#cherry bomb inquiries

[headingalaxys-spicy]

Can we add a grim reaper darling in your angel/demon au? A neutral being between angels and demons but still have distaste for both of them due to demons interfering with their soul collecting. And angles looking down on them because soul collecting is their punishment for not appreciating the gift of life once given to them and they ungreatfully gave it up. (In short, self deletion)

Of course, they will fall in love with them but since grim reapers don't discriminate and they take down whoever gets in their way or needs to go. The yanderes would really need to be careful with this darling. Because they all know where it will end if they made the wrong move, at the end of their death scythe's blade.

Happy First day of October ya'll! Spooky asks will be posted all this month!

Of course, they will fall in love with them but grim reapers don’t discriminate and they take down whoever gets in their way. The yanderes will need to be careful with this darling. Because they all know where it will end if they made it the wrong move: at the end of deaths blade. 

I’m going to be doing this in groups with their opposites. 

America, England, Germany, & Japan (Angels) 

When it comes to keeping track of you it’s likely they have one of their right hands or a high ranking Angel handling the job. Such things like what your process when you soul collect? Do you spend more time in limbo, the human realm, or the underworld. These are all preliminary info so that they at least have some decent reason to approach you. Depending on your mood & the task you just completed: collecting the actual soul or recording the death. (Which is where the real emotional drain is for you because you do have to get into the nitty-gritty details on what led-up to their death in case any other other worldy being has inquiries.) 

Depending on the life that the hamn lived these records are used as tie breakers on where a soul is sent. They’ll always ask for “help” in finding one soul or another to possibly strike up a longer conversation that hopefully leads into non-work related subjects. 

America, England, Germany, & Russia (Demons) 

They’ll have scouter demons hunt for common portal spots that you use when you’re about to collect a mass amount of souls when a major catastrophic event happens. They like to disrupt you during these events because they know it prevents souls from receiving a final judgment/ resting place in a timely manner. The scouts typically use cherry bombs, fire arrows and bullets doused in otherwordly sleeping agents, and cause freaky storms that affect the souls that had just died. This provokes you enough to where you do occasionally attack. When you do so they get a better gauge on yor fighting style, strength, and any other combat attributes they should take note of to report back to their demon kings. They do this because every blue moon they do come up with elaborate plans to ensnare you. These attacks either leave you with a major migraine, a hangover or being irritated to hell. 

They’re also not above putting trackers in your dark robe. 

China, France, Japan, & Spain (Angels) 

This is a dangerous as fuck tactic but they enjoy watching you while you counsel souls. They will disguise themselves as a human so that they can watch as you assess the prominent / defining moments and on some occasions, advocates for souls who’d been given unfair judgments. It's dangerous for them because its disrespectful to the soul in question to have other angels listen in who have little to no involvement. They’ll allow their ears to literally burn so that they can linger close as possible without being seen, while you ease mortal souls into being on a new plane of existence. Once you do catch that you have other “humans” in you midst, you politely pause the session that you had with the human to you can bring out your scythe to smite the nosey angels with lightning or fire. You intentionally miss them, but get your shots close enough to make a point. 

<All I can hear in my head while I imagine this scene is Blitzo shouting: DANCE BITCH! As you fire off shots, dear reader ahahahah.>

If they refuse to leave after the first few minutes of being shot at, then you do transform your blade into a machine gun-like weapon with blessed bullets designed to hinder angels. The bullets have some long-lasting inconvenient effects such as: 

Being inebriated for up to a week 

Sudden points in time where an angel will just knock out to be unconscious for varying periods of time. So it’s best for Angels not to fly for a month or so after being hit by one of these bullets. 

Only France has been hit and oh boy has he been able to tell the story of wow being hit by one is awful. This happened after he tried to give you roses while still in his human form. Being “brave for the sake of love” was a really stupid idea. 

Canada, England, Italy,&  Romano (Demons)

Requests the aid of imps to keep an eye out for you whenever you happen to be in their area of hell conducting official business on behalf of a mortal soul. You tend to be kurt with them if they try to extend past basic pleasantries. It also doesn’t help that they do try to give whatever spirit that you’re trying to obtain justice for unfair, cruel & downright inhumane contracts. It’s even worse if said person's soul fell into their specific domain & got trapped there. (The demon kings to some extent, do soul collecting of their own. Souls can move between the kingdoms. Just it’s sometimes difficult depending on the season amount of light, fire, ice etc that can obstruct passageways… and the demonic beasts that roman freely that are hungry for souls. 

They’ll set up traps, incantations, and even love potions to conjure up ways to bring you to one of the demon kings that’s paying the highest ransom and imps that are loyal and eager to Arthur, Feliciano, Matthew, or Romano’s trust and be boosted within their societies. The adrenaline

, drugs, and determination will be running rampant in all of the underworlds. These demons will be excited to get prestige if they manage to succeed. Hell, even ripping off a piece of your long dark robes or chipping the polished wood off your blade would get them a hefty prize. 

America, Canada, England, and Russia (Angels) 

Collaboratively, over a few drinks they will start by dabbling in poetry to try and seduce you with gentle, melodic words. This works…for like the time it takes for a leaf to fall to the ground. You’ll pause and roll your glowing eyes at the thought of trying to persuade you with fluffy words that offer no real sustenance. You slowly raise your hand that holds your scythe upwards like a ticking clock. 

“If you’re smart, you’ll heed my warning. Prepare to feel pain so bad that you’ll want the ability to die.” They’ll be biting on their nails mentally but will but on a facade that shows otherwise. 

America: “You can’t; it’s against heaven’s rules, dude! You wouldn’t want to upset the contract you signed.” 

Canada: “We’re in the mortal realm. There are people who could get hurt.” 

England: “You’re going to make it come to life and become a terrible beast. Those things can become harder than Cerberus dogs to tame, make a deal with, or to knock out. 

Russia: “Not a very friendly thing for you to do Y/N.” Their eyes will be glaring laser beams at your onyx clothes. You didn’t flinch at the holier-than-thou glares that they were giving you. You bring both of your arms up over yor head, giving the weak threats no place to sit in your mind. You needed them out of your way, you had important business to conduct. Retreating is suggested since being sliced in half isn’t pleasant nor is having your wings hacked off. Matthew was the only one who decided to teleport away. Alfred, Arthur, and Ivan decided to fuck around and find out. You cut their wings off slowly…. To make sure they’ll never try that dumb shit ever again. 

Germany, Italy, Japan, Prussia, Romano, & Spain (Angels) 

They all have the clever idea to disguise themselves as animals and mask their angelic auras this way you’re less likely to detect them. You’re not able to detect them unless they’re within 4 feet of you so this is a strong spell that is highly effective. Your work requires you to concentrate mainly on human souls. However, you have a few handpicked assistants who manage all of the animal clients. You only hired the most tender-hearted people. This group will follow you disguised as: 

German Shepard (Ludwig)

Persian Cat (Feliciano) 

Hokkaido Fox (Kiku) 

Hedgehog (Antonio) 

Corsican Red Deer (Romano) 

Grey Wolf (Gilbert) 

They use these disguises to follow you around and eavesdrop on conversations you have with mortal souls and your workers. They do this in order to see what angels have been assigned to a human case so that they can ask for exchanges and make reasonable requests as to why they should be done, in order to gain cases that need your close monitoring. When they do manage to bribe a few cases away from those who need to work closely with you, the working relationships are vastly different depending on who it is. 

Ludwig, Kiku, and Gilbert it’s smooth and despite the extra stares that they give you while you talk or them inching a little closer to you than you’d like it’s not so bad. However, the complete opposite is for Antonio, Feliciano, & Romano they slow down the process with archaic rituals & rites just so you’ll have to spend more of eternity with them. In the beginning, you roll your eyes and allow it to continue since you understood that beings of light and darkness had spiritual needs that had to be met. The three of them will take the hint when your bony fingers impatiently drum on the desk. They’ll pick up the pace and, while doing so hope that their small act of consideration will change your mind about being with them. 

China, Japan, Prussia, Spain (Demons) 

They come together to create an elaborate plan to catch your attention to win you over with disguises, food, meddling with client files, human lives, and many other atrocities that 100% violate quite a few points in the Geneva Convention. 

Let's just say that they did some meddling in a few nations' politics. Used their demonic power to create more chaos within places of high power to the lower classes of societies. Spread the worries and the woes. Misery loves company, doesn’t it? Spread it out in droves. People gossip about how things are as they shouldn’t be. From this point onward, it will be a chain reaction of tension and anger. Like dominoes toppling over, so do many relationships where toxic new ones will form. 

Angels will become busier than usual to diffuse some of the ignited bombs of hate. Some attempts were successful, others not so much. Leaving some parts of humanity in the midst of the rubble. While much of heaven is trying to manage the fires out on earth, Kiku and Yao will take the time to raid the files and shuffle them. This will make the average time for souls to receive a final judgment much longer. Keeping more people in limbo. More resources will have to be diverted in a reorganization effort, causing you to have to work closely with both head angels and the head demons. Even if you’re reprimanding them, they’ll take the added time you talk to them as a win. 

