#◜blackberry: inbox / replies.◞

[doughiestwarriors]

   blackberry cookie tags !

◜blackberry: inbox / replies.◞ ◜blackberry: behavior.◞ ◜blackberry: headcanon.◞ ◜blackberry: in character.◞ ◜blackberry: mirror / faceclaim.◞ ◜blackberry: isms.◞ ◜blackberry: playlist.◞ ◜blackberry: aesthetics.◞   ◜blackberry: desires / shipping.◞ ◜blackberry: attire.◞

◜blackberry cookie / v. main.◞ 🇷​🇪​🇸​🇵​🇪​🇨​🇹​ 🇴​🇷​🇩​🇪​🇷​ ﹠ 🇱​🇴​🇦​🇹​🇭​ 🇲​🇪​🇸​🇸​. ◜blackberry cookie / v. alt.◞ 🇵​🇺​🇹​ 🇲​🇾​ 🇸​🇪​🇷​🇻​🇮​🇨​🇪​ 🇹​🇴​ 🇹​🇭​🇪​ 🇹​🇪​🇸​🇹​.

[balkanradfem]

I have been following your blog for a long time... you're one of my favorite people on this site. I have been picking a handful of raspberries on my way to work (the bushes are on public land) for weeks, and every time I do I think of you. I don't mean this in a parasocial way, i know i don't know you and you don't know me, but it is nice to think that here i am, a lesbian scavenging and enjoying nature, and across an ocean there is another lesbian feeling the same way.

There is a possibility that I will be moving in a few months to somewhere with a yard, and if that happens I will rewild the lawn and plant a garden and you are like 50% of the reason why. :)

I have read your reply about why you don't want to monetize your blog. I understand deeply. I am also disturbed by people who think like your father did, and I at least have never had to live with them. You have my full sympathies.

However, i would ask that you consider it regardless; or, please consider what it is like from my perspective, even if you ultimately disagree. I enjoy hearing from you and all these stories of your life. I wish you well. It does not feel like a debt to me. I do not put a price on anything you post. It is like this; I feel that, even without knowing it, you have been very nice to me. It inspires a fellow-feeling in me. But you are very far away. I cannot offer to help with your garden. I cannot gift you homemade food. I could, however, send you money.

For me, and i suspect many others in your inbox, the money is not the point. It is a substitute. We cannot give you a new plant or a handful of raspberries, but we could give you the means to buy what you can't scavenge. I do not want you to feel indebted, or like tumblr has become a job, or anything like that. And of course only you know what is best for you. But please consider enabling donations, even only very humble donations. I think I speak for more than just myself when I say that to us it would be like a "buy me a coffee :)" button like creatives use sometimes. I would like to buy you a coffee.

Raspberries! Those are wonderful to pick on your way to work, I'm honoured you'd think of me. I am mostly finding blackberries but I love raspberries.

When you get to rewild the yard please post pictures and just randomly tag me so I can see!! I love wild yards and all of the bees and ladybugs and small birds and critters will be so happy, they'll visit your yard and give enrichment to your life.

Thank you for explaining your perspective to me, you're incredibly sweet and it gives me heart to know that women out there are having a positive effect from my blogging, and you're all incredibly sweet wanting to help me out or give me things. I'm allergic to money but I'm already getting what I want - engagement, getting to talk to other women, getting very valuable information from women smarter than me, having people write little comments and send me adorable messages. Could anyone even ask for more? This message means a lot to me!

I'll stop complaining, I realize I've made people worried for me, and that was not my intent, I always think I am sooo funny when I complain about stuff xD and can't resist it. I'll think of other ways to be fun!

[exitrowiron]

I always appreciate your posts and pieces of advice. I’m curious if you have any good recommendations/best practices for managing work email?

I was recently reminded of the advice, "You teach people how to treat you." I think this advice applies to the workplace and especially email.

First, a bit of history. When the Blackberry first came out it was a novelty and being able to instantly reply to email anywhere/anytime was cool and impressive but it quickly led to the habit of checking email everywhere/all the time. Our kids were little and it isn't possible to be a good Dad or husband and be constantly fixated on email so I made the intentional decision to place my Blackberry (and later my iPhone) in the basket by the door where I also place my wallet and keys whenever I came home. That simple decision quickly became a habit and firmly established my policy that email stops at the end of my workday and doesn't resume until my workday starts.

To help reinforce my habit, I turned off all email notifications (vibrations, sounds, badges, pop-ups etc.) on my phone and computer. I still cringe when I happen to see someone else's phone with a huge number of unread emails as a badge on top of their email icon.

I usually spent the first 1-2 hours in the office clearing email from the previous day and emails sent from global colleagues over night. Then calls and meetings would generally consume my attention until 3pm at which point I'd do email until I left for the day. In between I'd be responding to IMs and texts and clearing easy emails but trying not to multi-task while on calls.

My colleagues pretty quickly figured out the most appropriate way to communicate with me. I generally responded to emails within a few business hours. If the question was simple/quick then they would ask via Instant Message. If the matter was urgent or required my attention outside of work hours; call or text my cell. Importantly, I used the same methods and had the same response expectations of everyone else: superiors, peers and subordinates.

It is best to establish your boundaries and set expectations as early in the employment relationship as possible. If you're interviewing for a job, email expectations and culture should definitely by one of your questions. When you meet your new manager, explain your policies.

As a manager I explicitly communicated my expectations and boundaries and made it clear that I wasn't going to be impressed by emails (even responses to my own emails) sent outside of work hours. As a senior executive I know that employees paid attention to my email behavior and that my actions influenced the company culture.

I had 2-300 personal folders but deleted everything else (including sent mail) after six months. Over holiday breaks I would try to clean out my inbox and get it down to a reasonable level.

Even though I think I had good email 'hygiene' I still found email to be psychologically crushing, a Sisyphean task that was never done. If not for the overwhelming number of daily emails, I might have considered working longer as I enjoyed the other aspects of my job. Now I take great pleasure in maintaining a personal Gmail account with no unread emails and every day I unsubscribe to whatever new spam has found me.

[newjerseyjust]

Kakaotalk for mac os 10.7

#KAKAOTALK FOR MAC OS 10.7 FOR FREE#

#KAKAOTALK FOR MAC OS 10.7 HOW TO#

You have to download first to have your preferred theme or emoticons on your collection and to get it ready for use.

#KAKAOTALK FOR MAC OS 10.7 FOR FREE#

Some items are for free and you can get them.

From the item store, you can purchase emoticons and themes.

