#cherry 1x1

[valentineradio]

💖 this post for a starter on any of my blogs !! pls specify muse & feel free to message me to plot ! if we aren’t already mutuals please be sure to read my rules before interacting

[tassodelmiele]

The Magic Whatever

I needed to put this chaos into concrete writing-something.

I know this would ended as a mess in my mind, with no possibilities to born.

So I write it.

And now I'll feel bad if I won't keep on with the story.

Hope you're having a nice day filled with chocolate-

Disclaimer: titles make no sense.

Have a nice day

....

Soap didn't die on that mission; not 'cause there was no gunshot.

Bullet just disappeared.

And he found who made the trick, bringing the whole team with him in a rabbit hole filled with dangerous stuff sprinkled in lusterdust and smelling blood-scent, crumbled in caramelized sugar and glazed madeleines.

'Cause Marigold just did what she does best: following her instinct. And that day she just stole the bullet flying toward Soap's head.

1- Only thing you can trust in the morning is to have your pajama still on

«You have to trust me»

You have to.

Sure.

As if there were other possibilities. 

Anything could have done the work on that shitty morning, everything good enough to make the clock worth listening to: coffee's scent; pancake pan-fry's fizzle; a baseball bat in the middle of the forehead.

Anything but a geared man with a loaded gun rushing in the bedroom, making her remember that the whole load of fucks happened yesterday where just the cherry on top of a brown cake that didn't smell of chocolate.

Rushing upstairs became a stumble on every step; at the umpteenth shot hands ran on the ears and knees crumbled down, crouching the whole body on the floor.

I don't wanna die I don't wanna die I don't wanna-

A rough pat on the back awakened padded synapsis. There was a sudden yell: 

«Run!»

Legs did the work better than brain, jerking up, stomping on the stairs using no breath at all, with lungs empty of air and full of ashes and gun-powder scent.

Sudden cracks and blows followed the run to the second floor, heartbeats stuffed ears and throat, climbing on the gut's walls with the acidic adrenaline's aftertaste. Eyes were watering from fear and dirt, legs were moving by heart to the most open space in the house: the balcony; the goddamn 1x1 meter balcony with a lovely Thai grocery shop's sight. 

Chest crushed on the railing so suddenly, fresh spring breeze hit her with a kick in the lungs.

I'm out

The consciousness got foggy at that moment of paradise, and a tight grasp on the pajama brang it back down to the shitty ground: someone tugged her far from the metal grip of the railing, sucking her entrails backwards to throw her on the ground.

She slides all the short way to the wall; the head burned in a sudden bang on the fucking drainpipe.

Someone collected her body by pulling the shirt again, and lifted her whole weight. Terrible dry and smelly scent of old and powder hit her nostrils, one millimeter away from the not so ensuring face of a stranger in some sort of full-military asset. 

He smiled so kindly while spitting:

«Goodbye, dorogoy»

And pushed her out of the balcony.

Whatever came next, is void: body and soul get vacuumed in the eternal nothingness of a fall from the fourth floor; eyes squeezed, adrenaline rushed to the brain, screaming: you're gonna die; but there was nothing to grasp, nothing to grab, nothing to save her.

My breakfast's still in the microwave; a stupid last thought.

Just, it wasn't the last.

A firm hand catched her ankle, burning soft skin under rough gloves. She dangled, hanging still so dangerously close to the railing that the head banged again, but that was the smallest of her problems. Voices came from above, heard hazy and fuzzy in her scattered brain, yells and metal exchanging places as if someone was trying to drive a nail with a gun.

Then, a more nitid, strangely pronounced: «Let bounty fall»

And a clear loaded gun.

Her fried brain took advantage of that moment to make a to-do-list: the missing will, in case of premature death (almost certainly at that point); the promise to eat grandma's piadina at her home; a pistachio-macchiato she owned Johnny since he brought her home during a storm; oh, and…

…and air swallowed her up with the force of muscles she certainly didn't have.

The same, tight grip that was avoiding her a spine-crusher-jump, suddenly lifted her from the ankle, with a pull so strong that she was sure wings had grown on her back, letting her fulfill the dream to be a fairy. But as soon as the body flipped over the balcony, the gloved hand made her change trajectory with a fast move.

Air gave her stomach a kick and her guts a stir, while whoever was moving her threw every inch of Winnie the Pooh pajama, yellow air and morning sickness on the "dorogoy" one, as if she was a goddamn club.

She was smashed on the man, facepalming her nose on his gear, and he was tossed KO on the ground.

Floor's caress hit her too, still held by ankles and, maybe, with a kneecap a little bit out of its place.

«Ye'r alright?»

The known voice reached her ears, and that was the first good news since one hour.

He's still here

Then she kinda blacked out, not dazed enough to faint, but at least to replace sounds with heartbeats and sight with foggy, swirling floor tiles. 

Moment of silence.

Johnny pointed at who they were supposed to protect.

«What in the bloody hell-»

«There wasn't time» was the rushed up answer. Ghost let the naked ankle go, patting his oddly slimy gloves on the tights. 

«Why 're women so creamy?»

«Beauty purposes»

«'S horrible»

«Didn't think you were so picky»

«I don't like touching maggot's texture, if that's what you mean by "being picky"»

Soap knelt next to her, who faltered something inaudible as soon as being touched. He stuck his finger around her joints, checking for potential damages.

She whined as he turned her face up to him: there was a big, yellowy spot next to the left side eye.

«That was already there» Ghost's specified.

«Aye, I know»

Fingers pressed on her knees.

«She truly is a strong one» Lt. muttered.

«Told ya»

«Difficult to believe»

«Ye've literally throwed her like a goddamn baseball bat»

Ghost silently looked at the girl, splattered on the ground.

«It worked»

He crunched down, collecting her body on his back as a potato bag.

«'S better get the hell outta here»

«What 'bout wake her up first?»

