#inbox reply bin

[fluxeris]

i drew your hunted :3

AUUGHH WAGHH OH MY GOODNESS HIIIII. THE HIMS. THANK YOU.

[kittybroker]

Intro post!

I'll reblog cat pictures and value the kitty.

Now I'm sure you're all saying kitties are all valuable, and while that's true one cannot simply dismiss the importance of proper accounting in today's economy.

If you want to submit a picture of a cat you can use either the ask function or send in a post submission and value it yourself. Feel free to tag me into any kitty post you want.

Please make sure to read the FAQ below before sending in any questions.

While I am mostly a joke blog, please be wary when sending overly personal/strange asks, particularly when I do not know who you are. Absolutely do not ship this blog with other blogs, and particularly do not make comments to me about this.

Any/All pronouns are fine for referring to me.

Tagging system: I'll tag all the cats here with #crazy kitty The pricing of kitties is set into one of five categories:

#free bin - $0 kitties #bargain bin - Under $5 #discount kitty - Under $20 #valuable kitty - Under $50 #premium kitty - Anything over $50

#alt currency is used for any kitty not using kitty dollars.

Note that kitties from before 27/01/24 may not include the #bargain bin or #premium kitty tag as those tags were introduced after the blogs creation.

#set deal - For pairs kitties sold together #collection - For collections of different kitties in a collection

#silly kitty - For memes and humorous kitties #art - For drawings of kitties or kitties with art attached #fake kitty - For kitties that aren't really actually kitties at all

#text post - For posts that aren't actually evaluations #asks - Posts that are sent via ask #tagged - Posts sent via tagging #in the replies - Tags from the replies of a post #my cat - For pictures of my cat

Submission: Submission open infrequently, although there will be a few days notice beforehand, as well as a date provided when the inbox opening looms. The inbox is currently closed. The inbox will be opened in the 28th of June UTC for 24 hours.

You can submit kitties by tagging me in posts or sending asks (when the inbox is open). I will not always get around to tags as sometimes there is too many to get to or I have already evaluated the post. I prefer people tag me into a post over DMing, and will not evaluate a kitty sent in DMs. I would also ask you to not send too many asks or tags in a row simply to avoid too many posts being sent in at a time and allowing others to send stuff in. If you are unsure on how to tag me please refer to the FAQ, do not message me asking how to tag me into posts.

Rules for submission: Please no real people or anthropomorphized cats. Anything that is pretty much just human is a big no go zone for evaluation (particularly evaluating real people). As long as it's clearly an animal I don't really care. Do not tag me into more than 2-3 posts at a time.

FAQ

Why hasn't my ask been answered? I get a lot of asks, and I can't answer everything. It usually takes a few days to a week to get around to answering an ask. Sometimes the ask may also contain a submission that cannot be posted, ie you submitted a real person, a cat in the harmful situation or with wounds. For text based asks I cannot get to everything and am frequently inundated with comments. Not all will get a response. If you ask a question answered in the FAQ I will not answer.

How do you evaluate the kitties? The economy guides my hand, I merely see the truth of what is already there.

I tagged you into a post, but you never responded? I get a lot of tags, and often a lot of the same post. I will try to avoid responding to the same post multiple times (sometimes I forget!). Sometimes I just have so many tagged posts to get to I have to cut some out. I do see every tagged post though so you're post will still be seen, even if not answered.

What is the most valuable kitty ever? Our current estimates would put Intergalactic Shiro, now at an impressive 720000000000

What currency are the kitties evaluated in? They are all in Kitty Dollars. I've never heard of this "USD" or "Euro" stuff. None of it is real.

I want to tag you in a post, but I don't know how? To tag me into a post you will need to reblog the post and add the tag into the text field of the post (no the tags!). If you type @kittybroker you should see this blog appear in a dropdown menu. Select kittybroker and then reblogging the post. You can also tag me into the replies of posts by opening the notes, heading to the replies section and tagging me there with the same method.

Can I submit myself? Many before have attempted this perilous feat. Yet I remain strong. No real people will be evaluated!

Do you have a cat? I do, although I rarely post it out of both privacy concerns and the sheer number of other kitties sent in. The rare occasion I do however they will all be tagged. His name is Boris and he is around nine years old. He is very crazy.

That is all for now! Remember to stay crazy and kitty!

[youflowerr-youfeast]

Lavender Haze (NH13) - Chapter Two.

a/n: HIIII! I am so sorry it has taken so long - but!! Welcome to chapter two!!! I am so sorry if there are any mistakes - it was defs proofread after a few wines. and ALSO thank you so bloody much for all of your kind word and support! Inbox is always open!! Let me know what you think! Also - I know it's giving slow burn, but you gotta be patient with our Sofia, she's - healing -

** Content warning: death, grief. **

7.6k words

May 15th. 

The morning light streamed through her bedroom window as Sofia ran a hairbrush through her hair, the golden glow highlighting the stubborn baby hairs she couldn’t tame. Her thoughts drifted as she worked, fingers combing through her hair in an attempt to make it sit just right.

She hadn’t seen her neighbor in over a week.

It wasn’t like she’d been looking for him. But then again, it wasn’t like she hadn’t been looking for him either. His absence felt more noticeable, especially after the flowers. She’d left them on her counter for days, unsure what to do with them until the petals began to wilt.

Eventually, she’d come to terms with tossing them, though their soft lavender hue seemed to linger in her mind, along with all her unanswered questions. Was it normal for him to disappear like this? Where did he go? What did he do when he wasn’t here?

Sofia sighed, placing the hairbrush down with a soft clink. She caught her reflection in the mirror and tried to redirect her thoughts, focusing instead on the day ahead—anything but her tall, dark, and handsome neighbor, who had seemingly vanished.

She grabbed her bag from the chair by her dresser, double-checking it for her essentials: wallet, keys, and the stack of lesson plans she’d thrown together late last night. A stray folder stuck out awkwardly from the side pocket, and she tucked it in with a sigh, mentally adding “organize paperwork” to her ever-growing to-do list.

Her lunch sat waiting in the fridge, neatly packed in a reusable container. She plucked it from the shelf and dropped it into her bag before grabbing a banana for the road. As she moved through the small kitchen, her eyes drifted to the living room wall she now knew she shared with him—a habit she hadn’t quite shaken over the past week.

Sofia shook her lingering thoughts loose and sipped her coffee, the warm bitterness grounding her as she glanced at the clock. “Okay, ten minutes,” she muttered to herself, finishing her drink before setting the mug in the sink.

Shoes on, coat in hand, she made one last sweep of the apartment. Her gaze lingered on the lavender flowers in her trash bin, petals crumpled and faded, before she turned toward the door, ready to embark on the day ahead.

By lunchtime, Sofia had cycled through reading time, snack break, and a minor clean-up effort after someone decided their applesauce worked better as finger paint. She leaned against the edge of her desk, sipping lukewarm coffee while scanning the room to ensure no one was trying to sneak their uneaten carrots into the rubbish.

Amelia popped her head into the room with her signature grin having snuck across the hall from her classroom. 

“You surviving?”

“Barely,” Sofia replied, laughing. “If I have to broker another dinosaur versus robot treaty, I might lose it.”

“Oh, c’mon. There’s no debate. Dinosaurs every time,” Amelia quipped, her tone light but teasing as she stirred the pot.

Sofia rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t let them hear you say that. The robot faction might stage a rebellion.”

Amelia laughed, “You’re probably right. Preschool politics are no joke.”

She leaned herself against the doorframe of Sofia’s classroom, arms crossed and a teasing smile on her face. “By the way, did you end up seeing your mysterious neighbor again? You know, the one you embarrassed yourself in front of?”

Sofia groaned, shooting her a look. “Why are you bringing that up now? I’m trying to forget about it.”

“Because it’s my job as your best friend,” she said with a smirk. “And let’s be honest, the mental image of you standing in his doorway, yelling at him for being loud - it’s too good to let go of.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” Sofia said, narrowing her eyes. “I was just being… firm.”

Amelia snorted. “Sure, firm. Whatever you say. So, have you run into him since then?”

“No,” Sofia admitted, letting out a little huff she didn’t mean to. “It’s been over a week, actually. I haven’t seen him at all.”

Amelia tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Weird. What do you think he’s up to?”

“No idea,” Sofia said with a shrug. “I mean we don’t know each other. He could be traveling for work or visiting family. Or maybe he just doesn’t spend much time at home.”

“Or,” Amelia said, smirking, “maybe he’s just hiding. Maybe he’s afraid after his big scary neighbour yelled at him to pipe down.”

Sofia rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s terrified of the girl who knocked on his door once and then burst into tears simultaneously.”

“You never know,” Amelia teased. “Anyway, I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. Guys that leave your favorite flowers on your doorstep don’t just disappear into thin air.” With that, she smirked and made her way back across the hall to her classroom.

The day wound down in the usual blur of chaos—parents arriving, kids running out the door, and Sofia answering last-minute questions about forgotten lunchboxes and art projects. By the time the building emptied, her classroom was quiet again, except for the faint sound of a vacuum somewhere down the hall.

Sofia locked up her classroom and slung her bag over her shoulder, pausing for a moment to check she had all of her belongings before making her way down the hallway and out of the school. 

Stepping outside, she pulled her coat tighter against the crisp evening air. It wasn’t far to her apartment, just a few blocks, and she always enjoyed the quiet walk after work.

The fading sunlight painted the streets in warm amber tones as she strolled past rows of townhouses and small shops.

The familiar brick façade of her apartment building came into view as Sofia rounded the corner, her bag weighing heavier on her shoulder after a long day. She adjusted the strap and exhaled, savoring the quiet of the early evening. The streets were lined with parked cars, their windshields glinting faintly in the last of the daylight, and the faint scent of someone grilling dinner drifted through the air.