Uses Internet connection (3G or Wi-Fi) for calls and messaging. Fast, fun, easy way to communicate with friends and family. More about KakaoTalk: - Chosen by more than 200 million users worldwide. A preview of Lion was publicly unveiled at Apple's 'Back to the Mac' event on October 20, 2010. Make chatting extra fun with an array of emoticons and sticker collections. Mac OS X Lion (version 10.7 marketed as OS X Lion) is the eighth and current major release of Mac OS X, Apple's desktop and server operating system for Macintosh computers. You can change the way your Kakao talk looks like and have it they way you want it to be. KakaoTalk is an easy, no-cost messenger that transcends standard chat. Im going to walk through the process of making a bootable Mac OS X 10.7 Lion installation drive out of any USB flash drive key.

From others menu, you can find the my profile or how your external profile looks like, the item store, the notices, settings including notification settings, the Kakao account, plus friend, game and the theme.

Replying is just the same as how you use messages application installed on your gadget.

The next button is the messages where you can see your inbox in conversation view, reply to messages and create new message.

You can also customize your cover photo just like how Facebook looks like. On this section, you can also search for your friends through name or mobile number.

The profile menu allows you to upload image and important details about you.

Are you looking to download this application to your computer?

#KAKAOTALK FOR MAC OS 10.7 HOW TO#

Kakaotalk App For App: This tutorial is about how to Download Kakaotalk PC or Laptop in Windows 7, 8.1, 10, XP and latest Mac operating systems in free of cost.Kakaotalk messenger is available for popular mobile platforms like iOS, Android, Blackberry and Windows and Nokia Asha.With this program, users can talk for hours with all their friends, whether it be one-on-one or in groups of up to five people. Kakao Talk is the Mac version of the popular instant messaging and free voice-calling application. Free private or collect calls from your desktop. Much more of it will be revealed if you will proceed enjoying. Several application starts with easy guide and some have a very story telling piece to assist you to know very well what the goal is going to be.

[flowercrownd]

   blackberry cookie tags !

◜blackberry cookie: inbox / replies.◞ ◜blackberry cookie: behavior.◞ ◜blackberry cookie: headcanon.◞ ◜blackberry cookie: in character.◞ ◜blackberry cookie: mirror / faceclaim.◞ ◜blackberry cookie: isms.◞ ◜blackberry cookie: playlist.◞ ◜blackberry cookie: aesthetics.◞   ◜blackberry cookie: desires / shipping.◞ ◜blackberry cookie: attire.◞

[fallofthecelestial]

What requests are currently in the queue?

Hey! You can find what's in the queue under the cut!

Currently in the inbox: (from oldest to newest)

Pitaya Dragon layouts

White Lily reply icons

Longan Dragon layouts

Timekeeper (Ruler of the Ephemeral Flow) & Croissant (Director of the TBD) matching icons

String Gummy wallpapers

Roguefort (Pursuit of Lost Time) & Walnut (Search for Lost Time) matching icons

Blackberry layouts

Sherbet icons

Wind Archer wallpapers

Bi Sangonomiya Kokomi pride icons

Strawberry Crepe & Red Velvet matching icons

Nb gay Crunchy Chip pride icons

Espresso & Madeleine matching icons

Aro/Ace demigirl Host pride icons

Mocha Ray icons

+ there's the collection of individual icons which will be posted when I have at least four, which won't be in the near future

[electro-kins]

inbox check?

hii hii, ofc <3 ty for asking for one, here's my inbox *\(^o^)/* looks like i have 30 requests to edit hehe.

- albedo pokemon team

- lovecore dazai x oda icons

- witchcore rosalina moodboard

- bigender qiqi icons

- genderfluid and nonbinary color picked flags from kokomi

- witchcore shinobu kocho layouts

- halloween kokichi wallpapers

- lovecore parfait cookie layouts

- nonbinary flag color picked from aether and lumine

- matching lesbian susie and noelle pride icons

- pastel clowncore gin layouts and reply icons

- asexual poison mushroom cookie reply icons

- kaeya twitter layouts

- halloween lesbian lilliya icons

- raspberry cookie layouts

- halloween sayori reply icons

- lesbian diluc pride icons

- bi childe pride icons

- pastel chaeya moodboard

- softcore ranmaru icons

- romantic academia latte cookie wallpapers

- halloween themed hu tao icons

- lesbian rin pride icons

- halloween blackberry cookie icons

- fall themed gin tumblr layouts

- asexual licorice cookie pride icons

- halloween themed stitches moodboard (omg this is gonna look so cute im excited LMAO)

- kin matchup for any source

- beiguang wallpapers

- xingqiu wallpapers

- halloweencore fischl wallpapers

[twisted-lies]

Inbox list

Oldest to newest/what I'll edit first to last

(Anything that isn't on here was sent in after 15 reqest slots were filled)

Ghost/Spooky Black Garlic Cookie Icons

Starcore Shenhe Wallpapers

White/Blue Rosecore/Vintagecore Barbara Icons and Wallpapers

Pink Sakura Yae Miko Icons

Pink and Red Sakura Zero Two Icons

Devilcore Justice Icons

Gothic Blackberry Cookie Icons

Strawberry Shortcake Neopolitan and Sayu Icons

Mona Themed Neopronouns

Pastel Blue Starcore Alice Yabusame Icons

Black Angelcore Mukuro Ikusaba Reply Icons

Cottagecore Noelle Icons

Duck Themed Agere Flag Fischl Icons

50s Aesthetic Girlfriend Icons

Gothic Blackberry Cookie Reply Icons

[ladykissingfish]

The Great Akatsuki Bake-Off

*this was a request in my inbox, I’m so sorry Anonymous I accidentally deleted it before I could reply, but I saw your message and here’s the response! ❤️*

Premise: The Akatsuki is broke af (again), and Pein comes up with the idea of having a bake sale to earn money. Every member of the Akatsuki makes a dessert to sell; chaos (or hilarity) ensues.

**Also I picture them setting up tables outside of one of the Akatsuki hideout caves which of course is equipped with a fully functioning kitchen because why not Jim**

Pein

It was his idea, he’s the leader, so naturally he ain’t cooking. The most the Pein-body will do is sit in the kitchen with Konan while she cooks, offering his opinion or praise.

Kisame

Kisame isn’t the biggest fan of sweets, so is at a bit of a loss for what to make. In the end, he decides to go with something that’s decidedly more savory than sweet; bacon-flavored scones with a maple syrup glazing. This requires some kneading and precise shaping, the latter of which requires small, delicate fingers that Kisame borrows Konan for. Should be noted that he wears a pink Kiss The Cook apron, and he blushes like crazy when Konan reads it and delivers one to his cheek. He gets a bit over-exuberant with the icing, getting more of it on the table than the actual scones. However, the end result is light, fluffy, and absolutely delicious. Deidara especially loves the bacon aspect, and is able to snitch a great number of these until Kakuzu catches him and forces him to pay up.