«Are ya proposing to explain her the whole shit bag now?»

Soap hesitated for two seconds; that sounded as a negative answer for the Lt.

◌◌◌◌◌

One hour later, morning coffee hit Price with strong aroma, cigar aftertaste and a plethora of questions condemned to be unresolved.

He sipped, holding the mug a little longer in front of his face just to look at her without making it too obvious how bad he had no idea of what the fuck was the matter with that random yellow-haired lady sit in his office, surrounded by Johnny and his pathetical attempt to be comforting.

«Is» he pointed at her «she the target?»

Gaz nodded. «Soap said so»

«Mh». He sipped again, pondering about it. 

«A bloody child»

«Apparently she's twentythree»

«What's the point?»

«Bakery worker, living in a suburb's flat, three roommates-»

«The point in her being a target» Price specified.

Gaz lowered the voice, trying to capture some crumble of whatever Soap was saying to the girl who was, luckily, giving 'em her back. He carefully opened a pack of crackers. «We've had a speech 'bout it. You already forgot?» 

The captain pierced Gaz's breakfast in a cold glare.

«You're as helpful as a mosquito net in a submarine»

A sudden fear of downgrading hit the sergeant. The cracker came back in the pack.

«…sorry cap. She's the» he cleared his throat, feeling a little stupid saying: «someone with a magic whatever», as Soap had described her the first time.

Memory about the oddest Task Force's meeting of all time gave Price a facepalm. 

He swallowed half the cup of coffee at once.

«What in the bloody hell are we doing»

«…an unbearable, complete fucking disaster»

Patting her head was an option Soap was evaluating for half an hour, but maybe it wasn't the most clever move. He ended up looking at her very firmly.

«That's the bloody hell you've saved me from»

No signs of life from the other side. He munched a few swears, knowing so well what he was trying was as confusing as telling a chicken that it could fly like eagles with its shitty wings.

«Look» he started again, third time in a row «'m not kidding, 'k? I know it's you who 'm looking for, 'm just asking a little help to understand how in the fuck a goddamn bullet disappeared one inch from ma head»

She wasn't trembling, crying, fainting; maybe she wasn't even breathing, sitting still in front of his face while Soap had a complete visual of her pissed face, and the lovely sight of Gaz eating crackers and Price silently hating everyone while standing in the corridor.

«Two years»

The story began again in a low sigh. Soap raised two fingers at his temple.

«It was two years ago. I was 'bout to be bloody dead meat, with a shoot here, a russian bullet in ma brain»

He decided it was time for the secret weapon: a piece of newspaper came out from his pocket, shown as if it was the Saint Grall in all its oldness and perfection.

«'Ve found this». Soap pointed at the paper: a photo, five written lines. «It's you. Hospitalized 'cause of a bullet nearly pierced your temple»

The sheet got closer to her face.

«Except for you being alone. In your home. And I know ye'r no suicidal» 

Silence. Again.

Soap managed to pat her shoulder, a middle way between raising his voice to be the bad policeman, and pinching her cheeks to be the friendly one.

«...'m sorry for the shitty tons of lies 've told ye. At the bakery, I mean». It was so stupid to make apologies, but he did it anyway. «Duty purposes, laddie»

He gave her another pat.

«Fact is that who tried to kill me knows you». He chose to get straight to the point. «'Cause ye've got…dunno. Something. And that something saved me, somehow. And look, gorgeous, I don't believe in "abrakadabra", and whole Harry Potter's universe's a shitty filmography for ma taste. I just know I'm still breathing 'cause of you, and I'm used to return favors»

«There's no point in explain myself if you don't believe in magic»

Voice cut her throat sharply yet loud, destroying every Soap's attempt of being nice. Her still swollen eyes pointed at him. 

«Is not something I can explain»

«Try» 

It was so surreal as a situation that if a llama with a hat appeared, no one would have been surprised. 

«I'll listen, at least»

◌◌◌◌◌

Snake bites hurt the most when the weather wasn't stable. Like an old good war scar, hidden under shiny gold dots that she constantly tortured in search of a crumble of quiet.

«Lost in yer thoughts?»

Marigold's hair waved like a dandelion's shade in the gloomy morning. A big cup of pistachio-macchiato was presented in all of its greatness to the usual early-morning customer.

«Kinda funny weather, isn't it?» 

«That's London, laddie»

She chuckled kindly, repeating a motion used with every visitor that became authentic just with Johnny.

«I'd rather be surrounded by coriander field»

«That's what ye planted 'round the house?»

«My parents' choice. I don't like them, smell becomes odd on rainy days. Better than London's morning, though»

«Aye. I bet sun suits ye better»

Another chuckle, and she went KO with a throaty laugh that exploded hidden in her hands. Johnny raised his cup.

«Cheers»

Two months before he showed up out of nowhere, stating "the smell of good coffee" had brought him to the Merry Marguerite.

Marigold had seen all sort of human being in her bakery-waitress experience: who pretended to look at ease in suit, leather bag and badly knotted tie; who was hiding from his life, drowning every brain cell in sugar; happy ones and silent ones; lost ones and usual ones; strong espresso ones, and milky-chocolaty-heavy cream latte ones.

Johnny was none of them.

Johnny was a usual stranger, a known foreigner, a recalled wayfarer; a usual guest who showed up every ten years, but you know him since you've been born. 

«Merry Marguerite. 'S yer name?». That was the question in front of the first pistachio-macchiato the girl had ever been asked for.

«Nope. That's my boss previous cat»

«Cool. So 'm not gonna call you Margie or somethin'»

What a funny way to ask a name. She smiled at first, kindly, disappearing in the back to grab some fresh pain au chocolat. 

Marigold didn't expect him to wait for an actual answer. 