She climbed the front steps slowly, digging into her coat pocket for her keys as she pushed through the main door. 

As Sofia ascended the stairs to her floor, she let out a soft sigh, already anticipating the small comforts of home—kicking off her shoes, pouring a glass of wine, and pretending she didn’t have a million things to do before tomorrow.

But when she reached the landing, she froze.

Nico.

Her heart gave a small, unexpected jolt. He was standing in front of his apartment door, his shoulders tense and his hands fiddling with something in the lock. Around him was a chaotic pile of luggage.

She paused mid-step, her first instinct to retreat before he noticed her. But then he cursed under his breath, the sound carrying in the silence, and she realised he was struggling with his key.

“Everything okay?” Sofia asked, her voice cutting through the silence as she stepped closer.

Nico straightened, startled, and turned to face her. His expression was a mix of frustration and embarrassment as he held up the broken key. “Not exactly,” he admitted.

Sofia’s gaze flicked to the lock, where part of the key was still lodged. “Oh,” she said, wincing. “That’s not ideal.”

“You’re telling me,” Nico replied, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been at this for fifteen minutes, and it’s not budging.”

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked between the broken key and the lock. “Do you have a spare?”

“Inside,” Nico said with a dry laugh. “Which is just about as helpful as this.” He held up the useless half of the key in his hand.

Sofia smirked faintly. “Right. So, what’s the plan? Are you going to fight the door until it gives in?”

“That was my first idea,” Nico replied, leaning against the wall. “Plan B was to stare at it until it feels bad and opens itself.”

“Solid strategy,” she said, her tone wry as she reached for her phone. “Or—and hear me out—we could call a locksmith.”

“Probably smarter,” Nico admitted, crossing his arms. “But only slightly.”

Sofia shot him a look with a small grin. She tapped the screen of her phone, looking up a number to dial. She put the phone to her ear. The conversation was quick, but as she listened to the locksmith on the other end, her brow furrowed. When she hung up, she turned back to Nico, her lips pressed together in a sympathetic line.

“Bad news,” she said with a sympathetic frown. “They can’t get here until tomorrow morning.”

Nico closed his eyes briefly and let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course. Perfect.”

“Do you have anywhere else you can go?” she asked, hesitating slightly, her voice soft.

Nico let out a slow breath, his gaze flicking to his pile of luggage before meeting hers. “I mean, I could probably crash at a friend’s place, but…” He trailed off, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m exhausted. The thought of hauling all this around again tonight just… no.”

Sofia nodded, her chest tightening at the sight of his tired expression. She didn’t know him well, but it didn’t take much to see that he was drained—physically and probably mentally.

“Well,” Sofia started, her voice hesitant, “if you don’t mind a couch, you can… stay here.” She pointed towards her door. 

Nico blinked, clearly caught off guard. His tired gaze softened as he straightened slightly. “You’re serious?”

Sofia nodded quickly, though her cheeks flushed, and she fidgeted with the strap of her bag. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not ideal, but it’s better than staying out here with all your stuff. Unless you’d rather—”

“No, no,” he interrupted gently, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s… really nice of you. I just don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not,” she said, her words rushing out a little too fast. “I mean, it’s just for tonight, right? So it’s not a big deal. Totally fine.”

Nico chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “You sure? You seem a little… unsure.”

Sofia swallowed, gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter. “No, it’s fine,” she said quickly, forcing a small smile. “Just, uh… unexpected, I guess.”

Her words felt clumsy, and she hated how self-conscious she sounded. But she wasn’t used to this—to being in close quarters with someone like him. Someone who's easy confidence felt foreign compared to the awkward, brittle experiences she’d had in the past.

Nico studied her for a moment, his expression softening. “I don’t want to put you out,” he said, his tone quieter now. “I can figure something else out if it’s too much.”

“No,” Sofia blurted, shaking her head quickly. “It’s not… I mean, it’s fine. Really.”

Her cheeks burned, and she turned toward the door, fumbling with her keys just to have something to do. “Let’s just get you inside before someone complains about your luggage blocking the hallway.”

“Alright,” Nico said gently, the hint of a smile returning. He picked up one of his bags and followed her into the apartment.

Sofia pushed open the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Nico. “It’s, uh, not much, but make yourself at home,” she said softly, her voice carrying the faintest edge of nervousness.

As Nico stepped through the threshold, his expression shifted. The hallway outside, dim and utilitarian, was immediately forgotten as he took in the space. It was small but radiated warmth, the kind of place that made you feel like you could sink into it and stay for hours.

The living room was the heart of the apartment, bathed in the soft glow of a few different antique lamps, their warm light casting a cozy ambiance over everything. The furniture was an eclectic mix that somehow worked together perfectly: a blush-pink armchair sat near the window, its velvet upholstery slightly faded but loved. The couch, a muted sage green, was piled with pastel cushions in different textures—knitted, embroidered, and quilted—each one seemingly chosen with care.

A coffee table, made from a repurposed vintage trunk, sat in the center of the room. Its surface bore the scuffs and scratches of a long history, now softened by the addition of a lace doily and a small collection of items: a few well-loved books, a glass vase holding dried lavender, and a half-burned candle in a ceramic holder.

The rug beneath it all was a faded blue with intricate floral patterns, worn just enough to feel soft underfoot. A stack of neatly folded blankets, all in muted tones, were piled in a small woven basket.

The walls were alive with art. A gallery of mismatched frames showcased botanical illustrations, photographs of places and people, and among them was a small canvas, tucked into a quieter corner, that Nico couldn’t help but think Sofia might have painted herself—soft brushstrokes of pastel pinks, blues, and yellows that looked like a sunrise or a dream.

Bookshelves flanked one side of the room, crammed with novels, cookbooks, and a few vinyl records stacked haphazardly next to a vintage record player. 

A pair of terracotta pots, each cradling leafy green plants, sat on the shelves, their vines trailing down like lazy rivers.

The kitchen, just visible through an arched doorway, was tiny but spotless. A small round table with two mismatched chairs, adorned with a floral tablecloth and a single candlestick. The counters were clutter-free, save for a light blue kettle and a ceramic jar labeled coffee.

Nico realized he was smiling, charmed in a way that was new to him. He had been expecting something ordinary—stark walls, a bland sofa—something similar to his apartment, but instead, he’d stepped into a place that felt soulfully lived-in. She had created an environment that whispered of patience, kindness, and quiet afternoons spent reading, painting, or just dreaming. It was a reflection of her, he realized: soft around the edges, graceful without trying, and utterly unpretentious.

He turned, and there was Sofia, standing a few steps away, her posture slightly hesitant, as if unsure what he’d think. In the lamplight, he saw her as part of this tapestry: someone who preferred faded pastels to bold statements, who gathered objects with sentimental value rather than uniform style. It made him want to know her better, to hear the stories behind the chipped teacup on the shelf or find out where she’d picked up the watercolor of that sleepy seaside town.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. A soft hum from the refrigerator filled the pause, and somewhere outside, a distant siren faded into the quiet. Nico finally turned fully toward her, letting the spell of the apartment settle into his voice as he said, “It’s really beautiful. Your place, I mean.” He kept his tone gentle, not wanting to spook the subtle, cautious energy she carried.

Sofia’s eyes briefly darted around, as if double-checking her own home through his gaze. “Thanks,” she managed, her voice a touch shy but steady enough. “I’ve collected things over time… just stuff that makes me happy.” She shrugged lightly, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the front of her sweater. “I guess it’s a bit… cluttered.”

Nico took a careful step forward, scanning the layers of texture and color without judgment. He didn’t see chaos. He saw care. “I don’t think that’s the right word,” he said gently, taking in more of the room. “It feels more like it’s all been gathered here for a reason. Like every piece matters.” He paused, catching her eye. “It’s got your personality. I can tell you love what you’ve collected.”

Sofia’s cheeks warmed, and her shoulders lowered the tiniest bit. “That’s… nice of you to say,” she murmured, fingers grazing the arm of her pink armchair.

“I’m really glad you shared it with me.” Nico’s voice was quiet, almost as if he were worried about disturbing the calm warmth drifting through the room. 

Sofia swallowed gently, her throat tight with a blend of uncertainty and resolve. She wanted him to feel welcome—that was the point, wasn’t it? The sincerity in his voice, the way he held her gaze, it all worked at untying the knots inside her chest, one by one.

 “I’m… glad, too,” she managed, her voice softer than she expected. Her cheeks still felt warm, and the subtle scent drifting from the dried flowers on her coffee table seemed suddenly more pronounced. 

She took a step closer to the kitchen’s threshold, as if to anchor herself to something solid. “If you… need anything,” she began, then hesitated, her fingers twitching nervously at her side, “I mean—are you hungry? Or thirsty?” She added the questions in a gentle rush.

Nico took in the delicate pattern of the tablecloth he could glimpse beyond her shoulder, the mugs arranged in neat little rows. All of it spoke of care, of a certain softness she carried inside her.

“I could go for some water, if that’s okay,” he said, not wanting to overwhelm her with demands, not wanting to trample the careful peace she’d built here. He offered a reassuring half-smile. “Don’t go to any trouble.”

Sofia’s expression shifted, a slight frown of mild reproach crossing her features. “It’s really not trouble,” she insisted, her voice gentle but firm. The blush on her cheeks deepened as she realized she might sound a bit assertive, but she pressed on before the moment slipped away.

Moving toward the kitchen she flicked on the light and filled a tumbler with cool water from her fridge.

As she turned back, she caught the subtle lines of weariness on Nico’s face. He looked as though he’d been running on empty, and she found her heart softening at the thought of him standing in that hallway, unable to enter his own home. Offering the glass, she managed a slight smile. “Here you go.”

But before he could take a sip, a new question rose to her lips, surprising even herself with its directness. “Have you eaten?” she asked gently. “Dinner, I mean. I can put something together, or I think I have some leftover pasta?” 

