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our-blood-is-our-ink · 1 year

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27 with Agatha and whoever you want?

Thank you for sending this in, dear anon! I enjoyed writing for this prompt, it gave me the opportunity to write for an idea that's been bouncing around my head for months now.

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"It aches, so deeply. I ache, so deeply. And when I'm with you, I don't. I feel whole. Complete." You fidget with your hands as you admit, "I feel your absence in everything that I do alone, in every place I go without you. I always have, ever since we met."

Agatha looks away from your eyes, as if it's painful to see how earnest and truthful you're being.

"I'm not good for you, buttercup." Her tone is flat, which means she's desperately trying to hide behind the mask that always seemed to be so flimsy when it's just the two of you. "I've changed. You've been gone for a long time."

"That wasn't my fault."

Agatha closes her eyes for a brief moment as she lets out a long breath. "I never said it was."

"Then why are punishing me for something I couldn't help? I never wanted to leave. I didn't get a choice when-"

"I know." A crack, finally. A weakness.

"Is that what this is about? Did you think that she sent me away from you for my own good?"

"Yes." Suddenly Agatha's eyes are boring into the depths of your soul, blue fire alight from within. "Why else would she have done that? She approved of us being together, goddess knows it's about the only thing she approved of when it came to me, and she didn't-" She breaks off, cuts herself short. "She didn't send you away until she realized I had been practicing dark magic." Agatha's voice is small, and in a single instant she seems to have shrunk, curling in on herself as if making herself smaller would protect her from things that have long since came to pass.

"She didn't just snap her fingers, Agatha." You say. "She made sure to go into excruciating detail about her reasoning behind her decision. How it's my fault, because I was supposed to encourage you to be a better person, to shun what came so naturally to you it was like denying you air when you tried to avoid it. How in actively giving you a safe space to find someone to love you, even if you practiced and became versed in the unthinkable, I condemned us both." You shake your head, a small, hysterical laugh bubbling up. "She knew then. She knew she was going to try to kill you. And she tried to lay the blame at my feet, telling me if I hadn't changed your perspective on that of which was forbidden, she'd never had to take such drastic measures."

"It doesn't change anything." Agatha insists.

"Of course it does." You snap. "Don't tell me you're allowing your long dead mother to manipula-"

"It's not manipulation when it was the truth!" Agatha's voice rings in the sudden silence. "Mother was right. I can't possibly be good, not when my magic finds it's call in such twisted vileness. You think you know, but you don't. We were young, hopeful and idealistic, but above all else, exceedingly stupid." The last word is spat out, disgust dripping from it. "I have killed more people than the years that have passed for you. I have harmed innocents and sown discord and ruin. You don't get to tell me that I can be good when I've long since fulfilled Mother's prophecy about me." Agatha then holds up long, black stained fingers.

"Fine, then." You say. "You're bad. Congratulations, you have as much of a moral back bone as a chocolate eclair. Guess what, dumbass? That still isn't a good enough reason for me to walk away from you."

Agatha opens her mouth, then shuts it, before opening it again.

"I'm walking away from you." She says, stumbling over the words.

"No, you're not." You sigh. "Agatha, admit it. You can't help but want me to stay, but you're so fucked up, you don't think you deserve anything good. But you can't make a decision for me."

Agatha's eyes are suddenly like steel. "Of course I can. I'm telling you, I don't want to have anything further to do with you."

You can tell she wants it to hurt, and it does, but the fact she hasn't just teleported away betrays her. That and-

"Then why did you fuck me the night I returned?"

Agatha colors.

"A moment of weakness and poor judgment."

You smirk. "Oh, yes. Because you and I both know how deeply you regret having mind blowing sex."

"I-" Agatha looks away, swallowing. "That's not fair."

"You're not being fair." You step closer to her, gently reaching out for her arms. "Agatha," you say softly. "I love you. It's that simple. And you can turn me away, you can never see me again, but that won't change how I feel about you. The only thing your denying us is going to cause is pain, for both sides."

And suddenly, her head thunks down onto your shoulder, her hands coming up to clutch at your shirt material.

"It's not fair." She whispers. "I'm trying to protect you."

"Can't you see?" You beg. "You don't have to push me away to protect me. All I want is for you to allow yourself to love me back."

Her hands tighten and her shoulders shake, and you know she's fighting back tears if she hasn't already lost to them.

"I do love you." Her voice is wet, burdened. "That's why I can't-"

"You can."

Silence follows your declaration.

"Please, Agatha. I don't think-" Your voice breaks. "I don't think I can survive without you anymore."

There's more silence, until-

"If I ever hurt you, in any way, I need you to be able to protect yourself from me."

You open your mouth to protest, but then shut it, thinking about what Agatha is offering.

You hesitate.

"Perhaps," you start. "It would better if we simply agreed to essentially start over. Relearn one another."

Agatha pulls away, and it's then your realize as cool air hits the wet patch on your shoulder that she had been silently crying the entire time she had her head buried against you, though there's no trace of tears anywhere on her face.

"I need you to promise me you'll learn how to protect yourself and demonstrate your willingness to first." She replies firmly.

"From you."

"Yes." She pauses. "I'm dangerous, angel. It's just a fact. My greatest fear is losing control of myself and harming you. I need the reassurance that you won't let me if I try."

"Oh."

When she puts it like that...

"I suppose I could agree to that."

Her entire body sags with relief.

"Thank you." She roughly whispers, before giving into what you both desire, yanking you by your shirt, pulling you into a searing kiss, sealing your agreement.

"I love you." She says against your lips.

"And I, you." You reply, before kissing her once more.

