#that’s not important to this post just.. fun fact

[pluralsword]

reminder that Theodore Roosevelt was considered a progressive in his time, the same guy who y'know, did the Square Deal (which megacorps would like us all to not ask the government to use) and gave a speech about the importance of American empire to the Navy. To us the word is politically meaningless. It either is socialists afraid to call themselves socialists because of the brain poison over that word (particularly in the USA) or it's imperialists talking about the 'progress of civilization' or neocolonial development (eugh) and sometimes it's all three! Utilitarian progressivism is the bane of our existence and such a quick ally or propagator to having a police state, to eugenics, to gatekeeping trans people, imperialist bioconservationism that erases indigenous people and their ways of life from cohabitation with nature (just a little reminder btw, plants can communicate with each other via roots and lichens, and even scream when cut but the scream is too high pitched for us humans to hear, so telling people not to eat the meat of animals they live around is also ignorant in this respect too), to reactionary and far right stuff in general, all in the name of the means justify the ends.

Our study of gender has led us to the conclusion that there can be epistemic shifts that come with gender realizations but these are in no way intrinsic guarantees of actually being open minded and compassionate. we don't have the spoons to get into this rn and yes we do write about this more in depth and may eventually try to put forth / release papers about it (we really prefer writing fiction, take bets on what comes out first our original fiction oracle dice-procedural ttrpg board game or the novel or the papers we need to edit that don't cover this in as much detail as our prose does because fkldskjfalsdfjkslkdfkjdlasd and there some indie games out there that we've seen that do try to play around with something similar to this idea) but like we said yeah. nothing inherent. it's kind of like how having autism can mean having more resistance to internalization of some but not necessarily all hierarchic norms and behaviors - which y'know fun fact there's a significant overlap between autistic and trans people and wowee do we have an ongoing phrase at this point of 'is there really such a thing as a trans community,' because we definitely are not all in lockstep politically (which btw even if we all agreed on civil rights and collectivism we still think even then we shouldn't be in lockstep on everything because having multiple cooperating regime types allows us to learn from each other and to preserve/restore and create new historically particular socioeconomic systems. we don't want just one way, but then, we're a cosmopolitanist pluralist so that's not surprising). stares with pity at homonationalists don't get us started on that can you see why we prefer to engage with eternal existential questions and themes of transformation through fiction where we can at least work from a perspective of a long history of a near utopian interstellar multispecies society that has never had near full severance of intergenerational knowledge of collectivism and gender or even when there is there is such a rooted common heritage it defines the conflict - than to write nonfictionally as often solely about how things are now or were (we are working on a thing that isn't solely that, and did finish something last year we're very proud of). so we apologize in advance if this post is not enough of an answer

Contrary to the epistemic practices of 2010s-era Tumblr, I'm afraid there are no identity groups that are intrinsically progressive. Shocking, I know.

[corruptedcaps]

Transfer Student

This is inspired by a wonderful post by @missnaughtyerica on Bluesky. Read it here.

Alex adjusted her glasses, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the empty football field. She sat on the bleachers, a thick math textbook resting on her lap, highlighting important paragraphs and formulas. The field was quiet, just the way she liked it. No whispers, no laughter, no Kelly.

Unfortunately, peace never lasted long.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Alex the Algebra Addict.” Kelly’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Alex’s stomach dropped. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Kelly strutted up the bleachers, flanked by her ever-present shadows, Vanessa and Brittany. All three wore smirks that radiated cruelty.

“What’s this? Studying? On the bleachers? How tragically pathetic. Don’t you know this is my domain? Only jocks and cheerleaders. No geeks allowed.” Kelly sneered, flipping her perfect blonde hair over her shoulder.

“I’m just—” Alex began, but Kelly cut her off with a laugh.

“Just what? Trying to escape your loser life? Newsflash, nerd. No matter where you go, you’re still you. And guess what? That means you suck.” Kelly said, drilling into Alex.

