
#extradirty
Today's Document
YOU ARE THE REASON
Cosmic Funnies
cherry valley forever
art blog(derogatory)
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
i don't do bad sauce passes

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

if i look back, i am lost
Not today Justin
Mike Driver

titsay
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

ellievsbear
Xuebing Du

Andulka

Discoholic 🪩
wallacepolsom
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@gosssmer

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smallll hiatus as i just got hired at a new job & am settling into a new apartment as well !!!
muse a purchases a new home and it has an attic. in the attic they discover a photograph of someone. muse looks at the frame of the photograph and it has a letter. The letter states “you found it, it was meant for you and you must read this aloud” or something like that. Your muse thinks it’s crazy and says they’re not doing it.. but they read it in their mind and that was enough to make the chant on the letter work and do its thing. when muse a wakes up the next day, the person in the photo (muse b) is sleeping beside them ready to thank muse a for freeing them.
I want dance to be the witchcraft – I want it to kill.
Damien Jalet

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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* pyrlte.
desperation trickles into his fingertips, twisting themselves further into shirt sleeves to hide the way his bones want to crack beneath the pressure. maybe he had been idealistic from the start ; too focused on the traditional plan that’s laid out before any couple and wanting so badly to fall in line with the footsteps of his own parents. anger no longer hollows out his ribcage, instead replaced by a solemnity he now thinks he should have adorned the whole time. setting himself in someone else’s shoes had always been his biggest lacking. ‘ it never even crossed my mind. ’ his teeth find his lower lip as his eyes shuffles between the kitchen sink and her knees. he works to keep his vowels soft and make sure the next string of words leave him softly, void of any misconception of bitterness. ‘ because it’s us and i assumed that we were on the same page and that —- i’ve never thought about an end for us, and i didn’t think a ring was going to change that. ’
the barricade finally falls when his arms hang at his sides again. he audibly exhales once, long and slow, a physical attempt at resetting the atmosphere. it had never been about not wanting her, nor about no longer trying. hearing the resounding ‘ no ’ that evening had only put charles in a place of fear ; shuddering into a corner like a wounded animal. he wouldn’t be able to handle idling by for years, settling into a plateau before she inevitably pushes him off the cliff. he wouldn’t be able to survive the fall. ( surely wouldn’t be able to handle losing her either. ) his body turns towards the couch seconds after a murmured, ‘ i’m sorry for pushing. ’
cherry feels lighter. a weight lifted off her shoulders like she can breathe easy again and look at him with a different expression, softer though still not entirely lax. her posture hasn’t changed, a guarded undertone in the slight furrow of her brows and pronounced stiffness of her body’s positioning. as of late she’s been a walking nostalgia, living with the constant dread that they’re not in high school anymore. it feels like she could blink and be back to a time when all they had to worry about most evenings was turning in a paper or facing a pop quiz the next morning. it’s incredible how far removed a four letter question could make her in only the passing of a couple moments.
she tries manipulating herself into believing that they’re fixed now but the mountains between them and lack of warmth on his face is only a constant reminder that they’re not. never going to be, maybe, and it’s prompting the sickness she feels blooming in the pit of her stomach. ‘ i’m sorry for ruining things. ’ because she did. it feels irremediable in such a way that makes her dizzy just turning around to face the sink. ‘ it’s not that –– ’ i don’t love you, she would’ve been able to manage uttering the last bit without the guilt paralyzing her mouth, but she only has enough courage to spare shaking her head and facing a small stack of dishes. ‘ please just ... eat tonight. ’ back to square one, she supposes.
* pyrlte.
his body momentarily deflates. if this was how they were going to end, it was surely one for the books. thinking too much about how quickly they went from the highest peak to ground zero always makes his skin crawl ; mind occasionally disassociating with the world around him to bask in the alternate universe where he hadn’t proposed and they were still in the same content phase they were before. thirty seconds pass with charles stoic like a statue, letting the clatter of dishes echo between his ribs. it isn’t him, he thinks. it can’t be. he hadn’t done anything but love her and if this was the only response he could get out of her then maybe secondary opinions were correct and they were better off apart.
‘ how is it that this is all on me ? ’ a fusion of bewilderment and agitation lay foundation in his features, seeping into cheek bones. steps are taken without second thought and charles finds himself lingering just beyond the formal entrance of the kitchen with arms still folded over his chest. ‘ why don’t you figure out how to fix it instead. or why don’t you just talk to me and tell me what about this whole thing makes you so scared to put in any more effort ? ’ it’s not quite anger that resides between the words, but he couldn’t name the emotion if he tried. consonants sharpen their edge, drilling a steadiness into his computer his breath clearly lacks. ‘ save us both from wasting any more time. ’
her arms cross over her chest, a subconscious defense mechanism when he’s back in her peripheral. she practically welcomes the discomfort felt on the small of her back against the edge of the counter, the way it serves as a distraction to her from what she should really be focused on. she thinks she could go mute to avoid this whole thing, hold her breath while she brushes past him en route to the bedroom and crawl beneath the covers so she doesn’t have to see him again til tomorrow. that might do them both more good than the state she’s in now : the way her blood feels hotter and hotter in her veins and how she has to take an extra moment to compose herself lest she sputter remarks of sheer annoyance into the air that separates them.
‘ do you know how many marriages end in divorce? ’ cherry gives room for him to answer though the question posed is entirely rhetorical. ‘ i was fifteen when mine did and even though i watched them hate each other for years it didn’t make it any less painful. ’ she swallows the lump in her throat, refusing to acknowledge how truly dreadful this topic of conversation makes her feel. hopeful if she can just get through the next few sentences there's a chance they can push on from this unabating limbo. ‘ i don’t want to end up like that. court dates, lawyers, fighting over who gets what .. ’ words get more bitter and she has to stop herself from reminiscing too much on nights spent peering through a crack in her bedroom door while her parents would go on and on relentlessly. ‘ i don’t want to be someone’s ex-wife someday. ’
*shows up at ur door 10 years after we had an argument* aND ANOTHER THING