Deidara

Deidara would make a classic lava cake. He’d know absolutely nothing about this dessert beforehand; he’d be going through a cookbook, his eyes would fixate on the word “lava”, and he’d be sold. Sasori insists that he put on rubber gloves beforehand, because “Nobody wants your hand-drool in their food, brat.” Lava cake requires a very delicate touch and precise timing, something that Deidara has had to become familiar with when deploying his arsenal of bombs. Yet despite being careful he would have to start and re-start this mix many times; maybe he gets eggshells in the batter here, or mistakes oil for milk there. The inside of a lava cake has to smooth and liquid-y but the outside has to be soft yet firm; a single minute in the oven can make the difference between wonderful and awful for these little cakes. When he finally perfects one, he’s ecstatic; but the rest of the group is horrified, at how destroyed the kitchen is. Chocolate batter and powdered sugar covering every wall; yet, somehow, the guy himself remains spotless. Also, Deidara has made another critical error; he assumed that because the recipe was for a cake, it was for a LARGE cake that he could cut into sections and sell piece by piece. However, lava cakes are always small, individual desserts ... and Deidara has only made ONE. Still, he’ll take his one beauty and sell it almost immediately, leaving him time to wander around and filch “free samples” from everyone else’s dishes.

Zetsu

Nobody wants Zetsu trying to cook, because everyone is terrified of what he’d put into his creations. However, White Zetsu insists that (t)he(y) wants to participate, so the others hesitantly let him do so (with everyone periodically coming in to monitor him). His contribution? Pie. Zetsu knows that the key to delicious pie is in the light flakiness of the crust, and he creates several pies that literally melt in the mouth. And he doesn’t just do one flavor; he does apple, blueberry, cherry, and something he calls “surprise berry” ((which is really just a mix of raspberry, blackberry, and strawberry). Before Tobi goes to help Itachi, he’s in charge of helping Zetsu gather up the fruit, and he helps to peel and core and pit and wash until “my hands are really sleepy Zetsu-san!” Zetsu thinks his pies are perfect creations as a whole but Kakuzu insists he cuts them into individual slices to maximize profits, which White Zetsu balks over but Black Zetsu tells him to be quiet about.

Konan

Konan is a delicate, beautiful flower, so naturally anything she makes would reflect this. After much deliberation, she decides to make her version of a layered lemon mascarpone cake. The cake itself is a wonderfully moist vanilla sponge infused with lemon curd, layered with a thick lemon, honey and mascarpone cream, topped with fresh berries, and a light sprinkle of chopped pecans. At first she was only going to make one cake and portion it out into about 20 small pieces; but the demand for it was so high that Kakuzu told her he’d stay and sell the rest while she got back into the kitchen and made another. She’s by far the neatest chef in the kitchen, as she cleans up her mess as she goes so when she’s through, all she has to wash is the empty cake pan itself. She makes sure to save a large piece to secretly take to Nagato later; it’s been a long time since he’s had anything sweet to eat.

Kakuzu

Kakuzu doesn’t want to cook; he’d rather be the one running the sale. However he recognizes that the more desserts they have the more profit they can make, so he grudgingly makes a few trays of brownies. His secret ingredient? Sour cream. At first everyone sees him putting this into his mix and think he’s gone crazy; however, after they try one ((and don’t think for a second he’s not charging his fellow teammates for even a tiny sliver)) they’re blown away by how good they are. After he sets his items on the table, he’s the one who collects the money from the customers. Has to be talked down from the exorbitant prices that he tries to charge people at first. “How much for a piece of blueberry pie?” “500,000 ¥.”

Sasori

He really isn’t into baking (because why would he be? he doesn’t eat) but he knows how to read and follow a recipe. After some careful thought, he chooses to make cupcakes. At first he resolves only to make a dozen, and to keep it all one simple flavor: the chocolate with vanilla frosting that’s in the recipe. Yet as he stands there, a feeling takes hold of him; he remembers happier times, perched on a stool in the kitchen and watching/helping his grandmother as she cooked. That nostalgia drives him to get more creative, and make MUCH more than intended. Some of his creations are great; such as his ginger-chocolate cupcakes with fudge icing. But others, like his broccoli and carrot cake topped with “spicy” cream cheese, not so much. Regardless, the majority of his creations sell, which Sasori’s pleased about. Should be noted that Kakuzu did not entirely trust Sasori not to put some kind of poison into his dessert, so he forced Hidan to sneak and taste-test everything (as he’s the only one who would regenerate from certain death). But Hidan wouldn’t know arsenic from cinnamon; and he winds up with a hell of a stomach-ache after his forced culinary servitude.

Itachi and Tobi

Seeing as how he loves dango so much, Itachi decides to make several dozen sticks of the tri-colored sweet rice dumplings. He keeps the pink dumpling the common strawberry flavor, and the white plain, but he does something special with the green ball, flavoring it with vanilla extract and green tea. Because Tobi is a nightmare in the kitchen (and because he needs supervision when it comes to sweets), Itachi allows him to help, mainly in the form of sticking the dumplings neatly on the stick once they’re shaped. He’s a good helper, except for when Itachi takes his eyes off of him, as he likes to add icing, sprinkles, and a variety of decadent extras that don’t belong on this simple dessert. And it’s a good thing that Itachi makes so many, seeing as they BOTH sneak and eat quite a few when the other is distracted. Tobi is very helpful when it comes to pushing their wares, as his carefree, childlike demeanor attracts customers to their table.

Hidan

Hidan wants something that’s visually representative of him, so what does he make? Red velvet cake bars. The outside is covered with a white-silver frosting, but when you cut into it, the deep red of the cake greatly resembles blood. Hidan isn’t the best at baking (or cooking in general) so he asks Konan to help him when she’s not occupied with her own dish. He’s surprisingly calm and conscientious in the kitchen, keeping his swearing to a minimum and being extra-careful with measuring out ingredients and waiting on the oven to do its thing. He borrows Kisame’s Kiss The Cook apron, only he crosses out the second O and replaces it with a C. His bars come out slightly uneven but really good nonetheless. However, being Hidan, he can’t resist throwing in a prank; he saves some of the cake batter and holds it in his mouth, then, after taking a bite of someone else’s fare, claims that it’s poisoned and spits “blood” out of his mouth, which freaks out their early customers until Kakuzu catches him and exiles him back inside.

[jumpingflyingsidekick]

At What Cost : Part 2

Kia ora, this took so long. I’m not even sure if it’s what I wanted but it’s what I have. I’m deeply invested in this one.

