#CherryRed

[angelique3]

Cherry Red 🍒

Image creds to pinterest

[stanford-photography]

Cherry Red Chrysanthemums, Art Nouveau Style. By Jeff Stanford, 2023. Buy prints at: https://fineartamerica.com/profiles/jeff-stanford

[handstudioua]

Sweet Summer Style: The Cherry Necklace You've Been Searching For!

Crafted with Love, Inspired by Nature:

Calling all cherry lovers and unique jewelry enthusiasts! This playful necklace is your chance to add a touch of fruity fun to your outfit. Each juicy red charm is meticulously sculpted by hand from polymer clay, a versatile material known for its vibrant colors and intricate detailing [polymer clay jewelry making at home ON wikiHow wikihow.com]. The artist captures the essence of a perfectly ripe summer cherry, complete with a hint of shine and a cluster of delicate green leaves.

Uniquely You:

Unlike mass-produced jewelry, this necklace is a one-of-a-kind creation. The beauty of polymer clay allows for incredible detail and vibrant colors, making each cherry charm as unique as you are. There may be slight variations in size and color between pieces, adding to the charm and handcrafted character of this special necklace.

Adjustable for Every Style:

The comfortable cord is adjustable, allowing you to wear your cherry necklace at a variety of lengths (14.5 inches to 17.7 inches). This versatility makes it the perfect addition to any outfit, whether you're dressing up for a summer party, adding a pop of color to a casual look, or embracing a touch of whimsy for a picnic in the park.

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Embrace the Summer Spirit:

This lightweight and comfortable necklace is sure to turn heads and spark conversations. It's the perfect accessory for summer adventures, adding a touch of playful charm to any occasion. Don't miss your chance to own this unique piece - order your cherry necklace today!

[reggae-vibes-com]

Dadawah - Dadawah: Peace And Love

#Review | Dadawah - Dadawah: Peace And Love | 2xCD that features Ras Michael aka Dadawah's 1974 LP plus the best of Lloyd Charmers Dub output from the mid-'70s. #cherryredrecords #RasMichael #LLoydCharmers #DelroyWilson #ReggaeReview Read the full article

[renali-iu]

Hi. everyone!! I am now offering my creative services for the following:

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🎨 Illustrations: Personalized illustrations for branding or content: Starting at 💲 $30 per illustration Custom character illustrations: Starting at 💲 $35 per illustration

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If you're interested in discussing your design needs or have any questions, please don't hesitate to reach out. Looking forward to working with you!

[lolajamin]

« Blood pressures » Ink & watercolor marker on paper (21x15cm) #bloodpressures #blood #heartbeat #bass #guitar #music #rock #rocknroll #red #cherryred #cherry #punk #ink #chineseink #sakurapens #watercolor #girl #bassgirl #musician #rockstar #art #traditionalart #traditionaldrawing #choker #jeansandleather #encre #encredechine #bd #comic #comicart https://www.instagram.com/p/CoCyGW-oGu-/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[kiltedcubfll]

[yeyinde]

piggybacking off of @ceilidho 's dog soap idea with something awful lmao

You first notice it when you catch him staring at you from the crack of your bedroom door.

He's sitting in the dimly lit hallway, only half of his face peering into the sliver of space between the white wood of the door and the frame. Just—

Watching.

In the bluegreen glow of the flickering screen (Robert Stack paces down a blue hallway, bathed in that hazy, neon glow of early 80s television), he looks more like a lurking shadow than an animal. Eyes dark, and glinting in the soft light like the surface of a placid lake. You think of the dangers lurking beneath the murk when his muzzle dips, the slow refocus of an apex predator acclimating to a sudden change by its prey. The motion almost entire too human, and—

Not.

Not at all. It rides a razor's edge between anthropomorphism and the uncanny valley; the middle a strange, unfathomable realm of eerie discomfort. Something is wrong. The notion prickles against the nape of your neck. Crawls slowly down your back, the spindled gait of a languid spider tickling your skin as it walks over your flesh.

Something is wrong with your dog.

He was fine ten minutes ago. Had his dinner. Went for his walk. You were lazing on the bed flipping through the channels when his ears perked up, head pointed toward the back door.

You didn't think much about it. He had to go. Maybe he heard a rodent rummaging in your garbage. You slipped out of bed, his soft, fuzzy body sliding against your calves as you walked him to the patio, pulling it open and letting him out. He seemed to hesitate at the threshold, though. And while it didn't stand out to you then, it does now. He froze, ears pinning back, flat to his skull, as his fur lifted. Raising high in the air. A whine slipping out—

There was a rustle in the bush. A low noise. A growl. It was probably just the other dog sniffing along the fence, you thought. Your neighbours husky. He placed one paw on the deck, and then turned to you, eyes wet and glossy in the flushed porch light, and—

(and he looked so scared.)