He came and clinged on the counter, with those huge biceps relaxed and a silly smile, a little cocky but never disrespectful. He asked for his macchiato, made a joke about the bakery's name and waited for her to give him something back.

After three days she giggled him a quick: «Mary, Or Goldie. Doll, if you want, some friends of mine used to call me Doll»

«'Cause ye'r cute?»

«'Cause as a child I used to cut every inch of my doll's hair and make them join the "punk club"»

And tortured doll's stories were what made them friends. 

«You're gonna have green tongue at this rate»

«Can't help it. That's the best pistachio-macchiato in town»

«Of course. That's why there's a secret recipe»

Johnny raised his eyes from the cup. He was dressed up almost the same every day: jeans and t-shirt, mohawk and bright-curious eyes as blue as the sky London decided not to show to his citizens.

«Spit it out»

Answer was a long breath of her, blown on the fresh madeleines.

«A secret's a secret, Johnny»

«Ye made me curious, though»

«That what secrets are about: make people eager to know what's underneath»

«Aye. I can tell ye're good at that»

Her fingers stopped working on the correct rearrangement of the custard croissants. 

«Yeah? Am I that good at not blabbing our secret recipes?» she laughed. «I'll add the skill to my curriculum, then»

The waiting for an answer became a little too long, making her raise her sight.

Johnny wasn't really laughing: his smile was telling something that could go from "I know what kinda porn you're into" to "the yellow in your hair is brightening my day up".

He suddenly smirked: «Feeling under pressure, Doll?», ending the question in the last macchiato sip. 

«Should I?». She clinged on the counter, a little cheeky «Am I under interrogation?»

«Ah» The empty cup ended up on the side, allowing him to have a full vision of her hair brightness. «It would be no good for ye»

«How come?»

«C-u-r-i-o-s-i-t-y» He spelled. «I'll end up digging too deep on ye to find what's underneath. It's not pleasant havin' a stranger stomping on yer garden»

«And what if you lose yourself while finding a way out of me?»

«Ye'll guide me. 'M sure ye've got signs in whatever wood has grown inside of you»

And Marigold became silent, softly smiling a sad sight, unexpected through the funny mood Johnny thought to have been built.

«And…» A warm, sugary smelling madeleine was offered to him as a pay in advance. «If you find the way out, would you tell me too, please, which way I ought to go from there?»

He chuckled, suddenly kinda softened by her tone, catching the quote so well he wasted no time to replay:

«It depends a good deal on where you want to get to»

«I don't much care where»

«Then it doesn't much matter which way you go»

Whole bakery filled with the loss of words that baked the room in glazed and caramelized smell, crunchy as a chocolate cookie fresh from the oven. Silence got stuffed with coffee sipped under breath, time got replaced with madeleine's crumbs rolled under the fingertips.

The first bite on the pastry broke the spell. Johnny ate it whole, chewing slowly.

«Seems like, even if ye're lost in yer wonderland, ye'v found a way to me»

And then, she knew.

She knew he had read her somehow, even if he hadn't understood a single word.

It was two years ago that the dream went away: a man alone, dark and chaos of voices, blood smell and an odd, painful hold on the guts; words shouted fast and aggressively, a clock ticking, the well known feeling of something that was about to happen.

A shot. 

And the sudden awakening in a sweat lake, breath lost in the dream and the pressure against her lungs screaming that there wasn't time left.

Marigold didn't know why she had chosen to go to bed that early, as much as she didn't know why she was running out of bed, stomping on the fallen sheets to reach the bathroom curled on her reversed stomach, with guts mixing inside as if she was dish-washing her organs.

Lungs were closed, breath fought to come in and out and heart started racing faster, pounding so much blood to her head. Fingers grasped the hair, dug the scalp, searched for a way to the brain like something was desperately trying to get out, or get in, she didn't know, it was just so painful, so hopeless, so furious, and clock ticked faster, louder, stuffing head and eardrums while voices become clearer, surrounding her in a battlefield that certainly wasn't her bathroom anymore.

Everything came to a peak of adrenaline piercing her brain. She grabbed something from somewhere, tearing it away from a reality that wasn't her, that shouldn't have been her, in which she didn't belong. Her fingers grasped the bullet, pulling it away from him, whoever him was.

And she just took it with her, in the bathroom, stepping out of the trajectory fast enough to let it just scratch her head.

◌◌◌◌◌

«Why?»

Her shoulders scrolled, stiff from the tension.

«I've asked myself so many times. Maybe because I know you were dying. Whoever you were. Whatever you were doing»  

«When we met the first time, did ye recognize me?»

«No. Dream wasn't that clear»

«Did you speak 'bout it with family? Friends, or-»

«Is not that easy to explain, I've told you»

«Have ye done it before?»

She havered on the chair, eyebrows frowned and lower lips bitten to hold the trembling.

«Dunno». Voice raised to hide the fear, replacing it with slow boiled anger. «Maybe»

«Ye don't know?»

«No» She shouted. «I can't know, I've not got a secret diary about headaches and nightmares, sorry»

«Ye'r tellin' me ye've got some sorta "telekinetic" power-»

«'M telling you nothing. Just how it went that night»

«Aye, that's what 'm saying: you're describing me, if not a magic trick, at least a psychic ability»

«I don't know what it is» Words became sharp pebbles thrown randomly out of her guts. «And if you wanted to thank me 'cause you're still alive, I accept your gratitude, even if you've brought me home a goddamn bunch of armed people»

She hit the right spot to make him straighten his back on the chair, while still trying to upload information about the whole "dream" matter.

Soap knew his face got a little crinkle around the eyes and the stiff teeth.

«We've brought none to you, Doll. They would have been there to kill you anyway»

«I don't have any Russian friends. Nor enemies»

He mumbled: «Aye», as if he already knew what kind of people she was acquainted with, as if he'd already dug her whole life. And she faltered, squeezing fists on her pajamas, shaking in a motion of frustration that got her to the guts. 

