I still have unfinished poems waiting to be written.
I still have half a heart waiting to be loved.
I still have unfinished poems waiting to be written.
I still have half a heart waiting to be loved.
for the briefest second i was inspired to write, now i am inspired to smash my head against a wall
There is no time of day
the will ever
be as peaceful as
Oh, to be awake
is to hear
the owls and their philosophies;
or the whistle of the wind
passing the window.
For the night is
A different world,
a quieter world;
a safer world. Away from the
busy harshness of day.
The world of the night
is reserved only to
the artists, photographers and videographers:
to the poets and authors:
the the thinkers and the readers.
Night is reserved for:
and the hurt.
- A. Evans
Ingin kutelan saja langit biru mentah-mentah,
Agar tak kusaksikan buah senja jingga menua.
Tapi licik waktu lebih cerdik menipuku,
Hingga malam membusuk tak secuil pun senyumu kukecapi.
"I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell him how I felt. My fear survived longer than the warmth of his hand."
Just a few are looking for love
We all just want to be understood, appreciated, and discovered.
Jim Morrison (Retouched Photo)
Kya aapke Saath bhi aesa kuch hai? 👻
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Summary: Part 2 that i promised for this piece: here. Still inspired by a chaotic rp @chibi-mushroom and @animacreates are doing. This one takes place a month-ish after the last, and further dives into what trauma the foster siblings got themselves into beforehand.
Rating: K+ (for a precision f-strike on Brain’s part)
Word Count: 2,409 words
If you liked this story, please reblog!
They kept the blanket on the couch just for her. Not that she had any reliance on the purposely quiet nature of Oswald's hobby room. It was just… a good place to be, that's all. Oswald held true to his word- Ortensia really didn't bother him when he was in that room. The closest she ever got was a polite knock on the door to say that dinner was ready. He even held true on ignoring Sabrina whenever she went under the afghan blanket. Even on days like today when she sat up and simply had the blanket draped over her shoulders; he would come into the room, notice she was there with a little nod, then continue on as if she wasn't there. It was… nice. It came in handy when she decided to do her homework in the hobby room.
But she wasn't here to do her homework today. She was waiting for Oswald. Sabrina hugged the blanket as close as possible while she kicked her legs over the couch. Her face was between a scowl and upset. She and Brain had been with Ortensia and Oswald for nearly a month now- one of the longest times they'd ever stayed with a single family before. The absolute longest had been at six months. It was another nice couple, like Oswald and Ortensia, until they were expecting their first child. In the rush for the new baby, Sabrina started to cling to the caretakers. She didn't know a baby was a lot to care for. She just knew that her dependance on this one family who seemed so nice were suddenly drifting away. They didn't even bother to give her a second chance at being a good kid after she accidentally pushed their foster mother down the stairs. It was an accident. Honest. She only wanted to help arrange things for the baby too...
“One of these days I'll learn to say no to her.” Oswald grumbled as he entered the hobby room. It nearly gave Sabrina a start, having been too busy wondering just what happened to that particular foster family. “She and Ortensia. Make me talk to that rat. As if I'd ever-”
“I want to watch a Audrey Hepburn movie.”
It was almost funny watching him jump at her voice. Then again, it probably was rather surprising that she wanted to have a conversation with him- even if it was just a request to watch a movie. But there was a glint of determination in her eye. Oswald noticed it and nearly tossed his trouble out the window. This kid needed that attention at the moment.
“Alright.” he agreed. He went over to the bookshelf holding the VHS tapes as he asked, “What are you in the mood for? Funny Face? Love in the Afternoon? Charade?”
“I want to watch Sabrina.”
Oswald cocked an eyebrow as he pulled it from the shelf. “I thought you hated that one?”
“I do. A lot.” she agreed, rather prudently. “But I wanna watch it anyway.”
“Alright then.” her caretaker laughed. “If you're so sure, we'll watch Sabrina, Sabrina.”