Vanessa and Brittany cackled on cue.

Kelly leaned closer, her manicured nails tapping Alex’s textbook. “You should just transfer back to whatever loser school you came from. Or maybe I’ll just make you disappear.”

Alex clenched her fists, heat rising in her chest. This was despite the rumours that Kelly had in fact killed a girl years ago. She tried to focus on the words on the page, but they blurred under her rising tears.

“Aw, is the baby gonna cry?” Kelly cooed mockingly. “God, you’re so weak. It’s so fun picking on you.”

Kelly’s friends howled with laughter.

Something inside Alex snapped. She slammed her book shut and stood abruptly, her heart pounding.

“Just leave me alone!” She shouted, her voice echoing across the empty field.

Kelly laughed, stepping closer. “Do it, loser. Show me how tough you really—”

Before she could finish, Alex shoved her with all her might. Kelly stumbled backward, her eyes wide with shock. Kelly’s foot caught on the edge of the bleacher, and she toppled over. Her scream was cut short by a sickening thud as her head hit the ground below.

Alex’s breath came in short, panicked gasps. “Oh my God… Kelly?” She scrambled down the bleachers, her hands trembling. Meanwhile Vanessa and Brittany just looked at each other first with shock then with knowing smirks.

“Kelly!” Alex cried, dropping to her knees.

Before she could touch her, a black, viscous substance began oozing from Kelly’s mouth. It pulsed, almost alive, before shooting straight into Alex’s open mouth.

Alex gagged as the black goo forced its way down her throat, its slick, oily warmth invading her body. She clutched at her chest, gasping, but then a voice, one deep, sinister, and unrelenting, echoed in her mind.

“Ah, yes. A perfect new vessel.” The voice purred.

Alex froze, her breath hitching. “What… what are you?”

“I am power, my dear. Darkness incarnate. And you… you are my new host.” The voice said, a chuckle reverberating through her skull.

Alex shook her head, stumbling back. “No! I don’t want this! Get out of me!”

The goo laughed, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. “You don’t have a choice. Your body is mine now, and soon… your mind will follow.”

Her hands clawed at her throat as an unnatural warmth spread through her chest, then outwards. It wasn’t painful, in fact, it was… intoxicating.

“Stop!” Alex cried, her voice trembling. “I’m not like you! I’m not—”

Her words faltered as her brown, frizzy hair began to shimmer, each strand lightening until it became a cascade of perfect platinum blonde waves.

“Do you feel that, Alex?” The voice taunted. “How good it feels to become… better.”

Alex’s hands shot to her hair, trembling. “Mmmm yesss. No wait… this isn’t right! I killed Kelly!”

But then her skin smoothed, imperfections vanishing as a radiant glow spread over her. Her plain features sharpened, her lips swelling into a luscious, pouty red.

The goo whispered seductively. “You think Kelly was my first host? She accidentally killed the last girl too and I slid right into her and made her the queen bitch she was. Look what I’ve done to you already and I’m not even done!”

A soft moan escaped Alex as her boobs expanded, her shirt straining to contain the new, perfect orbs. Her posture straightened, confidence surging against her will.

Her mind screamed in resistance. “This isn’t me! This isn’t who I am! Ohhh fuck but it could be!”

“That’s the spirit!” The goo added. “You’ve always envied them, haven’t you? Kelly, her friends… the power, the attention, the beauty. You’ve wanted it. I’m just giving you what you deserve.”

Alex staggered, but the warmth spreading through her body felt like pure euphoria. She looked down at her hands as her nails lengthened, painted a deadly crimson.

Her resistance wavered. “Yes… I… deserve….”

“Yes, Alex. Give in. You’re almost there. Become the shallow, bratty beauty you hunger to be!” The voice coaxed.

Her legs elongated, perfectly sculpted, as her body transformed into the epitome of beauty. The warmth surged through her mind, erasing her hesitations with every pulse.

