#snippitz

[thequeensbastardenglish]

Vi pressed her hand between Caitlyn’s shoulders and rubbed circles, her other arm snug around her waist.

“How?” Caitlyn gritted.

“You just missed the step. It happens.”

“Not that. How do you do it?”

Vi loosened her hold enough on Caitlyn so she could step back enough to look her in the eye. She cupped her cheek with the hand that had been rubbing her back. “What do you mean?”

“It’s been weeks, and I’m still in pain. I can barely breathe.” She gripped the front of Vi’s top, twisting the fabric in her fists. “Our injuries weren’t so different, and you just got up like it was nothing. I’m stuck here, utterly useless, while there’s so much work to be done. Tell me how you did it.”

Vi traced her cheekbone with her thumb, her mouth twisting to the side in amusement. “You say that like you didn’t have to drag me round the Fissures.” She searched Caitlyn’s face before sighing, the smile dropping to be replaced by concern. “You’re not gonna like my answer, but you get used to it. You get yourself in enough situations where you can’t look injured or weak, and you learn to carry it.”

She was right, Caitlyn didn’t like that answer. She tugged on her shirt, pulling Vi that little bit closer to her, their noses gently bumping. Vi put a hand to her side, over the still healing wound. Her brow scrunched, she could probably feel the heat that radiated off of the wound through the dressing and Caitlyn’s shirt. It felt like a brand pressing against her skin.

“No one used the word perforated to describe my last run in with a blade,” Vi said, brushing her nose against Caitlyn’s. “I’m no doctor, but I’ve seen enough stabbings to know that when it hits organs, it takes longer to heal. Go easy on yourself, it was bad.”

Caitlyn closed her eyes and leaned her forehead to Vi’s. She forced her hands to relax, releasing the death grip she had on the fabric of Vi’s top. She pressed her hands flat to Vi’s stomach, felt the hard muscle beneath, the rise and fall of her breath as her rib cage expanded.

“Breathe with me,” Vi murmured. “In and out, that’s it.”

Caitlyn closed her eyes and slipped her hands beneath Vi’s top, pressed them flat to her back as she tried to slow her breathing to match Vi’s. Slowly the pain subsided to a more manageable level and the dizzyness passed.

[anamatics]

Robyn is just asleep when Winter’s control, held so, so carefully together, fails. She starts to shake, freezing despite the warmth of Robyn curled beside her. Her fingers twitch against the duvet, and gingerly pulls her hand away from Robyn and turns onto her side. Her back facing Robyn, the shaking grows worse.

A dull ringing in Winter’s ears drowns out the quiet sounds of Robyn’s breathing. She’s eleven and right back in father’s study, listening to the click of the fastener against the metal of the beltloop. A dry, racking sob shakes through Winter, bubbling forth even as she tries to stop it – she can’t stop it. How could she – how could she betray this principle that’s guided her ever since she walked out of that house? How could Robyn doing that feel so good and safe and right?

She’s about to cry, the tears threatening. Winter buries her face in the pillow and inhales the soft smell of Robyn that lingers there.

How could she have let that happen? How could she have let Robyn let it go that far? Fuck.

How could Robyn---

[thevalleyoftriumph]

avm community new au dropped. i have a lot of lore 2 it but i dont wanna flood ur dash so uhh summary time

the gist of it iz mango learned of orangez relation to co and dl and made the correct assumption that theyd become a problem in the future, so they asked purple to "take care of" them. instead of killing them, purple accidentally caused some uh. memory loss. orange, who now knowz nothing of who anyone iz or where they are, iz instead convinced by mango to join them, but eventually they become fed up with the way mango treatz them and purple, AND w the way he avoidz the question when they ask abt who they are.

often getting snippitz of their memoriez or deja vu from thingz like certain colorz or blockz, they become determined to get their memoriez back, but decide that they need to prove to mango that theyre stronger; hence, a fight, and mango deciding to play the long con and over time manipulate them into doing what he wantz while posing az an underling.

purple however escapez to hide with the color squad, az orange takez over az the netherz king.

therez more but thiz post iz already long and im mobile bound so. u will have 2 just ask me abt it if ur curious

[findavapesupplier]

BOMB SAUCE E LIQUID LEMONY SNIPPITZ, by Katie Gussarova

[alvapes]

Lemony Snippitz by Bomb sauce 

What a treat this one! Deserves to be dripped on a low ohm build to fully appreciate all the subtle flavours that make up this liquid. Lemon, cheese, cake, it’s all in there and perfectly balanced.

[thequeensbastardenglish]

She turned to him. He looked so much older, the months since her mother had been killed had aged him. His hair was greyer, his beard unkempt, and deep lines marred his face. She had never thought of her parents as old, had assumed that she’d have years to enjoy tea with her father and get into tetchy arguments with her mother. But her mother was gone, and her father was a shadow of himself.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Your…” he paused, his brow drawing together as he considered his words. He adjusted his grip on his rifle, his fingers drumming an uneven beat against the polished wood. “That is. Vi spoke to me. At length and very loudly.” He smiled wryly. “There was much cussing involved.”