Your breath hitches. Heart twisting in your chest. He's still staring at you from the hall. Unblinking. Expression wild. Wide. Pinning you with his stare. But he's panting. Chest expanding as it heaves through it's snout in quick, shallow breaths. Maybe the other dog scared it. Maybe the husky bit it's paw through the fence. You should check on it—

Him.

Check on him.

He went outside after a moment. Tail flattened between his legs. Drawn toward something you couldn't see, couldn't hear. And you turned around with a smile, waving him off as you walked back to bed. And now—

It's—his—lip curls.

He's never so much as bitten you much less—snarled. The suddenness of it paralyses you. Roots you to bed. Useless and unable to do anything as your dog, your baby boy, lifts his muzzle up with a growl, long, sharp canines dripping red—

"Baby?"

It's a warble when it slips out. Shaky. Scared. The sound of voice makes the dog drop his jowls, cherryred tongue lulling out. Pink, foamy drool spilling to the ground as he pants. His teeth look sharper than they did before. You brush them every night before bed, cooing at him as you scrub his canines clean. Singing some off-key song about dogs and their pretty teeth. He watches you with nothing short of adoration etched into his big, brown eyes. Wide and so trusting, so loving—

It's a harsh juxtaposition to how he looks at you now. Hungrily. Like a starving lion looming over a tired, sickly gazelle. Tongue out, jaws dripping with saliva. Your heart lurches.

"Baby?" You call again and he huffs. The rough noise filling the room, echoing through the hall. Deeper, somehow, than the snarl on his lips. The halfbitten growl booming in his heaving chest. You curl your legs inward under the covers, drawing them tight to your chest as he blinks, slow. Languid. As his lips split wider, wider, and for a moment, you almost trick yourself into seeing a maniacal grin pushing at the corners. Frenzied and full of teeth.

You wait for it. And wait. Wait—

But the lake ripples, and the thought is tucked away. Hidden under a blanket of numbness that spreads, mushrooming over your thoughts. Cobwebbing over the unease that saturates your mind; tiny fangs of a spider piercing through, liquifying them.

He keeps his eyes pinned on you, mouth open wide with his tongue out the side of jaw, and slowly raises himself off of the floor. It's something you've seen him do hundreds of times. Agile flicks. A big stretch. A yawn. A shake.

Something cools on your cheek. Wet, sticky. You don't have to reach up to know that it's tears. They roll down in an endless stream, cold against your frozen face. Unable to move as your mind bends, and bends, but refuses to break. To snap. Shatter. To admit that what you're seeing is real.

That he doesn't shake. He doesn't yawn. He jerks. He twists. Unfamiliar, you think. Like he isn't used to moving with a body this shape. Distorted. Wrong. It snaps. It twitches. He hunches over with his spine bowed and his head slung between his thick front legs, low to the ground but his eyes—

His eyes are on you.

Pinning you down. Glowing in the artificial blue light.

He looms over you. Snout inches from your cheekbone. The puff of his ragged breath glues uncomfortably to the sticky tears on your face. The air that rattles in and out of his lungs is uneven. Choppy. Inhale too deep. Exhale too shallow. It morphs into snarling rataplan. In-in, out. Inout. In, ininin, out.

You can't watch him move. Try to walk. It'll skewer through the molasses you let trickle over your fear, curdling in your belly like sour milk. You drag your gaze away from his jerking gait instead, staring, unseeingly, at the television as he limbers onto the bed.

You can smell something on him when he moves close. Rot, you think. Ozone. Pine. Dead leaves. The wet, mossy bark of a fallen tree. Blood. Bad meat.

Your eyes burn. If your heart beats any harder, any faster, you think you might go into shock. Cardiac arrest. Killed by—

Fear.

That there's blood on his muzzle. You smell it when he leans in close, snout pressing cold and slimy against your cheek.

You're not sure why you do it. Muscle memory, maybe. But your hand lifts. Falls to his head. Nails scratching through matted, oily fur.

He's still staring at you. Whale-eyed. Something inside you whispers not to look. That if you turn your head, all the things hidden under the silk web will bubble to the surface. Things like—

He's big. Too big. Your growing boy.

He smells. He reeks. Got into the garbage again.

He's acting strange. Wrong. He's just scared.

He's going to eat you alive. You love him.