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* ptcryla.
she tugs the sleeves of her sweater to cover her hands, fingertips fiddling with the edge of the fabric. “i don’t - i don’t know!!” her voice sounds exasperated, but she is in no way frustrated with cherry, more just frustrated with HERSELF. she was never a very social person. “i guess what i’m wearing is fine. i just - i dunno. i don’t want to look stupid. and you - well your outfit is so cute and i’m jut wearing leggings…” she trails off, taking in a deep breath. “SORRY, sorry. i’m rambling, again. i…okay. i’d be happy to go. really. maybe - maybe it will be good to get my out of my comfort zone.”
it’s a habit of her to just watch sometimes. momentary glimpses of all the little isms that make up the other girl and if she finds herself looking for too long there’s a little bastard smile threatening to creep across her face. “uh...yeah,” she takes a second to drop her head, surveying the post-recital threads that hang off her body in a haphazard mess. “i’m just a classic beauty queen, aren’t i?” a playful scoff kisses her features, transitioning into a soft look of regard toward lavender in a second. “you look great. it’s a bar on a weeknight, i promise there’s no one to impress.”
* @ashenbled.
she’s always wanted to ask. the question’s been sitting on the tip of her tongue, dangling right over the edge –– inching to sputter out under just the right circumstance. it happens that today she’s finally had the courage to take a seat right across from the girl ( name still unbeknownst to cherry ) during their lunch period. not a common practice by any means, but curiosity’s always given her plenty excuses to stray from monotonous routine. ❝ HEY, ❞ it’s abrupt. she’s abrupt. uses a minute smile to make herself feel like less of a stranger in front of the other before offering a shifty glance to her left and right. she leans in, slight narrow of the eyes and a quick glimpse down at the device that never leaves her side before uttering a hasty, ❝ what’s with the camera ? ❞
i wanted to finish cherry’s about pages before drafts but.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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* batmomtm.
❛ ‘TWO WHOLE HOU—–’ ? jesus, it’s only like, eleven-thirty! ❜ he hisses in a whisper, negotiating the slim dimensions of the window with anything but finesse as he attempts to crawl in limbs-first through the opportune space. he eventually clatters in like a tumbleweed, doing good work of brushing himself off as he hoists his lithe frame to his feet. ❛ ———–who the hell needs CURFEWS anyway? they’re for babies and - and old, … insane people. sure your night nurse isn’t gonna come poking her fat head in here lookin’ to make sure you’re still in your restraints, GRANDMA? ❜ he asks, stepping into what he can only assume is her immediate proximity. his gaze bores into the void of dusk as his eyes struggle adjust to the darkness—- then, in no time at all, an image appears. just the face he wanted to see! ❛ pffft. please. did you even see how i took that window? because just to RECAP: i took it like a damn champ. alright? takes more than some pesky window to foil KING STEVE, ma’am. run and tell that. ❜