The final judgments will also be affected because people behave differently whenever a sudden onset crisis like war, flood, fires, etc happen. The result of the meddling resulted in 250k+ people. You won’t be getting a decent amount of rest for 10 years managing these cases. But it was your duty….So you pulled out a statute of justice scale to help you judge where souls will go. 

Bonus: (I’m not entirely sure why I wrote it but I thought it was funny to add in what others in this would be doing while all of this was going on.) 

The Nordics

 They’re having a blast whether they’re demons or angels laughing at the chaos…. But do have a reason to intervene if the fighting causes too much disruption and destruction. They will try the diplomatic middle by using a delicate mix of force, deals, trades etc to ease the conflict. And yes, the Nordic Angels and Demons are on the same team like superheroes. Haha. Just like Denmark has always wanted. (Cue all the furniture from IKEA to form the giant robot man.) 

Hungary, Austria, Liechtenstein, & Switzerland

Having a fancy tea party / sleepover to pass the time until they stop hearing screams from an angel being tormented outside. 

Prussia

Helping Germany in all scenarios. 

Thanks for reading ya’ll! Happy Spooky Season.

#hws #hetalia fandom #hetalia #hws america #yandere hetalia #alfred f jones #hws germany #hws canada #hws russia #hetalia demon au #hetalia angel au #headingalaxys writes stuff #hetalia headcannons #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction writers #hetalia fanfiction writer

[dzvagabond]

Good Afternoon, and welcome back to our lovely significant other’s repository, or "blog" as I am constantly reminded of. We have decided once again, that we would curate a miniscule take over this November. Answer any of your questions, satiate curious minds for another year in a row, and humor strange requests you may have about us and our significant other. 

As to be reminded, not all of us are willing to answer questions. But, we have put together a compacted list of others who volunteered to be a part of this event. The list is as follows, but here is a list of others that may come out to join us if coerced enough by your inquiries.

Romantic:

Myself as always, The Curator

Alexander Anderson (Hellsing)

Algernon Drake (Call of Cthulhu)

Cidolfus Telamon & Gav (FF16)

Egon Spengler (Ghostbusters)

Eizen (Tales of Berseria)

Gordon Freeman (Half-Life)

Heartman (Death Stranding)

Luis Serra Nevarro (RE4 Remake)

Micolash (Bloodborne)

Piccolo (DBZ)

R.J. MacReady (The Thing™)

Familial/Platonic: 

Alan Wake

The Duke (RE8)

Eileen the Crow (Bloodborne)

Ray Stantz (Ghostbusters)

Wedge (FF7R)

Windows (The Thing™)

We will be answering questions and inquiries as soon as we are able. So feel free to ask away and as many as you like. Thank you @cherry-bomb-ships for creating this lovely event.

~ The Curator

#f/ovember #f/o takeover #self ship event #cherry-bomb-ships #the curator.tm

[rexscanonwife]

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, but tonight I finally decided to draw my Padawan so I can introduce you guys to him! His name is Kepler Quinn, he was assigned to my s/i around the same time Anakin got Ahsoka and he’s a very clumsy, anxious, but well-meaning boy! He’s had two or three other masters before being given to me and he believes he’s one misstep from being thrown away again but he’ll soon learn that I’m not giving up on him ♡

I’m open to questions and inquiries about the boy pls ask about him! :]

taglist: @me-myself-and-my-fos @void-kissed @cherry-bomb-ships @squips-ship @mouseship @the-bellhopper @discountwife @bizarrescribblez @gummydeadite @tex-treasures @samsbeckett @sosoftandsweet 

#artfarts #self insert #self insert community #platonic self ship #familial self ship #familial f/o #oc f/o #star wars oc #padawan oc #star wars #sjkgksj not me posting this at like almost one am good god #i need to go BED #but i wanted to finish this and show you guys!! #DO YOU SEE MY BEAUTIFUL ANGEL SON KEPLER?? #i love him so much!! #me and my bff came up w him in like a joint effort #and we QUICKLY fell in love with him #he's just a good nervous boy and he doesnt think he should be here #but i know he's capable of great things he just needs more confidence #anyways GOODNIGHT PLS LOOK AT HIM #again i am open to questions :3

[finalizestyles]

What's your favorite Tyler the Creator album?

Dm for any inquiries or any questions

#music #tyler the creator #odd future #art #aesthetic #funny #tufted rug #artists on tumblr #carpet #Spotify

[drisk30]

I would like to know the wrestling Companies and or origin of two of your posted GIF'S , 1st July 12, 2022, of two college girls in one-piece swim suites one in Black and the other in Purple. The 2nd inquiry is the big thick and strong blonde girl posted on July 8 ,2019. Thank you for any information you can give me on these two matches.

The 1st July 12, 2022 GIF set is from Pippa L'Vinn's extensive (and great) wrestling company. You can search the name and find the video there. The July 8 ,2019 I think is from Cherry Bomb wrestling, but not sure if they are still around as it was a smaller company. But I am less sure on the second one.

[worldly-diversity]

( @bigveee​ ) asked : "Ya like blowin up billboards bitch? You better be ready to pay for that shit."  — Valentino & Cherri

Cherri raised a brow at the overlord who'd apparently gone and decided that her association with Angel meant that collateral damage equalled wilful destruction. Well it did, but Valentino didn't need to know that, now did he?

However, he's also an overlord and Cherri's got territory, sure, but she's nowhere near this guy's level. Which means she might have to pull some dirty tricks to get the fuck outta there, while also not saying or doing anything that'd implicate Angel in any way. Val was no doubt already thinking of blaming this on the spider, so she really couldn't do more than refuse to cater to the idea.

"What's the matter, old man? Afraid one little cherry bomb is enough to taint your image~?" Alright so maybe taunting him wasn't a good idea, but then she'd always been impulsive, and like hell she'd just cower in front of him like some random lowlife demon!

"Besides, I'm pretty sure that shit was collateral for the whole turf war thing anyway, not like I was aiming to put a hole in it… Half the square got destroyed!"

She's really not eager or willing to consider exactly how Valentino was going to construe 'paying' for it, anyway. It's obvious she's not the type to be drowning in money after all, and considering his business… yeah no. Not a chance.

#bigveee #universe • hazbin hotel #inquiry • hazbin hotel #interactions • cherri bomb #answered

[loserchildhotpants]

Destiel prompt from Twitter; kissing each other to prove there’s nothing there, even though, it’s a lie, and the kiss proves it (from this prompt list)

“I’m just saying that I don’t think you’d get this defensive if there really wasn’t anything between you two -”

“There isn’t, and I’m not getting defensive!” Dean argues, decidedly defensively.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Sam offers with a shrug and a smirk.

Staring down into the open grave the boys are in, Castiel glances between the brothers and tilts his head, wondering if perhaps by a different angle, he may better understand what their expressions mean.

“We’re bonded or whatever - that’s it, man! There’s nothing else going on!”

“I’m not even saying there is anything ‘going on,’ I’m just saying there could be, and if that were something you wanted -”

“I’m not qu -”

“I know, I get it, I hear you, humor me for a second, okay? All I’m saying is just - if there were something between you two, and you wanted there to be something ‘going on,’ where there is currently nothing ‘going on,’ I just think you should, hypothetically go for something rather than settling for the nothing, because, personally, I think there is something there, and you could have a great thing going if that were what you wanted.”

“Even if - which I don’t - I’m not - listen, though, okay? I’m not, and I don’t want that - not that there’s anything wrong with it, or something, just - even if that were the case, Cas isn’t like that. He’s not a being that experiences shit like that -”

“I’m telling you you’re wrong, Dean! The way he stares at you -”

“He stares at everyone!”

“Do I?”

The Winchesters jump in unison, both with hands on their guns faster than should be possible. They both visibly relax again, though, when they realize it’s only Castiel interrupting.

“Oh, hey, Cas,” Dean greets, his voice markedly more gentle than it was with Sam only a moment before.

Castiel appreciates it.

“Hello, Dean.”

With a cheeky grin, Sam clears his throat, and says to Cas, “your timing couldn’t be better, actually, Cas - Dean and I have some questions -”

“No, no, we do not have questions,” Dean growls at Sam, eyes blazing dangerously.

“I am always available to you boys for whatever inquiries I can assist in. Is this pertaining to my staring? It’s academic in nature, I assure you - frankly, I am used to having a form that hosts many more eyes; being in this Earthly form can present obstacles, as my perceptions are more limited than I can remember them ever being. I promise I do not mean to insult anyone.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone’s thinking of it as an insult,” Sam intones; Dean shoves his elbow into Sam’s kidney to shut him up.

“This is you being defensive, by the way,” Sam wheezes, doubled over, but still smirking at Dean, “What’s the big deal if there’s nothing going on?”

Flushed, Dean scowls at Sam, drops his shovel, and tells him, “I’m not being defensive! There’s nothing to be defensive about! And I’ll prove it!”