This thing isn't your dog—

He swings his head toward you suddenly, maw open wide, peeling back from those sharp, stained teeth; tongue lulling out—oh god, oh god—and he licks your cheek.

Panic bubbles out of your throat in the shape of a laugh. A giggle. You're going crazy, you think. Hysterical. But you let him lick your face, swiping his too hot tongue over the tears on your cheek. Your nose. Licking into the corners of your eyes. Over your forehead, chin. Jaw.

Its only when his muzzle slides up to your lips do you flinch back. Pull away. "No. N—no. Bad bad. Go—go to sleep, baby."

He huffs, and you stare—resolute, empty—at the blankets when he drops his head down, licking slowly at your rabbiting pulse. Teeth grazing the soft skin of your neck. Nibbling, pinching with his sharp incisors. The gossamer falls. The sheet is pulled back.

The thing stares at you with a hideous, devastating want on its borrowed face. Primordial. Archiac. It's hunger. It's greed. Its a lamb in the lion's den. And you—

You pull the sheet back up. Slowly slide back to the pillows below. Eyes fixed on the ceiling as he looms over you. Your baby boy. There's a huff. A quiet exhale through its nose, and then you feel it move. Twisting. Turning. Curling up against your side, body supine and made of strong, hard muscle. The rough scrape of its fur feels like a beard. Coarse. Wry. Spread out and matted down against its canine body. Burning like a furnace. Reeking of brimstone.

As he settles in his spot, resting his heavy head on your belly (possessively—owner, pet; the lines blur as he flicks his gaze toward you, watchful now and still as heavy, dizzyingly intense as before), you lay awake staring at the ceiling. It'll pass in the morning, you think. He must have eaten something bad. Got into the garbage again. You'll take him to the vet, maybe.

(leave him there—)

He's fine. He's just a little sick, is all. Agitated. It's going to storm tonight. He can feel it in the air. In his joints. Everything will be fine—

Outside, something yowls. The patio door rattles.

Scratch, scratch, scratch—

He huffs, lifting his head with a small snarl pulling on his waxy muzzle. Eyes narrowing into slits. Glaring into the hallway. To the patio.

"Easy, baby," you quaver, and curl your hands into his damp fur. "It's just the wind. It's just the wind—"

Another huff. It sounds rougher this time. Deeper. Masculine. Human.

When he settles back against you, you feel bare skin sliding along your thigh, and realise that the nightmare has just begun.

"Baby? Could get used tae tha'. Are ye gonnae ca' me a good boy too?"

[tygrlsblog]

Random bios/emoji combos

🥃𝓓iscover! 𒀀🈖⃨🌒 ━╋ ིི۪۪۫💬(#2006!)

❙⬮⃨۪̃۟⬤⡳💻 ຸBehind B͟l͟u͟e Eyes📁𒈒

ྐ. 𖥨᩠ׄ݁ 예쁜📞#⃝CherryLips. .✉️✶₊❘❙❚❙ 𓂂໊ ⓱!

ྐ. 𖥨᩠ׄ݁ 예쁜🍒 #⃝CherryRed✶₊ᚙ📞𓋜

ৡ⃪꫶⃗🎱TATTOO SHOP!. . . ❘❙❚❙ 𓂂໊ ⓱!

━╋ ིི۪۪۫🥃𒈔 iNKED iN RED ۪ܺׄ⃞ ཉ🚭

Pls give proper credits if you use!

[jnmoreau]

I need someone to write kevjean fucking/hj

there is this new ff on ao3 by cherryring!! i love you kevjean fanfic writers

[thetaey]

hi!!could you make some users for cherry or susi? :33

— ★ . 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐈: ᴜsᴇʀɴᴀᴍᴇ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇᴛᴀᴇʏ

chesusi susiowen cherryred

susirry hucherry susicatin

cherrds menisusi pincherry

•ೋ◦❀◦ೋ•

[rangerskin20]

MADE IN ENGLAND 14 hole cherryred Dr. Martens 1914 size 10

FOR SALE £230.00

[metfell]

IM GONNA SCREAM MM M OHHYYM GODDDD D CHERRYR BLOSSOSMMS SHOYLY YHISNBTT!!N! ! ! !!

[riawinx]

~ JUST RED ~ Mini Dress RL, Thigh Boots RL ;) My Ad features the new SIREN Avatar by CherryRed ♥ ~ Find them LINKED HERE: https://www.imvu.com/shop/product.php?products_id=62618059

[miniaturemoonheart]

Cherry reds are looking just as delicious as this season's candy hearts. 🍒

http://adore.me/CherryReds

[kiltedcubfll]