that’s just cheating and it doesn’t mean you’re more qualified for the job, it just means you’re more insane and you treat your body like a dumpyard-" jin snorts, standing with his hands behind his back as he looks up at the early morning sky, the soft shade of blue nice and easy on his sleepy eyes, “what time do you think the boss’ll be here? i’m wondering if i have enough time to run in and get a coffee for myself before she gets here…”

“well, you’re more than welcome to go and get a coffee while i help y/n with her car,” taehyung flashes jin a boyish grin, “i hope she comes in her mclaren today. i love driving the mclaren.” 

“hey, you got to drive the mclaren last time, it’s my turn if she comes in it today!” jin frowns, eyebrows furrowing before he shakes his head, “her new BMW is nice, too. it’s the new electric one. i drove it the other day and it rides like a dream… but the mclaren, i haven’t tested out yet. it’s only fair that i get a turn!”

“why don’t you just stick to the cute little mini cooper she has? you can’t handle the mclaren,” taehyung scoffs, reaching up to adjust his tie, “besides, it’s my sexy little car and she only responds to daddy-" 

“okay, that-“ seokjin immediately makes a face and rolls his eyes, “jesus, keep it in your pants-" 

the sound of an engine purring smoothly and bright headlights rounding the corner makes the both of them stand up straight immediately because it’s seven o’clock on the dot and you always come on time, taehyung elbowing jin excitedly when he sees that you decided that it was mclaren day today and he has to stop himself from bouncing up and down on his heels excitedly like a little boy on christmas because it’s mclaren day today

“i know exactly what you’re going to do and i already told you it’s my turn-“ seokjin says through gritted teeth while keeping the smile on his face, already walking closer to the edge of the sidewalk so that he can get to your door before taehyung can, “you got to park it last time, it’s my turn-" 

“you can literally suck my dick, i’m not passing up the opportunity to get my hands on my mclaren- good morning, boss!” taehyung chirps, shoving seokjin out of the way to open the door up for you, “mclaren monday, hey?”

seokjin resists the urge to tackle taehyung from behind as he shakes his head subtly, taking a few steps back and maintaining his professional composure

whatever

but next time the mclaren is definitely going to be his  

“your favourite day, i know,”  you laugh lightly, “morning, you two-“ you swing both legs out of the car and seokjin feels his nose twitch slightly at the pleasant scent of what he’s pretty sure is a mixture of vanilla and sandalwood emanating from your hair (you always smell so insanely sexy and it drives him crazy) 

“good morning, y/n-“ seokjin bows his head politely, “new shoes?”

“how very observant of you, seokjin!” you toss your keys up in the air behind you with a jingle and taehyung catches them in one swift swoop, wriggling his eyebrows at seokjin teasingly because ha-ha, he got the mclaren, “you like them?” you pause, lifting the back of your leg for a second to flash the sexy red bottoms before raising a shoulder with a laugh, “i don’t usually gravitate towards platforms, but i do love a bratz doll moment-"

“oh, i-“ seokjin chokes for a second before letting out a laugh, “no, i love them- they’re- they look great, boss. they make you look- tall. very tall.” 

“mm.” 

seokjin’s eyes widen a little when you take a step towards him, reaching over to adjust the collar of his shirt and smoothing it out before patting his chest, “there you go. still a little sleepy this morning, aren’t you? collar wasn’t sitting right.”

“i guess so, yes.” seokjin smiles sheepishly, hands clenched like crazy behind his back because he just got a full whiff of your perfume and you just smell so damn good

you twist around on your heels to look at taehyung, tilting your head with a teasing smile, “you gonna take care of my baby, taehyung?” 

“oh, i’ll take care of you, baby,” taehyung purrs, his cheeks heating up when he realises that that wasn’t just an intrusive thought and he actually said it out loud, “i mean-" he laughs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, “i’ll take care of your baby.” 