She caught her reflection in the glass of her phone, her platinum hair shining, her lips curled into a cruel, confident smirk.

“There she is.” The voice whispered, almost lovingly. “My perfect creation. You and I, Alex… we’re one now. Together, we are unstoppable. We’re-”

“Lexi.” Both host and parasite said in unison cementing their connection. Her mind and the black goo were in perfect sync, their shared thoughts brimming with vanity, cruelty, and dark intent.

Lexi ran her hands over her body, a dark thrill coursing through her veins. She turned to Vanessa and Brittany, who were staring at her in awe, and smirked.

“Alright, girls,” Lexi purred. “Let’s get our story straight. She fell. Right?”

The two girls smiled wickedly, nodding in agreement.

“She was always so clumsy.” Vanessa said.

“So uncoordinated.” Brittany added.

“That’s why she stepped down from the cheerleading squad.” Vanessa added.

Brittany nodded. “We were so grateful when Lexi joined the team.”

Lexi giggled, tossing her golden waves over her shoulder, loving the story they were concocting. “Of course I was only too happy to take over as head cheerleader. I was the obvious choice.“

“Of course. Perfect poise.” Vanessa said flanking Lexi.

“Naturally talented.” Brittany added, taking the other flank.

“The perfect bitch.” Lexi said with a grin to each of her new besties as they linked arms.

As they strutted away Lexi felt nothing but delight. The power, the beauty, the darkness, they were hers now. And she couldn’t wait to use them.

[mrkdicey]

This post is like two years old now, and it actually might be my most liked post. And you know what… I’m happy about that : )

I still stand by this. Even though the comic itself is on an indefinite hiatus, it still won’t stop me from loving it. Especially this guy.

Not just that, but because the comic itself holds a special place in my heart. It wasn’t just the artstyle or the story, but the fact that this was the comic that first introduced me to Pizza Tower in the first place, AND why I have an account here to begin with… kinda. I stumbled upon this comic by complete accident when I was starting get some slight curiosity about Pizza Tower. And when I did, I got VERY invested. I found out about it through Meepers Peepers (the person who was going to va Fakino) when they made a post about it and linked it in the description. Curios, I clicked on it. Next thing I knew, I would regularly check in on it to see if there were any updates. I fell in love with this comic. Then I joined the discord server, where I met some really great talented people! Then the day came where I actually got tumblr. I mainly did it to follow artists that I saw comics of on YouTube so I could see their stuff, and also try posting there. And here I am now. This account may be small, but I still have fun running it nonetheless. So whether it will continue or not, Pepperoni Tower will always be important to me, and I’ll still continue to love it.

So thanks for Lemonzone for that, and for making such an awesome au comic. And another thanks to all the people in the discord that I got to share my love about this comic with, you all are awesome : )

Pepperoni!Tower Fakino appreciation post!

Golly I love this noodly man sm

[yuttikkele]

oh? you ship them?? hang on let me just.. for you….

this should only take a second—

ah there we go!

[heynhay]

redrew my old Romellura art that KD unearthed lolll

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Still very wild to me when people try to gotcha Jason with the whole "if you can kill other people for being evil why can't they kill you" when jason is like. One of the most passively suicidal characters I've ever seen. What if man

[jacarandaaaas]

Mirabel Madrigal & Creativity:

So something I’ve realized after watching the movie a couple of times now is how mirabels story can easily correlate with the experience of someone creative when you’re only considered of use if you’re academically smart.

Not only do they refer to the magic as “gifts” and “gifted” very common terms associated with people who are considered academically smart but also the fact mirabel is shown as an artist. Our first introduction to her you see her room is plastered in artwork as a 5 year old and even after the prologue you still see she’s kept her artistic side. the thing is mirabel is incredibly talented she draws, she sews, she embroiders, paints, plays the accordion too! These are all incredible talents to possess and yet do we ever see her getting praised for them in the movie? not really. because mirabel doesn’t have a “gift” a literal magic gift yes but also could be interpreted for a creative as academic smarts. Creative thinking is something mirabel possesses and its quite literally the answer in the end but because she’s not smart in the expected way i.e academics she feels she’s not worth as much as others in her family.