“She yelled at you?”

“Oh yes.”

“I…” her chest felt tight again.

“Please don’t feel like you have to apologise for her. I didn’t see it at the time, but upon reflection, she was right to do so.” He expelled the remaining bullets from his rifle, his movements quick with practice, and turned to place it in the rack. Then he took Caitlyn’s rifle from her and repeated the process. “I was apoplectic to begin with. The audacity of this girl to shout at me in my own home. I told her I would have her removed from the house.” He shook his head, chuckling. “The look she gave me. So assured, so confident. She almost laughed in my face. She said that that wasn’t my decision to make.”

Caitlyn swallowed. Without the rifle in her hands she had nothing to hide behind. She circled her arms about her waist suddenly feeling the chill in the air.

“I realised that she was right. I am not the head of the house, you are. I might have forced the issue, but if she left, then I dare say you would have followed her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Caitlyn answered it as though it were.

“Yes,” she breathed, and despite the words being spoken softly, they both heard the conviction in it.

[anamatics]

“I have to get to work, Weiss.”

Weiss frowns. “It’s nearly ten o’clock there.”

Winter picks up he scroll and turns toward the dresser. She fixes Weiss with a withering stare. “It’s nearly nine o’clock there – why are you still training?”

“Oh – Ruby wanted to work on our team moves –” Weiss looks away, lip caught between her teeth. “—she’s given them names, Winter. Names.”

“They cannot be that bad.”

“One of them is freezerburn.”

And Winter, because she’s obliging and understanding of Weiss’s endless consternation at her teammates’ antics, rolls her eyes. “That is … uninspired. I’d imagine this is you and Ruby?”

“Worse. Yang.” Weiss huffs and her bangs flutter across her forehead.

[anamatics]

heard it was fleurmione week and I have nothing to offer but here have a snippit of the end of teenagers:

Fleur hesitates for a moment, sucking in a breath that seems almost deliberate. “Don’t put it on, when he gives it back to you.”

“But I would –Why?”

The kiss Fleur presses to her lips is searing heat, her teeth pulling at Hermione’s lower lip as she pulls away. Hermione’s breath catches and she wants, but there’s no time before she has to leave and Fleur knows that. Fleur’s smile is impish as Hermione tries to lean in kiss her back. She presses a finger to Hermione’s lips, stopping her. Hermione’s hands tighten in the soft fabric of Fleur’s t-shirt. “It is my promise to you, Hermione. There are parts of my nature that have been screaming to see it returned to your neck since March. It was all I could do to stop myself from going to retrieve it myself. I—I, Hermione you must understand.”

She dips her head. “I do.” She presses a gentle kiss to Fleur’s fingertips and steps away.

[anamatics]

"So, you throw guys around in bars often?"

Winter sighs. "Too often," she says. "Look, I've had a really awful day and I'd just like to--"

"No no, I get it, don't bother the girl having a nice brood on a Friday night," the woman flashes her a smile and it makes the corners of Winter's mouth feels tight. Like she wants to smile back. "But if you say, wanted to be left alone while also appearing to be with someone, I wouldn't mind just standing here."

"Why would you do that?"

"You're the prettiest girl in this place, and you just threw a guy twice your size like it was nothing. Call me intrigued."

[anamatics]

Winter tosses her scrollpad onto the bed and sits back against the headboard. “You know what those documents say, right?” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Those documents that the entirety of Remnant now has access to?”

“That your father publicly disowned you but never completed the paperwork to disentangle you from the company heirship while all the while telling your kid sister she was the heir?” Winter lowers her hand and Robyn grins at her. “I got that much from the report itself. 

Winter tilts her head toward the cracked ceiling. “I give the society pages until Monday at the latest before they discover that the soldier General Ironwood promoted to his second is still the heir to the SDC on paper.” She looks to Robyn then. “We shouldn’t be seen together in public for a while. This is… this is a mess, Robyn. And you don’t want to be associated with this.”

Robyn holds up her scrollpad and gestures like she’s going to throw it to Winter. Winter straightens, and catches the pad when Robyn tosses it to her. She spins it and stares down at what Robyn’s written. Her lips move around the words silently and she looks up harshly. “This is…”

“If there was ever an issue to launch a campaign on, it’d be this.”

[anamatics]

“I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

“Will you talk to me?”

“You – you would not understand Penny.”

“I can try.”

“Oh, Penny. Please just leave me be. I’ll be alright. I just need time.”

“Do you wish to be left alone?”

And, as much as she wants to say no, as much as she longs for the steady presence of Penny beside her, chattering about new she’s learned, something she’s uncovered in a manual; Winter needs the silence. She shifts, and the burn at her shoulders serves only as a reminder of what she spent the last night doing. What she wishes she could forget and yet desperately wants to remember. “I have coursework to finish. Being alone would be preferable at this juncture.”

[anamatics]

When they get back to the apartment, breathless, Winter passes Robyn her keys. Their fingers brush and a jolt of want surges through Robyn. Winter’s cheeks are pink with what Robyn thinks is the cold, but as Winter looks her over, warmth blossoms across Robyn’s cheeks. The hunger is there in Winter’s gaze, even as she announces: “You’re covered in mud.”