A Kageyama fanfic with thought provoking one-shots about his rise through his volleyball career with a partner. Second one-shot kind of thing. Remember to picture YOUR OC as Shurui.  

I don’t own, just a fanfic.

Name: At what cost

Part one: What do you love more

                                                           X

Walking along side

Volleyball was the center of his attention and she knew that.

Leaving Miyagi district was hard for them. But in the grand scheme of things it was necessary, they needed to move. And although Kageyama didn’t make a lot of money, he made enough to provide for them both and a beautiful tidy home.

It is small but a modest house they shared. Shurui had been careful in the selection. In the summer it warmed her skin the sun, it peaked through the kitchen window in the morning onto the table. And disappeared in the afternoon behind the large apartment block set three levels high, blocking the sun. However, it was winter, she poured Kageyama another tea, he responded by picking it up instantly with eyes focused on his laptop.

He pushed his chair in and gathered his gear, “we’ll be finished late afternoon, want me to pick something up?”

“No, I have everything.”

He kissed her forehead sweetly and left for the day. The National Team practiced religiously six days a week three times a day. It was a struggle, but they spent time where possible.

She smiled as the envelope fluttered away when it sent. She often sent him sweet text messages throughout the day, and he would reply when able which was usually during water breaks.

A puff of hot air escaped when he smiled, ‘I love you.’ He shivered, the morning frost was cold, he tugged the scarf higher to stop the snowflakes hitting. Another smile as he tucked the phone away and remembered a time when they’d been shy to express their feelings.

He thought back to the moment he blurted his confession.

Kageyama high from a win jumped the barrier and ran straight to her. He pulled her into an embrace and kissed her passionately, and the crowd roared. “I love you,” he screamed, a grin spread wide. So, he said it first.

And during winter, for her, time moved slowly. The days were long when she spent them alone. On many occasions they argued about her reasoning for getting a job. Kageyama would scoff each time because the thought of it offended him. He was stubborn. Every time the subject would be raised, he would revert to a child and she would smile sweetly and nod agreeing with him once more. Though a job would fill in the time she would tell herself constantly.

So, Shurui would turn her attention to books in the quiet mornings. It would not do her mind well if left to nothing, she had been accepted into one of the most prestigious law schools. She paused briefly. The thought of the letter caused a stir in her heart, as quickly as it came it left. Contempt, with the decision she made. She had to be.

This caused a sudden urge of need to be useful. She could at least use the background knowledge of accounting and business from high school even if it wasn’t paid work. A lovely thought struck her, maybe charity would be a viable option she placed the book down. Rejuvenated with possibilities she obtained the laptop and accessed the files from the cloud.

‘Revision,’ she thought and smiled widely.

                                                         X

She eyed the sliver card puzzled, “What is this?”

“It’s a start and not much,” he flushed, embarrassed maybe, “but what’s mine is yours. It’s a credit card, you have access to my account.”

“Oh, how thoughtful,” she paused, her moment for freedom perhaps, “Kageyama I am capable of paying my own way and if...”

Brows pressed into a frown he retorted, “Don’t do that.” Eyes stern with resolve, they stopped her. She took a small breath, again smiled, and nodded.

                                                       X

The restaurant was noisy and bustling with activity a rating of 5 stars on google review from most. A small but intimate set up, tables literally one metre from each other and the waiters moved through the patrons as they lifted the plates and beverages above their heads, smiling.

The big hand on the clock hit six. An hour had past and every 15 minutes she would get a refill of water. ‘No messages,’ her inbox glowed.  When the waiter approached this time she politely motioned no and collected her things.

Once outside she dialled a number only to be met with the engaged sound. A nice night for a walk, she thought. She fixed the buttons on the beige jacket to the top and made her way home only a couple blocks away. She almost pressed in the second earpiece when a shout caught her attention.

“Shurui!”

Confused at first, her eyes scanned the area until she heard the heavy pants behind her, Kageyama.

Out of breath he stood tall and placed his hands on his hip exhausted, “Sorry….” A couple more pants, “did some extra sets and lost track of the time, are you still hungry?”

Again, she smiled politely and nodded.

                                                           X

It surprised her when her mother came to visit. Shurui ran to the nearest store to purchase the exact tea her mother loved, blackberry. Not a favourite in the household but for her mother she would go the exact mile.

The tea set used was bought from a dainty opportunity shop, a collectable the teller said. It wasn’t the fact it was a collectable that caught attention it was the amazing tale of two lovers etched in a beautiful blue design that did it. She poured their third tea.

“Where is he?” her mother questioned.

Shurui took a short sip, “training. He is an Olympian, mother. Volleyball is the centre of his attention.”

“I know.”

The tone used didn’t sit well with Shurui, it made her flitch at the implication, but not enough to show. She placed her tea down, gathered her thoughts and smiled at her mother. Who dressed in all her glory, hair pinned high, lips red as a red delicious apple and eyes judgemental. She sipped her tea.

“Mother,” Shurui breathed, “Tobio Kageyama works hard for this family…” her mother cocked a brow, taken by her daughter’s sudden boldness. “And if that means he needs to spend most of his time at the arena…”

“Is that where he is, and you know for sure?”

The question caught Shurui off guard, but she understood the meaning. Her fingernails dug into her knees and briefly she her eyes closed thinking of a response, but none came.

“My love, I know the life of an absent partner. Your father, though I loved him dearly was just like Kageyama. It starts out with late replies and missed calls but eventually.”

“Mother, please,” Shurui motioned with her hand she’d had enough, dismissing her mother’s words. “I have been with him every step of the way. I know him.”

Noting the difference in the younger persons demeanour a change of topic of sorts was in order, “I see and after his performance at the Olympics he will be head hunted. I don’t doubt or pretend to not know that he is an amazing player but at what cost my dear?” The older woman waited for a response or even an inkling of a retort, but it didn’t come, “you are a smart, intelligent woman and what have you done with it? Except follow this boy around for the better half of almost four years.”

Usually Shurui would be able to hold her emotions not often did she feel anger or resentment or express them for that matter. However, the constant belittlement of their relation started to affect her naturally calm nature. A swell gripped hold of her chest, but the smile she gave hid her true feelings of growing anger. An emotion she hadn’t felt in a long time not since early high school.

“I am not following, mother. I am walking along side him there is a difference. I know in doing so that I have placed certain things out of sight and out of mind,” a scowl formed, attention turned to the woman sat opposite. “And I will continue wherever that may lead us because I, mother. Think about others.”

The tea was cold neither of the two drank during the seemingly innocent altercation and neither looked to back down.

