untoxify:
can anyone who has kae’s number call her? i’m really worried. ( diiabolism )
Misplaced Lens Cap

tannertan36
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
todays bird
taylor price
trying on a metaphor
YOU ARE THE REASON

@theartofmadeline

Love Begins

Andulka

Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

occasionally subtle
hello vonnie
Peter Solarz
$LAYYYTER

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@violetiism
untoxify:
can anyone who has kae’s number call her? i’m really worried. ( diiabolism )

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effervescentvibes:
SIGNAL BOOST SIGNAL BOOST GUYS IM SCARED FOR THE ENVIRONMENT. By 2050, there will be approx 9.2 billion people on this planet. It’s predicted we’re going to use 80% more energy than we already do today. The global warming rate is going to raise by 6 degrees, which is absolutely insane because all the glaciers are going to melt. That’s going to cause the sea levels to rise. That means most of Manhattan, San Francisco, Venice, and countless other cities everywhere will be flooded and underwater. TODAY AS OF 2014, nearly HALF of the species on earth have gone extinct. Think of what it will be in 2050. The scientists predict that if no immediate action is taken by 2020, OUR EARTH WILL BE SCREWED. In 2050, I won’t even be a grandma yet. I can’t even imagine the world my grandchildren will have to live in, if there is still one left. WE MUST DO SOMETHING. EVERYONE, must take part, the future of this earth is counting on YOU. If EVERYONE recycled, turned off their lights when they weren’t in use, unplugged appliances and turned off the water when it isn’t used…think of the difference we can make. Please guys, you shouldn’t just brush global warming off as if it’s a minor issue, this is huge and scary. Please reblog to spread awareness of this serious and very real issue. Thank you so much
isabellemeoww:
☾ take a breath ☼
phxrmacy:
// bellevue verse ;
Omar sat torpid in one of the many armchairs encompassing the television room. Gaze fixated ahead without actually seeing, he was listening intently to the noise around him in a vain attempt to drown out his inner monologue. A week without anything to numb or relieve his anxiety sent him into random bouts of hyperactive behaviours; pacing or constant muttering. And then there were the down times, like now, with the sitting, the staring and the unbearable thinking.
The amount of people he felt truly comfortable around was measurable, he could count them on one hand. Omar hadn’t seen anyone from this short list for seven days now. Instead surrounded by strangers, forced to sit among them just to be distracted from himself. Slowly falling out of his period of indifference Omar blinked repeatedly, eyes watering as he returned to the awareness that he’d been staring at someone for god-only-knew how long.
He mumbles a soft apology while folding his arms across his front. ❛ I’m Omar. ❜ His introduction is awkward at best, having rather preferred to flee the other’s scrutiny its the advice from his counsellor that keeps him seated and spurs him on. ❛ I thought there’d be more… art therapy here –you know? ❜
The television had been playing episode after episode after episode of the Powerpuff Girls now at the mercy of Violet being the one who somehow managed to get control of the remote. That was rare but when it happened, you knew about it. The last time she did it, she had forced the rest of the room to watch about twelve hours of the Shopping Channel because the man on it was testing out those unhygienic blow-pens. She didn't see the grossness of it, just the ‘magic’. Besides she was more or less oblivious to everybody else’s hatred for her TV taste. When she was endorsed in something there wasn’t much that would drag her attention away from it. Especially if that something was the Powerpuff Girls. That’s why it took her a whole fifteen minutes, aka when the end credits started, to realise she was actually being spoken to...and even better, it wasn’t somebody moaning at her for hiding the remote. “Do you have a sketch book?” was her automatic response. It would have been more considerate of her to notify the poor guy that quite a few people did art in the activity room or the gardens, but she always got over-excited about people who showed the slightest interest in the things she liked. “I’d show you mine, but it’s in my room and I can’t be bothered to go and get it yet. Did your therapist not give you watercolours when you arrived?” Generally, little gifts such as those were what was known as ‘Violet-Privilege’. Clearly even her therapist forgot she was twenty and a not twelve year old that should be spoiled, sometimes. She crossed her legs up into the chair she was sitting on. Now she was endorsed in this conversation and others in the room didn’t hang around to flick over to something less colourful while she wasn’t paying attention to the fuzzy television. “I’m Violet, what’s your name?” Great listen skills, Vi.