“alright, baby, i’ll see you two when i go out for lunch later-" you turn back around and head towards the large revolving doors where namjoon is waiting patiently for you with his iPad tucked under his armpit and an iced coffee in one hand and a paper bag with a random pastry in the other hand (he likes to surprise you every day with something new), “be good while i’m gone!” 

“…i want her to step on me.” seokjin blurts out as soon as you’re out of earshot, his jaw hanging open slightly as he reaches up to smooth out his own collar, “like i- my god, she could do anything to me and i’d thank her for it.” 

“tell me about it,” taehyung murmurs, body slumped over the open car door as he takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, “she called me baby. the crimes i would commit to get her to call me other names…” he stands up straight again when he sees you turn to glance at the two of them over your shoulder, flashing them another one of your signature smiles and a flirty little wave 

…god, he loves this job. 

🎙️ tell jin to close his mouth or tell taehyung to get out of the mclaren (talk to my characters!) 

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (full fics!) 

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits like this!) 

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Charlie and Angel Dust met Octavia at one of her father party. Stolas is just creepy on Imps ignore his daughter. "He doing it again on my birthday!?" "Hey kid. Want to go to fuck you dad party?" "Angel?! But really Via. I know what it like to having a father that only around when it convenient only for them." "Want to blow shit up? I got girl that can hook you up." Angel, Charlie take Via out to eat and to blow shit up at a dumpyard.

They all would know that.

[classystudentpartyslime]

You ain't reading allat

Found this in my notes app, it's a year old, let's go (⁠ノ⁠ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ⁠)⁠ノ

Hangout later

The fan in my bedroom hasn't been working for the past few days.

This isn't a problem– shouldn't be, atleast. It's winter.

Or that's how it may seem to others.

It has caused issues for me.

I mean, I find myself staring at it more often.

That in itself wouldn't be the problem, if I hadn't also been staring at the sturdy looking bedsheets, the calendar, the small ladder, a notepad, and a pen.

But I am. Way too often.

I think we often tend to miss things when they're in motion. Or we're in motion. Aren't we all in motion? The earth is spinning, after all. But it seems with the fan, I have stopped too. So now, with many thoughts behind my unoptimally functioning eyes, and from behind the sizeable lenses cased between the frame of my painfully dull black glasses, I stare.

I stare at many things, but the fan, mostly.

You see, it's not that cold yet. If the fan hadn't stopped, I'd be cozier in the night, with its regulator turned to the second last notch complimenting the weight of a thicker-than-usual blanket on my body in a way that lulls me into an easy sleep.

But, no. It had to stop. So I stare as sleep evades me, today of all days, when I felt I needed it most.

It's too warm with the blanket, suffocating. Just slightly too cold without it, in a way that stings only the back of my legs and my thighs. There is no peace either way.

My phone's ringing. I ignore the sound till it stops. I think of the days where I didn't, and how those conversations went. Tonight I don't feel like listening. Or speaking, for that matter. So I settle with staring at the fan. The phone finishes ringing and doesn't ring again.

I remember when I was younger, I used to get on top of the ladder and try to reach the blades. I'm sure I could now, if I tried, but I haven't in a while.

Maybe because that information would only cause me more unrest. Push me harder towards resting once and for all, maybe not flat on my back, but not on my feet, either.

Because I'm not that tall, so my feet wouldn't touch the floor, even if the fan hanged a little low.

The right earphone is working. The sound of chirping crickets replaces the music that's supposed to flow in from the left one. It's been broken for a while, now. So many things are, now that I think about it.

My right ear starts ringing, and suddenly I can't hear any music at all.

Usually, I'd hear the dull whirring of my fan, and the sound of air being whipped around. But there's none of that either. The sound of my thoughts occupies that silence.

I think the fan's staring at me, too. Wondering why I spend so much time decomposing on this bed. Why I'm thinking so hard, prolonging a decision that I know I will end up taking. Why I've been here so long, not even moving any part of my body except my eyelids and irises. I think the fan is tired of looking at my face. I feel sorry for my fan. Maybe things are easier for it when it's spinning, too. I feel it isn't happy with the way I'm planning to use it, at all.