she’s mastered the art of standing there patiently –– arms crossed over her chest with her lesser lip tucked in a bite so as not to cackle at his very earnest theatrics. has honestly started to find an odd sense of fondness toward them. ❛ YEAH, and then she’ll toss your ass right back out of that window where you came from. ❜ cherry pushes out a huff, tilting her head midway through the rambling before decidedly turning back to face her bedside table. petite frame leans over and uses muscle memory to open the top drawer and fish for the flashlight she’s had conveniently tucked in there for years. ❛ –– KING STEVE! ❜ a whisper underlined with demand to grasp his attention as she stands upright, surge of light illuminating the inches between them in the sudden it takes her to face him again. unthinkingly, a smile breaks over her face ( probably on account of how easy it is to see what he looks like now. ) ❛ will you PLEASE stop talking about yourself in third person. ❜ she often thinks if she were to let him, he could talk about himself for eons ; wonders how nice it must be to hold ones self to such high esteem. she’s bets he loves himself as much as everyone she knows loves her –– combined.
* pyrlte.
talking sense isn’t something he’s ever been good at. emotions too easily entangling themselves with something more sharp in the name of self - preservation, always opting for the undercutting tone that’ll leave charles empty but on top. this proves to be no different even as his hands beg for something more soft, heartbeat quickening in his chest like a plea to slow down and think before he speaks. his arms fold over his chest to barricade himself when she steps close, fingers twisting into the sleeves of his shirt to again restrain themselves from reaching out for her.
‘ you. ’ he speaks plainly, finally able to keep his tone steady enough to make this a regular conversation when he dares to meet her gaze ; ignore the fact that the threat of never seeing her again is staring him straight in the face. it hadn’t ever been this hard for before, there was zero preparation for the tension and charles had been so certain of himself and them and what was all going to happen thereafter that all he can do now is be grateful he still remembers how to breathe. ‘ i’ve always .. just wanted you. ’ his shoulders hunch with uncertainty. would it be the worst to cut himself open again ? yes. his line of vision has to dart away from her, finds the front door for a split second before returning to her face. ( he’ll always come back, he thinks. ) ‘ i just don’t know how to act around you anymore. ’
she finds herself holding her breath for a response, only for her posture to deflate when it comes. it’s past the point of fixing, she thinks. imagines herself with a hand down his throat, digging around for a tender i love you, we can work on this, only to pull up the same defeatist verdict every single time. her regard tears away from him in surrender and she moves to gather her plate of unfinished supper, a heartbroken smile looming over her lips. ‘ you let me know when you figure it out. ’ she doesn’t grant him another word, pacing into the kitchen and scraping her last few bites of food into the garbage. it’s exhausting just being in his immediate vicinity.
ceramic plate is thrown into the sink with an aggressive clunk before cherry leans into the counter, face sighing into her hands for a sluggish few moments of contemplation. what could she do ? the fleeting though of her rolling up to her mother’s front door with suitcase dragging along behind her is becoming more tangible by the second. though supremely mortifying to end up back home in her late-twenties she’d rather warm herself up to the idea of it than come home tomorrow evening and face the same rigid awkwardness their relationship has come to. the mere thought of the latter takes away her motivation to do virtually anything.