“I haven’t seen this side of you for some time. Independent, determined, and stubborn. My qualities I thought you lost.” And with that she conceded, looked to her daughter, and smiled dryly. “I wasn’t always there for matters I shouldn’t bore you with, but you don’t know what your father was genuinely like. Nights alone with a baby wondering when he’d be back or if he’d come back. Constant lies. I hadn’t wanted to leave but at the time I thought it was best.”

“For, who.”

“You.”

A side to the story she hadn’t heard to their divorce, her parents. All other times an excuse or fabrication. This time felt true, honest. It pained her to look at her mother. A proud woman for sure but in this moment, her whole being changed, it felt like regret.

                                                           X

Months after the Olympics their lives changed considerably. It almost hurt to know her mother was right about Kageyama. The young aspiring player was indeed head hunted by multiple teams. Time was mostly spent answering demanding phones calls from managers, declining offers from no-name teams or out-right snorting at offers from companies who would pay copious amounts of money to have him. But it wasn’t about the money for him, he needed the best deal to help him stay on the court the longest. And Shurui tried best to keep her head above the water. She knew this would come.

In in a rare moment, they managed a night together away from outside influence. The house dimly lit helped by romantic candlelight spread carefully through the dining area. All electronic devices turned off, especially his.

Tonight, was a special night he told her. Dawned in a magnificent black dress that spaced and separated her breast evenly. The cup line hung low to reveal a tasteful and respectable amount of cleavage and flared down beautifully from under that point and sat above the knees. She would be lying if she did not say she was embarrassed. But Kageyama bought the dress, especially.

The look of bewilderment he gave every time their eyes met was worth it. He appeared shocked by her beauty and would avert his gaze somewhere else for a second only to find their way back.

“You look, breath taking.”

She smiled sweetly and blushed. She cooked the meals in all her magnificence. Kageyama’s heart skipped watching her. A kind woman that thought of others before herself who made sure everyone else was cared for. Kami knew, he was blessed with this creature, gods he knew he was blessed.

After dessert which was a homemade sharp lemon tart pie and vanilla ice cream, they talked about everything but volleyball which surprised her because it was a known fact that her partner loved to talk about it, always. He was being polite and courteous wanting to know the ins and out of the day she had, and she deeply appreciated it. But it was late, he had meetings in the morning. Meetings about their future.

“I should get this all cleaned up.”

Before she could rise Kageyama gripped her hand, “Wait.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled a black box. Kageyama’s hand shook as he rested in on top of the table. An overwhelming nervousness, the thought of a decline had him sweating profusely. He gulped to help moisten the dryness in his mouth. With two hands he opened the box and eyed her with anxiety.

“Will you… Will you marry me?” Forgetting he had to be on a knee he quickly fell to the ground almost losing the grip on the box. He stared up and fidgeted with his tie and nervously smoothed his tuxedo.

She giggled at his abruptness and beamed a smile, “yes, Tobio. I will.”

On his knee Kageyama, ‘yes,’ himself just like he would after an epic score. The ring a simple thing with a gorgeous opal gem slipped perfectly into place. They both stood and enjoyed a deep passionate kiss. He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, “thank kami. I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

“You already have.”

They stayed in each other’s company not wanting the moment to end.

[lamprius]

where: falco manor

when: april 17th, 2019

with: @la-bella-falco

It’s the cold pillow and empty space next to him that makes Lamprius wonder if he remembered to text Ronan that he wouldn’t be spending the evening at home. There was once a time he’d trust muscle memory to handle such things, but his body forgets love as easily as it remembers it these days.

Lamprius sits up to the morning sun in one his of several, lonely apartments.

He’s got burner phones on burner phones in this apartment in particular. Plugged into almost every outlet, tucked into every space that can hold one. It’s no surprise that when one of them rings, it takes a second to find it. His morning alarm chirps, piercing through the stillness like an annoying, trapped bird. He slips out of bed and pulls open a desk drawer to find several BlackBerrys; there’s a Motorola next to the flower pot; three archaic Nokias on the windowsill.

‘You’re fucked if even one of them is tracked,’ Circe once said, and Lamprius had assured them that he had ‘Reset and encrypted all of them.’

But they’re right. Lamprius just like the options. Each burner comes with a new mask for him and he likes that knowing he can flip between them. He’ll get rid of them soon. That’s the point isn’t it? Burner phones are meant to be burned. He finally finds his chiming personal iPhone under the cashmere he’d shed last night (5 am) in his half sleep before stumbling into bed. It’s his secondary personal (not even his primary personal) and after he turns off the alarm, he finds the status to be this: he was cognizant enough to text Ronan that he’d be sleeping at the office. ‘Don’t wait up for me.’ Short, clipped texts that have been read but not replied to. Which is nothing new.

Lamprius has not, however, texted back Lucrezia, and a grand total of four unread text messages from his friend (?) sit burning a hole in his inbox, furious at him for missing their biweekly dinner.

Forgiving is not a word one would liberally use to describe Lucrezia Falco.

Lamprius pinches the bridge of his nose, gives one small sigh, and decides he might as well handle this before it gets worse. He grabs his dark coat to go over his button down and he’s almost out the door when he turns on his heel and steps back into the apartment to grab a book. He knows Lucretia is nothing if not petty and there’s a 87% chance she’ll make him wait.

-

One can tell, when one has wandered around the city enough, what is old and what is new. This house, only a couple of generations old, is still young compared to some of the bones of this city. Lamprius isn’t passing judgment, it’s simply one of the things he notices when he walks into the place.

He gets shown to the living room and he does his best imitation of the wallpaper. He’s done well to bring that book too. As expected, Lucrezia makes him wait.

He finally glances up from the pages of 1984 and tucks it back into his coat pocket when he sees her enter the room. The look on his face warm, albeit apologetic.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I texted you, so I’m here to say I’m sorry”

[frogocado]

A Golden Labyrinth of Noise Part 2 (Damien Haas au)

I hope you’re all having a swell week. Regardless of where this story goes or how long it takes me to write, I really love the direction it’s going. This turned out to be around 3,300 words and who knows how long other chapters would be but this is also the first long-term fiction work I’ve written since graduating college. Thank you to everyone that’s read it, shared it, or given me feedback! I was wondering if anyone wanted to be on a tag list for when I post new chapters? My inbox is always open. Read the previous chapter here, view the whole tag here.