The child gave a rather smug grin as he came back over. She was rather pleased as he turned on the TV and got the movie ready. Oswald plunked himself on the couch with a grunt. He then eased into it with a long, well needed sigh.
“Can I lay on you?”
Oswald blinked. He looked over at Sabrina to see her give him the same glare she gave her schoolwork. It was a look of deep thought. Of experimenting. Of very harsh scrutinizing.
“Sure.” he agreed. “Can't guarantee I'm any good as a pillow, though. Do you mind?”
Sabrina shook her head, then nearly fell headfirst into his lap like she immediately passed out. Oswald would have thought that was the case before she carefully moved herself to face the TV.
“Comfy?” he jokingly asked. She gave a small nod, which only got another chuckle out of him. “Can I put my hand on your head? You didn't really leave me a good spot for it.”
“Don't braid my hair.” came the rather sharp answer.
“I won't.” he laughed in agreement.
Sabrina made herself a bit more comfortable before focusing on the movie. This one really wasn't her favorite. The title character, the one who shared her name, was a girl who was enamored with a guy whose family had hired her father as their chauffeur. That Sabrina loved David (the guy) so much that when she was sent to Paris to learn how to cook, she tried to kill herself. David's much older brother, Linus, found Sabrina and stopped her before she could go through with it. When the Sabrina in the movie came back from Paris, David was attracted to her because she looked like a woman. But Linus didn't want David to fall in love with Sabrina, he had his brother arranged to marry a sugar plantation heiress so he could produce a lot of sturdy plastics in their family's name. And so, he did something that our Sabrina found quite ridiculous; he tried to make the movie Sabrina fall in love with him instead. Suffice to say, it worked on both accounts. Sabrina fell in love with Linus, and Linus fell in love with Sabrina. In the end, they were on a one-way cruise boat going to Paris, happy and in love.
If our Sabrina had her way, that movie would have gone very differently. The first change would have been when David decided he liked movie Sabrina because she looked pretty now. Instead of going along with him finally liking her, our Sabrina would have pranked him. She would have made him work for her affection after spending most of their lives pretending she didn't exist. And when Linus tried to sway her away from David? Our Sabrina would have come clean. She would have admitted that she was just messing with David. Perhaps she still loved him, maybe not. Either way, she could still fall in love with Linus, but it would have been over a mutual dislike for how dumb David was.
There were some funny lines in the movie, though. Our Sabrina couldn't deny that. One of the ones she enjoyed was coming up right about now. It was when movie Sabrina was in Paris, and her father was reading a letter he had gotten from her during breakfast.
“What about David? What'd she say about David?” the cook happily asked as she made something in the background.
“Not a word.” the father said as he went through the letter.
“That's good.” the butler nodded as he took a bite from his toast.
“No, wait a minute,” the father then said. “Here's something. 'I don't think of David very much anymore.'”
“That's good.” a maid at the kitchen table nodded.
“'Except at night.'”
“That's bad.” the butler frowned, taking another bite.
“'I decided to be sensible the other day, and tore up David's picture.'”
“That's good.” the bartender nodded as he was washing a glass at the sink.
“'Could you please airmail me some scotch tape.'”
“That's bad.” the cook dismally noted.
Our Sabrina couldn't help her little snicker. She liked the way the actors bounced off each other into perfect comedic timing. Oswald noticed it and gave a smirk of his own.
“You're a good kid.” he idly noted, giving her hair a gentle pat.
The child shrank. “No I'm not.”
“You are, and you deserve the world.”
“Stop.” the child desperately begged, even sitting up to be at his eye level. “I don't want you to talk like that. I don't want you to ever talk like that. Bad things always happen to the people that do.”
Oswald just looked at her for a moment. “Like what?” he asked, trying to play it off as a joke. But her face… It was too serious. Too… terrified.