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blvckdvvmvnd:
{ bellevue verse }
rae hated this place with every fiber of her being. she’d rather od again ( no, she wouldn’t, but it’s a more fun thought to have ) than be stuck another day in this one long ass hallway with these… psychos. which she wasn’t, she liked to remind everyone – she just liked having fun.
she had been there enough times to know and butter up some of the staff, and learned when to use the occasional c h a o s to sneak away and find time for herself. today, some girl had to be sedated and it took five nurses, so she found herself in one of the vacant rooms. actually, this room was always vacant – the rumor was that multiple patients had killed themselves in there – and no staff member ever found themself wandering near it.
rae’d just about dropped the baggie of joints she’d managed to breeze past the supposedly tight security when she noticed someone sitting in what she’d deemed her spot. “jesus christ,” she hissed, practically snatching the bag out of the air and stuffing it back up her sleeve. “the fuck’re you doin’ in here?”
There were days Violet liked to be with people. Better than that, she longed for it. If somebody were to vote her as the most socialable person in this place they wouldn't be unwise. Talking and people were just her things. But there were also days Violet only wanted to be with very specific people. The ones that existed inside of her head in reality, but she didn't know that and didn't like to be reminded of it. Today was definitely the second kind of day...
"We're not smoking joints, if sharing's what you're worried about," she said in her usual light tone, watching as the girl moved in a haste to hide what she'd brought with her. Violet was sat on the window ledge on the far side of the room, one leg up and bent and the other dangling. Not that you could call it much of a window. For one it was tiny and secondly, it was dirty and had rusted bars across it. She could only imagine that if this old room was ever a place they actually made patients stay and sleep, if they weren't crazy when they went in, they definitely would be coming out. "We were talking," she suddenly decided to answer, sliding down from the ledge, happy to leave the girl in peace if that's what she wanted.
Or was she? The blonde had heard about the suicide rumours surrounding this room and while she for one was not somebody who had that in mind, who was to say the girl in front of her wasn't either?? She stopped just before the door, turning to look at the other girl. "--What're you doing here, then?"
nicotineyouth:
♛ bellevue !
AFTER SPENDING FOUR years in an inpatient hospital, casper has learned to form routines in order to keep a schedule and maintain a natural balance of things – however, cas’ routine is currently being violated, and he’s not quite sure whether or not this person is aware of it or not. ❛ you’re in my seat. ❜ granted, it’s not quite HIS seat, but he can’t remember a time when he sat elsewhere for meals. ❛ this is my seat, ❜ he repeats, a little louder. ❛ please, PLEASE get out and eat somewhere else. i’ve never eaten anywhere besides there. please move. ❜
It took Violet a while to put two and two together, which was unsurprising. It took Violet a while to put anything together. "Is he talking to me?" she had mumbled to herself or somebody whose presence only she was aware of. Still, as soon as she recognised that she was indeed the person being addressed, she shuffled over two or three seats and then turned back to the individual. She couldn't say he wasn't familiar. "Is it a special chair?" she asked with genuine curiosity. Her legs swung back and forth under her new seat, genuinely interested to hear whatever reply he might have. "Why do you like it so much?"
vellichvr:
bellevue inpatients only.
They’re staring down at their hands & avoiding eye contact with this s t r a n g e r. i shouldn’t be here. i shouldn’t be here. i shouldn’t be here. a shuddering breath departs their pale lips & a tiny, shaky, stutter fills the air between the two. “c-can i help you?” how they managed to be this blunt & rude ( especially because they were raised on g o o d mannerisms and how to be seen but not heard ) was a mystery they hadn’t yet solved. their eyes then dart to the tray of food before them, before raising to meet the gaze of the other, “ you h-hungry or somethin’? ”