«What? Have you already scanned me? You've done what the fuck you wanted with my free day just for what?»

Johnny fell from an apple tree.

«We went to save you-»

«Sure, after spending whole months telling me bullshits. ‘Cause everything was bullshit. Correct? Our chats at the bakery, you working as a PC technician, your terrible coffee tastes…»

Words died on her tongue in a sudden spin of her head. She grabbed her temples, rilling fingertips around the pale skin, and hissed as the digits touched the livid bruise around the eye.

Liquorice aroma filled her nostrils in a strong caress; Soap was offering her a candy pack.

«Ye've not eaten this mornin'» He muttered, recalling the time at the bakery when she almost fainted 'cause of skipped breakfast and lower pressure. 

She took a bunch of bitter-sweet treats, stuffing her mouth.

Johnny's sight made a fly to his feet, collecting time before blowing: «Wasn't all bullshits. Sorry, anyway»

«Why that much effort? What for?»

«Get to know ye. I need to be sure 'bout you»

«Pretty sure I'm as clear as an empty fish tank to you, by now»

«Wrong»

She frowned, irritated from the tip toes to the dry hair's double edges. Liquorice candy cracked under her teeth.

«Whaddya mean? That I can't even know how the fuck I play ma goddamn, stupid society-role?»

«Calm down laddie, 's nothin' this pretentious, was just giving ma take on you»

»…mh» another candy ended up chewed under her tongue. «So I'mma childish whoever to you and your mates?»

Soap gazed at her, chuckling, pondering about how seriously he needed to take her bratty chat. 

«…was life what made you that difficult to handle?»

«Dunno, you tell me, 's you who filled me in shit to "get to know me"»

At this point a strong, harsh incipit of voice pierced through the corridor, shouting: «The goddamn bloody Jesus of Laswell has finally brought me that stupid-…»

Ghost's steps slowed down as he faced two idiots stuck in front of the office door: one holding a half-pack of crackers, the other was drinking from an empty mug.

Deciding how to react brought him to the right conclusion to pretend nothing was happening. He passed a blue folder to Price, who was badly hiding shame behind a I-wasn't-eavesdropping kinda look.

«Intel 'bout that russian» Ghost explained.

Captain coughed a: «Did he speak?»

«I was very persuasive. Dunno why Laswell needed to write down what he'd already spit with his teeth»

«Bureaucracy can't be avoided. Verdict?»

«Clear as a nuclearized swamp in the middle of nowhere» 

«'S what he told you?»

«He told me» skull mask turned darker to match its owner's attitude, lowering on Price's coffee scent breath. «They were there to rob. I made him tell…»

He turned, almost instinctively, as he heard two voices muttering from the office, recognizing Soap's one in the being-as-nice-as-possible mood. 

And he saw those horrible yellow bob hair again, the oddest pajama with little Winnie the Pooh stamps, and bruises marked on the arm that Ghost was quite sure was the one he made collide with the Russian soldier.

«Why is that child still there?»

«Security»

«That's why I'm asking you. Shouldn't be held, like, somewhere safer?»

«Nothin's safer than my office»

Ghost blown, nodding ironically.

«Plus» The folder came back to the Lt. «Soap wasted no time trapping her in that sorta interrogatory». Price gazed at them, knowing well Johnny was aware they had listened to everything. «Don't think he's cleared his mind 'bout you-know-what, though»

«Better he does, since we've rushed all of this shit 'cause of that» 

Price sighed, Gaz chuckled 'cause it was funny seeing Ghost complaining like an old man, and the Lieutenant just growled again: «An enormous ton of shit»

«Following that lady wasn't time wasted, at least. There is something stinky hidden underneath». The last cracker was being chewed in a mess of crumbles on the shirt. Gaz muttered a swear before adding: «She was being chased by those men. Fully armed, you said»

«Affirmative. Three, ready to kill»

«What were you sayin' 'bout it?»

«That russian» Ghost instantly reconnected his synapsis with the previous speech, recalling his fists on the man's face with a hidden smirk. «said they were sent by some sorta monk»

The statement made the audience caught by suspense. Frowned eyebrows and tilted foreheads spoke for themselves.

Gaz tried to break the silence with a cautious: «Some sorta wha-»

But Price felt the urge to make a fast recall:

«Four months ago, Soap found that girl with the "magic whatever" that he stated saved him from Makarov. Two days ago» he counted on his fingers «Soap spotted a man following her home. He also did the day after. That made Sergeant suspicious and you two eventually get involved in that sorta "saving" operation»

«Soap was right, at least. Someone was keeping a close watch on her»

«Yeah, but» Captain's hand flew in the air, holding his line of discussion. «Am I the only one noticing there's a bloody nothin' logic 'bout this? Are we really getting involved in somethin' raised by a "someone saved me with magic, and I'm gonna find him"?»

Ghost gazed at him, eyes half-hidden by the mask.

«You trusted Soap»

«Undoubtedly» Was shouted so clearly that nothing was left to be clarified.

It wasn't Soap himself the wrong variable in the equation.

It was that Soap was right. 

And it was not logical. So illogical it was actually happening, and Price couldn't just register an impossible chance that was occurring in front of his goddamn eyes.

«What if» Gaz suggested, licking cracker crumbles out of his lips «We just ask her?»

«Ya heard: she doesn't know»

«Yeah, well, maybe she doesn't know if it's safe to spit out the truth in front of three strangers and an almost ex-friend» He nodded toward Soap. «'S not like he's playin' his cards well»

«What do you suggest, sergeant?»

«We could just-»

And the chair that was hosting Marigold's butt suddenly got thrown on the floor by her sudden standing. Three pairs of eyes caught her taking on Soap in all her pajamas and yellowness, without a single world left as she grabbed the sergeant's shirt with both hands, roaring with a voice thought impossible for one her size:

«Just let me at least pretend I did something good!!»

