styofa doing anything
Today's Document
JVL
Game of Thrones Daily
Misplaced Lens Cap
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
#extradirty
Andulka
if i look back, i am lost
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
One Nice Bug Per Day
wallacepolsom
No title available
Peter Solarz
pixel skylines
Kiana Khansmith
⁂
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Not today Justin
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Brunei
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Lithuania
seen from Türkiye
@reneenomorely
“You could make a ton of money renting it out to people from school who need a place to party.”
“Except with the problem that I’m living there and I don’t want to hear the consistent chatter and bullshit of people ruining my stuff. I’ll keep it in the back of my mind, though.”
“Read a book. Take initiative…Here–” Bridgit held out her latest book, the cover facing up. “…Fahrenheit 451. Ray Bradbury.”
“Read it.” Ren held up a hand to dissuade the other from further offering the book, “Not the best dystopian I’ve read, either.”
“Is this a party invitation Ren?”
“Honestly? I don’t want these people touching all of my shit. If we could keep a quiet party, it would be.”
And you’re shouting out into the abyss for an invitation to something, right?
“I’m talking to myself. I do it a lot. I generally just go places. I don’t wait for invitations.”
“Rickard went on a work trip over in Italy to meet a client for the rest of the month, so I have the house to myself. Admittedly I’m not planning on doing anything with that. But other than his sudden leave, with assistant in tow mind you, I’ve got literally nothing planned for the summer.”
“How am I? Well, they’ve started filming the X-Files again, so I’m ecstatic. I mean, it’s only a few episodes, but that’s probably more than enough. Twin Peaks, too! Although that’s coming back 2016… Sorry. I mean, what about you? How are you? ”
“They started filming Twin Peaks again? Interesting. I don’t so much care about the X-Files but ... eh. I’m fine, I suppose. Doesn’t matter. Are they doing more than just the one seasons of Twin Peaks?”
“What? Oh –– Yeah of course I’m excited for summer, I mean, I guess. But it’s not really a new concept y’know? It’s the same thing every year, school’s out, and the madness begins. Then the summer craze ends and school starts again…so…Sorry I don’t mean to be lame or anything. Do you have anything cool planned?”
“Tell me about it. The prospect of rotting in my house for the summer is more disheartening than anything I can manage to conceive. Not lame, it’s true.”
Lonely Water | Cole & Ren
“Lady luck plays an ironic hand,” He said, almost singing, “always touching those who mustn’t be touched.” The house was very old, if you could even call it a house. Cole couldn’t, not when he knew what was underneath the makeshift I Love Lucy thing that was going on along the rooms of the first floor. When he’d first found it, the watch on his wrist was new and very gold and the smile on his lips was looser and he didn’t know a damn thing about anything.
“Lover’s quarrel over a misplaced duster?” He asked out loud, only to pick up the answer after waiting a beat. “I don’t know, actually, probably a joke.” Thought definitely not a pun, he wanted to add, but he was already creeping into the darkness and down the stairs. It was a short amount of stairs, not the dark foreboding kind, though those wouldn’t be questioned at all. Cole was sure that this place is only as mysterious as the people in it. He felt a dusty wall for a light switch when he hit the bottom, he didn’t know how it worked and why, but he didn’t question it. The fact that this was probably owned by someone. He flicked a switch and disappeared into the one and only door onwards. And then they were there in all of its glory. A window like wall with chairs looking inwards was what they saw first, casting an open view of a tall room, taller than the house with a long wall pointing onwards and upwards. Racquets were scattered around the ground and one of them had CK engraved. It was a training room of sorts, the type that took a lot of money to make. It was a giant secret beneath the grass. “Only a mad king would let this place decay, don’t you think?” He asked as he shrugged off his bag and pulled out a bottle–svodka–it read.
“I certainly wouldn’t muss or fuss if she touched me,” Ren mused, her voice a low whisper and tinged with a bit of mischief. A moment later it was dissipated as she followed the boy around and not unlike a little puppy, when he spoke of the knife again she did allow for a wicked grin. “Fucked each other and then fucked the couch.” Briefly went the cogs in her head with the symbology of knives, the intimacy and notations of virginal penetration that they often represented in popular culture or films. Those thoughts chased her all the way down the short set of stairs and only her breath made noise as she went.
When he flicked the switch she stayed put for the longest of times, looking around at everything as she had been doing this entire trip, this whole time. Quite suddenly his stories of racquetball kings became more clear, quite literal, and only when he spoke again did Ren move from the sudden post. In a small perimeter she went, like windshield wipers first one way and then another, until she reached the glass. Inward she stared with wide blue eyes, allowing fingers to touch at the cool window as light as they dared, and when he shifted to peel away the bag she turned back to him with a sincere expression that was childlike and well-lit.
“There’s a symphony in madness,” she had no idea how to play the game this room kept secret but the idea that there was a secret down below and in the depths of something so dilapidated felt oddly enlightening. His own excitement must have been feeding into her, or perhaps she genuinely felt the rush herself, but when her eyes fell onto the bottle that he kept she finally shifted away from the wall and returned to him -- though a little closer than she had been before. “And what do I repay for the cost of sharing such secrets and spirits, I wonder.”
he saw the opportunity and took it
I was 17 when my mother disappeared. One day she was here, cleaning and making dinner, and the next, she was g o n e .
oo2, Therapy & Medications.
Ren has been attending therapy since her mother left when she was 14, though her mother had been insisting on medicating her daughter for much earlier than that.
There was a thought that her apathy was a symptom of mental distress, and while her therapist has discovered that Ren is actively suffering from Bipolar Disorder she is privately refusing medication. The apathy is not a side-effect of anything, rather an attribute of her personality due to her home life. Ren attends therapy three times a week and generally shoots the shit with her doctor, who she does not believe has a genuine interest in her problems. When she is prescribed medications she fills them, and routinely flushes them down the toilet.
Ren is currently in a major depressive episode, and has been suffering the effects of this for more than a year, while she actively hides her thoughts and general emptiness from those around her. She believes nobody truly cares, and that she isn’t suffering anything at all.
I am not “full of hate” as if I were some passive container. I am a generator of hate, and my rage is a renewable resource, like sunshine.
Through the Grapevine.
True to her word of skipping classes all week, Ren has not attended a single one. Instead she has been lounging around at home or exploring the town. Such was the instance with Cole Kent, who showed her a hidden treasure among the city of Heffes. Ren’s headspace hasn’t been quite clear lately, and the girl is worried that things will start to unravel worse than they already have.
omg
@ripandrend: and i wanted to believe that i'd get caught up when the rage in me subsides
Dammit Ren, I forget what a poetic genius you are. I swear, you put me to shame like, all the time.
One of the boys who came around and suddenly disappeared said I sounded like I was from the inside of an Edgar Allen Poe story. I’m liable to believe it.
You think so? What else could it be?
The calm before the storm. Likely some shit that will screw with all of us, drama or what have you. Not the usual shit, either.