#sky's stolen ask games #sky's asks #sky's anons #sky's inbox #sky's writing #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #c: agatha #sky answers #sky replies #angst #i think #uh maybe hurt/comfort?#oh also #trigger warning: Evanora Harkness #(yes Evanora you do get your own warning pipe down)#i hope you enjoy it anon!#sky's blurbs #sky writes

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astheskyisblue · 2 years

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Chapter One: Brielle's P.O.V.

Author's note: Hi! I'm Sky! This is the first chapter of my W.I.P. Of Sunflowers and Rose Thorns (working title) If you see this, maybe reblog or leave a comment or a note! It would mean a lot :3

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"Now Girls, remember don't let your makeup run and listen to your teachers! That means you, Aria! I don't want to start the year off with a call home, alright?" Aunt Meredith swung around in the car. "I mean it."

"Yes, ma'am." Aria mumbled, barely looking up from her phone. She'd been texting the entire drive.

"Don't mumble. You know how I hate mumbling. Confident young women never mumble, it shows weakness." Aunt Meredith always gave us valuable advice, she was full of it.

"Yes ma'am." Aria projected, straightening up.

Aunt Meredith smiled, "Good. Now, have a great first day at school! You're going to be high schoolers next year, I can't believe how fast you two are growing up."

I smiled and hugged her before getting out. "We will, I love you Aunt Mer! See you after school!"

She hugged me back, patting my cheek. "My gorgeous Brielle. I could not be more proud of you."

"Aww, Aunt Mer! You're going to make me cry!"

"Don't. You'll mess up your makeup."

I nodded, "Yes, auntie." I looked to the light and blinked the tears back.

"Do you have your lunch?"

I patted the back of my bag, "Yep! Securely attached! I think I hear the bell! I love you, Auntie." I waved and started sprinting off.

"Brielle! Wait for your sister!"

Aria got out of the car and I took it all in. The amount of students at my middle school never ceased to amaze me. It seemed to get bigger every year. So many people. So many new friends to make!

I couldn't wait until highschool! It was supposed to be even bigger. How many friends could I make there?

Ariel, my cousin, had started high school that day and I made a vow that I would ask her all about it on the way home.

"Aren't you excited?!" I squealed to Aria, who barely looked up from her phone. "We're eighth graders, Aria! The whole school is ours!"

Aria slid her phone into the side pocket of her black leather backpack and started walking faster. "Let's go get our schedules."

"Alright!" I chirped, "I'm so so so excited! Think of all the amazing things we can do this year! All the new things we get to learn!"

Aria yawned. "Brielle, please. You're shouting. It's nine in the morning. Most people don't run off liquid sunshine like you do." She bumped me with her shoulder.

"Sorry." I lowered my voice. I often didn't realize how loud I was until someone pointed it out. Then I noticed all of the eyes I'd drawn to us returning to their conversations.

"It's alright." She grabbed my hand. "But come on, the schedules should be in the office."

"Ellie!" John called out to me.

I beamed and shot my hand out to wave at him. "John! It's so good to see you!" I dropped Aria's hand and ran to hug him. He smelled like Old Spice and soap. John had blonde hair, a few shades darker than my golden and green eyes, a constantly glimmering emerald, so full of life.

That day, he was wearing a grey shirt and jeans. The shirt said 'Go Lions!' With a decal of a lion roaring printed on it. School pride, even on the first day. His passion was why I loved him. Hanging around his neck was a black cross necklace that he almost never took off.

"How are you? I haven't seen you since Bible camp!" The past few summers, I had gone with him for a two week religious retreat at the end of the July. Every Sunday I went with him and his parents to church as well as volunteering at least one Wednesday a month at the church's youth group. I loved those kids and they seemed to love me, except when I couldn't give them candy of course.

"I'm good, I've been really busy. Football camp, the food pantry, back to school shopping. I'm sorry that we haven't been able to call much."

"Oh! No, it's okay! I've been busy too. Cheer camp, pageants, I have one this weekend actually if you want to come. Plus, I could've seen you if I'd gone to church but Aunt Flow had other plans for me." God, did I really say that? "Anyways, I'm rambling. I do that a lot…"

John shook his head. "It's alright. I missed you, though."

I blushed, looking at the ground. "I missed you too."

Aria cleared her throat, breaking through the buzzing excitement the air around us seemed to be filled with. I had almost forgotten that she'd been there. John made me feel like I was in a world all our own. "Let's go get our schedules."

Before Aria could corral me away, John asked me, "Oh one more thing! My mom's been asking about you. Can you come over after school tonight, maybe stay for dinner?"

"Sure! Let me just check with my aunt!"

"Bye, John." Aria called, walking away without a response.

Reluctantly I followed her. "Bye John! I'll see you later!"

The day went on as any usual school day, catching up with friends, meeting my new teachers. The only difference was that I didn't have cheer. Cheer tryouts wouldn't be for another week or two. The school wanted everyone to adjust to their schedule before adding extracurriculars. Some of the eighth graders, including myself had been picked to tryout for cheer captain the day before the regular tryouts. So, even though I wasn't excited to have a break from cheer, it gave me an extra week to practice the routine Coach Reynolds taught us at cheer camp.

I was pretty much guaranteed a spot on the team but I was still nervous. Everyone else was incredibly talented and beautiful, even if I had made the school's cheer team the past two years and had been a cheerleader for a total of eight years. Cheerleading was my life. The only thing I loved more was my family, of course. I would be nowhere without them. Aria and Ariel had been by my side since day one.

After school, I got into Mrs. Kipp's car. "Hello, Mrs. Kipp! It's nice to see you!"

She smiled at me from the rear view mirror, "Hello, dear. It's nice to see you too. How was school?"

"School was great ma'am! All of my teachers seem really nice!"

"I'm glad to hear that. What about your day, Johnathan?"