What if it gives out from the ceiling, and we both fall?

My fan falls, and it says, "It's all your fault. Maybe I was a little flawed– maybe I stopped spinning for a while. For such a minor crime, did you really have to destroy me? Now I've left a hole where I was, and the ceiling misses me. I will be thrown out soon, and I'll end up in the dumpyard with the rest of the trash. Can't you have done something different?"

"Stupid girl. Look at what you did."

And I don't have an answer for my fan. Really, this was an inconsiderate decision. I never thought it would fall alongside me...but I'm not really sorry.

"So what if you didn't?" My fan says. "It's still your fault."

Still my fault. That sounds right. I've decided that most things are. I think about how I haven't heard an apology in very long.

I must really have gone insane, because fans don't speak, and I never even left my place on the bed. My fan still hangs from the ceiling, perfectly still, like it has been for days.

I think about what my fan said to me, when I realise that maybe sleep is upset with my eyes tonight for having paid no heed to it's gentle nudges throughout the day, and has decided to refrain from paying them its daily visit out of pettiness.

I think of asking my fan why it stopped.

My fan reads my mind, because it answers though I never end up asking. "Why are you always questioning me? Can't you be glad I chose a time where you don't need me as much? Atleast it's not summer, I worked hard for you this summer." my fan says.

"I gave you what you wanted, when you wanted it. What more do you want from me?"

And my fan sounds so upset, that I feel a little bad for asking in the first place. Even though I didn't really ask, and it never really answered. I'm going to stop asking if it's so sad all the time.

This whole back and forth that I just had with my fan, or didn't, sounds a little familiar to me. Or doesn't. Because I never had this conversation with someone else, but if I did, they would act out my part, and I'd be acting out the part of my fan.

I think I already do, to some extent.

"I don't know, have you thought about apologising?"

"Hello? But I'm not sorry?"

"Oh. Okay."

"..."

I think about how I don't exactly sympathize with my fan, and wonder whether it's the same for other people too. How exhausting it must be to have to badger me with questions even when I'm not causing them trouble.

"I gave you what you wanted, when you wanted it. What more do you want from me?"

"...I'm going to stop asking if you're so sad all the time."

Maybe my way of looking at this is wrong to begin with. Maybe my fan stopped moving because it died. Maybe what hangs above me now is its corpse. Such a morbid thought. We'd match if I hung my corpse from it, too. Just two hanging corpses, that were maybe friends.

"I don't know," my fan says. "Are we friends?"

"You're supposed to be dead," I say, or don't.

"Well, if you want me to be." My fan sounds upset again. "Do you want me to be?"

"That depends. Do you want to be?"

My fan doesn't answer that question. Maybe it realised that it's supposed to be dead, and shouldn't have been speaking in the first place, or it just now died, or it simply didn't feel like answering. Looking at my fan, it's not clear which one it is. Maybe it has no answer.

It's silent now, it occurs to me. It's a weird thought because it has been silent the entire time, but this silence feels more concentrated. Atleast now I'm thinking about a possible schizophrenia diagnosis instead of about killing myself. If I told someone about tonight, they'd probably laugh at me. I'd laugh with them, because it's funny, there's no denying that.

"What do you mean? I do tell you everything."

"That can't be true."

"Yes it is. It's not my fault my life's so uneventful."

"...."

"What? It is true."

Because my fan speaking to me, but not exactly, can't really be considered a real event. Right?

It's too quiet save for the ringing in my right ear, and that sound is not one that I'm fond of. So I ask my fan why it's speaking to me.

"I'm not," it says. Now that just makes matters worse.

It doesn't clear up whether my fan is dead or not. Can inanimate objects die? It doesn't even clear up whether or not it's speaking to me. I suppose if a fan can speak, a corpse should be able to speak too, since they're both inanimate. What about a fan-corpse then? Or a corpse-fan?

There's an obvious answer to all of this, of course. If inanimate things never lived in the first place, then they can't die. And by that logic they can't speak either.

"That's right." My fan confirms.