Clambering out of the grave, Dean brushes the soil from his hands onto his dirtier jeans, and stomps more than walks up to Castiel.

“You’ve a cut,” Cas murmurs worriedly, spotting a knick Dean got on his cheek earlier in the day.

“It’s nothing. Listen, Cas -”

Before Dean can get anymore out, Castiel reaches for his left-side cheek, cups that side of his face, and spreads a cooling sensation that knits the skin back together neatly and cleanly.

“Uh - thanks, Cas,” Dean mutters gruffly as Cas takes his hand back.

“My pleasure, Dean.”

Uncharacteristically nervous, Dean glances down at the ground, his hands shoved in his jean pockets, then his eyes skim the ground until they happen upon Sam’s again, and whatever silent exchange they have works Dean up again.

“Cas,” Dean begins, looking into his eyes with determination, “We’re friends, you ‘n me, right?”

“Yes, Dean. You are my most cherished friend,” Castiel answers.

That gives Dean a moment’s pause where he seems to be searching Castiel’s face for some sign of sarcasm or deceit; there is none to be detected, of course.

“I - thanks, man. Uhm. Now - this is gonna sound like a weird question, but bear with me, ‘cause I’m not about to assume consent or something.”

“Okay,” Castiel says in confusion, tilting his head again.

“I’m tryin’a prove a point here to Sam, and to get it across - just - would you be okay with me kissing you? Like, just this once - I promise I won’t make it weird or anything, but I gotta ask, you know? I know you’re not into physical stuff like -”

“You’d like my permission to kiss?” Castiel intercepts neutrally, “Like people do?”

Something about that is funny - or startling? - to both Sam and Dean, and Castiel can’t tell which or for what reasons.

“Yeah. Just this one time,” Dean repeats.

Though he takes a respectable count of four seconds to seem as though he needs to consider his options, Castiel nods, and replies, “of course, Dean. Of all the favors you’ve asked of me before, I assure this is certainly the most convenient and pleasant of them.”

Sam snorts a laugh, Dean tosses a glare at him, and then settles gentle, if a little nervous, eyes back on Castiel.

“Okay…”

Dean steps closer into Cas’ space, bringing them toe-to-toe and he finds himself staring down; he’d not realized Cas was shorter than him. It’s not by much, not really enough to be remarked upon, even, but it means that Cas winds up looking up at him from under the cover of long, dark lashes, and even in the dark of the night, his eyes shine like twinkling gems.

Swallowing with some difficulty, Dean holds loosely onto the lapels of Cas’ trench coat, and he means to go in chaste, he really does, it’s just that he’s actually struggling to breathe a little, so his lips are just barely parted, and Cas - as far as Dean can tell, Cas takes that as a cue.

Because Cas’ full lips press in, but so does his tongue; before Dean can even secure his footing, Cas makes his loose hold on the lapels go tight, licking up into Dean’s mouth without hesitation or mercy.

Praying his shocked gasp wasn’t audible to Sam, Dean just tries to hold on while Cas turns his head, bites Dean’s heavy bottom lip, and then pushes Dean’s mouth more open with his own, and then he drags his hot tongue against Dean’s, coming in broad, and soft.

Dean hears himself make some kind of noise - he can’t tell what it is, because there’s too much blood rushing in his skull - there’s stubble. Stubble. There is stubble in this equation other than his own, and that’s new, and terrifying, and should be wholly unwelcome, but every synapse in his brain dedicated to pleasure is telling him otherwise.

One wide hand insinuates itself under the hem of Dean’s weathered flannel, calloused fingers pressing into his left hip possessively while the other hand glides over his pec, and shoulder to the back of his neck, pinky finger teasing the sensitive skin just under the back of his cotton collar, and thumb brushing the fine hairs at the base of Dean’s skull.

Dean thinks he may be swaying - he’s dizzy.

Cas is dragging him closer, pressing their hips and abdomens together, and Dean’s hands have somehow found better purchase on the front of Cas’ button-down dress shirt than his lapels.

Dean thinks he hears one of the buttons pop off with the strain of his hold, but neither of them seem inclined to do anything about it, so he figures it doesn’t matter; he tries to establish himself as a bit more dominant, thrown off his usual groove by the absolutely sinful way Cas apparently kisses.

To Dean’s simultaneous horror and delight, Cas doesn’t relinquish any control; he won’t be moved, his hands get tighter and hotter where they touch Dean’s skin, he only presses them harder together, and he kisses Dean like he wants to eat him alive.

He kisses Dean like he wants to crawl inside him, like he’s hungry - starved - like kissing is an act of carnage just as much as an act of love, like those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

He’d rather die than admit it to anyone, but Dean’s knees get a little weak, and Cas basically holds up his entire weight by just the grip he’s got on Dean’s waist.

Before he knows it’s happened, Dean’s hard enough to carve stone, and Cas readjusts how they’re slotted against one another to better accommodate Dean’s failing balance, and Cas feels it - he must. Even if he doesn’t feel how hard Dean is against him right away, the guttural moan Dean will deny having made til his dying breath clues him in.

What sounds like hundreds of cherry bombs going off has them stumbling away from each other, and frantically looking about.

The streetlights have exploded. There’s glass everywhere, and based on the echoes of car alarms and distant voices, it’s becoming more and more possible that Cas destroyed the windows and lights of several cars and nearby homes.

Even he and Sam’s flashlights are busted.

In the blanket of darkness that’s settled over the graveyard, Dean can still see clearly, because Cas’ eyes are high beams cutting through the fog of the night.

They’re both panting, Dean’s pretty certain that a resting heart rate isn’t meant to feel like this, and Cas is looking positively feral.

“Jesus fuck!” Sam curses, his arms crossed over his head where he still plucks a shard of glass from his hair.

Reminded of Sam’s presence, Castiel’s head swivels to him, the glow of his eyes dims down, and then he looks back at Dean, visibly frightened.

Dean takes no pleasure in Cas ever being scared, so he reaches out, takes a step back into Cas’ space, but that spooks him more, and in less than a blink of an eye, he’s gone.

Not cool, Cas, Dean thinks loudly, hoping it counts as a prayer that Cas will hear.

Reaching into the front of his jeans, Dean uses the near blackness of the power outage to his advantage, and readjusts himself to the best of his abilities.

It really doesn’t do much.

“Well,” Sam starts pointedly.

Dean, weak at the knees, lips criminally swollen, face flushed, hair mussed and harder than he’s ever been in his life, turns slowly to scowl at Sam.

“That was not nothing.”

Dean doesn’t see a way of winning the argument, so he kicks dirt into Sam’s hair, and leaves him to finish burying.

#destiel #deancas #drabble #kisses #my stuff #some spice tho #just for funsies

[hirayarts]

finished commissions from march (and earlier)!! downsized and watermarked for safety

thanks to everybody who commissioned me!! @cherry-bomb-ships @danieladimitrescu @cj-self-ships @ponymagic @szayelinx @mouseship

my commissions are still open!! dm me for inquiries as usual <33

#self ship commissions #selfship commissions #self insert commissions #oc commissions #furry commissions #character commissions #commissions open #artists on tumblr #pony commissions #mlp commissions #chibi commissions

[missis-maple394]

COOKIE RUN FAN OC - Mistletoe Cookie

Please DO NOT REPOST/EDIT/TRACE my art from other sites.

Author’s comment:

A prompt based on new social media for artists, Artfol on mobile app. There was a Christmas event to receive badges so i thought I'll be getting few things with doodles. My idea was based on mistletoe, snowdrop flowers and cherry bombs using the Cookie Run OC.

Author’s note:

Do not start a roleplay using replying / reblogging with my artworks.

Do not tag and marked as a kin/me etc.

DO NOT claim my artworks belong to you, and removing / cropping my watermarks away.

DO NOT sell my art for monetary profit.

Please DM me for inquiries such as commissioned work or reporting my artwork has been reposted or edited.

Desktop: | Commission/Support Link | My FAQ/Links | Archives |

Mobile: | Commission Sheet | My FAQs |

#missmapleart #msm2021 #art #illustration #illustrations #digital art #digital drawing #oc #ocs #MsMapleOCs #Character design #cookie run #cookierun #cookie run fan oc #artfol #concept design #original #original work #オリジナル #原作 #図 #イ��スト #イラストレ���ター #アニメ #漫画 #anime #manga #artist on tumblr #artists on tumblr #fan art

[anexplanationofunfortunateevents]

the biggest, most impeachable offenses ever. believe me, folks.

It’s hard to wrap our minds around just how bad Trump is. So, the usual reminders:

What we know is worse than anything the United States government has ever seen. It justifies any legal consequence available, including impeachment and prison, AND

what we know is the tip of the iceberg. There is so much we don’t know about yet which also justifies any legal consequence available, including impeachment and prison.