Even after four years it never quite failed to startle Violet at how frightened people looked. Genuinely frightened. She had just been passing through, nothing more and nothing less, although the girls naturally lesuirely pace did sometimes make it look like she was prying, looking for something. That wasn't entirely false. She liked having people to talk to. What else was there to do after all? She turned her head to look at the other, and then the tray of food. "I just ate," the bluntness was returned but not to much effect. She was smiling, after all. "--And I just got back from my councillor, so I've had all the help I need today. Technically. Are you hungry? You don't seem to be enjoying that."
diiabolism:
( ▒ ☓ – violetiism ‣ )
curiosity seems to get the best of him as his gaze flickered to the plate that sat there before her. a slight look of disgust claiming his lips despite his efforts to stop it. the corner of his mouth pulled into his mouth a bit more, teeth biting at his lesser lip where the metal use to pierce his skin. why anyone would think lip could honestly hurt himself with his piercing was beyond him. but with all this darkness there seemed to be the slightest glimmer of light as the petite’s voice picked up. her words flowing in a way that reminded him vaguely of his mother. – this very well could have also been due to the long ( blonde ) locks that seemed to cascade down her back. “i- don’t remember the last time i actually ordered a salad… or had one…” he trailed off before sinking his hands deep into his back pockets. “i think i may be going in one large circle… i’ve seen this room about two or three times on my travels… you’re just the first person i’ve seen.”
"Don't be so rude,” Violet said, turning her attention to the seemingly empty chair opposite her, “He’s probably new -- besides, you still get lost.” She stood up giving Lip an apologetic look as she wandered over to the bins to clear her plate. “Ignore him, he’s an A* hypocrite,” she only half-whispered, now looking over her shoulder at the male who was actually visible. Surprisingly to most people, Violet took in a lot whilst spending day-after-day-after-day in this place, despite the fact most of them took one look at her and doubted she even knew her own name. “I might’ve seen you already, but I can’t find a name to put to the face for the life of me,” she explained, now standing back by the table with Lip. She held out her hand. “I’m Violet, or Vi. Same thing, right. It’s probably best you keep your salad situation the way it is - the ones here are nothing to write home about.” she said before adding, “Do you want me to show you some anything’s? There’s the kitchen...the activity room...a lot of corridors...the garden, if it’s open?”
faunaisms:
Turning his attention to the voice of a female, hopeful eyes are sent in her direction. He in’t sure WHAT he’s expecting but hearing it does get easier would be pretty damn nice. Of course, he’s let down. Being a drama king like always, his arms dropped & his head rested back against the table. With his forehead pressed against it for a moment, his eyes closed & he feels FLUSTERED. He knows it’s rude to not look at the girl as she spoke so he turned his attention. She’s decent looking, cute as hell especially for being locked up in this place. He’s then reminded of his general distaste in blondes. The thoughts are shaken off as he focused in on her words, a frown taking over his lips. ❝ God’s not real. ❞ He stated in a matter of fact manner, scoffing. Deep down, he knows she is right. Maybe it’s not about the god part but the general idea of what she was saying was correct. He’s grateful for the change of subject, not wanting to DWELL on the past topic. He might end up CRYING if he keeps thinking about it. ❝ Nah. ❞ He shook his head, speaking carelessly. ❝ I’m so tired I don’t even think I really CARE how I sit. ❞ He shrugged, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.
"Probably not." Violet says in response to the God comment. The honest truth of the matter was that she had no idea whether he existed and she wasn't sure she cared anymore. Being brought up in a strictly Catholic family as an antagonistic child had taught her to be a little bit too fluid with her personal opinions on those kinds of things. "But neither is Santa and yet fat middle-aged guys at local malls pretend to be him. It's the same with the people who run this place and God." She continued to fiddle with the hem of her skirt, only glancing up to take note of how exhausted the boy looked. Not a familiar feeling to Violet who seemed to have a twenty-four hour supply of energy all day, every day. "Do you sleep well?" she asked. It was an obvious question but you would be surprised at the number of people who sat up awake, thinking they were the only ones in the whole building. "I have a friend who says it's easier to sleep in the acitivity room during dinner when everybody else is eating and then get dinner after. It's got a nicer vibe than the dorms," she explained. "How new are you?"