"You're going against what you're agreeing with," I say. Or think. I don't really know.

"No, that's you." My fan says, even more upset for some reason. "I haven't been speaking in the first place. It's all you."

Jesus Christ. Maybe I shouldn't have asked why it's speaking to me.

My fan doesn't respond any further, probably since my right ear stopped ringing and I can hear the music again.

I pick up my phone and turn off the song, but my fan doesn't speak anymore. This time I don't bother figuring out why. I'm not sleepy, but I don't have the energy to move more than my hands. My fan can't die, so it stays stuck between being alive and being dead, miserable in its own existence. There's no reason for me to exist that way, except for right now, when the reason is that I'm exhausted.

I don't know how much longer I can farm that excuse, because I'm growing increasingly frustrated with my own incompetence. Can't even get up to hang yourself? What a joke.

I'm miserable tonight, like I've been last night, and the night before, and the night before that, and the night before that, and many many nights before that. My body aches and so does my mind, especially my eyes as they stare at the fan.

I want my existence to end.

Was that me or the fan?

Whoever it was, it's now 2:32, so I have to wait till 3.

__________________________________________

My fan is fixed now btw

[disproportionatelysculpting]

I see her, as simple as a human

eyes decorated with colossal weariness apart from being full of emptiness, and hopelessness, drowsy and red, full anguish and hate paining equally as much as herself

She loathes the sight of herself, the face that feels like a cage, the one supposed to be kissed and teased, came to be a barren land left to rot, to be slapped and punched, dumpyard for the anger she wants to forget, but it wont change...

Her eyes stay silent, pale and dull, they who forgot how to speak language of life wishing for someone who reads it one day and calls out the hidden love behind that droopy eyelids.

[diaryofvanitas]

It's 4 am and I woke up from hunger

And I couldn't move from the headache that had erupted in my sleep

The last meal I had was biscuits

The last actual meal I had was yesterday's breakfast

Sandwich and cereal sufficed me for a day

I remember being dead thirsty

When I was half asleep

But I think my body gave up

My body isn't proud of my myself

I am a torture to it

I do not eat and I do not nourish

And I make it run like a horse

I work hard and I fall asleep

Cause I can't keep up with my pace

My brain isn't parallel to my anatomy

And I tend to mess up my body because of it

Is being hard on myself the reason

But I'm just testing the waters

When u live alone

When nobody asks u if had dinner ...

When nobody bothers u in your sleep

Like u told them too ...

When ur mom doesn't feed u half asleep

When nobody cares when ur legs pain

When nobody cares if u took ur pills

When nobody changes the sheets u cried on

Except you

Is it liberation from the society

Is it the magnificent individuality

That they talk about

Or is it abandonment from warmth

From tearing u apart from ur bones

It is but a mere life scam and u pay back ur loans .

It's been some years

Since I've been told u are not a child

And yes in some aspects I am not

But to be entirely free from what u were

For all your life

A child in ur mother's eyes.

Reality makes u believe that u are a part of the crowd and not the superhero u thought u were.

It's being ripped off from ur benevolent fiction

And the fiction was ur past not nostalgia

It is not freedom

Nor is it loneliness

It is something in between

Something full of half hatred and half love

Half acceptance and half conflict

It is becoming an adult and already conquering some of it

It is you and it is me

We all are cruel strangers to each other

Search for warmth and love in every other

The one that is unconditional the one that stays

But we are the mighty with the ego

And u won't survive the dumpyard generation

With low esteem , respect or having too much time for someone. ..

And the irony is I'm not alone

I'm not loneliness thou it seems romantic sometimes

I have two roommates

Who have probably felt the same

On a different Saturday from me

And I might have been sleeping when they were crying or thirsty

It's a c word event happening at 3 am to every human

Cause they are the main character

And I forced myself to write

The headache is gone now ..

So is the thirst ..

But the hunger only grows ..

But I get food after 2 hrs because that is

When the mess opens up

That is when I realise this isn't home.