So, okay. As we knew, Trump tried to hook Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky into a protection racket: you help me out by manufacturing bullshit evidence that Joe Biden’s family is on the take, or that lets Russia off the hook for its attack on the 2016 election, and maybe I’ll let you get the military aid you need. Nice territorial integrity you got there! Shame if something were to happen to it.*

You’re going to see a lot of Republicans pretending it’s a lot more complicated than it is, and too many reporters humoring their arguments. Ignore them. It’s a lot worse than it looks.

Remember what they tried to pull with the Mueller report? Attorney General Barr got the report and seriously thought he could cherry-pick a few quotes to spin the least terrible story possible. Barr got burned personally with that stunt – he used to have (unjustified) cover as a respected establishment guy, and now everyone knows he’s a hack – so they didn’t go that far this time. But the basic MO applies. The White House released people’s notes of the call between Trump and Zelensky and called it a “transcript” in hopes of fooling the press into saying they’d been transparent. Unlike with the Mueller report, this didn’t even slow things down. You can read the declassified parts of the whistleblower’s complaint now, or even listen to the free audiobook.

And that gets at the two big revelations that have everyone’s hair on fire:

It’s not just Trump. Everyone around him is implicated in this, and there are witnesses and evidence trails. A lot of these guys are just fucked.

A major reason we haven’t heard about this kind of stuff before is that the White House has been abusing the classification system to hide politically embarrassing or legally questionable conversations with foreign leaders. You can skip getting into the weeds about that; just know that it’s really fucking bad.

Fortunately, they were dumb enough to set Rudy Giuliani up as their patsy. Giuliani is a) savvy enough about mafia tactics to realize what’s happening and b) having a full-blown meltdown trying to take someone down with him.

Things have been moving fast. On Sunday 9/22, 135 members of Congress supported an impeachment inquiry. On Tuesday afternoon, Speaker Pelosi announced that the House would be starting a formal impeachment inquiry. By the end of the day that Wednesday, it was up to 218, which is a majority of the House.

There’s probably a lot of reasons this is a tipping point. One reason that’s really helpful to keep in mind is that, as bizarre as this is, it’s unfolding in a kind of conventional “Washington scandal” pattern. Trump has largely gotten away with his crimes so far by committing so many of them out in the open, which flummoxes conventional reporters and other investigators. In this story, people did a bad thing, tried to hide the bad thing, and someone snitched. The revelation led to more cover-ups, which led to more snitching, which led to more revelations … you get the idea.

Or, put another way: with all the bad shit they do in public, even they thought this was bad enough to hide.

Everyone knows President Nixon left office over “the Watergate scandal.” That’s our shorthand for the criminal enterprise which was run out of the Oval Office from 1969-74. Nixon pressured federal agencies to harass his critics. His re-election committee was basically a slush fund. He manipulated the 1972 Democratic primary to choose the opponent he thought would be easiest to beat. He considered having DC office buildings bombed and plotted to murder a journalist. Decades later, we’re STILL learning about crimes Nixon did and who helped him commit them.

Still, it’s not wrong to say that Nixon left office because of the “third-rate burglary” at the Watergate Hotel. Nobody slapped cuffs on him. He wasn’t struck down by a lightning bolt from a just and vengeful god. Public opinion drove him out of office. And for public opinion to turn like that, there needs to be a story that people know about and understand. People understand breaking and entering – and people understand extortion.

So make sure people know about this story. Push it everywhere. Call your representative. Keep an eye out for demonstrations in your area. This moment is an opportunity.

*One point that might get swamped: There are real people in Ukraine being bombed and terrorized by one of the largest armed forces in the world because the Kremlin feels like occupying their home. We have the money to help them defend themselves, and Congress decided overwhelmingly that we would do so. Trump flouted that small-d democratic mandate because he thought hanging those people out to dry would help him personally. That would be fucked up even if it had nothing to do with the 2020 election. Just a reminder that the Trump-brand crime spree has a lot of real victims and most of them don’t have representation in Congress.

#donald trump #trump russia #impeachment #ukraine #william barr #mike pence #michael pompeo #richard nixon #watergate #rudy giuliani

[wrxthfulguard]

@colorfulbubblemuses​ asked: Cherri entered the building, looking for her best friend. "Yo Ang where are you?" She asked in a loud tone, looking around at the Hotel Lobby.

Don had heard the loud inquiry, entering the lobby from the right hallway of the hotel’s ground floor to spot the familiar face... Because she was partially responsible for having Angel Dust partake in a turf war that was broadcasted during Charlie’s news interview.

“... Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, Miss Cherri Bomb... If you’re seeking out Angel Dust, he’s in his room, but is under disciplinary punishment after his turf war antics damaged the hotel’s reputation during the Princess’ news interview.”

#colorfulbubblemuses #answered #wrathful personified (IC) #v; fighting and surviving (main) #please reply in a new post

[yeetdam]

stars after the rain ☾ yedam

genre – romance, soulmate au

synopsis – set in a universe where everyone is born with two names tattooed on their skin. one name stands for their soulmate, the other for their potential killer. no one knows which person inked on them is their other half and which is their downfall, but that has never been an issue to you. after all, you were born with just one name. and, well, there’s only one way to interpret that.

wc – 8.3k

a/n – this is a completely self-indulgent fic pls forgive me this mess contains everything i dream of: best friend doyoung antics, slow burn-ish vibes and a cheesy rendition of the slow dance scene on the rooftop from high school musical 3 :’) either way, i hope you’ll enjoy this and pls lmk if there are any mistakes or if u have some feedback uwu

It’s bound to end in a tragedy when Doyoung barges into your room without any warning and sees it for the first time.

“That’s a cool place to have a tattoo,” he admits and points at the back of his neck when you turn to him with an irritated expression. The realization crashes onto you like an atomic bomb the moment you subconsciously mimic his movement and slide your hand up the back of your neck.

“Oh.”

In the blink of an eye, you frantically rummage through your drawers for your foundation. Lately, there’s been many things clouding your mind, be it the many exams you can’t afford to fail or the abnormal number of complaints Hyunsuk has sent you in a span of three hours. It’s not the first time for you to drown in all kinds of duties, but it seems like the pressure has got into your head worse than usual. You never fail to cover the ink on the back of your neck with either turtlenecks or foundation, so it just fuels your frustration when Doyoung sheds light on it.

“Hey, relax! We can join the party a little later, so take your time,” he says and puts a firm hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you. “Uh, do you want me to help? It must be hard blending that in every day.”

You snort. “First of all, I am relaxed. Second of all, I don’t do this every day, but I manage perfectly on my own.”

“Jesus Christ,” Doyoung sighs and retreats his hand, “I was just trying to be the empathetic best friend. But jokes aside, it really is a cool place to have your tattoo. My thigh can’t relate.”

“As much as I love being your best friend and am willing to listen to your problems anytime–” you successfully find the bottle and squirt a generous amount of foundation on the beauty blender, “–even that is too much information for me. What should I know next? Your other tattoo is on your butt?”

There is nothing wrong with covering up the tattoos you are born with. It’s not socially frowned upon if someone doesn’t make any efforts to hide the ink. In the end, it all boils down to your personal preference. You know a handful of people who waltz around with both of their names on display, and you are relatively sure that Doyoung would be one of them if his tattoos were on an appropriate part of his body.

“Haha. Funny,” Doyoung deadpans before he whips out his phone. “I meant what I said, take your time. Plus, I realized I still gotta call someone.”

“Give me five.” You hum and apply the liquid on your skin. He exits your room and makes sure that the door falls softly in its lock to give you a moment of peace. A frown paves its way onto your face as you build up the coverage until there is no trace of black on your neck.

Showing the inked names on your skin and just talking about the concept of soulmates in general isn’t a social taboo. However, there are quite a few people who rather avoid the topic at hand, including you. Truth be told, every cell in your body knows that Doyoung is dying to discuss this topic with you and there are too many moments you recall where he looks as if he’s about to explode if he doesn’t bring up his soulmate. However, he never did that. Doyoung wears his heart on his sleeve and so do you, but here’s the thing: Doyoung is better at swallowing them down.

So as his best friend, the least you can do is go with him to that one goddamn party even though there are other things you’d rather do at this late hour of the day.

(A prime example of what you’d rather do is giving Hyunsuk a piece of your mind because receiving fifty-seven emails about not understanding biology, whining about the new TA and his harsh grading and inquiries about what to get Seunghun for his birthday in the span of three hours is not okay.)

Whenever you go out in public, you are usually seen with a turtleneck or a scarf. Covering up your tattoo with a foundation is your plan c) when desperate times call for desperate measures. Also, there is a reason why you barely go to parties.

Parties fall under desperate times.

Although there isn’t anything in Yeji’s house that is illegal to consume, the living room is sweltering hot, the music obnoxiously loud, and the entire scenario is equivalent to a frat party minus the alcohol, drugs, and making out.

Instead, a dozen bottles of pretty much every soft drink you can find from the convenience store just three blocks away and a broad selection of chips and chocolate and cake are found on the tables.

“Wanna bet that you could never finish cola with salt in one go?” Jaehyuk suggestively raises a brow at Doyoung and holds up the red cup in his hand.