Nico paused, the glass still hovering near his mouth. Her offer took him by surprise, and for a second he considered his options. He wasn’t starving, exactly—he’d grabbed a sandwich hours ago—but her tone was so earnest, so genuinely caring, that refusing outright seemed almost rude.

“Only if it’s not too much trouble,” he said softly, lowering the glass. A faint, playful smile touched his lips. “I mean, I’m not going to say no to leftover pasta.” 

She tipped her head just enough so he couldn’t see the small smile curving her lips, as if taking a moment to steady her nerves before speaking again. “Alright, leftover pasta coming right up,” she said, voice more assured than before. She moved back toward the kitchen and he slowly followed her so he could assist if she needed him to. The mint-green cabinets and mismatched plates on the open shelves had never seemed like a big deal to her, just part of her everyday life. But now, knowing he’d be eating something she’d prepared—even if it was just reheated dinner—made her notice every detail of her kitchen: the soft hum of the fridge, the subtle scent of basil lingering from the last time she cooked. As she opened the fridge, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Nico hadn’t moved much, his tall frame still near the counter, water glass in hand. He looked more at ease now, no longer quite so wary, and the smallest crease of a smile lingered around his mouth. Something about that eased her own nerves. He wasn’t here by choice, not exactly—locked out and stranded—but at least he didn’t look unhappy about how the night was unfolding.

She found the leftover container, popped it open, and transferred a portion into a small saucepan. A quiet hiss sounded as the burner clicked on and the metal warmed beneath her hand. With a wooden spoon, she stirred slowly, letting the sauce loosen with a bit of water and a drizzle of oil.

“Hope you don’t mind penne,” she said over her shoulder, her tone light, “It’s nothing gourmet, but it’s edible and a hot meal.” Her lips twitched at her own self-conscious joke, and she turned slightly so he could see the shy humor in her eyes.

“Edible and hot works for me,” he responded with a sweet smile, his dimple popping ever so slightly at her dry attempt of humour. The scent soon began to bloom—warm and herbaceous. It wasn’t much, just a leftover meal made modestly appetizing, but it felt meaningful in its own small way. After all, what was hospitality if not trying to make someone’s night a bit better than the hallway they’d been stuck in?

Nico shifted slightly, leaning a hip against the counter, his gaze skimming over her space as if trying to memorise the comforting details of her world.

She reached for a bowl—a shallow one with a faint floral pattern swirling around its edges—then spooned the pasta in, topping it with a whisper of grated cheese. Perfectly imperfect, she thought, cradling the bowl for a moment before passing it over. When Nico took it, their fingers didn’t quite touch, but the closeness felt charged all the same.

Their eyes met briefly and Sofia wondered if he could sense the quiet tremor beneath her calm exterior. The hush of the apartment stretched between them, filled not with awkwardness, but with a kind of gentle expectancy.

Nico lowered his gaze to the steaming pasta, then looked back up with a small, genuine smile. It wasn’t a grin of politeness or formality—rather, it carried the warmth of someone who truly appreciated her gesture. “This looks great,” he said softly, and the low timbre of his voice made her heart dip and rise in an odd, fluttery way.

“Not too fancy, I know,” she murmured, stepping back to let him settle. A touch of self-consciousness crept into her tone, but not enough to overshadow the earnest kindness she offered. “I hope it’s okay.”

“I’m pretty sure leftover pasta never looked this appealing,” he replied, lightness dancing in his eyes. His sincerity felt tangible—no forced compliments, just the honest appreciation of a man unexpectedly comforted by a stranger’s kitchen.

Sofia folded her hands together at her waist, then remembered her manners. “Feel free to sit,” she said, her voice a shade quieter. She gestured toward the small wooden table. A half-burned candle and a tiny succulent inhabited the tabletop, tiny guardians of many solitary evenings. To invite him to that table felt like offering him a glimpse of her routine—the place where she sipped tea and read after long days, where she planned lessons and wrote grocery lists.

Nico nodded, taking the few steps needed to reach it. He settled into one of the chairs, setting the bowl down carefully. When he lifted his gaze again, she was still watching him, her posture a delicate blend of readiness and uncertainty. There was a softness in her expression he found comforting—no demands, no assumptions, just a gentle willingness to make him feel at home.

“Thank you,” he said again, the words simple but weighted with more than just gratitude for a meal. His voice bridged something unspoken in the space between them, acknowledging the unusual nature of this encounter. He lifted the fork, tasted the pasta, and nodded with quiet approval. “It’s perfect.”

Sofia hovered near the counter a moment longer, watching him settle into the quiet rhythm of his meal. He didn’t seem uncomfortable; in fact, he appeared focused on the simple act of eating, as though savoring each bite. There was a contented look on his face, something close to relief. The sight made her smile softly, and for the first time since he stepped into her apartment, she felt less like a bundle of nerves and more like someone who could just… be.

Still, the energy of the day weighed on her shoulders and the back of her neck, and she was suddenly aware of how long it had been since she’d had a moment to herself. “I, um,” she began, catching her reflection in the window’s faint glass. The blush in her cheeks lingered, her hair a bit mussed from running her hands through it too many times. “I’m going to hop in the shower, if that’s okay,” she said, the words emerging in a gentle rush. “It’s been a long day, and I… well, I could use it.”

Nico looked up from the bowl, pausing mid-twirl of his fork. He nodded understandingly. “Of course,” he said. No questions, no odd glances, just the same calm acceptance he’d shown since entering her pastel world. “Take your time. I’m good here.”

She offered a timid half-smile, relieved he hadn’t found the request strange. “There’s more water in the fridge if you need it,” she murmured, gesturing with a slight tilt of her head toward the kitchen. “And I’ll be just down the hall if you need anything.”

Sofia slipped away, her footsteps quiet as she made her way down the short corridor. In her small bathroom, she flicked on the lights. They illuminated a delicate shower curtain—pale pink, patterned with subtle green leaves—and the neat row of bottles along the tile ledge. She turned on the water, testing it with her hand until it reached that perfect, soothing temperature. Her clothes came off and she stepped under the stream, letting the warmth and steam envelop her. Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back, rinsing away the day’s tension.

Soon she emerged from the hallway in a set of pale blue pajamas scattered with tiny daisies, the soft cotton clinging gently to her fresh-from-the-shower warmth. Her hair, still damp, lay in loose waves around her shoulders, and though she tried to appear casual, there was a shy set to her posture—arms held close, hands lightly clasped. She paused near the doorway between the hall and the living area, as if double-checking the atmosphere before stepping fully into it.

Nico was on the couch, the now-clean bowl resting upside down on a folded dish towel he must have found beneath the sink. He’d taken the initiative to tidy up, and something about that small kindness made her heart beat a little faster. 

His gaze lifted when he sensed her presence, and for a brief moment, he struggled to keep it respectful and level. Her pajamas were cute, undeniably so, and seeing her in them brought an unexpected feeling to the moment. He refocused quickly on her face, noting the gentle flush in her cheeks that matched the faint rose hue of the lamp’s glow on the wall. Something about the way she carried herself—the timid half-step into the room—tugged at a protective feeling inside of him. 

“I, um… you all good?” Sofia asked softly, crossing the final steps into the living area. Her voice still held that careful politeness, but under it was a warmth that felt more natural now, as if layers of formality had been gently peeled back over the evening. She glanced at the cleaned bowl and then at him, eyes brightening with pleased surprise. “You cleaned up?” she noted, her tone both grateful and a little impressed.

Nico nodded, his own smile deepening. “Seemed fair,” he said quietly.

He wasn’t sure what else to say for a moment, so he let the silence stretch, comfortable enough not to fill it right away. Sofia took a cue from that silence and moved toward the armchair near his spot on the sofa, the lamplight catching on the subtle patterns of her pajama fabric. 

She tucked one leg under the other as she settled down, maintaining a careful grace. Nico kept his eyes anchored on her face, determined not to let his curiosity roam lower. It wasn’t that he was blind to the pretty picture she made—it was simply that he respected her too much, especially after all her quiet generosity.

“Do you want any help making the couch into a bed?” she asked, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes flicked to the cushions, then back to him. “I think I have a spare quilt and some blankets I can bring out.” She paused, chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek before adding, “And—um—if you’d like some tea… I’ve got peppermint, chamomile, or just regular black tea with honey.”

Nico’s heart gave a small, unexpected twist. It wasn’t that she’d asked anything extraordinary—it was her tone, the caring simplicity of her questions, and the way she sat there, folded softly into her armchair, that had him feeling as though he were seeing something delicate and lovely. She looked so at ease in this space, her space, making an offer that was both practical and undeniably kind. The scent of her shampoo still lingered faintly in the air, and he wondered how anyone could be so naturally gentle.

He had to remind himself to answer. Clearing his throat quietly, he leaned forward just a bit, willing himself to keep his eyes on hers and not let them wander, not get lost in how well the pastel hues complemented her skin, how her features were softened further by the soft glow of lamplight. “You don’t have to fuss,” he said, keeping his voice low so as not to break the hush they’d settled into. “Really. Just being inside, having a place to rest, that’s already more than enough.”

He watched her expression carefully. There was a sincerity in her face that made him want to accept everything she offered, no matter how small. “But… if you don’t mind,” he continued gently, “a cup of tea would actually be nice.” He almost smiled at how modest he sounded—him, who usually had no trouble asking for what he needed. But here, he wanted to tread lightly.

“Peppermint?” she asked softly, the corners of her mouth lifting.

“Peppermint sounds great,” he replied. He watched her unfold herself from the armchair, moving with that same gentle grace toward the kitchen. He let his eyes follow her only briefly, but quickly looked away once he realised he was staring. 

Sofia returned with two steaming mugs. Nico straightened a bit on the couch, watching her approach with quiet appreciation, and accepted one of the mugs with a grateful nod. She curled back into her armchair, legs tucked under her comfortably, her free hand stroking the armrest’s worn fabric.