John shrugged. "It was fine."

"Do you two have any classes together?"

"We have two! Health and Geometry." I answered, John was staring out the window. Was he okay? I didn't want to embarrass him in front of his mother but I made a mental note to ask him about it as soon as we were alone.

The ride to his house was silent except for the Christian radio Mrs. Kipp played. It was comforting in a way, but also stirred a buzzing like bees in my chest, questions stirring around right under the surface that I feared I would never have the answers to. So, I ignored them. If I smiled hard enough, they would go away on their own.

Mrs. Kipp parked in the driveway of the Kipp's townhouse, "Well I'll leave you two to it! I have to make dinner before Evan comes home." The way that she said Evan was unique. It was filled with happiness and excitement and love that I'd never seen in such a long relationship. I longed to feel that way about someone one day, or perhaps we'd both feel that way. Perhaps, if I was really lucky it would be with John.

The thought of someone smiling every time they said my name was nice but when I thought about John doing it it made me absolutely giddy. He was so handsome and sweet and smart. He loved his family and God and he loved me. I was so glad we were friends, but maybe we could be something more.

The past two years would've been completely different to him. He had changed my life for the better. I couldn't imagine life without him, I didn't want to. I'd ruin things if I let myself feel anything more for him.

John motioned with his head for me to follow him down to the basement, where his room was and so I did.

He sat on his bed, wiping his hands on his cargo shorts. "Do you-" his voice cracked and he coughed and started over, "Do you want to watch a movie?"

I furrowed my brows, "You're acting off."

"What? No I'm not!" His voice cracked again.

"Yes you are." I perched on the edge of the bed. "Come on John, it's me. Don't you think I know you better than that? We're the best of friends! Two peas in a pod! Compadres!"

He cracked a smile but it wasn't as bright as his usual. "Right. Friends." He sat on his hands, still not looking at me.

"Do you not… Do you not want to be friends anymore?" Tears welled in my eyes, as I cocked my head to the side.

"No! Ellie, I swear it's not that. I swear to God."

I nodded, "Then what is it?" I hugged my knees to my chest, settling in beside him.

"I like you."

I laughed a little. How silly. "I like you too! We're friends! Of course I like you!"

"No, Ellie. Not like that."

"Then how?" I was met with silence, like he was searching for the right words.

"Can I show you?"

I nodded, "Sure!"

He took my head in his hands. "What are you-" I couldn't get out the words before his lips were on mine. The kiss was over as quickly as it started, not enough time for me to kiss back.

"Sorry."

My face felt hot, and I was grinning as wide as my face could stretch. "That was my first kiss."

"Oh Ellie I'm so-"

"Do it again."

"What?" He smiled, his shoulders relaxing.

"Kiss me again. Please. I really liked it."

He leaned in, this kiss was slow and passionate. Butterflies didn't flutter in my stomach, but my heart soared. This time, I kissed back.

"I'm glad you were my first kiss."

"I'm glad you were mine too."

We smiled at each other, just basking in the excitement of the moment.

"So, what are we?"

"Depends." He sat up taller, becoming the confident young man I knew him as. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

"Yes!" I squealed, and his smile went wider.

"You're adorable."

I giggled, "thank you."

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and I shuddered. "Are you cold?"

"A little. Do you want to… maybe… watch a movie and cuddle?"

He handed me the remote, "Pick whatever you want, princess."

"Princess?" The world made the world seem even brighter.

"Do you like it?"

"I do."

"Well, as long as we're dating, you're my princess."

I smiled, "Very well then, my prince." We kissed again and I snuggled in his arms. I pulled his soft blue blanket around us before picking a movie.

Little did I know, that was the happiest that I would ever be.

#writeblr #my writing #sky's writing #Brielle Summers #fluff #original work #original writing

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high-ct5555 · 12 hours

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Thus Always to Tyrants: Chapter 1 - Gone Too Soon

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foone · 2 months

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We keep finding space stations, and we don't know why yet.

Most are in orbit around planets, but plenty more are orbiting moons, stars, the odd black hole, or just floating in deep space.

Their age varies, some are so old that just getting close enough to dock makes them shatter like glass, others are so recently constructed that the lights are still on and the reactors are still fueled. All are empty of any life or robots smarter than a roomba.

The ones orbiting planets are orbiting dead worlds, or living worlds where nothing on them is smart enough to launch a space station.

The stations in deep space are weirder. The most information came from the one by Epsilon Eridani. A massive installation, it had docking rings for hundreds of vessels, all empty. It was in remarkable shape for how old it was (from the unrepaired micrometeorite impacts, we estimate it has been abandoned for about 3000 years), so we were able to access a lot of information from its main computer. We found the coordinates of several home planets, and visited them all. All were dead, empty, or in one case, simply missing. The star was still there, the other uninhabitable planets mentioned in the databanks were there, but their homeworld? Gone. No debris or expanding gas cloud, it's just missing.

And that's the thing: if we found space stations along with abandoned ruins of ground-based installations, that'd make sense. If we met dozens of living races, amongst a few empty satellites of long dead races, that'd also be expected. But this is all the evidence we're not alone in the universe we've found.

We've sent probes to over half the stars in this galaxy and visited hundreds in crewed spacecraft, but the empty space stations are the only evidence of alien life. Every planet is either a sterile husk, a gas giant, or a vibrant living world with nothing smarter than a giraffe living on it. Oh, there's strange life forms of every kind! But none of them seem sapient, certainly not sapient enough to build a space station.

Where is everyone? We've been asking that question since we first understood the Drake Equation and the Fermi paradox, but the question has taken on a new form as we've gone to the stars and found endless empty houses in the sky.