[squeak3ater]

Stronger apart: 06/27

I called you and it rained right after

A pleasant day without a trace of ailment

I called you but I overlooked

The first time my mother called.

This evening, the sky’s blending

Charcoal and cobalt blue, dimming

Pink flashes of spontaneity

Yet reproducing the same

Dead grey like clockwork.

Petrichor, overpowered

By burning egg cartons

And random spoilage

Or perhaps the methane fumes

From the fields of fire, everlasting:

In the biggest dumpyard the city’s seen.

I live closer to the airport now

And I remember my mother going away

For work, as work necessitated

To boston, for a month.

I cried, as a child does at 7

And she didn’t come back.

And when she did

There was tension still

I’d say it was better than a birthday gift.

Years. And years.

A domestic trip set off a trajectory unforeseen

And yet all the more necessary.

You don’t fully grow up

Till you kill the child

Murder solemnised my spirit

And married me off to shared baggage.

You wish the best for your kids

And if that doesn’t work

You wish them the best.

Now half of me lives a better life,

For a better half but we’re out of time.

So I wear my clothes and fake my smiles

As I’m getting hooked to SSRIs.

[the-stray-storyteller]

Havenpoint

Warnings : Violence, language

Prev Chap Next Chap First Chap

Taglist : @anonymousfoz@holdmyteaplease (tell me if you want to be added or removed)

Note : this chapter and any chapter after this hasn't been beta read or edited which means it will have shitty grammar, a lot of spelling errors, annoying dialogues and overall just be shitty. Also this chapter does not have much in it. It's pretty boring.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 11 : The Game Penelope Knight

My fist connected with Kaleb’s jaw before he could hit Aidene. He stumbled back groaning in pain, still recovering from the kick he had received. He threw me a dirty look while he swayed on his feet, dizzy. Both Aidene’s and Anne’s eyes were wide with surprise. I sent them the most warm smile I could conjure. 

I owed no loyalty to the duo but life was a game and I wanted to be the side that wins. Their side would win this battle. I would make sure that their side wins this battle. 

My father had been obsessed with chess for as long as I can remember. He had a fascination for that little horse-shaped piece on the board. I had thought it had something to do with our last name and I still thought the same. He could have been obsessed with mediaeval knights but he chose chess. 

He taught me that life was a game of chess. Me against everyone else. Every move, word, and emotion was a play, a strategy. 

Aidene and Anne needed to know I was on their side for now. They didn't need to know that I had three reasons to help them. None of the reasons had anything to do with friendship. 

The two minor reasons were that Kaleb had been annoying me for the past half an hour and I didn’t want to break whatever verbal contract I had signed with Aidene.

The major one was that Kaleb knew the purple-haired girl. Moreover, it seemed like he had some dirt on her. I could use that. If I was going to work with her I needed a failsafe for me. If they tried to stab me in the back I would have a gun with me. 

“You fucking bitch!” He yelled and jumped for me. To my surprise Valentina attacked. The word ‘attack’ would be generous. She had thrown herself on Kaleb causing both of them to stumble to the ground. He pushes Valentina off him and leaps towards Aidene who was standing right in front. He grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls it down. His hand keeps her from running away. Aidene doesn’t shout. Instead, she grinds her teeth together, her eyes tearing up.

Kaleb howled in pain. Anne had joined the fight, her fingernails dug into his face. She dragged them across leaving angry red marks in its wake. Kaleb let go of Aidene, bringing his hands up to his marred face.

“Stay the fuck away from her!” Anne growled out. Kaleb ran his fingers over the cuts.

The students around us started chanting. Phones held up to record. Bets were passed around, everybody took a side to cheer on. The adrenaline running through my veins was addictive. I turned around to see Aidene with her teeth bared out, her hands clawed, and a sharp glint in her eyes. She looked feral and I swear that I heard her growl. Anne had a deadly cold look on her face, a sharpness to her calm. Valentina had brought her fists up in a meek offensive pose. 

Penelope was certain Aidene would have attacked if it weren’t for the teacher.

