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lullabyes22-blog · 3 months
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THANK YOU SO MUCH @hannibalcatharsis-zero for these absolutely GORGEOUS prints!
This is truly such a thoughtful and amazing gift I am gibbering with glee T_T<3
(The little shisa dogs are happy too c:)
Prints by Velnna! Thank you for sharing your fabulous art with us all @velnna<3
Seriously, Zero - a thousand thanks and warm cuddles for being such a sweetheart, and for all your feedback, support and general awesomeness! It truly means a great deal<3
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hellalesbiangirl · 2 years
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lullabyes22-blog · 3 months
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Snippet - Snoop - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO
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Vi is someplace she shouldn't be.
Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO
Snippet:
Vi leaves everything on the desk as she found it. On the dresser, something catches her eye. A cup decorated with moons and stars. The straw is smudged with black lipstick. It's a replica of her sister's Special Cup. The one she'd sipped cherry soda from at the Last Drop. The one Vander kept especially for her whenever she was glum.
It's the most Powderish thing Vi's encountered so far in the room.
Next to the cup, a note in jagged handwriting, reads:
Papaya smoothie. New import from Tereshni.
Dinner at eight.
Don't work too hard. I'm so proud of you.
XOXO
The message—businesslike, briskly intimate—is from Silco. The past month, Vi has glimpsed the obsessive armature of their bond. Now she's seeing all the tender, messy, matter-of-fact underpinnings. Her sister's life with that bastard. A consolation prize, but also a tangible link that keeps her anchored to something bigger than bombs and bullets, even if it’s alarm-bells and dinner bells.
(To the moon and back.)
Sense-memory serves Vi up bloodied scoops of last night. Nausea hits like a gut-punch. She scrambles for the bathroom, but only makes it as far as the sink. Puke boils up her mouth and splatters the basin. Shuddering, Vi sags there, before running the water cold. She splashes her face and rinses her mouth, swallowing some down her parched throat.
Stress has always played hell on her stomach. It's been years since it got this bad. Last night counts as its own league of Bad.
Vi straightens to Silco's reflected image in the mirror.
"Fuck!"
She whirls.
He leans a shoulder against the doorjamb. He’s donned his Lord of the Underworld carapace. Hair sleeked; warpaint on. His three-piece suit—red shirt, worsted vest, black slacks—stretches down in a sleek pillar to end in a pair of bare feet, looking incongruously pale on the tiles. In the bathroom lamp, his skin is nearly chalky, purple streaks under his good eye. The bad one is a hell-pit in a pile of scar-tissue.
He doesn't look like a man who's rolled out of bed after a night of hot sex. He looks like a vampire walking in daylight.
Murderous.
"Why," he says, in slow sibilant inflection, "are you in Jinx's room?"
"I was just—"
"Snooping.”
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