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diiabolism:
[ bellevue verse. ]
a faint and almost shaky breath fell from his lips as he approached one of the many strangers. “…m..excuse me, have you any idea where.. i can find uh– anything?” he asked nervously, before shrugging his shoulders. “i’ve been wandering for… twenty minutes now.”
Honestly, Violet was thrilled to have her attention dragged away from what was supposed to be a garden salad. Technically, she couldn't complain. The ingredients were there - tomatos, carrots, cucumber, you name it. But clearly, the word 'salad' was lost on whoever had prepared the piece of art she was currently dismantaling with her fork, because rather than being all mixed together - like a salad - said ingredients were sat segrogated on her plate. "Anything..." she echoed, as if it were an actual place she was trying to remember how to reach. It was only then she glanced up and automatically realised she recognised the face that'd just now approached her. Her focus quickly shifted back to the vegetables, "The nice thing about wanting to find anything is that you can usually get to it by going anywhere," she offered, "unless your anything is a salad -- then no such luck."
untoxify:
bellevue verse only.
The good thing about anti-anxiety medication? It made Lincoln a practically functioning human being, one that could step out of his assigned room without curling into the fetal position and hyperventilating. The bad part? The dose the doctors gave him made him basically narcoleptic. If he wasn’t completely drugged out of his mind he might be embarrassed by how often he fell asleep at random times during daily activities. He must’ve drifted off sitting up on the couch in the activity room because he was startled awake when someone entered through the open doorway. He did his best to feign that he hadn’t just been in a deep sleep after nodding off with a book in his hand, clearing his throat and focusing on the words again.
"And that is how Will Smith taught me not to judge sharks..." Violet said to the 'person' she'd just entered the room with. It wasn't until she had plopped down into the empty space on the sofa with a poof, letting her daisy printed skirt fan out around her and stretched out her pale, gangly legs that she noticed the boy next to her. A rather exhausted looking boy at that. Immediately, her head snapped to face in the other direction, addressing the other person sat next to her, "Would you shut up? He's trying to sleep-read," she whispered. However, Violet had never been a girl of the discreet variety, so it was closer to a stage-whisper. "I'm so sorry," she said, her look reading nothing but apologetic as she turned back to face the boy next to her. "I'm in the process of trying to get her to use her indoor voice," she said, gesturing over her shoulder to what in reality was an empty space. "Is that good?" she asked with a smile, tapping the top of the book in the others hands. "What's it about?"
faunaisms:
[ bellevue verse ]
Even while heavily medicated, Caspar still held the tendency to be rather DRAMATIC. With his head rested against the table, Caspar let out a loud exhale. He’s stressed, much like everyone else in this place is. ❝ It gets better, right? This whole shit? ❞ His words are strained & whiny. He sat up in the tiniest amount, elbows rested on the table & his chin in his hands. His expression was VOID of any emotion. All Caspar really wanted was a good high or a nice fuck. Unfortunately, those were two of the things that LANDED him in here.
Why was it that Violet always seemed to have an immense curiousity when it came to those who appeared to be more than distressed about their current situations? "Mm.." The hum that passed through her sealed lips said one of two things. She was either racking her brain for an appropriate and not-so-disappointing answer to his inevitably disappointment-worthy question. Or, it was a rare occassion where she wasn't in the mood for talking. "I don't think it does," she said, proving her hum to mean the former of the two options, "--I think the idea is that you get better and then someone who likes to play God will decide when you're entitled to live somewhere nicer." For a girl who spoke with a slight uplift, as if even she was questioning her own logic, her reply had been agonizingly true. Offering a lopsided smile, she looked at the boy for a silent moment before saying, "Doesn't sitting like that hurt your elbows?"
bbygrrll:
i’m a delicate little fairy please do not raise your voice or say mean things to me bc i will burst into tears

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