It's the difference between looking at an empty desert and walking through an abandoned city. In both cases, there's a silent emptiness, but in the latter case, it seems to contain a sinister element. This place is empty, but it shouldn't be. Something made it empty, and we haven't found out why yet.

We keep looking, and keep listening to the echoes of our own footsteps in the silent habitats.

#My writing #Empty houses in the sky

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stardustemotions · 9 months

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I used to think communication was the key until I realized, comprehension is. You can communicate all you want with someone but if they don't understand you, it's silent chaos.

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astheskyisblue2 · 10 months

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Chapter one- Sunflowers, The Pageant

A/n: Hi guys I hope you like this chapter! Please reblog, follow and or like if you want! Just a quick trigger warning for domestic abuse and child abuse here and throughout the story!

Aria’s P.O.V.- July before Junior year

It should be illegal to wake up early in the summer. Summers were made to sleep in, comfy in your bed, and pretend like the rest of the world didn't exist. It should be socially unacceptable for anyone to get out of bed before noon unless it is an absolute emergency.

Nothing important happened in the morning either. All the fun things happened at night. But if everyone had the same schedule, none of the fun things would happen at night because the fun thing about night was the peacefulness. The feeling that you are the only one in the world, and nothing you did mattered. Not really. You couldn't do anything under the watchful eye of Mother Moon that would fuck up your life entirely. As long as the only thing you wanted to do was sit up, in your window seat, draw and listen to rock music so loud you would probably go deaf if you listened to it at that volume during the day.

Of course, that was just an illusion. A wistful dream of a nocturnal fifteen-year-old's mind that was being deprived of actual dreams by a criminally insane aunt who thought that it was, and should be, perfectly legal and socially acceptable to wake up at five in the morning while on vacation.

Not only to wake up so early, but to wake up so early to go to a beauty pageant. A beauty pageant! Beauty pageants were outdated, archaic practices meant to put women on display as if we are cattle for men to select and slaughter.

They were created to showcase the perfect female. Perky, thin, submissive, middle class and white. Fuck that shit. Fuck feminity. It was another way the patriarchy used to keep women in the kitchen and dependent on men. Even now when women are legally allowed to work, it's still socially frowned upon to do so after having kids and more socially frowned upon to not have kids at all.

God forbid, a woman want a life outside of marrying some man, who has a lot less social pressure on him just for being born with a penis, and most of them don't even treat women right. Fun fact: Did you know that women are significantly more likely to be murdered by their husband or boyfriend than any other person in their life?

And beauty pageants on their own were a hot spot for women and girls to be sexualized and attacked. Poor Jon Benet… Poor who knows how many like her that we would never know their names. The wrong things were socially acceptable. The wrong things were glorified, and it made me want to roll back over and sleep until three in the afternoon out of protest and spite.

Unfortunately, the universe had other plans for me. My endlessly energetic and aggressively morning person of a twin sister skipped into my room. She was already dressed in a white sun dress decorated with sunflowers, a pair of wedges and an oversized straw sun hat. She was also wearing the same gold cross necklace that she wore every day. Part of me wondered if it had molded to her skin by now and that was why she never took it off.. Who even wore hats indoors? Apparently the same person who got up and dressed at, by the looks of her curls and face full of makeup, three or four in the morning with a smile on their face. I didn't even get to sleep until three or four in the morning most days! I wanted to soak up every bit of nighttime that I could. I groaned, "What do you want, Bri?"

Brielle giggled, "Well, Good morning to you too Sunshine!" She somehow pronounced the exclamation point. Everything she said was punctuated with an exclamation point. I think she'd vibrate with the excess energy if she tried to talk like a normal person. "I brought you a little something."She held out a can of Coco Chameleon,my favorite coffee. It was an iced coffee blended with a thick flavor of chocolate and cold brew. So it tasted delicious and had enough caffeine to keep me alive. I refused to drink the dirty water that was black coffee.

I'm sorry but nothing can convince me that anyone actually likes black coffee, they just get a high off of feeling superior to others because they chose coffee as their hill to die on. Out of all the injustices in the world. They. Chose. Coffee. Couldn't be me. I'd take my sweet sweet sugary bean juice any day of the week. And I did. On pageant days, I needed at least two. It made me slightly shaky but at this point my bloodstream was forty percent coffee and sugar and sixty percent actual blood. "Did I mention I love you?"

Brielle giggled, "You didn't, but I know you do. I love you too, by the way." She sat on the end of my bed and drank her green juice while I chugged my coffee like I was stranded in the desert and it was the first water I had seen in days.

After I had finished it, I sat up, groaned and stretched, with that amazing yawn that forced all the tired out of my body except for the little bit that hung around my eyes. I wiped the crusties out and sighed. "Alright, let's do this shit." Brielle tensed. "Oh come on, Brielle. Shit isn't even a bad word in the grand scheme of bad words."

"But it is a bad word and that makes it a sin. No sin is better or worse than any other sin.." She clasped her hands in her lap. So apparently cussing was as bad as murder?

"Well that's bullshit." I mumbled, rolling my eyes. Brielle gasped. "What? What'd I say?"

"If you want to live on the path of sin then fine but you sure as sugar will not drag me down that path with you. Now, Aunt Meredith wants you down in twenty minutes and if you're late we're leaving without you."

"I'm not sure that's the threat that you think it is!" I yelled after Brielle as she left the room and stormed off down the hall. I loved her but she was a handful and a half. She acted that way because of her boyfriend's family, the Kipps. Our family was religious, sure, but their family was even more so. Our family was the type that went to church every Easter, Christmas and sometimes after a particularly bad fight. We only ever prayed before meals like Thanksgiving when my grandparents were over.