She turned her still naked feet, ready to run home somehow, killing spree in her clenched fists and rage in her bruised throat.

Steps died immediately at the trio's sight.

The otter-puppy eyed with a hat; the good twin of Chris from "The day before" ; the Dia de los muertos cosplayer in the wrong season.

Classification ended with a kick in the head from her own brain, which told her to have a good look at that scary-skeleton mask.

She blew her cheeks, finger pointed at Ghost as she shouted almost with a growl:

«Youfuckin'sonofa-!»

◌◌◌◌◌

[leaf4e]

current changes/additions in my cherry texturepack:

cherry bees (+ lang files changing name ingame to cherry bees)

slightly pink clouds

custom/new 1x1 paintings

what else should i add/change

[tibbycaps]

Why was your whole new artimator episode just everyone flirting with everyone. Mainly Zera. Zera was trying to yaoi everyone. Cherri and Bee had their 1x1 hole…. Thing. Too.

friendship is a beautiful thing

[aharlequeen]

RP Request!

Would love to find either an Ivy for a 1x1 long term PSL or both an Ivy and Selina for a 3 person long term Sirens PSL ♦️🐈‍⬛🌿 And if we could get a Joker to toss into the mix that would be the cherry on top 🤡

If you’re interested, please feel free to reach out and let me know who you play:)

[skteeshirt]

Joe Burrow Shirt, Vintage Joe Burrow T-Shirt, Joe Burrow Football Shirt

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MATERIALS: *Gildan Unisex Shirt GL5000: – 99% cotton (fiber content may vary for different colors) – Medium fabric (5.3 oz/yd² (180 g/m²)) – Classic fit – Tear-away label – Runs true to size *Gildan Sweatshirt GL 18000: – 50% Cotton 50% Polyester Runs true to size – 50% cotton: Made with special yarn spun into a very durable and smooth fabric, perfect for printing – 50% Polyester: Extremely strong polyester yarn, resistant to most chemicals, stretching and shrinking. Viscose added Pleated and soft great for shirts *Gildan Unisex Hoodie GL 18500: – 50% cotton, 50% polyester – Medium-heavy fabric (8.0 oz/yd² (271 g/m²)) – Classic fit – Tear-away label – Runs true to size Tank Top Unisex: – 99% Airlume combed and ring-spun cotton (fiber content may vary for different colors) – Extra Light fabric (3.8 oz/yd² (110 g/m²)) – Retail fit – Sewn in label – Runs true to size Youth T-Shirt: - 5.3 oz./yd² (US) 8.8 oz./L yd (CA), 100% cotton, 20 singles - Ash Grey is 99/1 cotton/polyester - Sport Grey is 90/10 cotton/polyester - Dark Heather, Graphite Heather, Heather, Neon & Safety Colors are 50/50 cotton/polyester - Safety Green is compliant with ANSI / ISEA 107 high-visibility standards - Classic fit - Classic width, rib collar - Taped neck and shoulders for comfort and durability - Tear away label - CPSIA Tracking Label Compliant - Proud member of the U.S. Cotton Trust Protocol - Made with OEKO-TEX certified low-impact dyes Youth Sweatshirt: - 8 oz./yd² (US) 13.3 oz./L yd (CA), 50/50 cotton/polyester, 20 singles - Classic fit - 1x1 rib with spandex for enhanced stretch and recovery - Tear away label - CPSIA Tracking Label Compliant - Proud member of the U.S. Cotton Trust Protocol - Made with OEKO-TEX certified low-impact dyes. Youth Hoodie: - 8 oz./yd² (US) 13.5 oz./L yd (CA), 50/50 cotton/polyester, 20 singles - Heather colors are 60/40 polyester/cotton - Classic fit - Double-lined hood - 1 x 1 rib with spandex for enhanced stretch and recovery - Pouch pocket - Tear away label - CPSIA Tracking Label Compliant - Proud member of the U.S. Cotton Trust Protocol - Made with OEKO-TEX certified low-impact dyes CARE INSTRUCTIONS: – Machine wash in cold water – Do not use bleach – Tumble dry low – Iron on low heat with shirt inside-out – Never iron directly over design EXCHANGE POLICY : Due to the custom nature of our products, unless the item arrives damaged or defective due to printing errors. We do not accept returns or exchanges that: – Customers do not clearly mention the customization requirements. – Customers set wrong sizes and styles (Every item is custom printed on demand as you order them. Please be sure to check size charts and measurements for the best fit. ) Should you need assistance please contact us prior to purchasing so that we can help you achieve that perfect fit. We are always happy (and quick!) to help answer any sizing and fit questions you may have CARE INSTRUCTIONS: – Machine wash in cold water – Do not use bleach – Tumble dry low – Iron on low heat with shirt inside-out – Never iron directly over design EXCHANGE POLICY ( please read carefully!) Due to the custom nature of our products, unless the item arrives damaged or defective due to printing errors. We do not accept returns or exchanges that: – Customers do not clearly mention the customization requirements. – Customers set wrong sizes and styles (Every item is custom printed on demand as you order them. Please be sure to check size charts and measurements for the best fit. ) Should you need assistance please contact us prior to purchasing so that we can help you achieve that perfect fit. We are always happy (and quick!) to help answer any sizing and fit questions you may have Read the full article

[revenant-coining]

🦴 of Talk Too Much by Luna Luna?

pink and purple

spinning but i don't know what that refers to asdfg

tastes like cherry cola,,

feels like grabbing a pile of 1x1-inch pieces of thick felt 👍

[self-made-cages]

Small joys:

1. The work day flew by because I had a ton of interesting things to do

2. Cherries for lunch

3. My new boss was super complimentary on our 1x1 (she was like “you just get it. That’s why I wanted you”)

4. Did a bunch of small chores during my breaks

5. Went to the pool and swam a few laps

[missingpagessims]

Clover Grove Round 1 - Cherry

The next one to play is Roger Cherry, the romance sim. He lives in this little house (also by plasticbox, but renovated).