2. Sailing or Drowning

The only sounds in the tunnel were Damien’s breathing and his boots cutting through grit and dirt and mud. He had never felt so alive. He couldn’t believe that everything had actually worked, even if it wasn’t the original plan he had settled on. He was stumbling through the dark, bumping into the stone that seemed to catch him in its arms. The tunnel smelled of musk and piss and rotting food, but there wasn’t another place the prince would want to be—not the labyrinth, not his royal bath with the little waterfall, not near the stables with the royal horses, but here. He couldn’t believe the guard had not only informed him of the passage through the tunnel, but had actually allowed him to leave.

Damien suddenly felt a joy so large in his chest that he began to laugh, the tunnel filling with excitable vibrato. It was as if the rock around him was vibrating. And then, suddenly, he had reached a metal gate. His laughter stopped and he exhaled, listening hard. There was a moment of quiet and then… A drip of water ahead of him, landing in a small puddle just beyond the gate. And, beyond that, the sounds of people and steps in gravel above him. His heart thumped so loud in his chest that he barely caught the sound of clanging chainmail in the tunnel behind him.  He had to leave and he had to leave now before he was found out.

Taking a deep breath, the prince put his hand on the cold, dark gate and pushed. It opened with a screech that reminded him of his tutor whom had ground his teeth so hard during their lessons that the healers were attempting to craft him a new set of teeth. He took a few careful steps forward, feeling with his hands in front of him. His fingertips brushed what felt like a metal shelf. He stood still, raising his hand to what felt like another shelf. He grasped it and lifted himself, going up, up, up. The crunching of rock above him as his guide, Damien climbed the ladder until his hand brushed a much sturdier shelf above him. Around what had to be an edge appeared a dim and inviting orange glow. Bracing himself against the narrow wall, Damien pushed his shoulder against the metal weight. It groaned as it lifted and Damien nearly fell down the ladder from the sheer force back at him.

He clutched at the top step of the ladder, breathing hard. Then, with a shaking hand, he climbed out from underneath. His hands were clutching cobblestones, curated nails now lightly stained with mud. Pulling himself up, he was thankful Knight Topp had given him the sack to protect his clothes. He was now standing in a narrow, stone room, candles alight in each corner.

Below him, he heard a clatter. Damien glanced back down into the hole, cursing when he saw Knight Topp beginning to climb the ladder. “You said you wouldn’t try to stop me!” He cried, grabbing the metal cover.

The guard looked up toward the prince. Damien noticed Knight Topp wasn’t winded at all, even with his iron boots. “I’m not trying to stop you,” he replied, looking away again as he began to climb.

Damien roared, pushing the heavy metal cover back over the opening. It wouldn’t be a permanent fix, but it could buy him some time. With that very thought, Damien searched for an exit out of the room. Hands moving along rock and mortar, he finally found a break in the pattern and pushed. The door groaned, stone grinding on stone, as he pushed his way out. When it opened, he immediately recognized his surroundings. He took a careful step out of the stone mausoleum, turning in his place to see his house name carved out of stone above him.

He stumbled backwards in shock, nearly falling down the short steps into the rest of the cemetery. The last time Damien stood in this spot, in this place, he was six years old, his uncle’s body being carried into the stone room underneath a draped piece of sapphire velvet cloth. The sound of Knight Topp pushing on the metal cover forced Damien out of his thoughts. He would have to ask his father about it later—where his uncle really was if Damien had pushed his way out of what was supposed to be his family’s resting place.

Damien left the cemetery and turned into the streets, following the dull orange hues of candle light.  Despite the sun having set a few hours prior, he was surprised to see the city’s people still in the streets. He adjusted the canvas hood and took a deep breath, walking to join the crowd.

Damien’s heart felt like it was in his throat as his boots carried him over gravel. Although he had entered the city streets almost a dozen times, each was from the back of a horse during one of the parades celebrating his father’s reign. He had been so busy waving and forcing a smile so hard his cheek muscles would hurt for days afterward, he never actually took any of it in. Without the walls of noise, the city seemed to sigh as it welcomed him inside.

Candles were alight in upper windows above shops and through the flame flickering in the glass, Damien could observe people writing in journals, preparing for supper, or simply lounging with their pets. In the square, only three establishments still had their downstairs lights on. The bakery where the Queen had gotten him his third birthday cake, serving evening cakes and teas to patrons before they headed home to drape coats across the mantles or across the street to the pub. The iron and ore smithy was next to it, candles down to the base of their wicks, where a man the size of a black bear was shouting a harsh baritone at three boys smaller than Damien.

The prince strayed off of the gravel closer than most would dare to the shop. The man’s eyes flicked over at him and he immediately stood still as their eyes locked, frozen. He couldn’t fucking believe it, he hadn’t even been out of the castle an hour and his curiosity had already gotten him caught. “Oi!” The bear bellowed. Damien thought he could see the hair of his beard nearly leap when he yelled. “We open tomorrow at nine! Piss off, old man.”

Damien’s heart swelled deep in his chest and he turned away from the man, grinning like a madman. Maybe he could ask his father to give Knight Topp a pardon for his intelligent suggestion of a potato sack, he thought as he began to cross the square toward the pub. As his feet were falling into the yellow glow basking from the windows, he watched the movement of patrons inside. People were open mouthed, whether from yelling or laughing, the prince couldn’t be sure. He had never seen a gathering so active, even the small politicking parties his cousins occasionally threw whenever Damien drifted by for a visit.

Drawn, the prince stepped forward, pushing the heavy oak door open. Noise spilled through the open space like a dam breaking loose and free and Damien found himself being swallowed inside. Chandeliers hung from iron rings, candles alight and dancing. Plush couches and pillows were in front of a fireplace with a small, makeshift stage off to the side. People were lounging on the couches or draped across tables. Two men pushed past the prince and for the door, jostling him as his hood nearly fell off his head. Mumbling an apology, Damien held onto the canvas of his hood and kept his eyes on his boots and the wooden floor, pushing his way toward the bar.

Slipping into a spot in the corner, Damien finally raised his gaze. The bartender nodded toward him as he approached. “What’ll it be?” The man wore a frown and a scowl, something Damien wouldn’t have expected from a man with such bright orange hair. He hadn’t even realized he was staring until there was a shift in the man’s eyes. “Do we have a problem?” He asked in a gruff voice.

“No, I was just…” He was just wondering what he had used to get that sort of color. Blackberries, upon squishing between fingers, always produced the kind of purple that was reasonable for Damien to blot under his eyes or around his mouth to fake a bruise.  Boiled carrots, perhaps…

The man looked at him expectantly. Damien sat up and cleared his throat, trying to drop it half an octave into his impersonation of his father. “I’ll have a mead, sir.”