The Kipps were the type of religious that practically ran the church. Mr. Kipp led the youth group. Mrs.Kipp and Mr. Kipp helped organize and run most of the fundraisers and outreach for the church. Mrs. Kipp spent several hours teaching and rehearsing with the church band. Brielle was the singer for said band and their son, John was the drummer. Fun Fact: Music is only a sin if it’s not about God. You can’t listen to secular music but you can make Christian covers of those same secular songs which would require listening to said secular songs. Just one of the many hypocrisies of Christianity. Of course, I would never say that to Brielle because she found so much joy in Christianity. Or she found something good in it because she devoted a lot of her time to it and it was different from the way that people would ironically watch a movie or wear a band tshirt. So, who was I to tell her not to believe in the things that made her see the world in brighter colors? That brought her green eyes to life?

Even if I didn’t understand it or believe someone could conditionally love me unconditionally. I knew that I loved her unconditionally and maybe that was the only thing humans were meant to understand. Maybe the only thing that really mattered was our love for other humans. I didn’t know if that was fake deep or real deep. It all sounded the same in my sleep deprived brain. I needed at least ten to function properly. More reason as to why it was sadistic to make me wake up at five in the morning when I had only managed to get about an hour.

Brielle prayed before every meal even if we didn't pray with her. She went to every service. She sang in the church band. She carried mini bibles and promotional bookmarks in her purse in case she saw someone “God told her to” give it to. Between Church, cheer, pageants and school, she barely had time to sleep and eat but it seemed to give her the type of peace I only got from coffee or music.

I knew that they wouldn't ever actually leave without me. I couldn't ever be that lucky. So, I threw my sheets off and started going through my closet to put an outfit together.

“What was that about?” I jumped. I hadn’t seen Grace in my doorway.

“Jesus Christ, Grace. You fuckin’ scared me.”

“Oh so that was what it was about.” She sat on my bed and wrapped my blanket around her shoulders.

“Yep. Which shirt should I wear?” I pulled two out of my closet.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“What?”

“They’re the same shirt.”

“Uh, no they’re not.”

“They’re both band shirts.”

“So? Band shirts are incredible.”

“Well of course you think that, all you ever wear is band shirts.”

“That’s not true.” I put one of the shirts back in the closet and pulled on my Welcome to the Black Parade one. I had two copies of this shirt because I loved it so much. Then I started brushing my hair up into a high ponytail. I didn’t feel like wearing it down, I would look too much like all the girls who were actually competing. Except, of course, most of them were taller than me. I was a very petite five-foot-two and it was the reason I would always be taken as a newborn kit when I was trying to be a fierce Lioness. The “I could kick your ass” vibe wasn’t as easily achieved and not nearly as scary when you were a pipsqueak like me.

Grace handed me her thick makeup bag. “Here.” I wish I didn’t have to wear makeup but it was one of Aunt Meredith’s ridiculous rules that I didn’t give enough of a shit about to fight her on. Especially not on pageant days. She was a special kind of intense on pageant days, at least the season was almost over. This pageant would be our last one for the year, and it was only one day instead of the usual full weekend.

There were rules that I pushed back on. Out of the three of us, I was the most outwardly rebellious child. I was the only one that was begrudgingly allowed not to compete in pageants. That was because, as the clever and mischievous child I was before I became the clever and mischievous teenager I am, I had sabotaged the pageants. It never seemed to be on purpose. A forgotten lyric in the talent portion, or going shy during interviews, or putting my dress on backwards or unzipping it for the actual beauty portion of the beauty pageant. Which by the name, should be the entire thing. In fact, in a beauty pageant in its original form, that was all it was. The talent and interview portion were added in a performative action to make beauty pageants more feminist, before feminism was a colloquial term.

I know that I just said I should let people enjoy things even if I didn’t completely understand them but there was a huge difference between religion and beauty pageants, even if I believed the message behind them for women was pretty much the same and spoke to bigger problems in society that I as a fifteen-year-old girl who couldn’t even vote yet was powerless to change. I didn’t have a lot of control over anything so I rebelled and listened to loud and angry music. Mostly of men and the occasional woman, like Halestorm, screaming about how fucked up the world was because it made me feel a little less voiceless even though it didn’t really make an impact on anything except my insides but anything that made me not want to peel my skin apart made an impact on me and maybe that was all I could do. Maybe the only person I would ever make a difference on was me. Maybe my legacy would die with me, and maybe that was okay. Besides, beauty pageants were keeping me from sleeping and religion wasn’t, so I knew which one I considered to be public enemy number one.

I dabbed a bit of concealer on the deep purple rings that underlined my tired emerald green eyes and applied a bit of mascara. The mascara really made my eyes pop. I hated myself for saying that because it meant that one of Aunt Meredith’s opinions held even the tiniest bit of weight. So, out of spite, I zipped Grace’s makeup bag back up and handed it back to her without applying lip gloss. “Thanks.” I pulled on my thrifted leather jacket that was starting to peel from old age and overuse, I wore it everyday no matter the weather. It had gotten to a point where I didn’t feel like myself unless I was wearing it. So I guess I understood Brielle’s obsession with her necklace at least on that level.

“Grace! Aria! Get your butts down here!” Aunt Meredith screeched.

“Coming!” I groaned and tied my black converse, my Doc Martins hadn’t come in the mail yet and it was too hot to wear them and a leather jacket in the middle of the summer anyway. Wearing a leather jacket was pushing it but there was no way I was going out without my baby.

“I swear that’s like your emotional support blankie.”

“Shut up.” I bumped Grace with my shoulder and slung my bulging backpack over my shoulder.

Aunt Meredith fussed with Brielle once they were in clear view. “Brielle darling, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you Auntie.”