He seems a bit insecure, so he works on his charisma.

After this the bought a 1x1 lot for his business. He is opening a pub called "The Cherry Lady" for the sims to hangout. And of course to meet all the people.

Natasha Knight is the first customer. But Colleen is really happy here too. But sadly nobody wants trinks. Maybe it´s to early.

After a long work day the calls Colleen to work on their relationship. He wants to be friends with her and of course flirt with her.

He desperately needs fun so playing in the rain has to be enough since there is no opportunity to buy a TV for now.

He decided to open the pub in the evening, so he has the day for other...activities. Unfortunately Lavender Wood isn´t interested.

So he tries to make friends with the other guys. Matthew: Could you speak up, I can´t understand you from over here.

Natasha and Colleen are back.

Colleen: Look at your moves! This place is so awesome.

They finally are ordering drinks, yes!

Colleen decides to visit Roger. He is still tired, but this doesn´t stop him from smooth talking.

Thanks to ACR they waste not time. Roger is very happy, he has the want to whoohoo til day one.

Of course Natasha and Lavender are here. Matthew decided to stop by and dance. Lavender finds his dancing very funny - thats a little rude!

The Cherry Lady reached the next rank - money, money, money!

Lavender walks by and Roger decides to greet her. But she still seems to hate him. I have no idea what he did to her.

Roger: Here is a lovely rose for a lovely lady. Lavender: Oh thanks, it´s so kind of you. Roger: And maybe we should start all over, our first meeting wasn´t so great. But we have such a great chemistry, it would be a shame. Lavender: What? Oh watcher, no. Maybe you are attractive but I don´t like you at all. Thanks for the rose again, but please never talk to me again.

After his conversation Roger heads to his business.

The reviewer is here and thinks Roger is hot. But Colleen is already here and occupying Roger.

He should be working and serving drinks to Allison and Natasha, but he can´t keep his hands of Colleen.

__________________________________ Summary

- Roger opend "The Cherry Lady ", a little pub for the sims (yes, very creative name) - Lavender Wood the townie kept rejecting him, which was frustrating - But the townie Colleen Golden has fallen for him and they can´t keep their hands of each other.

[sincerely-krp]

but we don't make it an issue in krp because guess what it's NOT THAT DEEP if we can play by the same rules in the pursuit of creativity // this the part ppl need to rmbr....... it's creativity. FICTION. and guess what? if it still makes u side eye ppl at the end of the day, no one is keeping u here. u can leave whenever u want or even move to 1x1 rp, like???? idk why ppl act like they're being physically forced and pinned up by their TOES to stay in spaces or look at things that make them uncomfortable. u can also block the tumblrs in question that u don't like seeing and they'll not show up in tags for u. it rly is that simple lol. now............. stop embarrassing urselves with double standards and cherry picking which cultural issues u suddenly care abt and get to ur replies, they're getting dusty!!!!!!!

・❥・

[brokenpiecesshine]

Nova Twins on Instagram, 09/06/2023.

Download Main Stage Debut. We’re speechless!! 40,000 strong! Thanks for making it so special 🔥 Cherry on top joining our favesss @bringmethehorizon for 1x1 during their mind blowing show & big love to @wewearblackpod for our collab DJ set too! Weekend of dreams 🧚🏽‍♀️🧚🏾‍♂️ 📸📹: @federicaburellii

[rose-like-the-phoenix]

Spooktify day 21, 22, 23, 24, & 25 🎃🍬

Spooktify day 1 🎃

Happy October 1st! Here's the last song I listened to!

[skteeshirt]

