
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣

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izzy's playlists!
almost home
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oozey mess

Product Placement
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#extradirty
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Cosimo Galluzzi
DEAR READER
dirt enthusiast
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
occasionally subtle
KIROKAZE

JBB: An Artblog!
Claire Keane
Sade Olutola

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@novembeir
Dirty Night Clowns - Chris Garneau
🌙💫 texts: sunshower.
diana: seems like you haven't watched black mirror
diana: spoiler: it's a terrible idea
november: i love black mirror lmao
november: but i don't want to block anyone just mute them for a minute
🌙💫 texts: open.
hadley: sound-cancelling headphones !
november: um but then I wouldn't be able to hear anything else which is... scary
november: saw my dad today
logging off for a bit!!! be back later and hopefully i’ll reply to all my messages by then z____z
zcrochill:
He was probably playing with fire right now, offering a drink to the guy who, well, had the power to fire him right on the spot, meaning that Tristan would have to, unfortunately, return under the roof of his parents once more. Rational thinking, however, was never Tristan’s strong suit, but luckily for him, Nova accepted the generous offer, and it only made the unusually bright smile on his face widen further. “On a regular day I prefer tea and the tears of my clients, however, this is a special occasion. You see, I’m celebrating right now,” Tristan explained, nodding his head solemnly. While it was utter bullshit, he had now reached the state where he believed the nonsense he was spewing, feeling like no one could defeat him.
Shivers ran up his spine, causing him to hum pleasantly as the alcohol settled through him. Nothing like a shot of something bad for you to make you feel the thrill of being alive. “Should I be concerned?” It was teasing, no real ire to him. “Are we going to get bad Yelp reviews because you make your clients cry? — Mm, tea though. There’s this uh, this bar up in — well, down for me, up from here, Notts, you know, that I went to which served absinthe tea…” He reminisced. “It was disgusting,” He added flatly. Had done the trick, however, as it sent him into a drunken stupor that lasted well into the morning. “What’re you celebrating,” He enquired, taking a drink from his own cup, a cranberry-vodka mix that was fruity enough and strong enough for his tastes. “Is it—Did they finally drop?” His eyes flitted down to the general area of the boy’s crotch before shifting back upward. Their eyes didn’t meet. November didn’t do eye contact, so they rested on his shoulder instead.
Sidney sat at the very end of the pier. Their legs dangled over the edge, toes just barely breaking the surface of the water. It was cold, but they enjoyed the shock of it. They air was thick, salty–something about it reminded Sid of calm. They had their guitar in their hands, and they were carefully strumming out notes. The tune wasn’t defined; it was loose, easy, something random and relaxed. Sid hummed along as they played. They had work later that night, and had already taken Mac on their daily walk. It was that empty, hazy period mid-day that they always felt like they needed to fill, somehow. It was too early for work and too late to go back to sleep. So they usually ended up finding something to do. That day they’d peered out into the pale gray of the afternoon and decided it was a good day to play. Sid was lost in their music–eyes closed, shoulders slumped, fingers dancing across the strings. They were so deep in the song that they didn’t even notice the sound of footsteps approaching. They turned around, offering up a soft smile but continuing their strumming.
“Any requests?” they asked warmly, tilting their head and squinting into the sun, “It’s a great day for some music, I think.”
One of the wheels on his skateboard was starting to come loose, the boy observed as he had to come to a sudden halt. The board had been going off course every other block. His slim fingers rolled against the dirty wheel, watching it as it turned with a frown on his weary features. Whatever, the ash-blond thought. So, he would have to walk the rest of the way. Exercise was ‘good’ for you, or at least that was what people always said. Holding his skateboard at his side, he began his walk to where June said she’d be waiting. He was an hour early, but with his eldest sister it was better to be on time than late and better to be early than on time. He had an ear-bud pressed into one of his ears while the other dangled freely against his shirt. Kehlani crooned in one ear as he made his way along the strip of pavement overlooking the ocean that led up to the Brighton Pier with all its bustle, hustle and noise. He tended to avoid any place that drew in large crowds, but if that was where June wanted to hang out, he wouldn’t complain about it. He came to a halt when a…busker (by the looks of it) turned his way with an easy smile on their mouth.
For a second, he almost looked behind him to make sure this person was indeed looking at November, but instead he swallowed awkwardly and bit the bullet. “Uh, sure?” He said, trying to think of a song. For whatever reason, the first thing that came to his mind was: “Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood.” What the fuck.
While loathe to admit it, the dainty male was starting to regret coming to the store alone. He was now familiar with the times it would be somewhat empty and organised his trips that way, however, he was in desperate need of more Titanium White if he was going to get a few hours of decent work in on his mural tonight and hadn’t managed to go to the shops earlier after being held up at work. One thing was for sure. The owner’s carefree attitude betrayed nothing of how much actual work managing the parlour was. Embarrassment was already making heat lick at the sides of his neck, but he kept his expression stony as he stepped onto the step ladder and reached across the shelf for the paint can he needed only — only, his fingers just about manage to brush against the edge of it, the can pushed right at the back.
With a groan, he attempted to pull himself up further, getting on the toes of his boots as he leaned up further and tried again. After pushing himself quite a bit, he managed to move the can towards the edge so he could easily grab it. The strain and force of it led to four things happening very quickly in a matter of seconds. The first was his foot accidentally kicking away the step ladder, sending it flying across the aisle. His hands immediately moved to grip onto the edge of the shelf, his chin coming down hard against the wood with a painful smack. Next, the paint can came tumbling down, too, narrowly missing his face and falling with a resounding crash onto the ground instead, its lid popping off as white paint poured out of his belly. Finally, he lost his balance, falling backwards and onto the ground in a puddle of lily white paint — but not before falling into someone who had also been browsing the aisle and sending them to the floor too.
It hurt, when he fell, it’s not that it didn’t. In fact, for a second, he even thought he saw cartoon birds rotating his head and stars shooting to the front of his eyes. It hurt, but the shame somehow hit him tenfold, his pale face turning red as he lifted his hands to his face to cover them. “I’m sorry,” He managed to groan out at the person he’d fallen against before forcing his body up, his head immediately throbbing in protest. “Are you okay?”
hi guys a brand new intro for a brand new me!!!! — not quite.
shout out to dash for providing gifs. otherwise this intro wouldn’t have any.
this is a literal depiction of my brain. amazing.