Pushing the door open, Robyn glances over her shoulder to the mud that cakes the knees of Winter’s running tights and along her shoulder. “Yeah, well, so are you.”

Robyn turns, and comes face to face with May, blocking them from going further into the apartment. She stares at them for a moment before holding up a finger. “Do not move.”

“Uh, hi May?”

May disappears for a moment, and a cabinet slams, before she appears holding out two towels. “I just vacuumed. And mopped. You will not undo my hard work by tracking mud into this house, Hill. Strip.” Shoving the towels at Robyn, she nods to Winter, “Schnee.”

“Marigold.”

It is honestly uncanny how Atlesians can say so much with so very little. From the way May is openly glaring at Winter and Winter is meeting her gaze evenly, her brow slightly furrowed, Robyn is pretty sure they’re actually talking in microexpressions. 

“I’m not stripping in front of you,” Winter says at length, completely deadpan.

“Fine.” May turns on her heel. There’s a beat, and then her bedroom door slams. Robyn winces.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[anamatics]

“Sometimes I feel like we’ve done this all backward. I would have loved a formal courtship with you.”

“You mean having sex the first time—”

“Second time,” Fleur corrects with a wry grin.

Hermione puffs out her cheeks. “Fine, the second time we kissed isn’t proper courtship? Why Mademoiselle Delacour, I am appalled.” She thinks of Pansy and her insistence that their relationship be discussed in society the way someone of Fleur’s family’s standing should be, and adds: “The papers would thrive on such a scandal. I can imagine Page Four of the Prophet already: Delacour Heiress Forgoes Romance to Seduce Harry Potter’s Best Friend. Rita would love it.”

“Well,” Fleur says, and her tone is deathly serious in a way that belies the humor in her response. “One would hope there’s still time to woo you in the proper way.”

Hermione sticks her tongue out at Fleur.

[anamatics]

“You weren’t answering my calls, Weiss.”

“It isn’t my fault, Father’s been awful and I don’t want to talk to him. I turned my scroll off.” Weiss swipes at her forehead, Myrtenaster in her hand.

Clucking her tongue, Winter shakes out a shirt. “Don’t be such a tit, Weiss, what if your team needed you?”

“They sleep in the same room as me, we take the same classes, they know where I am.” Weiss sighs. “I just – I don’t want the lecture right now. Not with everything happening here…”

“Well, he’s probably calling you to make sure you are very aware of the responsibilities you now legally have to the SDC. And the fact that it cost him millions of lien to give it do you.” Winter sets the shirt aside and looks at the worried expression pulling at her sister’s lips. There are times when Winter forgets that Weiss is only seventeen and far, far away from home for the first time in her life. She wishes she could be there for Weiss in a greater capacity. It is, perhaps, the one silver lining to this promotion. Winter is able to call her without fear of losing signal or rogue grimm sweeping up their flanks.

Her expression tugging into something like father, something like Winter’s own displeasure, Weiss scowls. She twists some socks around her fingers, balling them together for distraction. “Maybe I don’t want him to tell me. Maybe I know already.” Weiss sets Myrtenaster down somewhere off camera, and picks up a water bottle. It’s red and covered in stickers of small, cartoonish grimm, and is exactly the sort of thing that Winter could never imagine Weiss owning. Weiss’s expression turns thoughtful, throat working as she swallows. “I saw how they nearly ground you to dust.”

[anamatics]

Early in the morning on Hermione’s fifth day in France, Fleur nudges Hermione awake at six o’clock in the morning and kisses Hermione when she turns into Fleur’s embrace. “Do you want to see the tomb and the vault?”

Hermione does, naturally, and they dress hurriedly. Fleur passes Hermione a bit of the bread from last night’s dinner, a piece of ham shoved into it as they hurry through the kitchen. They aren’t sneaking out, not exactly, but there is an underlying assumption that Fleur not take Hermione with her to work that has been communicated pretty clearly without words to both Fleur and Hermione. Getting out of the house and into the cool and damp spring morning in the front garden is enough for Hermione to exhale as she eats her makeshift sandwich and watches as Fleur feeds the chickens that peck at the yard.

“You’re very pretty,” she says when Fleur sets the bucket of feed aside and collects her work bag from where she’d left it by the front door.

“Am I?” Fleur asks.

“You are.”

[anamatics]

Whitley approaches, his expression troubled. Beside her, he’s almost as tall as she is. Dust, when had that happened? “This isn’t father’s fault,” Whitley says with all the resignation of an adult and not a child. “Weiss wanted to fight.”

“Weiss,” Winter retorts, “is foolhardy and makes rash decisions when her pride is threatened.” She gives Whitley a look that tries to convey both you know this, and please don’t try and start a fight.

“Ah yes, one of Father’s more regrettable traits.” Whitley slips Weiss’s scroll into his pocket and sits. He gestures to Winter to join him and she does, pausing to undo her belt and pull her sword from it. She rests the sword against the chair beside them.

“Do not draw comparisons between Weiss and that man,” Winter snaps.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co