“If I win, you owe me bubble tea for an entire month. Wherever and whenever I want.” You fight the urge to smack yourself as you see the sneaky grin etched on Doyoung’s lips. For a moment, you debate whether to stand up your comfortable position on the couch and knock some sense into him. But then again, you remind yourself why you’re even here in the first place. Though you know most of the people here, you don’t really talk to them. Doyoung was your only friend present.

You’re only here for Doyoung’s sake. You’re going to let him have fun and let him regret his life decisions in the aftermath.

“Aren’t you feeling lonely here?” you divert your eyes from Doyoung to the guy who drops himself on the couch beside you. He’s a new face, you figure, dressed in an unbuttoned, red flannel shirt, a black graphic tee underneath and ripped skinny jeans. Strands of jet black hair fall into his face, but they fail to hide the genuine twinkle in his eyes as the corners of his lips subtly tug upwards.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” you mumble and are very glad that you’re no longer focused on Doyoung if you consider the gagging sounds he’s emitting, “I’m not a huge fan of these kinds of occasions.”

“Let me guess,” he muses and takes a sip out of his cup, “That guy forced you here?”

A chuckle escapes your lips when he points at Jaehyuk who’s laughing maliciously at a kneeling Doyoung.

“Actually, it’s the guy who looks like he needs life support, but close enough.” you lift a brow at the flannel guy. “Is there a reason why you’re staring at me like that?”

He shrugs in response. “I’m just happy that I managed to lift up your spirits a little bit.”

There it is again, the glimmer in his eyes. You can’t lay a finger on what exactly it is, whether it’s playfulness or an underlying risk. All you know is that it's a gamble. You either take the leap or you keep it safe. It’s not the first time that you end up in such a situation, but this time, it’s a little but different. The only thing that is stopping you is the uncertainty of reading him.

But maybe, maybe it’s not that bad.

“You know,” you start and fiddle with your fingers, “I’m fairly sure that you’re the only one who can enlighten me here.”

Your hunch is proven right. It is not that bad. Not bad at all, actually.

For the next hour, you two stay seated on the couch and talk about all kinds of things. Sometimes, when you bother to care, you laugh at some mishaps that occur right in front of your eyes, like Chaeryeong tripping over her own feet before she crashes into Mashiho and makes him fall flat on his face.

“Wanna grab something to drink?” he asks after a while and swirls the last few ounces of liquid in his cup. “Besides, I think I need a refill.”

“Sure,” you reply and you both enter the kitchen. The room is empty apart from the two of you, and though you can still hear the music blasting through the closed door, your ears don’t ache as much anymore.

While you grab ahold of one of the opened bottles of cherry cola and pour it into an unused red cup, you watch him roll up the sleeves of his flannel from the corner of your eye. He has pretty hands, you figure, and maybe it would’ve been better if you didn’t stare at them for so long. It’s only a subtle flick of his wrist as he fixes his sleeves, but you don’t fail to notice fine black lines on his left wrist.

Before you ponder longer about it, he asks you, “Hey, can you pass me the cherry cola?”

You nod wordlessly and hand him the bottle and don’t leave his hand movements out of your sight. Once in a while, your eyes flit to the fridge behind him, to the few strands of jet black hair that sick out messily or to his eyes. Curiosity has never been a trait that really defines you, but sometimes, you can’t help but try to decode the name on his wrist.

Still oblivious to your underlying intentions, he continues rambling about his favorite music producers. “Cha Cha Malone has this really distinctive tone in his productions…” he places the edge of his cup on his lips with his left hand and suddenly, your blood runs cold.

Though there is the slight possibility that you are suffering from hallucinations, you are pretty damn sure it is not an illusion. The kitchen sheds enough light to see everything clearly, from the slight bags under his eyes to the coffee stains on the table. The lights aren’t blinding, but they’re enough to decipher the fine black lines inked on his left wrist.

Your name.

“... and I feel that– hey, you look like you saw a ghost. Is everything alright?” he furrows his brows in concern, but when he follows the trail where you’re looking at, he gets the gist. You notice him tense up and are pretty sure it’s not a trick of the light when he pales, something akin to guilt paints his face.

“Come to think of it,” you mumble and avert your eyes from his wrist. “I didn't catch your name. Who are you?”

He hesitates, chews on his bottom lips first before he answers. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights and it just fuels your thought that the worst case scenario has become a reality. You hope it isn’t what you think it is.

“I’m Bang Yedam.”

You stare at him in disbelief, unable to force any coherent words past your lips. A shiver runs down your spine, and though there is less to be scared of because your name is inked on his wrist too, you're still wary. Obviously, the one who is destined to end your life won't have your name tattooed on them.

But with your circumstances, you can't help but include that possibility.

Yedam doesn't hide his panic anymore as he tries to justify himself. "Look, I'm sorry I haven't introduced myself earlier, (y/n). Doyoung told me not to–"

"Doyoung? What does Doyoung have to do with this?"

When all you're met with is silence, you ask again with something akin to fury laced in your tone. "I said, what does Doyoung have to do with this?"

He diverts his gaze to the counter behind you with pursed lips. Knowing that he won't spill the truth, you try to find the remaining puzzle pieces to complete the mystery by yourself. Your efforts are in vain though, because there is nothing you remember that could serve as a link to what Yedam said–

("I realized I still gotta call someone.")

"I need to go," you say when it dawns on you and you set the cup on the table. A jumble of emotions rages in you, be it the anger that flows through your veins or the whirlwind of irritation and disappointment and despair flooding your senses. You don't stop when Yedam calls after you and tries to make you stay.

You rush into the living room to grab your belongings, completely ignoring Doyoung who is still oblivious to your discovery. It's when he takes a closer look at your trembling hands and pessimistic face that the joy falls from his face.

"Hey, why are you leaving already?" he asks, concern laced in his voice as he tries to touch you, but you swat his hand away.

You huff. "Mind your own business, I really don't appreciate your stunt."

"What?" he furrows his brows and tries to figure out the meaning of your words. "I don't understand–"

"(y/n), please don't go– oh God." Yedam slows down to a halt at the sight of you and Doyoung. The boy beside you widens his eyes when he sees Yedam and then, the realization strikes him like lightning.

"O-oh, that was what you're talking about. Look, I can explain–"

You don't stay a while longer to hear his reasoning.

There is a reason why Doyoung has been your best friend for so long. It isn't the first time for you to fight and if you're being honest, your ego isn't that big to not forgive him. Doyoung can be awfully nosy and loves to stick his nose into someone else's business. Therefore, it doesn't surprise you that you invite him over on an afternoon after he left fifty voice messages and over a hundred text messages in your inbox.

"Please don't start your explanation with 'I was trying to do you a favor'." you sigh in distress.

"I was trying to do you a favor," he bluntly says and it costs you your willpower to not invite him out of your place. Doyoung sends you a crooked grin before he turns serious. "Okay, real talk now. I was just... surprised when I saw Yedam's name on your neck. And since I already knew that one of Yedam's tattoos is your name, I thought it'd be a good idea to make you two meet. Turns out to be that I was a fool."

"You're always a fool, please," you deadpan and snicker when he shoots you a death glare.

"Hey! I was trying to be an empathetic best friend here! I just breathed and here you are, clowning me. That is disrespectful!"

He attempts to throw you off your chair by aiming a pillow at you. Instead, he almost knocks down the succulent on your desk. The next few minutes, you bicker for a while and start an impromptu tickle fight to lighten up the mood. It's when you both lie on the carpeted floor and your heartbeats have fallen back into a steady rhythm that he addresses the problem at hand.

"Why don't you want to give him a chance?"

"My gut says it won't end well," you reply slowly.

Doyoung shuffles to the side to get a good glimpse of your face. "You know, the chance is high that Yedam's your soulmate. He's got your name too, after all. And he's willing to give it a shot, y'know? One meeting doesn't sound bad and won't be the end of the world."

You hesitate, considering the implied proposal with a frown. "It's complicated."

"So you're willing to let the glorious chance pass by?"

"Yes."

Taken aback by your rapid answer, Doyoung adds in a quieter tone, "Not many people manage to find even one of the two people. Even less find the one who wears their names too. You should definitely consider it, (y/n)."

"I get where you're coming from, but..." your voice trails off.

Doyoung watches you with expectant eyes. "But?" he drawls.

But you don't understand.

"You're not gonna stop bugging me until I say yes, are you?" you say instead. Although you'd trust your life to him, you don't want to burden him with your tattoo dilemma. He may not let it show too much, but you know he has his worries and he doesn't need to break his head about the meaning of your only tattoo too.

"Do you want the truth or a fabrication of lies?" he asks with a suggestively raised brow, making you roll his eyes at his silliness.

"Fine, I'll meet up with him one time. He shouldn't get his hopes up, though."

For some reason, you find yourself walking into the café fifteen minutes earlier. You blame it on the fact that there surprisingly was no traffic jam, although it's rush hour. As it turns out, you're not the only one to arrive earlier than expected, because Yedam enters the coffee shop five minutes after you.