“What is going on here?” The crowd dispersed at the sound of the teacher’s voice. Students scrambled to get out of sight. However, the five of us were stuck under her keen gaze.

“What is going on here?” She repeated, taking in Kaleb’s injured face. 

****

The room was filled with broken furniture. A dumpyard classroom. It was dusty and the lights flickered to stay on. My eyes scanned the other three girls I was thrown in here with. There was a boy with us. Roy, I think his name was. I had no idea where the teacher dragged Kaleb off to after we all blamed the situation on him.

Miss Danvers, the teacher, pressed her lips into a thin line kicking a leg of a broken chair out of her way. I swallowed thickly, this teacher was known to play favourites and I wasn’t on her good list. Her wrinkled features were set in a permanent scowl and her movements were stiff and accurate as she walked towards us.

“This place is to be our new chemistry lab,” the teacher swiped her finger over a dusty table observing the thick layer of dust, “ As detention the five of you will be coming here to clean this place up every day after school. Spend as much time as you want over here to do so.”

“For how long?” Groaned Valentina.

“Till the day when not a speck of dust lies in this room.” I suppressed a scoff at her dramatics. 

“What about Kaleb?” Aidene asked, her tone suspicious.

“He will be mowing the lawns by himself.” With that she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Why are you here? And who are you?” Aidene asked, sending Roy an inquisitive glance.

“Roy Robinson, I forgot to submit my homework for the third time this week. And you?” He said with a smile, he outstretched his hand for Aidene to shake. She ignored it.

“Can’t believe your name’s an alliteration,” she let out a small chuckle, “Aidene Rayners. Kicked somebody in the gut.” Roy gave her a nervous smile, settling himself down on an unstable chair.

“That lanky wonky chair won’t hold Robinson,” Aidene taunted. As if on cue the chair creaked loudly under Roy sending him scurrying and tripping. The purple-haired girl’s body shook with the struggle of holding her laugh in. 

I watched as Aidene struggled to get a hold of her laughter. Her eyes glistened with tears. Her laugh was fire-like. Destroying everything else and leaving only one burning feeling and presence. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her. Valentina joined in too and Roy let out nervous huffs of laughter looking at the chair with disdain. The only one who wasn’t laughing was Anne. Aidene’s eyes darted towards her, the laughter dying out of her awkwardly. Something had happened between them, I saved that information for later. 

“Let’s get started. The faster we get over with this, the better,” Rayners grabbed a broom and handed it over to Brookes, “You can start with that side darling.” She waved towards a particularly dusty patch of the room. Valentina walked over dejectedly and the rest of us started to sort through the furniture. 

I dusted in silence and I swear I could hear the walls of the school whisper to me. The whispers were soft and muttering. Against my better judgment, I listened to them. The world spiralled out of my mind. The screeching of the tables being pushed disappeared. The muttering grew louder drawing me in. I strained my ears to listen, to understand. The muttering seeped through the walls like water trickling through gaps, cold and unstoppable. I tried to make sense of them but they only became louder, demanding. They seemed like senseless words strung together, but they made sense somewhere in the back of my mind.

There was a commotion in the back, but it seemed like it was coming from underwater. It was muffled and distant. I was about to ignore it but Valentina grabbed my attention.

“Penelope!” She yelled into my ear making me flinch. I broke out of my reverie and glared back at her.  

“You okay?” Her dark onyx eyes stared at me with concern.

“Just zoned out.”  

I looked around. Aidene and Anne had retreated to a corner speaking in hushed urgent voices, their heads close together. Anne snapped back at Aidene who looked guilty but overjoyed. Roy was playing around with a broken chair leg. The room looked no different from when we started cleaning it but the sun had gone down and the sky had gone dark. How long was I trying to listen to the whispers?

“Okay, guys!” Aidene clapped her hands together as she walked towards us, “It's almost dinner and I genuinely cannot push any more tables.” I could see a sheen of sweat on her forehead. 

“Valentina, Penelope,” she threw us a glare, “both of you were no help at all.”

“I helped!” Valentina protested. 