I like to think making her an artist was an intentional choice as I know a lot of fellow artists have had people tell us it’s not a “useful” skill to have in the real world. It’s not worth taking the time doing when you could be pursuing medicine or law or something that uses your brain. Even in the ending of the movie mirabel tells them they’re “more than just your gift” which I feel can relate a lot to people who heavily rely on their academic achievements they can forget it’s ok to not do 100% every time and these ridiculous standards are just wearing you down.

So in conclusion I believe mirabels story resonates a lot with the experience of being a creative person but your skills not being seen as valuable. I just love that they made mirabel an artist to show how talented she actually is! she shows that creatives are valued and appreciated and needed and deserve to be encouraged not shot down! so thank you mirabel valentina rojas madrigal for being my favorite artist <3

[necrotic-nephilim]

I am always thinking TimJay thoughts related to the fact that they have matching scars from getting their throats slit, and not only that, but Jason slit Tim's throat first in an attempt to threaten Bruce, where Tim was nothing more than a pawn for Jason to use to emotionally manipulate Bruce.

batman (1940) #618

And then, just a little while later when Jason is trying to confront Bruce and do his whole dramatic moment with Joker in UTRH, and Bruce slits Jason's throat to stop Jason from killing the Joker.

batman (1940) #650

It makes me so Unwell. They have literal matching scars. When do you think Jason realizes it? When do you think, while running his fingers over the scar he has to always remind himself that Bruce was willing to jeopardize Jason's own life just to save the Joker, Jason realized it was the same scar *he* gave Tim? And does it click for him too, that he and Tim are a lot alike? Being used as pawns in Bruce's game? And for the first time he maybe understands Tim Drake, just another kid trying to get Bruce's attention and approval? And Jason did to Tim exactly what Bruce did to Jason? And that's part of what spurns on Jason's obsession with Tim, trying to "save" Tim from Bruce's ideology?

When they finally get together does it make Jason even more possessive? He put that mark on Tim and now he has his own to match. It's the closest to being understood and loved he's ever felt when Tim runs his fingers over Jason's scar at the same time Jason touches Tim's. Mirrors of each other, in a fun, fucked up little way.

[thefloatingwriter]

sunrise on the reaping is where headcanons go to die.

[velvetwyrme]

🗞️💥💥!!!

A little comic based on my initial response to @wave-nine's post ;3c

[monstrsball]

happy iwa day to all who celebrate

[cyellolemon]

Some drawings with my wizard ocs!!

1st pic: Romeo (he/him) and Myel (he/she) they're bff!! :3 they really like each other

2nd pic: Stellan (he/him) and an oc i never posted before, she's Odette (she/her) she's the daugther of the magic academy director and this one wanted Stellan to marry her, he didn't really have the choice, so they're now fiancés, she's more like a little sister to him

3rd pic: Myel and Stellan! being normal about her

[the-silver-chronicles]

Siblings Q&A | Silva & Elsa Omar ONESHOT

Tagged by @raresbaby and @inafieldofdaisies

Tagging @voidika @icecutioner @socially-awkward-skeleton @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @direwombat @strangefable @strafethesesinners @rhettsabbott @josephseedismyfather @josephslittledeputy @imogenkol @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @aceghosts @turbo-virgins @shellibisshe @deputy-morgan-malone @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @sleepyconfusedpotato @titiagls @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @thesingularityseries and @nightwingshero + anyone else who wants to join. Taglist here.