“Thank you,” he said, taking a cautious sip. The warmth of the tea rose up to his face. “This will definitely hit the spot.”

She smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “Good. I’m glad.” A lull passed, not awkward, just a gentle pause in the rhythm of the evening.

“So,” Sofia ventured, cradling her mug close to her chest. She studied him a moment, noticing how he seemed more at ease now than when he first arrived. “You said work keeps you on the road a lot?” Her voice was soft, curious. She’d avoided prying too much before, but now it felt natural to learn a bit more about the unexpected guest in her home. 

Nico nodded, resting an ankle over his opposite knee. “Yeah, I travel pretty often,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “It comes with the job.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows lifting slightly. “What kind of work do you do? If you don’t mind me asking.” Her lips curved into a reassuring half-smile, as if to say: You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know.

He hesitated, not out of secrecy, but because he rarely had to explain himself to someone who didn’t already know. “I play hockey,” he answered simply. “Professionally.”

Sofia’s fingers tightened slightly around the mug of tea she’d just set in her lap. His answer—“I play hockey”—should have been simple enough, but those words nudged a memory she normally kept tucked away, pressed between the pages of her past. She swallowed, working to keep her expression neutral as she tilted her head and offered him a small, polite smile.

“Professionally,” she repeated softly. There was a hint of awe in her tone, but beneath it a subtle shift: something a bit more distant, as though her thoughts had taken her elsewhere. 

“So you’re traveling a lot, playing… what, in the NHL?” She asked it gently, her voice kept even, as if bracing for an answer that might sting more than it should.

Nico nodded, and something about his posture, the practiced humility in his eyes, suggested he was used to people knowing exactly who he was. But here, in front of Sofia, he had to explain. “Yeah,” he said, settling his tea on the coffee table. “I’m with the New Jersey Devils.”

He seemed poised, prepared for some reaction—recognition, excitement, maybe a flurry of questions about his fame. But Sofia’s reaction was subtle: her gaze dropped to her hands where she fiddled with the rim of her mug. She knew enough about hockey—more than she cared to remember—to understand how big that was. But the memories it stirred made her heart twist.

“My brother…” she began, voice almost too soft. She paused, forced herself to breathe. Nico’s eyes were on her, patient and curious. She lifted her gaze, offered a small, tight smile, the kind that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “He played hockey too. He was the captain of his college team.”

Saying it aloud brought an ache to the surface. She hadn’t expected to share this detail with him. 

Nico leaned forward slightly at her words, intrigued but slightly oblivious to the sadness pooling behind her eyes. “Really? That’s great,” he said gently, his tone warming with genuine interest.

Sofia pressed her lips together, fighting the familiar sting in her chest. She had said it so simply: he was the captain. She hadn’t explicitly said he was gone, and Nico’s calm, encouraging expression told her he’d taken the statement at face value—that her brother still walked somewhere under stadium lights, still taped his stick before every game, still pulled on a jersey with a “C” stitched into its fabric.

“That must’ve been amazing, growing up and watching him play,” Nico said, making a small gesture as if passing an invisible puck between them. He tried to imagine her in the stands, cheering with family, maybe wearing her brother’s college team colors.

Sofia’s hand tightened around her mug. She forced a weak smile to cover the jagged ache in her chest. How easily he assumed a living present tense—do you watch him, must’ve been proud—and how hard it would be to correct him. A shiver of memory moved through her: her brother’s last game, the way he’d grinned at her afterward and ruffled her hair like always, the stands emptying as he lingered on the ice, making excuses to savor every second. And then the accident that tore that future away.

She swallowed, the peppermint scent of her tea suddenly too sharp. Her voice, when it came, was quiet and carefully measured. “I used to go to all his home games,” she said softly, truth and omission twined together. “He loved playing. I think wearing that ‘C’ on his jersey meant everything to him. He wanted to go further…” Her eyes flickered down, as if searching the floor for some steady ground.

Nico nodded, his smile soft with admiration. “Captains usually do. A lot of them dream about going pro, just like I did.” He paused, considering her brother’s path. “Where is he playing now? Did he keep going with it after college?”

The question hung in the warm air. It was such a simple inquiry—an innocent assumption that the story moved forward, that her brother stepped from college hockey into some next phase. Nico’s earnest interest made it harder to respond, but she knew she had to clarify.

Her heart beat thickly in her throat. She pulled in a slow breath, mustering courage. “He… he didn’t get the chance,” she managed. Her gaze lifted, meeting Nico’s eyes. The gentle lamplight caught unshed tears there, making them glisten, and Nico’s soft curiosity faltered into sudden concern.

Sofia cleared her throat, voice almost a whisper. “He passed away before he could try.” The words felt heavy on her tongue, and she offered them with as much calm as she could.

Nico stilled, the weight of her revelation settling immediately in the hush of the apartment. His breath caught, and his shoulders sagged slightly, as if absorbing the shock for her sake. He realized, with a pang of regret, that he’d pressed on too lightly, that his questions might have scraped at old wounds he didn’t know were there.

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” he said, voice low and full of quiet apology, understanding now the ache that underpinned her every word about her brother. He held her gaze, hoping to convey that he understood this was not just a story, but a piece of her heart that still hurt. He didn’t look away, offering no empty platitudes, just honest sorrow and respect for her loss.

Sofia’s tight smile trembled, then steadied. Her gaze drifted to the patterns on her rug.

“The night I, um…” She paused, took a careful breath. “The night I knocked on your door and yelled at all of you to keep it down—it was the anniversary of his death.”

Her words settled into the quiet space, their weight palpable. Nico’s eyes softened with understanding. He didn’t move, didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead, he let her speak at her own pace, sensing that this was something she needed to say aloud.

“I’d been holding it together all day,” she continued, her fingers curling around the fabric of her pajama sleeve. “Trying to pretend everything was fine, going through the motions, doing my job, smiling for the kids at work. And then I came home to a silent apartment. And it felt so empty. I opened a bottle of wine, told myself I’d have just one glass.” She gave a shaky laugh, humorless and soft. “One turned into a few, and then the noise started next door. Loud voices, laughter… I just snapped. Something about all that life and sound and celebration was too much to bear that night.”

Nico’s heart twisted. He remembered that evening so clearly: her face flushed with anger, her words slurred slightly by the wine, but beneath the frustration and annoyance he now saw the grief. He wished he could have understood then what he knew now.

Sofia glanced up, meeting his gaze. The tears in her eyes didn’t fall, but they glistened, held in place by her quiet strength. “I’m not proud of it. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you or your friends. But I guess I was angry. Angry that the world keeps spinning, that people keep laughing and having fun, while he can’t. Angry that my life would never be the same.”

Nico leaned forward, setting his tea down, carefully trying not to break their fragile connection.

“I’m so sorry.” He wanted to say more, to tell her that her anger made sense, that anyone faced with such pain might lash out when confronted with reminders of what they’d lost. But he let the apology stand, simple and honest.

She offered a small nod, her expression distant for a moment as she wrestled with old memories and fresh regrets. “I remember thinking, after I went back to my apartment, that I’d embarrassed myself. But I was too raw to care that much. I just… I missed him. I still do, every day. The anniversary just makes it harder to pretend everything’s fine.”

The clock ticked softly, and the art covered walls seemed to hold them both in gentle sympathy. 

Nico finally spoke, voice low. “I can’t imagine what that must feel like,” he said. “But I get it now. Why you were upset. Why that night mattered so much.” He hesitated, wanting to reassure her without sounding trite. “Your brother—he mattered. He still does. It makes sense that losing him on that day would stir up everything.”

Sofia’s lips curved into the faintest, sad smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. It wasn’t just gratitude for his understanding words, but for the space he gave her to be honest, for not turning this into a moment of pity or awkward apologies. “I don’t usually talk about him with… well, with people I don’t know well. But something about tonight, and about you—I don’t know, it feels safe. Like I can share this without worrying you’ll judge me.”

Nico’s chest tightened again, that gentle pull of empathy and admiration he’d been feeling all evening. “You can,” he assured softly. “I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.” He wanted to offer comfort, but he also knew she was strong on her own. Maybe just hearing her words, acknowledging her pain, was enough for now.

They fell quiet once more, letting the hush settle. Sofia’s eyes drifted to the picture frame on the shelf, the one containing her brother’s photograph. The memory still hurt, but tonight it hurt a little less—maybe because someone else knew and she wasn’t alone. 

“You probably don’t know much about me,” Sofia said, speaking up, her voice a touch steadier now. “I mean, beyond the fact that I had a rough night and a brother who meant a lot to me.” She offered a small, self-conscious smile, fingers brushing the rim of her mug. “I’m a preschool teacher, actually.”

Nico’s posture shifted slightly, interest lighting his features. “A preschool teacher?” he repeated, a note of admiration in his tone. He set his own mug down carefully, as if savoring this new piece of information. “I can imagine that takes incredible patience.”

Sofia allowed herself a genuine smile. “More patience than I ever thought I had,” she agreed, a soft laugh following the admission. It felt good to move into this gentler territory. “But I love it. The kids—oh, they’re amazing. They’re curious about everything, and each day feels like a chance to show them how wide and wonderful the world can be.” She paused, warmth creeping into her voice. “They remind me that there’s still so much hope out there, even when things are hard.”

Nico nodded, absorbing her words. He tried to picture her surrounded by small children, helping them tie their shoes, guiding them through finger-painting, reading stories with animated voices. He could imagine how that environment might offer a kind of healing—an antidote to the heaviness she carried. “I respect that,” he said softly. “Finding a path that lets you make a difference and feel connected… it’s not something everyone manages.”