Joe Burrow tshirt, Joe Burrow Comfort Colors T-Shirt

Important Notes: 1/  Please note that the mockup images and product titles displayed are for illustrative purposes only. We offer a diverse range of custom products, and it is crucial for customers to select the appropriate shirt style based on their specific requirements. 2/ If you want to wear oversized, please up to 1-2 sizes. 3/ We have many other colors. Please contact us directly for advice. We also have Gildan, Bella Canvas and Comfort Colors fabric. * Color of Comfort Colors Fabric: Army, Azalea, Banana, Bay, Berry, Blue Jean, Carolia Blue, Chalky Mint, Charcoal, Forest, Granite, Grape, Graphite, Gray, Heliconia, Hemp, Hot Pink, Ice Blue, Ivory, Kelly, Lavender, Light Green, Lime, Maroon, Moss, Natural, Peachy, Pepper, Royal Caribe, Sandstone, Sapphire, Texas Orange, Turquoise, Violet, Washed Denim, Water Melon **Color of Bella Canvas fabric: Heather Red, Lilac, Heather, Orange, Berry, Heather Maroon, Cherry Red, Cardinal, Olive, Natural, Chestnut, Pink,Storm, Silver, Mauve, Aqua, Army, Asphalt, Atlantic, Autumn, Baby Blue, Brown, Burnt Orange, Canvas Red, Charity Pink, Citron, Clay, Columbia Blue, Cool Blue, Coral, Dark Lavender, Dark Olive, Deep Teal, Dust, Dusty Blue, Electric Blue, Evergreen, Fuchsia, Kelly, Lavender Blue, Lavender Dust. MATERIALS: *Gildan Unisex Shirt GL5000: – 99% cotton (fiber content may vary for different colors) – Medium fabric (5.3 oz/yd² (180 g/m²)) – Classic fit – Tear-away label – Runs true to size *Gildan Sweatshirt GL 18000: – 50% Cotton 50% Polyester Runs true to size – 50% cotton: Made with special yarn spun into a very durable and smooth fabric, perfect for printing – 50% Polyester: Extremely strong polyester yarn, resistant to most chemicals, stretching and shrinking. Viscose added Pleated and soft great for shirts *Gildan Unisex Hoodie GL 18500: – 50% cotton, 50% polyester – Medium-heavy fabric (8.0 oz/yd² (271 g/m²)) – Classic fit – Tear-away label – Runs true to size Tank Top Unisex: – 99% Airlume combed and ring-spun cotton (fiber content may vary for different colors) – Extra Light fabric (3.8 oz/yd² (110 g/m²)) – Retail fit – Sewn in label – Runs true to size Youth T-Shirt: - 5.3 oz./yd² (US) 8.8 oz./L yd (CA), 100% cotton, 20 singles - Ash Grey is 99/1 cotton/polyester - Sport Grey is 90/10 cotton/polyester - Dark Heather, Graphite Heather, Heather, Neon & Safety Colors are 50/50 cotton/polyester - Safety Green is compliant with ANSI / ISEA 107 high-visibility standards - Classic fit - Classic width, rib collar - Taped neck and shoulders for comfort and durability - Tear away label - CPSIA Tracking Label Compliant - Proud member of the U.S. Cotton Trust Protocol - Made with OEKO-TEX certified low-impact dyes Youth Sweatshirt: - 8 oz./yd² (US) 13.3 oz./L yd (CA), 50/50 cotton/polyester, 20 singles - Classic fit - 1x1 rib with spandex for enhanced stretch and recovery - Tear away label - CPSIA Tracking Label Compliant - Proud member of the U.S. Cotton Trust Protocol - Made with OEKO-TEX certified low-impact dyes. Youth Hoodie: - 8 oz./yd² (US) 13.5 oz./L yd (CA), 50/50 cotton/polyester, 20 singles - Heather colors are 60/40 polyester/cotton - Classic fit - Double-lined hood - 1 x 1 rib with spandex for enhanced stretch and recovery - Pouch pocket - Tear away label - CPSIA Tracking Label Compliant - Proud member of the U.S. Cotton Trust Protocol - Made with OEKO-TEX certified low-impact dyes CARE INSTRUCTIONS: – Machine wash in cold water – Do not use bleach – Tumble dry low – Iron on low heat with shirt inside-out – Never iron directly over design EXCHANGE POLICY : Due to the custom nature of our products, unless the item arrives damaged or defective due to printing errors. We do not accept returns or exchanges that: – Customers do not clearly mention the customization requirements. – Customers set wrong sizes and styles (Every item is custom printed on demand as you order them. Please be sure to check size charts and measurements for the best fit. ) Should you need assistance please contact us prior to purchasing so that we can help you achieve that perfect fit. We are always happy (and quick!) to help answer any sizing and fit questions you may have CARE INSTRUCTIONS: – Machine wash in cold water – Do not use bleach – Tumble dry low – Iron on low heat with shirt inside-out – Never iron directly over design EXCHANGE POLICY ( please read carefully!) Due to the custom nature of our products, unless the item arrives damaged or defective due to printing errors. We do not accept returns or exchanges that: – Customers do not clearly mention the customization requirements. – Customers set wrong sizes and styles (Every item is custom printed on demand as you order them. Please be sure to check size charts and measurements for the best fit. ) Should you need assistance please contact us prior to purchasing so that we can help you achieve that perfect fit. We are always happy (and quick!) to help answer any sizing and fit questions you may have Read the full article

[fleetfootedchang]

Why is it that the one day I wake up late for class, not only am I out of coffee at home but the bodega down the street from campus just dumped theirs right before I stopped by? Clearly karma is not on my side today. 

[fleetfootedchangx]

I’ll Run to You || Cherry

TAGGING: Mike Chang and Rachel Berry 

WHEN: 28th of September

WHERE: Mike & Rachel’s apartment, New York

GENERAL NOTES: Rachel shares one of her songs with Mike 

WARNINGS: None

Rachel: smiled softly to herself as she put the pen down on the bedside table next to the bed where she was laying on next to Mike. After two weeks, she had finally completed the song she had been working on and while she was bias, the brunette thought it was really good. "I'm finished." She told her boyfriend, the room only brightened by the two bedside lamps. It was nearing 10pm and the couple had settled in for the night. It was Rachel's favourite time on the day, she loved just being with Mike and being comfortable and relaxed before bed.

Mike flipped the book he had been reading shut, looking over at Rachel curiously. He knew she'd been writing more lately, but he hadn't wanted to invade her privacy by asking for details on the song while she was still working on it. Now that she was done, though, he couldn't deny he was interested in the process and whatever the finished product was. "Can I read it?" He asked, a bit tentatively. "Or, actually...can I hear it?"

Rachel: wasn't expecting Mike to want to listen to it but she probably should have. Biting down on her bottom lip, the brunette nodded her head tentatively after a pause before quickly opening her mouth to explain. "I'm not a professional so it might not be that good." She felt the need to defend. "They say to write about what you know so... I wrote it about you. About us. Be nice?"

Mike couldn't help but grin when Rachel immediately went on the defensive. "It'll be amazing," he argued, leaning forward to press a soft kiss against her lips. It was a surprise to hear that she'd written about them - somehow their relationship had never crossed his mind as a potential subject for a song - but he nodded in agreement anyway. "I'm hurt that you'd think you even have to ask me to be nice," he teased. "But ok."

Rachel kissed her boyfriend back before offering him a shy smile. "Okay..." She replied before turning her attention down to the page where the lyrics were written. Sucking in a breath, the brunette closed her eyes and began to sing.