Hey guys, SimpleGenius here! Decided to turn this short Q&A into a legitimate Oneshot for The Silver Chronicles, involving two OCs of mine; Silva and her younger half-sister, Elsa, set in a time in Hope County where Silva had no knowledge of Eden's Gate and the Omar's experienced a time of normalcy. There should be nothing but fluff, yes-siree. Oneshot below the cut:

The buzz of the worn-out camcorder complimented the numbing visuals of the frozen static, but swiftly the unused device booted up.

The specter on the screen was both haunting and ethereal, a memory from a time so much simpler. A normality so sparse in time.

With her trusty camcorder in hand, Elsa admired herself in the mirror. Hair twisted in many small blonde braids, wearing a white sundress laced with magenta patterns that looked like flowers.

The camcorder fizzled, the screen going blank for a moment. She gave it a good whack, faded red paint dusting her black gloves, and the camcorder proceeded to work like normal.

Elsa carried the camcorder away from the mirror, passing through into a lounge. Her hermana, dressed in a yellow flannel and black jeans, her dark hair flowing past her shoulders, seated on their couch having a cup of coffee.

"You ready, Sylvie?" Elsa asked, shuffling cards out of frame. Sylvester placed her cup onto the coffee table, laced gloves fixing creases on a dress she's not wearing. Realizing this, she stops the action and awkwardly cups her knees.

"Si, uh, seguro," Sylvester muttered out, clearing her throat, "How does this work?"

"Essentially, from what Rae-Rae told me, this is a fun little game where siblings answer questions for that net-work mambo-jumbo," Elsa explained, and again shuffled the flash cards she prepared.

"And since we're both sane enough to not invite people to put their noses into where they don't belong, I thought maybe, instead of doing this for strangers, we do it for Persephone," Elsa elaborates further.

Sylvester blinks, grey eyes staring at her younger hermana like a doe caught in headlights. She tilts her head, her right cheek sunk in, chewing her inner cheek.

"Elsa, she's una," Sylvester points out.

"Yeah, I know that," Elsa sighs, understanding but exasperated, "But she won't be for long. When she's older, we can show her this. Let her get to know her mamá and tía some more."

Sylvester's lips didn't quite frown, but she wasn't unconvinced either. "Derecha," she nodded, still wrapping her head around the camcorder's functions.

Elsa was likely grinning behind the camcorder, "Exactly! Now, to make this a bit more fun, I shuffled the questions out of order. Now let's begin."

Elsa showed the flash cards, the shuffle complete, and flipped over the first one.

"Question 19: Who has the worst ideas?" Elsa asked aloud.

Sylvester snorted, uncharacteristic of the person she's supposed to be, a small teasing smile on her healing chapped lips, "Well we both know who that is."

Elsa let out an exaggerated gasp, feigned offense, "Why Sylvie, I am but a respectable, humble and pious shopkeeper. Do you insinuate that I am anything but?"

"Bold words coming from the local daredevil who likes to worry her hermana to near-death," Sylvester retorts, arms crossed.

"...I'm guessing Rae-Rae snitched about my escapes on her roof?"

Sylvester had no need to answer, though Elsa must have seen that she had nothing to worry over, as Sylvester's smile held only amusement.

"Next question," Elsa declared, moving on, "Number 7: Most stable romantic life?"

Both wondered briefly, and Elsa states, "I gotta give this one to you Sylvie. You managed one relationship with Irene far longer than any ones I've had in our time here."

Sylvester narrows her eyes at Elsa, raising a quizzical brow, "Is that so? You and Ezekiel were like two peas in a pod every time you both talked with each other."

"That was brief, and we weren't official. Just some one-upping through flirtation. And he had been a real jerk at first, remember? At least you and Irene had a better start," Elsa deflects, waving a hand onscreen as she desperately denied her hermana's accusations.

Sylvester merely nods her head in feigned agreement as Elsa brings out the next question.

"Question 12: Best memory together?"

Sylvester leaned back on the couch, looking up for a moment. With Sylvester pondering which memory she liked the most, Elsa already found one.