“But there’s something off.” She tapped a finger on her lips and inspected Brielle’s outfit. “It’s the hat!” She plucked it off her head with both hands. I’m not kidding. She had to use both hands.. It was that big. “There, that looks a lot better. You have to keep your head clear for when you leave wearing a crown.” There was no point in her saying that other than to make Grace feel bad. Brielle probably wouldn’t even be wearing that same outfit by the time we left that night. There were a lot of outfit changes. That was kind of their main shtick. Aunt Meredith knew this. She had been taking me and Brielle to pageants since we were three and dragging Grace to them even longer. There was a time, now only remembered through photographs, where Grace was her star, but somewhere along the line, I don’t remember when Grace started having to battle to even be seen. “You look beautiful, Brielle. A future Miss America.”

Brielle blushed and looked down at her feet. At least she had the common sense to be slightly ashamed. “Thank you, Auntie.”

“How do I look, mother?” Grace asked, apparently feeling brave that day. She was wearing a red off-the-shoulder shirt, dark blue jeans with a brown belt and matching brown boots. Her hair was curled too. I think that she tried to copy the way Brielle wore her hair but it didn’t go as planned. Most of the curls had come undone, but it worked. Her light chestnut brown hair was straight with a gentle wave to the ends. Her makeup was gentle, at least for her. I could still see the light dust of freckles across her cheeks, and instead of a striking lipstick, she was wearing a thick layer of gloss. She had clearly put a lot of effort into her outfit and I thought that she looked beautiful.

Aunt Meredith just ignored her, as she usually did. “What time do we have to leave?”

Grace must’ve been feeling really brave that day because she repeated herself, “How do I look, mother?”

“You’re so rude. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of a conversation?”

“Okay.” She let out a sigh of defeat.

“You look beautiful.” I said, sincerely.

She rolled her eyes, “I wasn’t asking you.”

“I know.” I didn’t fire something back because I could see the hurt in her eyes. She didn’t need me mocking her for it.

“We need to load up the car anyway. Come on.” And by we, she meant me. Why couldn’t she and Brielle have done it? They were down here for twenty minutes before we came down. Brielle had given me a Coco Chameleon so they had gone to the store already too! We weren’t allowed to keep Coco Chameleon in the house in case it spilled and poisoned their precious green juice. But no, it had to be me. Every. Single. Time. I sighed and went to pick up the things by the door. A black metal box filled with hair and makeup supplies, several separate outfit bags, and Brielle’s baton.

“Here, you need help?” Grace asked but she was already picking up the bags. Aunt Meredith and Bri had already gone out to the car.

As the sun rose, we drove through the sleeping city to the pageant.

The first portion of the pageant that day was Talent. “Can someone help me zip my dress?” Grace asked, struggling to push her hands to the zipper of her red floor-length gown.

“Relax, come here.” I held my hands out and she turned around, sucking in as I zipped it up.

The dressing room, Aunt Meredith had paid extra to make sure we had a private one, was flooded with generic patriot music. Brielle flung herself across the floor, she was a flash of red, white and blue. She jumped and contorted herself while Aunt Meredith yelled out commands and the occasional compliment.

Grace lined her lips with red and twisted her hair into a braid. I handed her her belt box. A belt box was a small oddly shaped box that molded to her mouth and muffled her voice as she warmed up. Fifteen minutes later, Grace was called to the stage. On our way out of the dressing room, Aunt Meredith decided to share some of her oh so desirable wisdom, “Shoot for second place!” I’d say that she was just a bitch who had never mentally made it out of her teenage years but Grace and I were both still in our teenage years and we would never act like that. So, there really was no excuse for that. I wanted to punch her in the face to deliver some karma for her actions but I knew that that would only make her feel like she was the victim. So, with the little impulse control my sleep deprived brain would allow me, I put my hand on Grace’s back and led her out of the room and into the wings. As we stood there, I could feel a gentle shaking.

“Grace… Are you crying?”

“No. I just don’t get why Brielle is some great saint. I mean, she’s not even that pretty.”

“Oookay…”

“I didn’t mean you.”

“Brielle and I literally have the same face.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a bitch.”

“And Brielle is?”

“No…. Why do you always have to take her side?”

“I’m not taking her side.”

It became more obvious that Grace was in fact crying. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired. So, so tired.” I would’ve offered to find her some coffee but I had a feeling it wasn’t the type of tired that coffee could fix.

She turned around and I hugged her, gently stroking her hair. “I’ll never be good enough for her, will I?”

I sighed and kept stroking her hair, “No. No hon, you probably won’t be.” Grace started crying harder into my chest. Yikes, I could’ve said that a lot more gently but it was the truth.

“I just want to be what she wants. She’s my mother… why can’t I just be good enough for her?”

“Because she’s a narcissistic bitch, and that’s not your fault. You can’t control her and… you can’t change that. But you know what you can do?”

“What?” Grace sniffled.

“You can wipe your tears, fix your posture, go out there and prove her wrong. Do it for yourself, okay?”

Grace wiped her eyes, “Okay. I’ll do it for us.”

I smiled and let her go. “I know you will.”

And she did, I knew she’d won even before the award ceremony. I waited in the audience next to Aunt Meredith. She was wearing an excessively flashy outfit. A bright red dress, rhinestone dangle earrings that looked like mini chandeliers and a thick black and white pearl necklace. All she needed was a thick white coat and she would look like Cruella Deville, except Cruella Deville was less evil.

“Thank you all for coming to DalesVille’s Annual Sweethearts Pageant. We have a lot of beautiful and talented young ladies here today and it was so hard to pick the winner. We wish we could give all of you a crown! But unfortunately, there can only be one winner per age category. Now let’s get on to the awards.” Grace and Brielle’s age category was the last.