The city sky's feeling dark tonight We're back to back with our heads down Just look at me, give me more tonight Just give me more of your love now

Let's set fire to the lonely night You're beautiful when you look at me Let's give love another life

Cause you'll be safe in these arms of mine Just call my name on the edge of the night And I'll run to you, I'll run to you

I would run to you, if you want me to Just give me some kind of reason I'll take the pain, take it all away Just give it some kind of meaning

Let's let go, let it be the start You know I'm feeling the same thing Let's let go of our broken hearts

Cause you'll be safe in these arms of mine Just call my name on the edge of the night And I'll run to you, I'll run to you

Even if it's gonna break me, love Gonna make my way to you Anyway it's gonna take me, love I run to you I run to you Run, run

Cause you'll be safe in these arms of mine Just call my name on the edge of the night And I'll run to you I'll run to you

Even if it's gonna break me, love I run to you

Mike knew Rachel was talented, but hearing her sing something she'd put so much of herself into put it in a completely new perspective. As soon as the song came to an end, he immediately voiced the thoughts. "You're so crazy talented, and I'm not just being nice. That was amazing"

Rachel: smiled softly. "You really think?" She asked before biting down on her bottom lip. "Thank you."

Mike couldn't help but smile at the seemingly shy way she responded. "I really do," he nodded. "Have you thought about performing your songs before? Like an open mic night somewhere?"

Rachel: shook her head. "Not really." She admitted. "I don't see myself as a girl who writes songs and has an album. At least, not yet. I need to be concentrating on Broadway classics if I even stand a chance at getting a role."

Mike shifted slightly, settling more comfortably beside her. "Fair enough. From what I've heard they're too good not to ever do anything with, but you're right, they might not be the best choice for Broadway auditions." Looking down at the bed, he picked at an imaginary thread on the blanket. "Have you seen anything you're thinking of trying out for?"

Rachel: closed her notebook and it put in on the bedside table beside her. "I try out for everything." She replied seriously. "Even Chorus Parts that have barely any face time on stage. Anything and everything. I can't be too picky just yet."

Mike nodded. "That's probably the smartest approach. I can't imagine you not getting something soon that you can use as some kind of stepping stone to a bigger role. They just need a chance to realize what a star Rachel Berry is."

Rachel: shook her head. "We've been here two months and I haven't even got a call back for a crappy background understudy. Maybe I'm not as a good as Lima made me think I could be?"

Mike chewed on his lower lip. "You are," he tried to reassure her. "It's just an industry that hands out a lot of rejection until you audition for the right person.”

Rachel: shrugged. "Or a nose job." She replied softly. "I thought I had heard my nose wasn't good enough enough during my time at McKinley. Fuck, I was so wrong."

Mike 's eyebrows knit together, a mixture of concern and confusion crossing his face. It was a harsh, judgmental industry they'd decided to go into, he knew, but hearing Rachel repeat that kind of criticism of herself hit hard. "Fuck that," he shook his head. "People at McKinley are idiots, and so are the casting directors you've auditioned for so far. You don't have to change parts of yourself to get a role...besides, you're gorgeous how you are."

Rachel: smiled softly at the passion lacing her boyfriend's voice. "I know." She replied honestly. "I know I'm not the typical beauty but I do know that I am beautiful. It just sucks sometimes for the thing that took me the longest about myself to accept is the reason why I'm being turned down for jobs."

Mike let out a quiet breath. Their situations weren't identical, but it wasn't like he was blind to the biases against him as an Asian-American in performing arts and the ways they worked against him. It was close enough to mirroring her situation that he could see where she was coming from. "Remind me why we're doing this to ourselves, again," he laughed slightly, trying to diffuse the situation though there was a hint of truth to his words.

Rachel: laughed at Mike's comments. "Because we're desperately seeking the approval we never received from our parents from strangers?" She offered out after a moment.

Mike couldn't help the surprised laugh that slipped past his lips. "You know, I actually hadn't thought of it like that, but it would explain a lot."

Rachel: smiled softly. "It really does." She laughed, moving to press a kiss to Mike's lips. "But I don't really care what anyone thinks about me... Besides you. I've become nicer since you and I started dating. You're why I quit the Skanks. I'm sure if you hadn't come along and reminded me of who I truly was supposed to be, I'd be in jail."

Mike cocked his head slightly, considering what Rachel had just said. "Who know the power leaving a note in your locker and some dance lessons could have," he teased. "But I'm glad you remembered who you really are. Besides, without you, I'd be slowly going crazy in a pre-med program somewhere. We're good for each other."

Rachel: laughed. "I'm glad we've prevented each other from slowly going insane."

Mike grinned. "Me too. This isn't where I thought getting transferred to Lima Heights for a while last year would end up going, but it's pretty much the best thing that could have happened."

Rachel: hummed in agreement. "I never thought I'd find the love of my life in high school and that my love would be from McKinley." She admitted with a shake of her head. "It's funny how life works."

Mike distantly wondered whether it should have felt as natural as it did that they both seemed to think of their relationship as something permanent, considering how young they were. He didn't give it much thought, though, because somehow everything felt right the way it was. "I almost feel like I owe my dad the right to say 'I told you so' on this one, since he was in favor of the whole transfer thing, but I'm not sure he'd even want to hear it."

Rachel: smiled softly. "You really should let him. Though I don't think he planned for you to end up slumming it with a Lima Heights Skank." She laughed.

Mike snorted in amusement. "I'll get right on that," he laughed, leaning forward to press a quick kiss against her lips. "Besides, this is hardly what I'd call slumming it."

[sinclair-enterprises]

Gotta love the weird moral dissonance between Wrecker gleefully talking about killing Yalbec males with a knife, as well as Hunter explaining how Wrecker cut off a Yalbec queen’s stinger while she was still alive in The Clone Wars, and then refusing to fire on humanoid people during a standard mission on The Bad Batch. Guess we’ve still got that xenophobia thing going on. There was also a strange implication that the squad had mostly taken out droids during the war, which basically tried to erase all of that dialogue from Clone Wars. Really loving the writers’ amnesia when it comes to other parts of the canon these days. At least Crosshair was consistent.