She dipped her head slightly, touched by the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you. It wasn’t exactly planned,” she confessed. “I ended up teaching after a lot in my life changed. I guess I needed something that felt meaningful, something that helped me move forward rather than staying stuck in old pain.”

Nico’s gaze flicked to the photograph on the shelf, then back to her face. He knew enough now to understand the subtext without pressing. “It sounds like it’s given you that,” he said simply. “You have this calm energy that I’m sure helps them feel safe.”

Her cheeks warmed at the compliment. There were many times she questioned her abilities—wondering if she was patient enough, kind enough, if she truly made a difference—but hearing it from someone who barely knew her gave it a unique weight. “I try,” she said, her tone modest.

After a few unhurried moments, Sofia shifted in her chair. The day’s emotions, along with the late hour, had settled into her muscles, reminding her that she needed rest. She gave a small, apologetic smile and rose to her feet, smoothing the front of her pajama top as she did so.

“I think I’m going to head to bed,” she said quietly, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful mood they’d found. Her eyes found his across the modest space. “It’s getting late, and tomorrow morning will come too soon, as always.”

Nico nodded, understanding perfectly. He leaned back against the couch, his posture easy, trying his best to keep his gaze respectful. “Of course,” he said gently. “You’ve had a long day.”

She took a step toward the hallway, then paused, turning back as if remembering something important. “Before I go…” Sofia hesitated for a heartbeat, then gestured toward a small cupboard near the bathroom door. “There are fresh towels in there if you want to take a shower. Soap and shampoo are on the shelf inside. And, well, the couch is all yours. Make yourself at home, okay?”

Nico looked at her, gratitude flickering in his eyes. It amazed him how thoughtful she continued to be, even after all they’d shared tonight. “Thank you,” he replied, voice soft. “I appreciate everything. Really.”

Sofia nodded, accepting his thanks with a faint, genuine smile. She pressed her lips together as if holding onto a last piece of kindness and, finding it unnecessary to say more, offered him a quiet “Good night” that was warmer than any drawn-out farewell.

“Good night,” Nico echoed, his voice carrying through the hush as she retreated into the dim hallway.

The soft click of her bedroom door eased into the silence, and he let out a slow breath. He wouldn’t intrude on her space more than he needed to, but the invitation to shower and settle in was a kindness he didn’t take lightly. He rose from the sofa to find the towels, and perhaps, a small measure of peace in the quiet hours before morning.

@bratbarzal @xaexaesworld @lhughes43

[sturniolo04]

Hey I was wondering if u could write a dad chris fic and his daughter is like 15-16 and showing signs of pregnancy so he asks her some questions what she lied about as she didn't want him to know so he stopped thinking she was pregnant but she had already took a test and hid it in the bin but he found it and asked his wife if it hers and it wasnt

Wife!girlmom!reader x husband!girldad!chris

A/n: ofc! I absolutely love these requests I have coming in, you guys are amazing!I hope you love it! And remember to leave requests in my inbox! If you don’t like the pre added name in my works you can simply put in your own or don’t read it, it up to you :)-Charli

Dividers: @issysh3ll and @mintsturniolo

You and Chris loved your little family. It was you, him and your now 16 year old daughter Layla. Chris was never fond of the thought that his daughter was finally in what seemed like a commuted relationship with the boy who asked her out to hocoming her sophomore year of high school but nevertheless, they were cute together you thought. You also knew it was a matter of time they started exploring the world of the birds and the bees and you two thought you were ready when that time comes.

“No no no”

Layla quietly whispers to herself standing in her parents bathroom behind a locked door with a positive pregnancy test in her shaking hands. She knew her dad was going to kill her if her found out. She lets out a startled jump as she hears a loud knock on the door.

“Hey lay are you okay”

Chris voice cuts through the loud voices playing in Layla’s head at the moment.

“Y-yeah”

She chokes out quickly throwing the test in the trashcan next her sink counter and unlocking the door.

You two should have known something was up and Layla should have known that should wouldn’t be able to get this one over her parents for long because the symptoms were bound to show at some point and today was that day and she just hoped they wouldn’t catch on.

“Do you want something to eat for lunch”

Chris asks her as she simply nods her head sitting next to you at the island counter as he began to cook what he thought was her favorite dish, spaghetti. As soon as she took the first bite of the dish it tasted different, the pasta sauce and the noodles together were leaving a bad taste in her mouth and system. It was the symptoms finally coming to the surface.

“Is it good’

You ask your daughter as she begins to place a quick hand over her mouth running to the bathroom.

“I guess not”

You confusedly state looking at Chris with a concern expression painted on his face.

“Was it not cooked all the way I wonder”

Chris questions out heading to the bathroom door placing his ear to it hearing the audible sounds of throwing up. It was weird she had been acting weird up until now though the throwing up every morning, the morning sickness, and the weird hours she would have a snack and what she would even snack on raised a red flag towards Chris but he shook it off up until this point because it might be a phase or something never once thinking or anything worse.

“She is throwing up but she has been acting lately hasn’t she though have you noticed”

Chris states coming back into the kitchen sitting down next to you placing a soft hand in your bare thigh.

“I mean I noticed it A little bit”

You unsurely reply out replaying every interaction or situation where she noticed something out of character for your guys daughter.

“Something’s got to be wrong’

Chris quietly whispers out to you as you nod your head in agreement as Layla finally comes out of the bathroom entering the kitchen once again.

“ you okay lay”

You ask her simply as she nods her head walking over to sit on the couch in the living room across the way.

It wasn’t until layla was at school and you were out getting groceries for the household that Chris finally found it. He just so happened to be bagging up and taking out the trash to get picked up that he noticed a pregnancy test a positive one at that.

“When did she start taking those again is she really”

Chris mumbles out to himself picking it out of the can in your guys room taking note of the intersecting lines knowing it was a positive test but how long has she known and not told him. Why would she not tell him especially after her getting pregnant with Layla 16 years ago seeing how he reacted to the news.

“ Chris?”

You questioning greet him as you entered the room just getting back from the store. He slowly turns around to face you holding up the test your face morphs into pure confusion.

‘How long have you known”

Chris states slowly scanning you face for your very readable emotions.

“Known what Chris that’s not mine”

You reject coming over to examine the test seeing also that is was a positive test.

“Well whose else’s would it be sweetheart and it was in our bathroom trashcan as well so why wouldn’t I think it would belong to you”

Chris explains as you look up at him thinking about whose or the test could have gotten there. Then it hit it you.

“ wasn’t Layla in our bathroom a week or two ago”

You ask as you squint deep in thought.

“Yeah you don’t think-“

Chris states trailing off

“I don’t know maybe that’s the only thing that makes sense I mean it would explain a lot we noticed she was acting off maybe this is why”

You huff out take a seat on the bed as Chris does the same sitting next to you.

“ so she lied to us about it remember I asked if that was even a reason for her behavior’

Chris quietly whispers out and he did ask Layla if that was a factor.

“Sweetie it has been a week of you throwing up in the morning at the same hour and the only way you would be doing this is if you were pregnant”

Chris simple states out seeing he found Layla in your guys bathroom leaning over the open toilet holding her hair back for her. layla becomes nervous he was going to know and she was going to just tell him willingly either.

“Are you pregnant”

Chris flat out asks her seemingly already disappointed if the answers was yes so she lied.

“What dad gross”

Layla nervously replies standing up from kneeling in front of the toliet.

“I’m serious lay when was your last period”

Chris asks genuinely concerned. Layla stops in her tracks trying to think of a quick excuse or even a date to get him off her back for the time being.

“ dad it started today I get sick the first day always when it is that time”

Layla confidently states out as Chris face morphs into relief.

“Oh okay I’m sorry sweetie then you are in so much pain”

Chris states hugging her gently.

Layla finally came home for school to be met with you and Chris sitting on the couch the positive sitting on the coffee table in front of you two.

“Mom dad I can explain”

Layla starts noticing the test sitting on the table first.

“Well”

Chris states.

“I was sacred I didn’t know what to do I didn’t think I would get pregnant after everything-“

She trails off sobbing as your face softens towards your daughter.

“I didn’t want you guys to be mad at me”

She sobs out honestly as you and Chris come up to her console her bring her into a hug.

“It’s okay we will get through this”

You state as you continue to combing your fingers through her hair lovingly.

“Together”

Chris adds on as she continues to sob out into her parents chests.

Taglist

@mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @ivysturnss @emely9274 @ksturnz @stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @chaoswithus @courta13

[ran-orimoto]

I have got … 9 asks in the inbox to still reply to, but the good news is that two will be ignored as new year, new me✨, new blog rules✨✨. I will no longer reply to rude asks. Sent in the bin. I’m not going to stain my blog with that shit any more.

Anyway, I’m trying writing besides drawing, I promise. If I manage to keep my Muse at home with milk and biscuits, I might go for a double short one-shot wave to fill the December gap~. Let’s see. If I don’t manage to write two or if I don’t manage to write at all, peace. We will see each other in February on AO3(AS IF I will allow this to happen, noonnoooonno).

[captain-kraken]

ok gonna pull myself together and actually get everything on my to do list done today despite how exhausted i am

log on to work laptop and check file imported

order a new bin (since mine got stolen AGAIN)

finish tidying up

fix the shower

wrap all christmas presents

figure out what i'm wearing on monday

pack everything for monday

go buy my birthday stuff

pay all my January bills

trim my hair

call the doctors

reply to all the messages i've missed

clear tumblr drafts / inbox

but first i need coffee lol

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

Hello, I sent in an ask a while back and idk if it went through, or if my potato wifi ate it, or if Tumblr ate it, or if you're holding it for later, or if I accidentally committed a serious case of foot in mouth without realising it and you just deleted the ask.

As I am on anon, you can't tell which is the question I asked, or even if you have received it, without me resending it. As the asker, I have no way of knowing if it landed into your inbox if you don't acknowledge it.