“You gave up after carrying one chair,” Roy muttered. Aidene raised her hands, silencing all of us. I narrowed my gaze at her. When did she become the leader? 

“Guys,” Aidene groaned, “Dinner. I am hungry.” Her mouth tilted into a sharp smile, stardust sparkling in her eyes. She was excited about something. Anne was still glaring. I couldn’t help but laugh internally, both of them were good opponents. This would be a fun game. 

[halloweenvalentine1997]

The ones I love are strung like a charm around my spouting neck

the locket of you

Killing your picture

while holding it dear

Slit you

I’ll kiss the mirage with your face instead of loving you in real life

He’ll catch my bedscreams like he’s holding butterflies

while I’m glued or stapled or frozen on soft surfaces

He holds

You only desecrate

So let’s go back to August and see you lurch and die on the grounds of the music festival

where you suddenly appeared like a stalker

at the onslaught of night

( how did you know I’d be there?

why follow me around like the ones I’ve craved before you did, knowing my every move? )

The last vestige of my heart fell out in the camping tent

and I felt the forest fire killing me

and I felt the wrath of a rogue plastic surgeon

and I walked on a beach littered with washed-up clams

and I went to Seattle and walked under a concrete bridge

and contemplated throwing you in the water

and the water turned into the lawn of a crematorium under a blind blue sky

where I held a marijuana pipe in hand

I’m wanting to impale eyes that see too much of me

Following me in circles

sacrificing me in cornfields like a cauterized piece of dumpyard trash

Pieces of scalp and blond hair next to a fallen roll of quarters

He’s laughing next to me

He has your face

We laugh at all the violence we feel

towards so many people like you who have made us vow to hate

the world and all the men it holds

I’ll love the one my head created

No one real will do

I’ll ruin anyone who promises me a garden

They just want to grind me up like meat

So leave me to grow stale and pale

and disappear in the smoke

Bleed dry my brain of you

- Vivica Salem

[doctor-says-im-alright]

God the internet has lost so much nuance. Its not trauma dumping or not sharing anything. Its dont force your friends to do it all and not do anything yourself. Like I get it, it hurts, but having been on both sides, it is SO exhausting when the only thing or really main thing someone talks about is depressing and they never do things about it?? And youre just there trying your best to help and they just only vent to you and you never do anything fun?? Its so fucking exhausting I want to put an ice pick through my skull.

Dont only reach out to vent. Share it, too, care about them and ask them how they are doing and put the SAME amount of effort into your responses as they do. Like man it fucking hurts when someone uses you as an emotional dumpyard and then when you try to vent you get “ok” and “that sucks” and nothing else.

Do something fun in between things. Dont have your relationship only be venting.

Oh and finally, most importantly. You better be making sure the person youre talking to is okay with it and youre not triggering them. The amount of people thatll just start talking about intense shit to me without asking is so god damn infuriating, you have brought me down with you. Give me warning so I can be in the right frame of mind.

Like youre shitting on people who say to stop traumadumping. These are people being emotionally taken advantage of and probably have a lot of pain in their own lives! And youre really feeling entitled to hurt them. Like its not either or! Its dont be a jerk about it. Yes some things you really cant say to most people, second hand trauma DOES EXIST. Especially for your friends who really want to help and care about you. When you give those details you can drive them to becoming suicidal. No joke. Dont make people feel responsible for you. Its best to find people whove been through it too and therapists for those nitty gritty stuff.

But also I wish people werent so selfish and followed these standards when I vent to them and I wish more people get it.

“stop traumadumping to your friends tell this to your therapist” my god they paywalled human connection

[juppycab]

This is near Udaipur, just 1.5 hours away❤️✨

The location is 📍Marble waste dumping Yard, Rajsamand .