The bartender clicked his tongue as he turned away, grabbing a pint glass before moving to a barrel in the opposite corner. Damien thought he could hear the man grumble about a mead to the face, but he couldn’t be sure. He glanced back around the pub, an agile creature moving picking up glasses as it danced between tables. His glass landing on the table pulled him back and Damien reached into his pocket for his coin.

“Ten silvers,” the man said, his voice like dark smoke curling out of an oven.

“Ah, just… one second, then.” Damien dumped his bag on the bar, realizing it might have been much more than he had originally planned. He began to count out his silver pieces before a hand slammed down onto the bar, covered his coins. Alarmed, he looked up.

“David, you have never once served mead so sweet it was worth anything more than five silvers and a bronze.” Knight Topp’s eyes were locked on the bartender. He wondered when the knight had time to ditch his armor and still catch up with the prince. Damien rolled his eyes nearly hard enough to make himself dizzy. There was a silence that fell between the three of them that was thick enough to block out some of the noise, like someone had stuffed cotton in his ears.

Then, the bartender glanced toward the prince again. Slowly, he said, “five silvers for your mead, sir.” Each word seemed to give the man the feeling of chewing on glass because he cringed harder and harder as his sentence continued. Knight Topp pushed the coins toward the bartender before sweeping the rest into Damien’s coin purse. He gave him a light smile, offering the velvet clutch of fabric to the prince.

Damien grabbed it angrily before sighing, looking down at his pint glass. “You’re going to blow my cover,” he said, turning away from the bright smile of the man next to him as he faced the rest of the bar. His eyes glanced across heads and tables, finally settling on a corner table tucked close to a staircase.

“You’re going to blow your own cover,” Knight Topp said over his shoulder as he followed the prince closely.

Damien scoffed as he slipped onto the bench, hand tightening around his mug. “I’ll have you know I saw the smithy outside before and he didn’t recognize me,” he said coolly, raising the mug to his lips to take a sip. He had felt like Knight Topp was just showing off with knowing the bartender earlier, as if trying to prove to Damien that he was second in command for a reason.

But as Knight Topp pulled up a chair, the taste of his drink had Damien’s eyes closing, features contorting into a scowl. “My… prince?” Knight Topp implored with some hesitation, but when Damien opened his eyes, the man was fully grinning. “You alright, then?”

“Are all drinks outside the grounds this putrid and horrible?” Damien asked, wiping his mouth on the canvas of his disguise. He took another sip anyway.

Knight Topp shook his head. “No, just at David Moss’s place.” He was quiet for only a moment (a moment too short and Damien considered asking the knight to be quiet for longer, since it was such a nice change) before he began to speak to the prince once again. “The only reason why Raub didn’t recognize you is because the fires in his stables were too bright to see you. Do you truly not realize that a king has never dared to walk amongst his people the way you do? Your stunt, my prince, while ill-planned and executed—“

“Thank you.”

“—Is incredibly risky and… I beg your pardon, dangerous?”

Damien scoffed again, pointing at the knight with a napkin that was discarded on their table. “You’re beginning to sound more and more like my father, Sir Knight. And don’t call me that in public.”

Damien could see the knight’s frustration that he had ignored everything he had told him, but then the knight raised an eyebrow. “Then how shall I address you, sir?”

The prince took another sip of his mead, which was becoming easier to swallow the more he forced it down his throat. If anything, from this evening, at least he had the possibility of gaining a buzz. “By my name.” He sat back, folding one leg over his other knee. He felt quite proud of himself. “And I shall address you as the same, since we’re just two acquaintances sharing a drink.”

Knight Topp sighed, defeated. “I shall go get myself a drink.” He stood from the table. “And then you and I, Damien, will head for home.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Knight Topp stood there for a long moment and Damien rolled his eyes, waving his hand at him. “You’re dismissed.” The man left and Damien reveled the moment he had alone and away from the other.

From his spot, he felt confident enough to examine the pub more closely. Knight Topp, at the bar, now laughing jovially with the bartender and a blonde waitress who seemed to know the knight well enough to punch him twice in the shoulder. His eyes lingered for a moment before he was caught by your shape moving amongst the tables again. His lip quirked from the way you seemed to dance and flit between the patrons, easily stepping over drunken men even before they began to fall from their stools towards you. A tray balanced in your left hand and five mugs caught in your right, you moved to deposit dishes behind the bar before you immediately entered the dangerous fray again.

When Knight Topp returned, he, the bartender, and the waitress were all still grinning. Damien studied the man, who, despite admitting how overpriced and shitty the drinks they had both purchased were, was suddenly chugging half of his ale. “Do you come here a lot?” Damien asked him, lowering his feet to the floor as he scooted forward on the bench.

“It’s the only pub in town,” Knight Topp answered, which wasn’t really an answer. “There’s a few good ones in the village neighboring ours but the walk is nearly thirty minutes longer and that’s about how long it normally takes me to finish an ale after an easy day.”

Damien was only half listening at this point. His eyes strayed to you again and Shayne drained the rest of his mug, setting it down on the table hard enough the prince nearly jumped. “I’ve finished my ale,” he announced. “Time to leave.”

Damien narrowed his eyes at the knight, shaking his head. “But I haven’t finished my mead.” Knight Topp narrowed his eyes in return and tried to swipe at Damien’s mug. Having tried a similar tactic on a distant cousin who wouldn’t let him have any of the good wine at a family event, Damien saw the move coming and held the mug high into the air.

He slapped lightly at Knight Topp’s hand. “Stop,” he warned, switching hands when the man tried once again to yank the mug away. “I order you to stop. You’re going to make me spill my very expensive drink!”

Knight Topp settled back down into his chair, slumping back. “It’s fine,” he said, sounding slightly more defeated than Damien had expected. “Either way, I’m sure your father will have me hung for treason by the afternoon ‘morrow.”

Damien’s mug was halfway to his lips before he paused at the word. “For treason?” He repeated, taking another slow sip. He considered the implications of the evening and the way the patriarchy would see it. “I’ll have a talk with him if he raises any concern.”

“If?” The knight gave a laugh and Damien wasn’t quite sure what was funny. He dropped his voice, leaning over the table to keep the conversation between the two of them. “M-my prince… Damien… I was given strict orders by the King to bring you to your quarters for the evening and then I was an accessory in your escape.”

Damien hadn’t thought about it that way. He had forgotten that this was all a risk; that his plan had dumbly interfered with someone else’s livelihood. “Then why did you stay?”

“Because you are my prince and it’s my duty to protect you. I kept you from being overcharged like a tosser, didn’t I?”

Damien found himself looking this man in his eyes and grinning like a fool. His father would have a cursed fit if he could see his son making eye contact with civilians. The thought twisted his gut and Damien sat back quickly, eyes wide. “Sir Knight, you can still follow orders. You will bring me to my quarters for the evening.”