In this event, what should I, as an anon asker do? I don't want to flood your inbox when you are busy, or make you feel obligated to answer an ask, but at the same time it's difficult to tell if my potato connection ate the ask or if you just binned the ask because of any potential faux pas i might have committed. Does Tumblr still eat asks?

Should i try and resend asks after a set period of time?(One week, two weeks, a month?) Or should I assume a question to be binned after a while?

In the event I did a bad in the ask, (I sent in an ask if you had pictures/art of Chu Spirit, your OC. I wrote it half asleep so it probably had very bad grammar and/or autocorrect)I am very very sorry and didn't mean it. I can’t remember what exactly I wrote, or what part could be the issue but I am very sorry if it came through as mean or rude.

In the event it was just a case of never hitting your inbox, I guess I've re-sent the ask in this, and hopefully you will see it this time?

In the unlikely event that you already answered the ask and this was simply a case of me being as blind as a bat, know that I will simply perish from the sheer embarrassment.

I hope you have a lovely day. Do not feel like you have to reply if you do not want to.

In this case, the best thing you can do is send the ask a few times. If someone is not an anon, they can send me a DM or comment or send the ask again. If you flood my inbox, then I'll answer one and delete the rest. I don't see a big deal in that personally, but I know some people find it annoying.

No, I haven't answered that ask. I know I didn't delete it, and I couldn't find it. So I don't believe I got it at all.

As for the question, no, I don't have any pictures of Spirit. He probably should draw some, but I'll probably do that later. Maybe. Sorry to disappoint. Also thank you for pointing that out because yeah, I never received it.

[forbidden-sin-bin]

Heyyy Bestieeeee!!!

I’m loving By Your Side so farrrrr. Its just soo goood. The writing its just fab, the pacing perfect imo, and the description of y/n is so realistic and easily likeable - like we get to see her insecurities and flaws, what personally troubles her, as well as her hopes and dreams, the people she feels close (and their relationship feels credible!) etc…

Its just so well written that I can see myself in her on many occasions, and connect my emotions with her. Idk, maybe I’m rambling a bit.

Anyways, as I’m currently hooked on this story, and can’t get it out of my head (I created a Spotify playlist for this 💀) I just wanted to ask, if you have an exact date of when you’ll post chapter 5?

Btw, heads up, I think you forgot to put the link of chapter 4 in the By Your Side masterlist, can’t see it there

Now - this is taking way too long, and I’ll just head out, Peace ✌🏻

Hold on a sec-

I waited too freaking long to reply to this I’m so sorry but this was so sweet and thoughtful I literally couldn’t stop tearing up every time I read this. I wanted to give a thought out response to this so if you’re seeing this thank you for waiting this was amazing to see in my inbox-

*SLAMS FISTS ON THE TABLE HOLLERING SCREAMING CRYING*

THANK YOUUUUUUU!!!!!! Oh my god. Holy shit. This. This made my month. I truly didn’t know how to respond so I kept on holding this off from immediately responding and freaking out/appreciating everything you wrote. Finally I got my thoughts together after two long weeks!

Also YOU HAVE A SPOTIFY PLAYLIST?!?!? SHARE PLEASE HOLY HECK THAT IS ONE OF THE BIGGEST COMPLIMENTS I COULD EVER RECEIVE AHSJDLAGUFFIISJSHCJSKND-

also speaking of which I gotta get that part 1 playlist updated lmao

Literally that first paragraph made me flatline I swear. I’m so freaking glad cause I was hellbent on making y/n realistic as a person whilst also having them make choices or have characteristics that are reasonable enough for most people to be able to relate to or picture themselves in! So I’m incredibly glad you like her, flaws and hopes and dreams and all!

I literally have so, SO MUCH more that I want to mention or say to add to the above but I keep on deleting and rewriting anything else I try to add cause it makes a lot more sense in short DM’s instead of full on sentences lol.

Second paragraph knocked me outta my body and no you’re not rambling at all! I was worried that the reader’s perspective wasn’t realistic or relatable so hearing that you’re able to connect with them made me feel a lot more comfortable, thank you so much!

When I started this series, I wanted to have a Reader self-insert fic that was in a way, a possibility of what life could’ve been if we had the chance! I know I absolutely had that feeling where I always said to myself: “MAN. I wish I was born earlier.” Not that I don’t appreciate my life right now! I’m certainly incredibly lucky to have a life where I get to meet so many amazing people like you and have the chance to write like this!

AND FOR THE RELEASE DATE OF CHAPTER 5: Oh man, I thought I could get it done mid-late June but assignments man. Goddamn assignments handed to me without warning. I don’t have an exact release date for chapter 5 and I’m incredibly sorry about that. I know you’re looking forward to it and I am as well! Once I know for sure and I’m confident enough to say that I’m ready to post it (I suffer from the perfectionist and the ADHD curse I’m so sorry), I’ll let everyone know beforehand! I promise.

But once again, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! If I had another reason to keep going and keep pushing myself to keep the series going I know that you and everyone that’s waiting and supporting are many, many reasons. And that’s more than enough to make sure I bring you the best possible fanfic to you all!

Much love,

- Sin Bin

[stereax]

alexluke, rainstorm

So this prompt is from here, and, in true Stereax fashion, I forgot to reply to it immediately and it went straight to my mind's equivalent of the trash bin... but we are going through the inbox today!

...fuck I still need to do the pens deep dive. save me other smith. other smitty sAVE ME-

(I'll probably save that for when they're out of the Cup chase tbh... anyway. pardon my rambles, onto the ficlet!)

So it's like this: Every time a drop of water falls from the sky anywhere in New Jersey, the state's motorists all collectively forget how to drive.

Alex swears in Swedish, leaning on his horn at the Altima - it's always a fucking Altima - with New York plates - it's always the fucking New Yorkers - that apparently can't accelerate past six miles an hour on the motherfucking Parkway because there's a light drizzle.

When he explains (or rants, really) his very nuanced thoughts on this subject to Luke, who's sitting in the passenger seat, the defenseman starts outright giggling.

"I swear to God, these assholes - " Alex is cut off by a clap of lightning loud enough that he hits the brakes on instinct, his car stuttering to a stop in the sudden downpour.

A cacophony of horns sounds from behind them and Luke only laughs harder, curls falling in his eyes; he's damn lucky Alex is in love with him or he'd be walking the rest of the way home.

[oceanoecielo]

▸ anonymous ⟶ ❛ [ mulberry ]  what tips would you give someone with writer's block? / [ coral ]  give a shoutout to one of your favorite blogs. ❜ ╱ ( colorful interview , accepting . )

ha! you are probably not going to like this answer at all, but the best advice i have for someone with writer's block is to keep writing. that's honestly what i do, just content myself with writing poorly for a while until it becomes good again.

some quotes from a book on writing i'm currently reading that speak to me personally and are more like preaching at the choir than anything: "Simply put, the key to being a better writer is to write. […] Write like crap if you have to. But write every day. […] Don't write a lot. Just write often. […] Spending five hours on a Saturday writing isn't nearly as valuable as spending 30 minutes a day every day of the week."

i'm An Insane Person who treats writing much more like a discipline than an art. rp is not a job, that's true, but if you only write when ~the stars & muse align perfectly~ and you ~feel up to it~, you're going to find yourself in those slumps easily and often. that's my opinion on it, anyway.

for example, i've found that i rarely have the motivation to answer ooc asks like this one, and it results in these asks sitting in my inbox for long periods of time. so i've started to discipline myself and say, "ok 6-6:30pm every day is my Miscellaneous Writing time, where i force myself to write something that's not an rp reply for once." that's why you're finally seeing an answer to this ask. it's not bc i ~magically found the motivation~; it's bc i closed down all my other programs at 6pm and started writing it.

also, bc rp isn't a job, if you have a block with your rp replies in particular, consider dropping some stuff! if you just really really can't come up with an answer to a thread, there's no harm in pitching it in the bin, which is honestly something i need to get better at doing.

also from the book i'm reading, called everybody writes: your go-to guide to creating ridiculously good content, which is more about marketing but which i am reading to pick and choose stuff to apply to my own creative process… another suggestion i've seen is to put some distance between yourself and your work. spend an hour showering, cleaning, making food, w/e. whatever you need to do to clear your mind out a li'l bit. and then come back to it. "An hour with a clear mind is worth five hours of fog." and i've found that advice does help me, too. today, i didn't feel much up to writing, so i got up, did my laundry, and then came back to my word document and immediately spat out 500 words, which was much more productive than staring at my screen for 4 hours, slowly dribbling out a sentence at a time.

/////

aughdkgjks i'm gonna shout out multi! @troublewithvampires / @gas-stxtion / @bleedingovereden

they're a really good friend of mine, and i'm glad i got to meet them! they're really good at plotting, and they have a lot of interesting muses / stories that they put a lot of effort into, and i don't think they have enough followers tbh! our muse dynamics are never a miss, and they've got such a colorful cast that there's a little something there for everybody, and i think it's kind of a shame that so much of the rpc is sleeping on them

[aimerscomputer]

What Basic Computer Skills Are Essential in Today's World?

In our increasingly digital society, mastering basic computer skills is as vital as learning to read or write. Whether you're applying for a job, managing personal tasks, or staying connected, these skills empower you to navigate the modern world confidently. Let’s explore the essential computer skills everyone should have in 2024, along with practical tips to build them.

1. Hardware Fundamentals

What to Know:

Recognize core components: monitor, keyboard, mouse, CPU, and ports (USB, HDMI).

Use peripheral devices like printers and external drives.

Perform basic maintenance: restarting devices, cleaning hardware, and troubleshooting simple issues (e.g., unresponsive keyboard).

Why It Matters: Understanding hardware prevents frustration and helps you solve minor problems independently.

2. Operating System Mastery

Key Skills:

File Management: Create, organize, and delete files/folders. Learn to use search functions effectively.