"I'd say buying this residence," Elsa admits, "A place we can forever call our home. Wouldn't you agree?"

Sylvester looked to Elsa, and gave a short nod, "Si, it is up there. But... I'd say my favorite would be when it first rained. Just... playing and dancing like kids do... like we should have been allowed to do."

Elsa must have sensed the solemness in her voice, and replied, "At least we got to do it."

Sylvester hummed, appreciative of that fact.

"Question 15: Would you rather not being able to shower for a month or have the same clothes for a month?"

Sylvester was immediate in her response, "Not shower for a month, obviously. We can just bathe in baths instead."

Elsa laughed, cheerful and loud, "Never thought you'd be the one to take advantage of a loophole Sylvie."

Sylvester smile wholeheartedly, grey eyes sincere as she admitted, "I learned the best from my crafty little hermana."

"Aww," Elsa lightheartedly cooed, and proceeded forward, "Question 5: Who sleeps the most?"

Sylvester raised her hand, "Mother of one very curious and fussy niñita, right here."

"No arguments there," Elsa replied, "Question 14: Dream trip together?"

In a moment of synchronized thought between hermanas, they both state, "Spain."

"Question 16: Who's the older one?"

Sylvester raised her hand once again. Elsa flipped to the next flash card, "Question 10: Who had a weird phase?"

Both pondered for a moment, trying to think of any moment in their lives of such a phase.

"I don't think we were ever given a chance to do so," Elsa states. Sylvester hummed in agreement, shaking her head in confirmation.

"Alright then! Question 6..."

Elsa paused, reading the flash card: 'Who's Mom and Dad's favorite? (If there is one?)'

Sylvester waits, worry building in her gut, and asks, "What's the question?"

Elsa hesitated, but responded, "Who's.... mo- ahem, father's favorite..."

Sylvester briefly gaped, but recovered, stating, "Well, we both know the answer to that question is neither of us."

Elsa hummed, throwing the card away as she proceeded with the next one, "Question 18: Role Model? Mine's you, of course. But who's yours Sylvie?"

"I'd have to say Paul," Sylvester mustered out, clearing her throat, "He saved me after all. Raised me. Gave me something that we were denied."

"I wish I got to meet him," Elsa admits, "From what you told me, he was funny and dramatic."

Sylvester smiled at Elsa's words, "You two would have adored each other."

Allowing Sylvester a moment to keep herself together, Elsa proceeded to the next card, "Question 3: Who eats the most?"

She raised her hand this time, the various rings displayed for the camcorder to catch, "That'd be me! Speaking of which..."

Sylvester cringed, swiftly adding, "I had a sandwich earlier."

But Elsa was not deterred, "While that's good, you skipped breakfast nor have you had any fruits or snacks prior to lunch."

"I'll have something later," Sylvester flimsily promised. Elsa, not satisfied, retorts, "I'll hold you to that."

"Question 8: Worst habit of each one?"

Sylvester sighed, "Well, you already know mine. Though your recklessness is concerning considering your condition Elsa."

"I'm not made of glass, Sylvie."

"Elsa, your bones are brittle and break easily."

"...Okay I'm a little like glass, but I'm not stupid. I can take care of myself. I know what I'm doing when I climb a tree, or go bungee jumping or help Rae-Rae around her farm," Elsa defends. Her hermana replies, "I... I know that Elsa, but even so, you've been seeking out riskier and riskier thrills lately, and I can't... help but worry."

"I appreciate it," Elsa assures, and adds, "But you worry way too often."

Sylvester doesn't argue, and Elsa takes advantage of the momentary silence, "Question 4: Who has been on the weirdest situations?"

Neither hermana could think of either one being in a "weird" situation. Sylvester opted to gesture to Elsa, "Well, given your escapades so far, I vote you."

Elsa huffed, "Seeking thrill is not the same as getting stuck in chance and strange situations."

"And how likely am I going to be in such situations?"