He notices you right away, seated in between red and black cushions at the far back of the room, but doesn't steer towards you instantly. Instead, he stands in line and orders two drinks before he approaches you. An uncertain, shy smile adorns his face and contrary to the first time you met him, he's different. His hands shake so much that he spills one cup a little bit when he sets them down and he can't bring it over himself to look you in the eye. Yedam's treading lightly, abnormally careful about his own actions.

"I got you hot chocolate. I hope you don't mind," he mumbles and slides the cup towards you.

There's the need to tell him not to worry and loosen up. However, you don't manage to do so. What you do manage is a quiet "thanks" before you take a sip of it.

Well, at least Doyoung wasn't lying when he said that the café served delicious beverages.

Awkward, heavy and pressuring don't even come remotely close to describe the silence hovering above you. Even an innocent bystander can tell that neither of you is exactly comfortable in your shoes.

"So." Yedam's ears perk up when you clear your throat. "You wanted to meet me."

"Yeah…" his voice trails off as he taps his fingers on his paper cup. This time, he's wearing a blue wool sweater with sleeves so long they cover up his palms. You fight the urge to ask him if you could see his left wrist.

"Uh, give me a second to mentally prepare myself." he stammers before he starts anew. "I'm going to be honest here. I was happy when Doyoung called me and said he knew someone who wore my name. I had a great time that night and I, um, guess that things wouldn't have ended like that if you figured it out in a different manner."

"I'm going to be honest too," you confess. "I had a lot of fun that night, well, before it started to go downhill. It's just, I don't think I'll be able to cope with this." You gesture on your own wrist. 

Something that hits very close to desperation is written on his face. For the first time, he looks at you directly and tries to read you. "Listen, I'm not trying to force anything on you. I know not everyone cares about the marks and that's fine. I just..."

He hesitates, tries to find the right words. Judging by the tone of his voice and the quiet sigh that escapes his lips, you know he doesn't belong to the group of people who don't care, unlike you – and he is very well aware of that too.

"You just?" you probe. Though you are quite sure what words will follow next, you need to hear them come out of his own mouth.

Yedam glances at you unsurely, wariness audible in his voice when he speaks up. "I was just hoping to, uh, get to know you. It doesn't have to be something long lasting, I swear. If you feel uncomfortable, we can break it off at any time. I was hoping that we could at least try."

There are many, many red lights blinking in your mind. This suggestion is nothing more than a very, very bad idea. In your case, the journey doesn't even matter. It doesn't matter if you end up being more than friends. What matters is the result. And, well, the result is inevitable.

Amongst the many, many stop signs that practically scream DON'T DO IT, there is one brain cell that begs to differ. Yedam looks at you expectantly, pleadingly even. His desperation is visible in his eyes as if they held stardust which reflects his every emotion.

You inhale deeply through your nose in an attempt to steady your frantic heartbeat. It's bound to end in a tragedy and you should care more, but you don’t have the heart to reject him.

Hopefully, you don't sound so unconvinced and scared when you respond.

"Trying sounds good."

Yedam is careful. He's so careful it genuinely surprises you. He doesn't push you to anything, works his way to more personal questions (though so far, the most personal question he's asked you was how long you've been friends with Doyoung) and tries his best to cater everything to your needs. It's by the fifth time you meet up in person when he finds the courage to ask for your number. Truth be told, you can practically see him pondering five minutes about each text he writes before sending it to you. The absence of emojis in his messages just confirm how nervous he still is.

It's still awkward when you talk and most of the time, it's Yedam who asks questions. Yet he's quick to pick up certain likes and dislikes, like your favorite ice cream flavor or your least favorite type of music.

It goes without saying that Doyoung practically demands regular updates. He was over the moon when you told him how your first date ended and even paid you bubble tea. That was how happy he was for you.

"He's not as bad as expected," you say as you nonchalantly look for good Netflix movies to watch.

Doyoung snorts in response. "Of course I knew that already. I've known Yedam for a good while now and seriously, all he does is sing the High School Musical soundtrack and swoon about music producers."

"He sings?"

You practically feel Doyoung rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. "Duh. That guy's a singing god. But you have my word, (y/n), I'll end him and twist out his intestines if he hurts you. You really don't have anything to worry about."

"The only thing I worry about is you becoming a potential murderer," you say in a monotonous voice. (In a way, it’s ironic, given how there is bound to be someone who wears Doyoung’s name with the negative connotation.)

That causes your best friend to laugh in an exaggerated manner. "Very funny. In all seriousness though–" he grabs a handful of chips and stuffs it in his mouth, "–how do you not know that he sings? Even though you know he produces his own songs? I thought you talk lots."

"The thing is–" you shuffle to the side and hope he won't spit any crumbs on you, "–he's the one who talks. I just listen and answer his questions."

Doyoung sends you an unbelievable look that's equivalent to 'Are you serious?' "Then ask some questions back, you fool!"

"I don't know what to ask though!"

"What? You truly are unbelievable." he groans and throws his head back. "I guess I have to step up my game and help out a poor soul, huh?"

You throw him an offended look. "I am not an imbecile!"

"I never said that, dumbass," he tuts. "But back to the point. Yedam likes music, just recommend him some songs and he's gonna love you. Or have a High School Musical marathon with him. For all I know, attend a concert with him or just let him show you his own songs– the possibilities are endless! You always meet up at that café and although it's nice and cozy there, it's getting boring. If you only knew how panicky Yedam gets when I bring you up in our conversations: pitiful! That's what it is!"

"I don't know if that'd be a good idea–"

"Listen, I have no idea why you are so against getting close to him and since we already had this talk, I'm not gonna bring it up again. But for the love of God, if you already agree on trying, then put in some effort yourself!" he exclaims and with every word, his hand gestures become bigger. It even reaches the point where you're certain that he's going to hit you in the face.

Nonetheless, he’s right. You desperately need to step up your game.

Yedam is confused when you send him a link while he’s talking about something you don’t bother listening to. His irritation is visible in his scrunched brows, in the way his gaze switches from you, then back to his phone, and in the little hitch in his voice.

“They say your music taste tells a lot by yourself.” you shrug and try to sound as casual as possible. “And, uh, perhaps I heard that you like listening to new songs.”

The confusion morphs into a small yet genuine smile once he sees that it’s a link to a Spotify playlist. “You’re not wrong about that. While we’re at it, here.”

Your phone vibrates, signifying a new text message. Just like him, you fail to hide your amusement when you see the link to his own Spotify playlist, followed by a SoundCloud profile.

“Let me guess, the SoundCloud one is where you post your own music?” you joke lightly but when you look up and meet Yedam’s bewildered expression, you gulp. “Did I say something insensitive?”

Yedam hastily shakes his head. “No, not at all! I’m just surprised that you remembered that I produce some songs too.”

“I mean, it’s hard not to forget that when Doyoung gushed about that for a good hour and you like to swoon about how much of an idol Cha Cha Malone is to you.”

He looks at you with a stunned expression. “Do I really talk that often about him?”

“No. I just remembered that, that’s all.” you smile lightly. Regardless of whether or not Yedam buys it, the apples of his cheeks are dusted red and he looks down as if he hopes for the floor to swallow him whole.

Quickly realizing that the atmosphere might turn into an embarrassingly long and awkward silence, you scroll through the Spotify playlist and chuckle when you recognize songs you haven’t heard in a while yet.

“Do you have something against my music taste?” Yedam asks, partly wary, partly sounding as if he was ready to brawl.

“No, of course not!” you explain once you calm down. “It’s just, it’s been a while since I heard the Jonas Brothers. Also, uh, I’ve never seen High School Musical and you have a lot of songs in it.”

Yedam looks like he's about to jump out of the window and his eyeballs might have fallen out of its sockets after your confession.

"What did you even do in your childhood?" He acts as if it was an unforgivable crime and then adds with conviction, "First of all, the entire soundtrack is on the playlist. Second of all, what are you waiting for? We need to catch up with things you should've done when you were a child!"

“What are you–” Before you get to finish your thoughts, he grabs ahold of your hand and leads you out of the café. “Where are we going?”

“My place,” he replies without looking back at you as he picks up his pace. “You need to watch all movies. I refuse to leave you uncultured.”

Your attempts of not having to watch any of the films prove themselves futile. That, and the other, unexpectedly childlike side of him make you stay. Even if you planned on running away, you couldn’t anyway. With the way your hands are intertwined, it’s hard to do so. Though by now you’re practically rushing down streets and occasionally bump into a pedestrian or two, the incredulous look on their faces when they see you hand in hand is something you don’t miss. 

You don’t know whether the feeling bubbling in your gut should feel warm.

When Doyoung said that Yedam knew every single song from High School Musical, he meant every single song.

You tried, you really tried to pay attention to the storyline. However, it’s not that easy when five minutes into the movie, the first song comes up and Yedam belts out every single note in a theatrical way. You find yourself anticipating the next song so he’ll sing more rather than the actual plot progression.