System Settings: Adjust display, sound, Wi-Fi, and user accounts.

Software Installation: Safely download and install trusted applications.

Pro Tip: Use keyboard shortcuts (e.g., Ctrl+C/Cmd+C for copy, Ctrl+V/Cmd+V for paste) to save time.

3. Internet & Email Proficiency

Essentials:

Web Browsing: Navigate browsers like Chrome or Safari; bookmark frequently used sites.

Effective Searching: Use keywords and filters to find reliable information quickly.

Email Management: Compose, reply, attach files, and organize your inbox.

Cloud Basics: Store and share files via Google Drive, Dropbox, or iCloud.

Why It Matters: From online banking to remote work, internet skills are indispensable.

4. Cybersecurity Essentials

Critical Practices:

Strong Passwords: Use a mix of letters, numbers, and symbols. Consider a password manager.

Phishing Awareness: Avoid suspicious links or requests for personal information.

Software Updates: Regularly update OS and apps to patch security vulnerabilities.

Two-Factor Authentication (2FA): Add an extra layer of security to accounts.

Did You Know? 94% of malware is delivered via email—stay vigilant!

5. Productivity Software Basics

Must-Learn Tools:

Word Processing: Format documents in Microsoft Word or Google Docs.

Spreadsheets: Track budgets or data with Excel/Google Sheets (learn basic formulas like SUM and AVERAGE).

Presentations: Design slides in PowerPoint or Canva for school, work, or personal projects.

Example: Use spreadsheets to plan a monthly budget or analyze household expenses.

6. Digital Communication Tools

Key Platforms:

Video Conferencing: Join calls on Zoom or Teams; master muting, screen sharing, and virtual backgrounds.

Messaging Apps: Use Slack, WhatsApp, or Discord for quick communication.

Social Media Literacy: Share content responsibly, adjust privacy settings, and spot misinformation.

Why It Matters: Clear digital communication is crucial for collaboration and networking.

7. Basic Troubleshooting

DIY Fixes:

Restart Devices: Resolves many glitches instantly.

Check Connections: Ensure Wi-Fi, cables, or Bluetooth are active.

Use Online Resources: Search error messages or visit forums like Microsoft Support.

Pro Tip: Bookmark troubleshooting guides for common issues.

8. Data Management

Best Practices:

Organize Files: Use folders and clear naming conventions (e.g., “2024_Taxes”).

Backup Data: Regularly save copies to external drives or cloud storage.

Avoid Data Loss: Learn to recover files from the Recycle Bin/Trash.

Stat: 60% of companies that lose data shut down within 6 months—backups are lifesavers!

9. Adaptability & Continuous Learning

Stay Ahead:

Explore New Tools: Experiment with apps like ChatGPT or Canva.

Leverage Free Resources: Platforms like Khan Academy or LinkedIn Learning offer courses on emerging tech.

Join Communities: Engage with groups on Reddit (e.g., r/techsupport) or local workshops.

Growth Mindset: Tech evolves fast—embrace curiosity and lifelong learning.

How to Build These Skills

Start Small: Focus on one skill at a time (e.g., mastering email).

Practice Daily: Apply skills to real tasks (e.g., create a resume in Word).

Use Free Resources:

Google Digital Garage: Free courses on digital literacy.

YouTube Tutorials: Visual guides for hands-on learning.

Local Libraries: Often host free tech workshops.

The Bottom Line

Basic computer skills unlock opportunities in education, careers, and daily life. From safeguarding your data to collaborating globally, these competencies are non-negotiable in 2024. Remember, every expert started as a beginner—take it one step at a time, and soon you’ll navigate the digital world with ease.

Your Challenge: Pick one skill from this list and spend 15 minutes a day practicing it. Share your progress in the comments—we’re rooting for you! 💻✨

Need help with a specific skill? Ask below! Let’s build a community of tech-savvy learners.

[quickdeaths]

22. Are there any red roleplay flags for you that make you back off immediately?

5. What is a character you love, but don’t think you can write?

13. Is there one trope you can’t stand?

22. Are there any red roleplay flags for you that make you back off immediately?

I feel like this list gets bigger every time I answer a question like it, so, lightning round.

"Huge draft/inbox count" - I try to keep things moving at a decent pace and develop things over multiple threads so I don't click with people who have a hundred things in drafts with no reply time in sight.

"Extremely imbalanced OOC/IC ratio" - I am on the extreme end, maybe, and it's not that I hate aesthetic or HC posts, but there are some blogs that post one RP reply/week and twenty unrelated posts/day, and I don't really vibe with that.

"Writes a very high % of smut" - I actually don't have any problem with this overall, like, go live your life, RP is for fun, but it very much does not align with how/what I write, so it's a huge obvious mismatch.

"Weird about OCs" - I understand wanting OCs to have pages and abouts and such so you can RP with them (I feel this way too), but any blog that has a rule like "Extremely picky about OCs, I've had bAd ExPeRiEnCeS" is getting clicked off for me.

"Doesn't write with female characters" - If you don't ever write with female characters and just centralize your RP experience around male characters, we're just like, probably not going to get along, and honestly you probably wouldn't like me anyway.

5. What is a character you love, but don’t think you can write?

I'm honestly not sure... At this point, I pretty much put a character on the blog if I have an interest in writing them, so it's less "characters I love but don't think I could write" in comparison to "characters I love but wouldn't really be interested in writing/wouldn't have a unique take on." Even if a lot of my characters get very little play, I think that's one nice thing about having the multimuse - I can put characters on if I'm interested in them, or take them off if I'm not, or shuffle around what bin they go in based on my current interest level.

13. Is there one trope you can’t stand?

Maybe it's a little outside the scope of the question, but any romantic trope that elevates the characterization/growth of one character at the expense of the other. You and I have talked before about the romantic setup of "character A is just the worst from start to finish but character B patiently puts up with it and then character A becomes better and is rewarded by sex/a relationship with character B." I don't have an issue with pining, with tsunderes, with enemies/rivals-to-lovers or whatever, but I think any romance that is going to work has to invest equally in both characters, and also be convincing that these two characters could actually like each other. In too many cases I think there's excessive focus on one character's personal journey or character arc, and the other character is expected to kind of stay static, which I think is kind of boring, and in certain contexts can lean into some regressive storytelling.

Separate from that, and thankfully I don't see this that often in RP, but I just hate the trope of like, the character who is a sex pest or a pervert or something. It's probably my number one most hated anime character trope, and it feels like it's all over anime and anime games. I feel like there's a way to have characters be horny without making their defining trait "being a creep to other people." Truly, I don't know anyone who even likes these characters, so they just feel like a horrible, evil, lazy stock archetype that gets shoved in things to fill out a cast.

[afgafgargraew]

Boost Inbox: The Ultimate Solution for Warming Up Your Email Address

Reliable email delivery is essential for effective communication in today's digital environment. If you're struggling with your emails landing in spam folders or not reaching your intended recipients at all, it’s time to consider warming up your email address. Introducing Boost Inbox, a cutting-edge application that will help you warm up your email address so that your messages arrive at their intended recipient without a hitch. To build a positive sender reputation, warm up an email address by progressively sending more emails from a new or dormant account. This procedure lessens the possibility that email service providers may flag your address as spam and helps them identify your address as authentic. This entire procedure is made simpler by Boost Inbox, which automates the warm-up plan and sends out a series of controlled emails to real, engaged users, and gradually increasing the sending volume over time.

With Boost Inbox, you can easily set up a warm-up process that suits your needs. The tool intelligently manages your email sending patterns, ensuring that your emails are sent at optimal times and to appropriate recipients. As an efficient email warmup service, Boost Inbox ensures your emails are gradually introduced to inboxes. By using a combination of automated responses and genuine interactions, Boost Inbox helps establish credibility for your email address, paving the way for successful communication.

The Significance of Warming Up Your Email Address

One cannot stress how important it is to get your email address warm. Your emails are more likely to be seen by your audience when they come from a well-warmed email account. It also lessens the likelihood that your emails will end up in spam bins by fostering trust with email providers. This is particularly important for companies that depend on outreach, email marketing, or customer service. Furthermore, Recipients of your emails are more likely to open, read, and reply when they regularly arrive in their inbox. This can improve your conversion and have a big impact on your entire marketing plan. Boost Inbox is essential for making sure your emails are consistently delivered, helping you maintain credibility and reach more customers effectively.

Boost Inbox: A Simplified Approach to the Warm-Up The process of manually warming up an email account can appear laborious and time-consuming to those who are not familiar with it. By providing an automated solution that manages the entire warm-up process, Boost Inbox eliminates the complexity. Because of the clever features of the application, email service providers won't raise any red flags because your email address is introduced to inboxes gradually. The Boost Inbox platform is made with efficiency and simplicity in mind. It's simple to link your email account after signing up and warming parameters to suit your needs. Next, the technology gradually raises the volume of emails it sends out to actual, active users by starting out slowly. This simulates how people actually send emails, which is crucial for building trust with email providers.

Additionally, Boost Inbox makes sure that the receivers of your emails will open, read, and occasionally reply to you. To persuade email service providers that your address is authentic and reliable, you must engage in this organic way. You won't have to spend hours manually tracking your email sends or worrying about deliverability problems thanks to the tool's smooth automation.

Key Benefits of Using Boost Inbox

1. Increased Email Deliverability

One of the biggest advantages of using Boost Inbox is improved email deliverability. When your email address has a positive reputation, service providers are far less likely to send your messages to spam folders. By warming up your email address properly, you increase the chances of your emails landing in the inbox, where they are more likely to be opened and engaged with.

2. Time-Saving Automation

Warming up an email address manually can be a lengthy process. Boost Inbox offers time-saving automation features that handle the entire process for you. This allows you to focus on running your business while the tool ensures your email address is gaining credibility. From sending initial emails to gradually increasing the volume, Boost Inbox does it all efficiently.