Elsa mumbles, indistinctly playful, and moves on, "Question 20: A GIANT insect is on the wall, who's taking care of it?"

Sylvester raises a brow, "Whoever finds it first."

"Pfft, a bug ain't that scary," Elsa comments, "Question 17: Describe each other in three words."

Elsa and Sylvester held gaze for a moment blurted out their answer.

"My badass worrywart-hermana." "Daring little hermana."

There was a silent beat before both responded to such descriptions.

"Surely that is four words, Elsa," Sylvester argued, but Elsa interrupted with her pointer finger as she replied, "Ah, but you forget my lovely older hermana, the power a hyphen holds."

Sylvester shook her head in disbelief, but did not debate further as Elsa brought forth the next question, "Question 1: Who looks the... ah mierda, another one?"

'Who looks the most like dad?' the question read.

"Is it another relating to... him?" Sylvester tested, her lips pursed in a thin line, her voice softer and quieter than normal. Her grey eyes dulled, hands clenched into her jeans.

Elsa sighs, a hand going out of the camcorder's view, probably to play with her blonde locks, and most likely undo a braid in the process.

"I... Do you mind if we skip this one?" Elsa asks, and Sylvester eagerly nods, much to Elsa's relief, "Question 11: Best cook of the family?"

Elsa answers before Sylvester could have a chance, "Yeah, I can't cook for shit, that's you right there, Sylvie."

Sylvester closes mouth, making no comment on Elsa's lack of culinary skill. Elsa flips the next flash card, "Question 9: Who's the most dramatic?! Why that would be me!"

Sylvester nodded with absolute certainty.

"Question 8: Worst habit of each one?"

Sylvester beat Elsa to the tea, "I got this. I'm a nagging worrywart who forgets her own needs sometimes, and you, mi querida hermana, are a crafty daredevil with a big ego that often gets you into trouble."

"Hah! Wow, you know me so well," Elsa said, flipping to the next flash card, but mentions, "However, you're wrong in your description; you're not a nagger."

Sylvester doesn't visibly react to this, but she seems to be stuck in a forlorn gaze. However, the next question snaps her out of this odd pause, and Sylvester listens attentively.

"Question 13... uh, worst memory together?"

Sylvester and Elsa pondered together, brainstorming.

"Our entire childhood was jodido and never the best," Elsa mentions. Sylvester frowns, and points out, "Si, but the run for the docks weren't any better."

Elsa couldn't not hum in agreement, and she moves on, "Last Question. Number 2: Who looks the most like mom...?"

Sylvester looks baffled as Elsa blows a raspberry, "Irrelevant. We've never met nor did we have the same mother."

Elsa throws away that flashcard out of the camcorder's view, much to Sylvester's visible annoyance.

"And... that's it. We finished the game. Yay!" Elsa lightly cheered, her camcorder focusing on Sylvester, "So... food for thought?"

Silva watched herself, younger and with so much more innocence, more hope, than she had now. The camcorder in her gloved hands was running hot, the flashing sunset-red indicating a coming end, but she could care less, holding onto the memory in her hands for as long as she could.

Sylvester chewed her inner cheek and said, "Besides two nosy ones, I'd say it was... nice?"

Elsa's mock offended gasp was as exaggerated as the younger hermana's mannerisms had always been, "Just 'nice'? This is a memorial moment for the both of us. It is evidence for Persephone to watch and rewatch for years to come."

Elsa placed the camcorder on the coffee table, and sat down next to Sylvester on the couch, a big grin spread out, pearly teeth shown. She grabs a hold of Sylvester's laced gloved hands, despite the latter's exasperation over the former's words.

"Wasn't it you who emphasized the importance of this? To immortalize ourselves through memories our family can visit decades after we're gone? Whether it be through ink, our voices or our image? You have to agree that this is quite a viable way to do that," Elsa assures Sylvester, who's doubt dissipated the longer she thought.