When Doyoung said that Yedam could sing, he meant he could sing. It would’ve been nice of him if he had warned you beforehand how angelic Yedam’s voice was because your jaw dropped to the floor the moment he started to sing. You didn’t know what you expected, but you certainly did not expect to be swept off the ground in a span of 0.08998 seconds.

“Did I just ruin your fun?” Yedam asks carefully, a bashful smile plastered on his face once the first song came to an end.

The question startles you and you blink at him in awe before you feel the heat creep up your cheeks. “What? No! I mean, no. I was just surprised that your voice is that nice,” you manage to choke out.

His smile widens, and your face flushes a deep red.

“So you don’t mind me singing along?”

“I prefer your voice over that guy right there…” you pause. “Wait, what? Forget what I said.”

“Me? Forgetting that? You wish,” he beams and erupts in laughter when you cover your face with your hands. “But if that’s what you want, I’ll sing along.”

You find yourself listening to Yedam singing anything your heart desires many times after.

While you still have no idea what exactly the plot of High School Musical is up until now, you indulge in the heavenly voice of your human jukebox even more with every passing day.

Depending on his mood, you discover the many facets of his personality. On days where he’s tired and you happen to stop by just because you’re casually in the neighborhood, he shows you his self composed songs. Although the bags under his eyes are impossible to miss, he keeps his head held up high and urges you to comment on all of his songs despite rather wanting to hide under the covers.

On days where you’re tired and happen to be lounging on his couch, he loves to lull you to sleep. His voice is soft and gentle, just like his hands playing with your hair as you hide your face in the crook of his neck. Then there are days where it seems as if stole the sun’s job or had drunk too many energy drinks and jumps around like a lunatic while belting out the melody of My Heart Will Go On.

Today seems like a day where he’s just emitting happiness.

Truth be told, you don’t know when exactly you’ve let down your guard. The current scenario is too sickeningly domestic for your liking – with you leaning your head on his shoulder while his arm is lazily draped around you. The third installment of High School Musical running on screen doesn’t quite suit your taste either, yet you don’t make any amends to put some distance between you.

“Do you know how to dance?” Yedam asks casually, eyes glued on the screen. Currently, Troy and Gabriella are at the school rooftop and it seems as if the next song is going to start soon.

Your eyes narrow at him. “What are you planning?”

“I’ll take it as a no. But that’s fine too.”

“Yedam, seriously, what are you planning?”

There’s a gleeful twinkle in his eyes when he faces you. Before you can ask again, he stands up and pulls you up with him.

“Just trust me on this. It’ll be fun,” he interrupts you in the middle of your doubts. That shuts you up for good, yet it doesn’t hinder you from sending him warning glares.

You stay blissfully unaware of his ulterior motives until he firmly grabs one hand and puts your other on his shoulder, followed by planting his free hand on your waist. He shoots you a fond and reassuring smile to soothe your panicked self. Then slowly and surely, the first guitar strums come out of the speakers before Gabriella starts singing in the background.

A quick glance behind Yedam to the screen, where the lovestruck couple is also in the same position as you, is enough to let you know in which direction this is heading to.

“No. No. No. I can’t dance, much less slow dance–”

“I’ll guide you. Just keep your eyes on me,” he muses and tilts your chin so you lock eyes.

There are so many cells in you that are screaming at you to look away, but you’re unable to do so. There’s something behind the fragments of fondness in his eyes that you can’t quite decipher, but either way, you get lost in his eyes and your breath hitches.

“Let me guide you,” he repeats in a tone that makes you melt in a matter of seconds. You’re pretty sure your legs would’ve given up at this point if it weren’t for him who takes a step back and tugs you with him.

It goes without saying that you feel like a newborn baby deer that’s still clumsy on its legs. In the first few tries, you’re uncoordinated, stiff as a board and step on his toes a few times, and you’re not able to look away from him. He winces when you misplace your foot and you shoot him an apologetic look in return, but after some time, you get the hang out of it. Midway through the song, your legs no longer feel as if they’re going to mutate into jelly as you sway through the expanse of his living room.

“Look, you’re doing just fine,” Yedam reassures warmly before a grin etches across his lips; as if he just came up with a brilliant masterplan. “Wanna try a spin?”

“No,” you shoot out like a bullet and cause him to giggle. “This is enough for today.”

“Fine then, maybe next time.”

The rest of the song is spent in comfortable silence, warm smiles and occasionally knocking over a book or two when you happen to bump against the shelf. When the song comes to a slow end, you find yourself coming to a standstill. It’s just then when you realized how dangerously close Yedam really is. His breath hits your lips and you pick up the slight scent of spearmint.

You’re not the only one who notices. Yedam’s gaze switches from your eyes to your lips. Confliction is prominent in his face. Even though you’ve grown more comfortable around him, a feeling similar to home even, he’s aware he can’t cross all your limits yet. He doesn’t dare to prod further, lean a little bit closer and you know he’s wordlessly giving you the shots.

At this point, your heart practically hammers against your chest and you wouldn’t put it past him to hear it too. Perhaps, you’re in too deep and for a moment, you slowly move closer until it’s just a matter of a few millimeters separating you.

That is until you’re aware of the fact that you’re clinging onto his hand as if he were your lifeline. The realization causes a knot in your stomach. Suddenly, the doubts flash your mind; the fear that initially overcame you when you first met him at the party, when you found out who Yedam was.

There’s nothing wrong with Yedam. He’s nice and talented and genuinely cares. Yet at the same time, you’re not certain if there’s nothing wrong with him. You can’t be fully certain of him and that realization strikes you like lightning once more.

You try to ignore the sadness that washes over him for a short moment when you pull away.

“I’m sorry. It’s just a little complicated to explain,” you mumble apologetically.

“It’s fine,” he replies in the same manner.

There’s no doubt that you can see the genuineness in his eyes, but you can’t tell whether he was really telling the truth or was trying to manipulate himself into thinking that it truly is fine for him.

Surprisingly, as well as to your luck, he doesn’t bring up the episode again. In fact, he acts as if it never happened and honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You’ve become a little more cautious ever since, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t want him performing a little bit of skinship on you. He still sings for you, proudly shows you his latest songs and becomes cozy around you whenever you watch a movie.

Just like any other day you’re at his place, you’re sitting on the couch and currently scrolling mindlessly through your inbox while Yedam is on the other end of the couch.

“I really like you.”

You hope you misheard what he said. Yes, you definitely misheard it, you’re positive of that. The intensity of his gaze when your eyes meet begs to differ though.

Honestly, the day was bound to come sooner or later. After all, you’re not that oblivious. Yedam is similar to you, you like to think – he wears his heart on his sleeve. But whereas you let your bad sides show, he puts all the good in him on display.

“How are you so sure that we’re soulmates? Do you have any other reason besides the fact that I wear your name too?” you ask after a moment of silence. It costs you your entire willpower to not lash out on him and say once more that you’re not interested in something more than what you already have, but he wouldn’t believe that.

And frankly, you’re not sure if you would believe yourself either.

“I do,” he responds, voice full of conviction. “I say it so easily because I found the other person already, and I know that he’s not my soulmate.”

“Again, what makes you so certain about that?”

Yedam purses his lips and hesitates before he sits directly next to you. He opens his mouth several times, but no words come out.

Then suddenly, without any verbal warning whatsoever, he turns to you completely and tugs on the collar of his sweater, pulling it so far down until he exposes a strip of skin underneath his left collarbone.

You gape at the sight, hope you’re hallucinating. You really hope this is just a trick of the light. It must be one.

The pitch black ink contrasts with his skin, and though the letters are fine lines and easy to miss if you don’t pay attention, the name leaves a burning image in your head and a foul taste in your mouth.

Kim Doyoung.

“I wouldn’t put it past him to kill me if he really wants to. And trust me, he’ll definitely have a reason to do so.” Yedam chuckles dryly as he covers the tattoo.

Although you already know the answer, you ask flabbergasted. “Does he know?”

“That I wear his name? Unless he wears mine, which I highly doubt, no. He would’ve confronted me about this by now if he knew.”

It explains a lot. No, it explains everything. It explains why Yedam oozed confidence and was sure that you were bound to last a lifetime. It explains why he looks at you as if you were the center of his world without a doubt. It explains why he’s not afraid of you. He’s only been treading lightly because of you.

You sneak another glance at him and the sight causes something in you to break. Yedam is sitting right beside you, watching you carefully and pleadingly even. The specks of glimmer he holds in his eyes, the ones that reveal his feelings, aren’t even specks anymore. They’ve dissolved and you’re looking right through him. He wears his emotions on full display now, the desperation is prominent more than ever.

He’s treading lightly yet is needy for an answer and slowly reaches out for your hand. Before it can get so far, you turn away from him and croak out a weak “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t trust me?” you wince at the hurt laced in the undertone of his voice.

“It has nothing to do with me trusting you. It’s me, okay? It’s just–”

“–complicated, I get it,” he spits out the words as if they were acid and suddenly, the couch feels much lighter.