He began to drain his ale and Knight Topp began to laugh and then suddenly you were approaching their table. You caught the prince’s attention immediately, not just because of the way you seemed to dance as if surrounded by pix, but from the way all of the noise seemed to be swallowed up in just the movement of you. Walls of noise were falling away and Damien found himself sinking into the waves again, an undertow hitting him in the gut and pulling hard. And then… you smiled. You, someone who was supposedly lower than Damien simply because of family and gender and status, looked him straight in the eyes and smiled.

You were gone as quickly as you were there, collecting both mugs from the men before you were behind the bar again. But Damien was stuck in his seat, even when Knight Topp rose from his place and clapped him on the shoulder. For the first time, Damien felt like he had actually been seen by someone.

“You’re drunk already? Really?” Knight Topp’s snotty remark pulled Damien back into the stream of sounds. “Let’s get you back home.”

Damien stood from his seat on the bench and nearly swayed. “I’m not drunk. You should see me at family gatherings,” he tried to defend himself as Knight Topp led him out of the pub.

Damien didn’t tell Knight Topp to move his arm off of his shoulder even as they entered the street back toward the cemetery. The man eventually stretched both arms toward the stars before shoving his hands in his pockets as they climbed the hill and Damien turned to him a moment later. “Listen, I know you’re worried about treason and all but… if it’s any consultation, you’re a really good friend.”

Knight Topp stopped from picking up his chainmail next to the mausoleum, looking across the open space at his new friend. “Thank you.” They both smiled at each other before Knight Topp ducked into his armor, suddenly regaining all of the composure of the royal guard. “Since I’ve already committed treason thrice this evening, I hope you’ll pardon me when I say that you’re an ass.” He pushed the iron gate to the stone resting place open to the prince and bowed.

Damien scoffed before walking into the mausoleum, already planning his strategy to see a glimpse of you again. “You’re pardoned, my friend. Promise.”

[adrienborderie]

Next Whatsapp Messaging

Text messaging has become one of the top ways to communicate in the digital age. Teenagers and adults alike prefer the direct, instant communication that 'texting' can provide. One of the most unique carriers that offers text messaging is Nextel, which is now owned and operated by Sprint. See more Whatsapp group names here.

As a Nextel text messaging customer, one of the greatest things about it is the opportunity to contact anyone, on any wireless carrier, with only the charge of one message from the customer's cell phone plan, although most carriers offer this option now. As with many carriers, one can also send a 'text' to an e-mail user by simply typing the e-mail address into the portion of the message where he or she would normally enter the recipient's information.

Sending a Text Message

In the main menu of most Nextel cell phones, the user will find a section titled, 'Messaging'. This section is where all messages are found and created. To create a message, most users will need to select the option, 'Create Message'. Upon selecting this option, the user is prompted to enter the phone number or e-mail address of the recipient. Below that, the user will find a dialog box in which to type the message, which is normally limited to 140 characters in length.

Typing a Text Message

When typing the message, Nextel phones can vary in up to two keyboard forms. On most flip and bar phones, the letters are created by using the number keys, in nearly the same letter combination that is found on a landline phone, which was originally created by dialing a '1-800' vanity number with words in it. This will be marked on each key of the phone. On most smartphones (i.e. Blackberry), the letters are in a 'QWERTY' style keyboard, much like the keyboard on a computer. The user is then expected to send the message, which can be done a variety of ways, based on the phone being used. For more phone specific details, one should consult his or her user manual.

Receiving a Text Message

Nextel phones, like those of any other carrier, are naturally designed to automatically accept and retrieve text messages. You will be notified by a unique, short alert sound specifically to identify new messages, and on some phones, an alert will come up on the screen. Any messages sent to the customer will be in the 'Messages' section, and the subsection that is most likely titled, 'Inbox'. Upon receiving the message, a reply may be necessary, which will require the user to be familiar with the process it takes to create and send a text message.

Like with most carriers, a Nextel customer will find text messaging to be one of the most convenient ways of contacting friends and family. He or she should become familiar with how to send and receive them. Upon understanding this, a user can happily contact people with limited problems and complications.

http://alayahtalbot.wikidot.com/

[websaunt]

my phone has died so i had to buy the cheapest burner i could which was a blackberry so!! i’m having total flashbacks to my teenage years today. anyway, i gotta go to the shop but when i’m back i’ll reply to my ims (i’m the worst at keeping up with them i’m so sorry!) and some of the things in my inbox. in the meantime if you wanna do something at DISNEY!! lemme know cause it’s gonna be so much fun! and may is gonna be the cringiest disney mom, just so you’re all aware. MWAH!!

[fallofthecelestial]

Hello! May I have Trans-Gay Clotted Cream Cookie pfp? Thank you so much if you do! Can you also show me whats in your inbox? Thanks!

Hi, you should be getting your request next week, but you can find the inbox check under the cut!

Currently in the Inbox: (from oldest to newest)

Choco Ball icons

Amity & Willow matching icons

Greyish Raspberry icons

Bi Luz pride icons

Blackberry playlist

Young Phos icons

Espresso & Eclair matching icons

Trans gay Clotted Cream pride icons

Milk reply icons

Lobster icons

Madeleine & Financier matching icons

Energy Drink icons

Clotted Cream reply icons

Pure Vanilla playlist

Kiwi (Maverick of the Circuit) icons

Clotted Cream playlist

Sea Fairy reply icons

Light blue Milk icons

Ananas Dragon playlist

Crunchy Chip icons

Lotus Dragon playlist

[electro-kins]

can we get an inbox check it it’s not too much work ? ty!!

hii hii, of course ∩^ω^∩ hopefully i can empty most of my inbox by the weekend, i've been so busy with school lately </3 here you gooo, oldest to most recent requests :]

- matching phos and antarc icons

- cheesecake cookie transmasculine icons

- cocoa and creampuff cookie + blackberry and pumpkin pie cookie wallpapers

- brown softcore sara chidouin tumblr layouts

- heavenly/soft lesbian klee icons

- softcore joe tazuna tumblr layouts

- fischl moodboard with themes of fantasy

- softcore strawberry crepe cookie tumblr layouts

- gold and blue durandal moodboard

- tasque manager moodboard with themes of dogs

- dark fischl reply icons

- spooky themed pumpkin pie cookie icons

- eve elsword icons

- red and black hu tao moodboard with spooky themes

- sanriocore monika tumblr layouts

- soft demiboy shuichi tumblr layouts

- anthrosexual flag color dropped from kokomi

- moonlight cookie moodboard with themes of space and the moon lesbian flag