You can search it on google maps🌸

There is another famous dumping yard that is in Kishangarh and is 5 hours away from Udaipur and is 100kms from Jaipur🌴❤️

#beautifuldestinations#rajasthan #dumpyard #rajasthantourism #kishangarh #udaipur #travel #travelreels #explore

[inpursuitofnunchi]

Got an adhd diagnosis at 28 and i feel liberated and euphoric. I feel seen. Everything makes sense now. 😭😭😭

[aishu-no-melody]

If Satoshi hadn't gone into a coma he and Rena would be in that Hoarders dumpyard vaping and listening to Lana del rey Ride

[cavenewstimes]

36kg of crystal meth seized

TNN / Mar 2, 2024, 05:51 IST AA Text Size Small Medium Large Sleuths of Directorate of Revenue Intelligence ( DRI ), Chennai Zone, seized 36kg of ethamphetamine ‘ crystal meth ’ worth Rs 180 crore from Madurai Railway Junction and Kodungaiyur dumpyard in Chennai on Friday. ‘Crystal meth’, is a addictive drug that exhibits powerful euphoric effects. Based on intelligence that a passenger…

[lexaous]

Welcome to my dumpyard. Would you like some trash? Don't like it, well... meehhh

[inside-the-tardis]

It is now the first day of the rest of my life, and this is where this book begins. It begins with me drinking magic mushroom tea, it is 3:30 pm and I have drunk all of my psilocybin.

I can now feel the pull of the mushroom,, though slight, it is never over bearing. A strong pondeence to thinking, naturally movnig over to the mind. I try to be calm, and document all things I can feel. I feel very awake, I burp and I can feel my heart beat, faster than normal, I see pink everywhere, or a hue of pinkness. I can hear my own breath. I feel weirdly anxious and paranoid. I don't believe in therapy, or art schools, or writing schools, or proof reading,

I needed to have aplan to settle down, buy a house.

I lit a candle, a Fresh Linen smelling candle, which now fills my room with the scent of freshly washed clothes. I feel weirdly thirsty. I'm aware that I probably smell, and my eyes are as huge as bowling balls right now. My trip seems to be limited to a single room, virtue of place and time that I've decided to ingest the substance. I wait with bated breath. Almost 5 pm

Pink shadows dance, I wonder if it of use for them to live in my eyes, maybe I should close my eyes for a bit, or try taking a shower? Maybe eat a few things? Maybe cook dinner and pack lunch tomorrow? That would be a good run of the mill productive day. Maybe even get a work out done before dinner, that would always help. A workout and a shower. I could really be good at this clean girl aesthetic. All these pink and purple lines everywhere made vision easy. Sweet and pleasing to my eyes. I liked the color and I enjoyed this state of being as well.

i de-tangle my hair, albeit grudingly. i listen as my neighbour pours into the sink, washing dishes and prepping for her dinner in a moment. She was quick like that and clean, I admired her for it and tried to emulate in so many different ways. This shall be my learning expereince as well as test. I hope I excel. Its about 5:20 now and I believe I have peaked in the experience. The colours still dance but I have retained my calm for now. I proceed to play sweet music on my speakers. 5.55 I have not yet successfully played music. My trip seems to be getting stronger and my grip on reality loosening. I think I hsould take my own advice and have a shower. I hate vile vile cigarettes and I vow then after this trip never shall I smoke no more. Let my life always be remembered in these passing hours, always having enough to smoke but choosing not to. But I'm not speaking just about smoking. My mind seems louder than everywhere else. I will emerge after a shower, which I still haven't taken. Motor and cognitive skills are rather time consuming and difficult to put together. My brain suffers becasue of this overload of auditory and visual stimulus. Still quite note worthy that I'm able to (Somewhat) coherently type and oeprate musci. My room probably smells like a dumpyard. 8pm . I have made dinner. A thousand thoughts stream in my head. I seem to have the endless night to work thorugh my fears. Life continues as is, the downfall of the day time, the endless night before dawn can break, almost always quite suddenly. I loved being inside the city however, and I was aware that many English people themselves were not privy to such a life. Indeed, many would be lucky to be where I am, which in itself is a thing to be grateful about.

I believe I have still much to assimilate. More on this later, however. I had to find a way to make my routine bearable.