“Second Runner-up is Cornelia Nottingham.” I held my breath, “First runner-up is Brielle Summers.” I let it go, smiling a justly smug smile. “And finally, Miss Teen Sweetheart is… Grace Roberts!”

I jumped up and screamed. Aunt Meredith grabbed me by the wrist so hard I thought she was going to crush it. “Sit down and act like a lady!” She hissed at me through gritted teeth and dragged me down to my seat.

When she let go, there were red marks from her nails. “Jesus Christ…” My face burned with the heat of her anger in a way that told me she would’ve slapped me had we been alone. Little did she know, I would’ve slapped her back.

Grace ran off the stage and hugged me. She had this expression of hope on her face that I hadn’t seen since we were kids. The sparkling crown on her head was reflected by the light in her eyes. “Did you see that? I did it!”

“You did! Hell yeah you did! I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m going to check with the judges. There has to be some sort of mistake. My little Brielle has never lost a pageant to anyone.” This, of course, was a lie. But whatever helped her sleep at night. Aunt Meredith stormed off.

“Ignore her. These judges actually had a brain in their heads. You deserved to win, Grace. That was the best I've ever seen you perform.”

“You really mean that?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

“Pinky Promise?”

I laughed, “You’re such a child.” But I held out my pinky to her anyway.

Brielle with her smaller crown, ran past our aisle and into the arms of her beloved John. Of course John was here. He picked her up and swung her around, then they kissed. They were that annoying, overly romantic couple.

“I wonder if they know they aren’t actually in a cheesy romance movie.”

Grace shrugged, “You know, it would usually bother me but I’m in too good of a mood for their dramatics to ruin it. I’m just glad she’s happy. John’s a really good guy.”

John handed Brielle a blue bouquet of sunflowers and some blue flowers. I didn’t know what type but I guess that didn’t matter. “Yeah, I guess he is.” They’d been dating for years and Brielle still blushed every time he did something romantic for her.

Aunt Meredith sashayed back over to us, her nose up in the air. “Don’t go getting cocky over your win. It was only by half a point and I’m sure that was a calculation error. You had lipstick on your teeth.”

“No, no you didn’t.” I said, thoroughly rolling my eyes at Aunt Meredith.

“Well, maybe we should get your eyes checked.”

“They’re fine. Trust me.”

Aunt Meredith kept her teeth clenched. “Listen, young lady. It is one thing to not have even an ounce of taste but it is another thing entirely to blatantly disrespect me.”

“Oh, like you blatantly disrespect Grace? All. The. Fucking. Time?”

“It’s not like that.”

“No, you’re right. It isn’t the same thing because you’re the mother. You’re supposed to be above all this but instead you screw her over time and again.”

“Aria.” Grace put a hand on my arm but I shrugged it off.

“No, no I’m sorry but why the fuck do you think it’s okay? Do you not see the effect you have on Grace? On Brielle even? Why do you feel the need to bully teenage girls? Is it because you’re so deeply insecure that you can’t see people prettier than you without hating them for being that way? Maybe it’s not that they’re pretty at all, even though they’re fucking beautiful, maybe it’s that they’re actual human beings while you are proof that the devil exists.” I was met with a slap across the face so hard I blacked out for a second.

“Do not disrespect me, you ungrateful brat! I didn’t have to take you and your sister in but I did. And I can throw you out!” Everyone left at the pageant was staring at us by then. Brielle and John had snuck out. Good, I didn’t want her to hear the way Aunt Meredith spoke about us. She still had faith in the world, and the goodness of people and I’d be damned if I let someone take that away. I held my cheek, glaring at her. That was going to leave a bruise. Aunt Meredith flushed, looking at all the onlookers. “Carry on.” She dragged me out by my arm and Grace followed along.

The car ride was silent, Aunt Meredith didn’t even turn the radio on. So, I popped my headphones in and played Second Chance by Shinedown on loop as I watched the sun go to sleep. It was my favorite song for when I needed to be somewhere else for a while. It was the best song to daydream about running away to and nothing could change my mind.

Brielle texted Aunt Meredith to say that she was going to the church lock-in. It was a youth group only event. Who wanted to spend the night in an old creepy church anyway? It was probably haunted. I didn’t see how it couldn’t be. There were two places on this earth that were definitely haunted: Hospitals and Church. Too much life went on in those places for them not to be. As much as I loved the Paranormal, I had no desire to actually see a ghost.

Grace was still beaming by the time that we pulled into the driveway. She ran inside with her award. “Dad! Dad! Guess what?”

Uncle Chris turned from the stove to his daughter. Bentley, our pitbull, was circling his feet in search of scraps. “What, Pumpkin?”

“I won! I won!”

Uncle Chris hugged her, kissing the side of her head. His eyes had lit up in the same way hers did. For the most part, Grace took after her mother physically. So it was cute to watch their similarities. “That’s wonderful, Sweetheart. Congratulations.”

“Thanks dad.”

“Do you want to do anything to celebrate?”

“Can we make cookies?”

“Absolutely not, you know the rules: No Junk Food of any kind during pageant season.” Aunt Meredith’s heels clicked across the floor as she joined us in the kitchen.

“Come on, Mer. It’s just a few cookies. Don’t you want to celebrate our daughter?”

Aunt Meredith scoffed, “ Of course I-don’t undermine me in front of the children, Christopher. The answer is no.” She turned to Grace, “We can’t have you gaining any more weight. Then you won’t fit into your dress.”

“Don’t talk to our daughter like that, Meredith. Her weight is fine. She’s fifteen! She deserves to be a kid while she still is one.”

It was like a shift in the air, something woke up in our monkey brains and we ran up the stairs, Bentley followed at our heels.