The camcorder began to buffer, the orange-red blinking faster, but Silva continued to watch, wanting to savoir this for as long as she could.

Sylvester's grey eyes looked to Elsa, softly asking, "Okay. But I have to ask; are you sure?"

Elsa laughed, her dimples caught by the camcorder's lens, as she says-

Nothing.

The camcorder's screen was blank, only reflecting Silva. The blinking light gone, the heat prevalent, and despite desperately pushing the power button repeatedly, Silva knew she wouldn't get those reassuring words she needed to hear. Not now. Nor ever again.

Silva's shoulders slumped, still sat down on the old wooden floor in the decrepit corpse of her home. The home she had taken care of for almost a decade. Even after her hermana's death, despite the ache for her visits. Even after Persephone's passing, though the yearning for her hija's laughter echoing in the halls hurt more and more with their absence.

And now... her residence, her home, was nothing more than a burned and decrepit husk full of dust and debris. All the memories that mattered, all the memories she held close to her, the journals, the photos, the shrines they rested under, were all tattered and ripped and frayed and singed and gone. Just gone.

And now... with exception to Silva's own visage of Elsa... the last thing of her hermana that she could have shown to her familia, could no longer function. The Collapse had reduced the resources required to charge such a small device to ash. Even if something survived, the camcorder was aged, and had some bugs.

Silva flipped the lid screen closed, clutching the little camcorder in her gloved hands, pushing it against her chest as she let out a shaky breath. The foliage that claimed her house rustled as a breeze swept past.

She shook where she sat, holding onto the pain, the knowledge that change has come and another chance away from her before she could appreciate it.

The wood creaked, and Silva didn't want to look at her amor's beautiful face, didn't want to shoulder her with more of her own pain and grief. But a dainty hand cupped her face, and Silva couldn't resist, relenting to her beloved's request.

Her tearful grey eyes connected with the warm green of Faith's. Her beloved, her esposa, her amor. Her Faith.

I am hers. And she is mine. As we both vowed.

And Silva wouldn't hide herself away from her. Couldn't. Even if she tried. How could she? They both knew the best and worst of each other. Intimately.

There was no judgement pitting them against one another anymore. Like now, there was only understanding. The grief for a present that they could no longer return to.

Silva did not resist the tears that fell across her cheeks. Nor did she push away Faith when she wrapped her arms around her. An embrace that held a strength that others underestimated about her. Both possessive and a comfort. All to tell Silva, I'm here.

Silva felt two more pairs of arms hold around her. The first was of her inventive Azriel, her grip unyielding as she buried herself into Silva's shoulder, just like she had done when she found her at age nine.

And the second came from her youngest. Her Mercy, clutching onto her with small hands, light-brown hair nuzzling into her body, perhaps not quite knowing why her madre was sad now that they were out of the bunker, but doing her best to lighten the load with her presence.

Silva placed down the old camcorder, and did her best to compensate in the embrace by wrapping her arms around her Faith and precious hijas. Her familia.

The grief was ever present, but this time, Silva would not be lost to it.

[A/n] I lied, the fluff was merely a front, there's only angst here. Well, mostly at least. Set before Old Dusk (the New Dawn WIP), with only a camcorder showing pre-Silva's Hope stuff. They probably only recently left Silva's bunker and well, Silva's obviously gonna be depressed about the state of everything. At least she has her family to keep her grounded? Also I haven't written in a while, so if it was repetitive or tone death, my bad, I've been trying to get my motivation back. Anywho, hope you enjoyed this lovely (and angsty) oneshot, and see y'all in the next one!

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

comparing elia martell to princess diana is kinda insane

cause the real princess diana of westeros was rhaegar

[pardonmydelays]

also i need to stop being mentally insane in the tags cause my friends think i only listen to twenty one pilots because tyler joseph is hot

[breeberrypies]

AO3 | ART | INSTA

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

meet the artist ✩

🍓 ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

me (real)