“Yedam, I didn’t mean it like that!” you stand up and grab the hem of his sweater in an attempt to bring him to a standstill. “I’m sorry.”

Yedam stands still, but he doesn’t turn around to meet you. He takes in a deep breath and sighs audibly, but you don’t miss the hitch in his breath as if he’s trying to contain something else.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have–” he pauses, stabilizes his shaky pitch before he reaches back and detaches your grip, “Nevermind.”

He leaves you alone in his living room and it costs you your entire energy to not break down onto the floor.

He doesn’t text you anymore and as much as you itch to contact him, you don’t muster up the courage to actually do it.

Doyoung also noticed the shift in your relationship. Fortunately, he doesn’t pry further and never brings up Yedam in your conversations. You’ve never told him any details but you’re relatively sure that Yedam said some things to him.

Either way, Doyoung remains a great friend. He tries his best to lift up your spirits – even bought you a gallon of your favorite ice cream flavor along with a lifetime supply of candy of all sorts. Once he realized that his wallet was suffering, he resorted to cooking your favorite food, even if that almost resulted in him burning down the kitchen.

However, as much as Doyoung might distract you from your pity party, he’s not a permanent fix. You know it and he knows it. Therefore, it really doesn’t faze you when he brings up the last person you’d want on your mind (to your dismay, he’s the only person on your mind).

“He’s also miserable right now, you know?”

When you don’t respond, he sighs and drops on the seat next to you, seeing it as his cue to continue. “He’s waiting for your call. I don’t know what went down between the two of you, but you better sort it out. Not only am I running out of ideas to get you out of your house, but I’m also pretty sure you two will end up as living corpses if you don’t fix it soon.”

You lift up your head and purse your lips. “It’s not going to end well.”

“You always say that.” he rolls his eyes, sounding more fed up this time. “Yedam didn’t tell me a lot and I know you get turn hyperventilated whenever it comes to your tattoos, so I’m not going ask about that. I never did and never will, get it? All I know is that Yedam dished out his soulmate situation from start to finish. You should trust him too, wholeheartedly.”

“I would’ve done that if I could a long time ago!”

“If I could,” he mimics, two octaves higher than your actual tone, “You can! I don’t want to guilt trip you or anything, but it’s only fair if he knows too. He’s poured his heart out to you, why can’t you do the same? Just think like this: say we live in a world where soulmate tattoos don’t exist, would you like him?”

“I…” your voice trails off.  

Seemingly satisfied with your reaction, Doyoung sighs and stands up.

“I think you know the answer too. Talk to him, please.”

Come to think of it, you’ve never invited Yedam over to your place. That’s about to change when you send him your address and find him at your doorstep later in the evening. The sun is long gone and in its place shines the moon along with the stars. Their light is enough to taint your living room in a soft glow and it’s enough to notice every single one of his features.

He’s tired, looks like he hasn’t slept well in days, yet frankly, there’s something oddly comforting about his presence.

“You called?” he asks to break the ice.

Truth be told, you’ve rehearsed what you wanted to say many times a few hours ago. You could’ve also practiced weeks before but you doubt you’d ever get rid of the uncertainty laced in your shaky voice when you start to talk about that topic.

You fiddle with the hem of your sleeves. “I realized something. You never asked to see my tattoo.” It’s not what you rehearsed, but as long as it leads to the point, it’s alright.

“I didn’t want to pressure you,” he responds.

You observe his expression, narrow your eyes in a brief moment of contemplation before you slowly undo the scarf you’re wearing. Yedam is quick to guess where this is heading to and quickly stammers, “Wait, you don’t have to justify yourself in front of me!”

“No, I want to,” you say with conviction and turn around so he can see the black ink at the back of your neck. Although the room is just dimly lit, you know that he can see it clearly. For a moment, you get goosebumps as his fingers ghost over the ink, but you let him bask in his fascination.

“The truth is, this is the only tattoo I was born with,” you confess after a moment of silence.

He gulps. “What?”

“I only wear your name, Yedam. You’re smart, I’m sure you understand the weight of that.” You turn around but don’t find the courage nor the energy to look him in the eye. The silence is heavy, unbearable, and literally nothing about it lifts the pressure off your shoulders. You don’t need to see him to know how the revelation shatters his view on everything in millions of shards.

“Look at me, please,” he pleads instead, and when you shake your head in response, he gently cups your face. You have no other choice but to do as and are startled when all you see is not pure horror, but soft, pure and wholehearted adoration in him.

“God, (y/n), I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you. Believe me when I say you mean so much to me. You have no idea how hard I’ve tried to have you voluntarily open up to me. and now that I see the situation from your view, I get why you were so unwilling at first. But trust me when I say I only want the best for you and would never put you in danger.” The raw vulnerability in his voice makes you believe him for a while and keeps you from breaking out in tears.

“You don’t know that.”

“Oh, I do know that. Did you already forget? Doyoung is my potential killer,” he says matter-of-factly and sends you a broken smile, “So before I kill you, I’ll make sure that he ends me first.”

“Great, and then my best friend ends up in jail.”

This time, he genuinely laughs. You, on the other hand, can’t bite down the small smile that paves its way on your lips from that weak joke.

“You’re right, I can’t guarantee your safety from me,” Yedam admits once he’s calmed down and tucks a strand of your hair in place before he goes on, “But I can guarantee that I’ll do anything in my power to make you happy. Have you even looked at my SoundCloud profile? Ever since I met you the majority of my releases are love songs!”

“So you admit that the songs are all about me?” you playfully raise a brow at him.

“Of course they’re all about you.” he breathes out as if the weight on his shoulders was lifted off of him. Yedam still looks like he could need some sleep, but there is no longer a sign of restlessness. He is at ease, and it shows the most when he adds fondly, “It doesn’t have to last forever. We can break it off if you feel unsafe. I hope we can at least try.”

The course of this conversation is oddly reminiscent to your first date in the café, you think. Back then, you were more than convinced that the only way this would end was as a tragedy. Back then, you just said your answer out of pity, one might say. But that was back then, and this time, you’re more than serious and more than convinced when you respond with a smile.

“Trying sounds good.”

#look it's been months since i wrote a fic i apologize for some inconsistencies x #ygtb #yg treasure box #ygtb scenarios #ygtb imagines #bang yedam #yedam #yedam scenarios #yedam imagine #yedam fluff #yedam angst #ygtb fluff #ygtb angst #treasure 13 #treasure #treasure fluff #treasure angst #treasure scenarios #treasure imagines #treasure 13 scenarios #treasure 13 fluff #treasure 13 angst

[worldly-diversity]

( Anonymous ) asked :  *casually puts a baby Cherubi on top of Cherri's head*

Cherri froze as suddenly something was placed on her head, making seemingly chirping noises and apparently quite happy with its placement. She's never really had pets before so this is quite daunting! After a moment and realising it's not about to fall off her head or combust just from being near her, she slowly reaches up and grabs hold of it, lowering it down to eye level so she can see what she's been given.

It's… both the strangest and most adorable creature she's ever seen and she can't help but coo loudly and squish the thing into her cleavage as she hugged it.

"Aw, you're too fucking cute! I'm keeping you and I'm gonna call you Ruby~"

#anon #universe • hazbin hotel #inquiry • hazbin hotel #interactions • cherri bomb #answered #for the record yes i do need to google most of these xD #not all tho!! haha

[the-legendary-professor-cherry]

Hi Professor! I was wondering; what made you want to research Legendary and Mythical Pokémon? Have you ever encountered one? Thanks for your time!

Hello!

I’ve always loved studying the ancient myths—the stories about Entei and the Unown, the Creation myths... one day, I swore I saw a Palkia fly through the sky above my house, and I’ve been hooked ever since!

I lived near Lake Valor as a child, and I had numerous experiences with Azelf and the other Lake Trio members—the first of which I met up-close was Mesprit, oddly enough!

I considered them my friends as a child, and to this day I still work closely with them to help maintain a safe atmosphere in the Sinnoh region.

My facility has been built two months prior to the Galactic bomb set off at Lake Valor. I went with some of my colleagues to survey the damage, and my! What a horrible sight to witness! We started a campaign to repair and refill the lake soon afterward, and even Champion Cynthia gave a generous donation toward the cause!

I’m certain Azelf was very grateful for the help.

Since then, we’ve helped a number of injured Legendary Pokémon at my facility. There’s a Silvally I’ve grown rather close to that I’m applying for my license to own as we speak! A shiny Yveltal is being held at the facility to recover from poaching wounds, but it should be good for release here in a few weeks! A Zekrom was brought in recently for wounds sustained in battle, but it’s currently too aggressive to get any solid work done. We’re working hard to help calm it down so we can sedate it and inject medication.

This turned into quite the lengthy post! Once I get on a ramble, I find it so difficult to stop. Thank you for your inquiry!

—Professor Cherry

#legendary pokemon #pokemon #mythical pokemon #professor cherry #:: ask #:: ask professor cherry