3. Stronger Sender Reputation

Your sender reputation plays a critical role in email deliverability. By automating the warm-up process, Boost Inbox helps you establish a strong sender reputation right from the start. This, in turn, increases the trust email service providers have in your address, making it more likely that your emails will reach their intended audience.

4. Higher Engagement

Warming up your email address with Boost Inbox also has a direct impact on your engagement. When your emails land in the inbox rather than spam, recipients are more likely to open and interact with your messages. This is especially important for businesses that rely on email marketing to drive leads and conversions.

5. Seamless Integration with Your Existing Tools

Boost Inbox is designed to integrate smoothly with a variety of email service platforms, allowing you to manage your warm-up process without disrupting your existing workflows. Whether you’re using Gmail, Outlook, or another email provider, you can be confident that Boost Inbox will enhance your deliverability.

How Boost Inbox Promotes Business Growth

Email deliverability has a significant impact on the success of campaigns for companies who use email for outreach or marketing. By ensuring that your emails regularly reach their intended recipient, Boost Inbox can help you create lasting connections and achieve your goals. Having a ready email address is crucial when starting a new marketing campaign, onboarding clients, or corresponding with prospects. Boost Inbox helps you establish long-term credibility with email providers, which is essential for future campaigns, in addition to increasing the likelihood that your emails will be delivered. In the cutthroat business world of today, every email matters. Businesses can take charge of their email deliverability with Boost Inbox and make sure that their messages not only arrive in the inbox but are also read by the recipients. This leads to improved engagement, higher conversion and ultimately, more successful communication strategies.

Conclusion

Warming up your email address is a crucial first step in making sure your messages are received and read in a world where successful communication is essential. Boost Inbox offers a user-friendly and efficient solution for this procedure, freeing you up to concentrate on the things that really count—establishing connections and growing your company. Are you prepared to improve email engagement and deliverability? To easily start warming up your email address, try Boost Inbox now. Enroll right away to see the impact it can have on your communication plan! Take charge of your inbox and watch your engagement increase by not letting your emails go unanswered.

Access the Best Email Warmup Tool | Boost Inbox

[mirandamckenni1]

Lies you're told about therapy. Is therapy a privilege? Is it selfish? Is it too expensive? Is it just for serious mental illnesses? Are you 'bad' enough to go to therapy? Does it even work? Let's talk about it. CRISIS SUPPORT in the UK: Contact 111 or your GP and ask for an emergency appointment. Call 116 123 to talk to Samaritans, or email: jo@samaritans.org for a reply within 24 hours Text "SHOUT" to 85258 to contact the Shout Crisis Text Line, or text "YM" if you're under 19 OTHER PLACES TO TURN TO FOR FREE SUPPORT: There are TONS, but I’m just listing here the three that people in my life have personally used and recommended. If you have others, please mention them in the comments for people to find :) https://ift.tt/Dl7NByk https://ift.tt/kNSHQ7v CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably) https://ift.tt/JygztRL WHERE I FOUND A THERAPIST: https://ift.tt/NKEMU6P List of UK professional bodies: https://ift.tt/s57Uizp BOOK The part I read out was from page 160 from Therapy is Magic by Jo Love /// SUPPORT /// JOIN THE GUMPTION CLUB: https://ift.tt/ylBLk9X Being in the club means you get: a free weekly podcast, access to a secret facebook group, a free poetry collection and play written by me, access to livestreams AND you get to access to all my videos before anyone else sees them! CHANNEL MEMBERSHIP - for those lovely people who don't want to use Patreon and aren't bothered about the patreon perks, but who'd like to buy me a drink as a thank you for the free videos... https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpqf-UHCeCSd0BqoxxrDv8g/join Nab yourself a POSITIVE PANIC PATCH: https://ift.tt/LWIhXlY ORDER my poetry collection, BARGAIN BIN ROM-COM! https://ift.tt/1V0mCaL // COME AND HANG WITH ME IN BETWEEN UPLOADS // Listen to my podcast, NO BOOKS ON A DEAD PLANET: https://ift.tt/a2IUEmA IF NEWSLETTERS ARE YOUR THING, sign up to get a little letter in your inbox from me once in a while! As a thank you for signing up, you’ll get a FREE downloadable list of my best books of all time: https://ift.tt/LsQ17iO INSTAGRAM: https://ift.tt/Zl8umwP TWITTER: https://twitter.com/leenanorms I use Octopus Energy which are a clean green sustainable energy company - if you're in the UK and are curious, here are the two videos I talk about them in: https://youtu.be/O0TR7RvVRlI and https://youtu.be/IEqf94lb44U And here's my referral link if you'd like to get £50 off (I get £50 off too, woo!) https://ift.tt/VsjoRgz All music used is licensed through Epidemic Sound - I've been using them for years and hand-on-heart it's really fab. You get unlimited use of their music per month for a pretty bargain fee. Here's my referral link (if you sign up through it I get a free month): https://ift.tt/bCsYz0w If you're a company that makes plastic-free products, pays their tax and doesn't exploit people, I'd love to hear from you if you'd like to sponsor the channel: leenanorms@gmail.com via YouTube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0I7qhc0HexM

[kthecutest]

——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

I came here to work on my kinktober list and this popped straight up my wall, and i just wanna say to that anon

Seriously man? All that over some color changing text that nobody gives a shit about.

Look I get the artistic pov and shit but tumblr is a place where if you're gonna use texts, you're supposed to write good, not decorate good, if you're so into art, go be an artist, post arts in your blog.

These people do not understand that every writer has a personal life + piles of texts in their inboxes.

They call gabi an attention seeking whore, but they're atp a hypocrite, cuz u come up here rage and rant about how your color changing text issue does not work out, aka seeking attention, bc do we care or have time about your rage, NO. And to add to that factor the fact that they're this selfish, greedy, self-centered and narcissistic. It's honestly HILARIOUS how much audacity they have.

And also the way they started dragging every other non-correlated factor in like the flirty anons agenda - that's CRAZY. Because last time I checked, that was not even YOUR PROBLEM (You = anon)

Your problem clearly stated was your issue with the color texts. If you hate the way how the agendas between gabi and her anons work, then you can simply ignore. You have a brain right? Well you're not acting like you have one rn - cuz the solution is that simple.

Hate how this entire anon system is kinda working like a protection for these haters and rude nasty motherfuckers sometimes, because they really deserve to be blocked, reported and banished off of the site.

Gabi, I suggest that if you were to get any hate or shit like this, just delete the inbox. There's nothing they can do. What? Gonna spam more in her inbox? It takes not even one second to click the trash bin button, she'll clearly take at most 5 seconds to delete an infinite amount of your hate bullshit in her inboxes.

Ik it's such an urge to reply back to these kinds of little shits but at the end of the day, they really don't deserve your replies or thoughts or worries on their irrelevant matters and hate speeches.

Very ironic, using the term attention seeking on Gabi, when you(anon) yourself is the one doing exactly just that rn, attention seeking from Gabi, all her anons and her moots even.

That's honestly PATHETIC.

To that anon, go get a fucking life, I'm sorry but nobody gives a shit about your color texts and I wish that you will not get the answer to your irrelevant issues any time sooner, cuz you obviously do not deserve it and you deserve to be ignored and neglected (Wishing the worst for you dear anon, now fuck off Gabi's inboxes, she ain't got time for your bullshit)

Ik i came off very aggressive in this rant- but tbh it's just cuz i came out of a fanwar like a day ago and plus i've gone thru this kind of shit like multiple times, Ik i ain't all that close to Gabi, i'm just one of the manys who enjoy her writings but as a moot, i shall speak out what's right and wrong about this shit and need to put this lengthy message out there to anybody else who's trying to cause a chaotic mess like this in Gabi's or anyone's inboxes including mine.

I've said it twice, I don't clearly tolerate bullshit, cuz i do not have the energy or the time for it. So if anyone else out there is planning to pull this shit on me, remember, not even one sec does it take for me to click the trash bin button to your irrelevant hate inbox message.

——————✧◦♚◦✧——————⋆

this is so insane.. first of all, i have an inbox that is completely full. im not purposely ignoring anyone it’s just hard to reply to every ask i receive. i’m not “gatekeeping” anything just bc i havent had time to reply. i literally posted at the beginning of the month that i’d be busy this month, and you’re a disgusting person for saying all of this.

if you were so curious and no one was responding, you can google it. that’s what i did, i didn’t go out of my way to make someone feel like shit because i felt entitled and rude.

pretending not to know my name when it’s pinned is so funny, like you’re seriously acting like this just bc you’re mad people are too busy to respond… again i’m sorry i didnt reply, it wasnt purposeful, but you’re so disrespectful and a terrible person for sending this.

next time you wanna act like a hardass come off fucking anon and say it with your chest. or are you too scared i’ll block you?

if you dont like me then block me or message me off anon so i can do it, weirdo. also thanks for bodyshaming! LOL ur a fucking weirdo ive never been more serious. fuck you, seriously.

i really dont give a fuck what you think about me and my anons 😭 hate to break it to you but you’re worse than me and my nonies!!!! theyre silly flirts but you’re just a weird, entitled coward. i can’t believe petnames and flirting make you this upset, it’s sad.

also “non valuable anons” … yeah ur odd! all of my nice anons mean so much to me. doesn’t matter how much they interact with me or whether or not they use an emoji -_- dont ever call my nonies “nonvaluable” just bc ur pressed over a color gradient.

it’s crazy that YOU of all people, are telling me to seek help. you came into my inbox bitching and being soso awful over something you couldve googled. i think ur the one that needs help, to be honest. bet it’ll be hard finding someone to help you fix that disgusting personality of yours.

[bintangy]

Hey hey your art is absolutely fantastic and you are even more amazing and wonderful!!! 💕💕💕💕💕