#writing #queer writers #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writeblr #writing community #Sky's writing

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feral-ballad · 4 months

Text

Alejandra Pizarnik, tr. by Yvette Siegert, from The Most Foreign Country; “Sky”

[Text ID: “I don’t know whether to think about the sky or you”]

#alejandra pizarnik #love #sky #longing #excerpts #writings #literature #poetry #fragments #selections #words #quotes #poetry collection #typography #poetry in translation

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sky-scribbles · 9 months

Text

Shepard holds a funeral for her clone.

The paperwork is almost harder than the ceremony. Turns out it’s tricky to register the death of someone whose birth - creation? Decanting-from-vat? - was never recorded to begin with. Then there’s some kind of question about whether the clone needs to be retroactively registered as a Council space citizen to have her death put on the official record, and if so, whether she counts as a member of the Systems Alliance or as an ‘undocumented alien’. Which is pretty fucking ironic, considering how utterly she’d have loathed having the word alien attached to her.

And once Shepard’s ground her teeth through a dozen calls and bludgeoned through the first layer of formwork - a death certificate still needs a name.

‘I have to put something,’ she says. She’s aware that her voice is ragged, and that Kaidan is watching her as he brews her fourth coffee of the evening with concern heavy on his face. She must look barely alive, up near midnight in a kitchen that was Anderson’s and still feels nothing like hers, hair falling forward, eyes shadowed grey. Datapads and empty mugs strewn around her. Fine. She’s felt barely alive ever since she woke up in a Cerberus lab.

‘You could choose one for her,’ Kaidan says gently. A lot of people speak to her gently, these days.

‘She’d hate that. A name makes you individual. She didn’t want to be an individual; she wanted to be me.’

The cofee machine whirrs softly, sounding louder than it is in the open space of the apartment. It still doesn’t feel right, all this space for one person. Someone could drown in this much space.

‘She didn’t want to be you, though. Not really.’ Kaidan pours out the coffee, his eyes only leaving her face for a moment. ‘What she wanted was to be the symbol. The face on the vids.’

He carries the mug over and sets it down beside her hand. Shepard grips it tight. The unfinished form blinks up at her from the datapad screen, and she looks away.

‘I’m not asking this because I don’t support you doing it, or to judge you for it, or anything,’ Kaidan says, after a moment. ‘I just want to understand. Can you tell me why this is so important to you? I mean - I get that you were trying to save her, and she... she let go. But...’

He hesitates, and in his silence Shepard hears, she tried to kill you. She tried to take you away from me, and everyone who cares about you, for a second time - because she was jealous.

Shepard sips her coffee. It hasn’t had time to cool down, and her lips smart. She ignores it. She thinks.

‘What you said about... being the symbol,’ she says at last. ‘I get why she wanted it, or thought she did. I understand feeling that Commander Shepard is someone bigger than you are.’

Kaidan breathes out slowly, and takes a seat beside her.

‘I get feeling that you’re so small, so nothing, next to everyone’s idea of what Commander Shepard is. And when I fall short -’ She sees him prepare to protest, and cuts across him. ‘I do, I do all the time - I feel like it’d be easier if I were the symbol. Not...’ She waves a hand, indicating all the sleep-starved mess of her. ‘This. I don’t even know when what would Shepard do and what will I do stopped feeling like the same question.’

She lets her hand fall back onto the table. Kaidan takes it and holds it tight.

‘And I think of her, the clone, waking up in some Cerberus med bay. Confused. And Brooks - Brooks was there, feeding her things to believe, manipulating her, turning her into the symbol she wanted. And I get it.’ Shepard bites her burned lip. ‘Because I woke up in a Cerberus lab. And I was scared. And they used me, and I let them.’

What she does not add is, and sometimes I don’t feel any more real than her. I don’t have any way to prove that I’m the woman who died in the wreckage of her broken ship. They wiped away that woman’s scars. There could be all kinds of tech in my head, feeding me a lie, telling me I’m real.

She swallows. Her throat feels raw. ‘And now the clone’s dead, and no one cares. We’re planning a fucking party. If I don’t push for a funeral, she’ll just go unregistered and undocumented and everyone will keep joking about how crazy this whole mess has been, how I fell through a fish tank and a mad clone tried to steal my life, and it’d be like she never existed at all. I don’t have to fill in these forms. I could take the easy road and let her be a ghost. But I can’t do that, Kaidan. I can’t.’

He looks at her, his eyes steady and patient and full of worry. Then he slips an arm over her shoulder and pulls her in, and Shepard leans into him, needing the surety of his touch, his warmth. Anything that tells her she’s something more than a force piloting a set of N7 armour.

Kaidan presses a slow kiss to the top of her head. He holds her until she stops feeling ready to howl. Then he sits with her and helps her fill in the forms, helps her choose a name for the clone, one that fits. When morning comes, he calls C-Sec and stays on the line until they agree to release the body to the Normandy, into the custody of the only person who could be considered the dead woman’s relative.

He doesn’t ask Shepard any more questions as to why she needs this done.

In the end, they bury her in space, as Shepard would a crewmate. And no one has stories to tell of what she meant to them. They have nothing to say about the achievements of her angry little life. But they wear their dress blues, and speak softly, and they turn the lights down low.

Shepard doesn’t know if this is what her clone would have wanted. Maybe she never learned to want anything for herself at all. It doesn’t matter. A funeral doesn’t help her clone; it helps her.

They lift the casket into the airlock. EDI opens the outer door. And the casket leaps away into space in a blur of silver-grey, like the body within is hungry for the stars.

#anyway the clone is a walking tragedy and ill never be normal about it #yes this is still a cr blog. but im doing a mass effect replay and i have feelings #mass effect #femshep #shepard #kaidan alenko #shenko #sky's writing #oc: sita shepard

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