“They get mean.” she insisted. “They say that they care, but then they decide they don't want you anymore. You try to defend your brother, and you get yelled at instead. Or… or maybe they just wanted your brother, so they're mean to you every time he's not looking. And he doesn't always know. He just says that you're just scared, and exaggerating, and… and…!”
“Sabrina,” Oswald said, interrupting her and even gently taking her by the shoulders. Even if he didn't have a strong grip on her, she still tried to struggle out of it. “Sabrina, listen to me. Ortensia and I will never do that to you. To both of you. You have my absolute word.”
The child violently shook her head. “No!” she cried before breaking free of his hold. She hid herself in a corner of the couch, blanket over her head, and refused to budge. In her desperation, she even shouted at him, “I don't exist! I'm under the blanket and I don't exist now!”
He wasn't going to lie, Oswald almost broke that one ounce of trust she had in him. But he couldn’t. Instead, he tried to relax in his seat again and tried to focus on the movie. It was hard when all he wanted to do was give that little girl a hug.
The movie now had switched back to what the heroine was during in Paris. She was in her second class where they were learning how to make souffle. The instructor was shrewd- he had something negative to say about every student’s effort. Once he told movie Sabrina that her souffle was ‘too low’, the titular girl went off to the side with an older student. This student was a character only used to justify a dress movie Sabrina would wear later, and Oswald knew that his Sabrina preferred the chemistry between these two than movie Sabrina and Linus.
“I don't know what happened.” movie Sabrina sighed as the two of them placed their souffles on the table.
“I'll tell you what happened, dear.” the older student laughed. “You forgot to turn on the oven.”
Movie Sabrina’s face went into one of disappointment as she let out a sullen, “Oh!”
“I've been watching you for a long time, mademoiselle.” the older student admitted. “Your mind has not been on the cooking. Your mind has been elsewhere. You're in love, and I would venture to one step further that you are unhappily in love.”
“Does it show?” movie Sabrina asked, casting her gaze down.
“Very clearly. A woman happily in love, she burns the souffle. A woman unhappily in love, she forgets to turn on the oven.”
Oswald took a look back at Sabrina. Even under all of the covers, you could see how tightly she had tensed up. All he could think was, ‘Oh, kid…’ and really wish he could have gotten to these two siblings sooner. He didn’t leave her while the movie still played. When it ended, he got up to rewind the tape and carefully made his way back to the shelf to put it away. Never once did his Sabrina move. He hoped she had gone to sleep instead of still being catanoic. At least he knew he had the heart for this parenting thing; people who didn’t care wouldn’t have the insatiable urge to cuddle that poor kid, kiss her forehead, and promise her the world so long as they lived. Tell her the lies you always told kids when they were sad- it would get better, the world’s brighter than this, sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you.
Would they even work on her? He had severe doubts about it after today.
“I might have dinner up here tonight,” he said out loud. It wasn’t directed toward little Sabrina, but it was a habit to communicate his intentions when he left the hobby room while she was still there. “I’ve really been meaning to work on that blasted clock all week.”
No response from the lump on the couch. He didn’t know if that was a good thing, or a bad one.
Again, resisting the urge to just hold the child and never letting go, Oswald let out a small sigh as he headed on out. He gently closed the door behind him, then started to make his way to the living room. Finding that Blaine was relaxing on the living room sofa was a small relief. He sure did look comfortable- back against the armrest, feet up on the sofa, and laptop balanced on his knees.
“Hey you,” Oswald teased, “No making scam sites until you have your own bank account. I won’t let you trace that stuff back to me.”
Like a true teenager, Blaine just slowly lulled his head over to look at his caretaker. A smirk was etched on his face in seeing Oswald there.
“I’m a renegade foster kid,” he said in delight, “I already have my own bank account. Those poor suckers think I’m 28, and Sabi’s a college student.”
“Going for a bachelor's, then?”
“Ah.” Oswald snorted. But the thought of their futures made him frown. “Blaine, I've got a question.”
“Do you still have the number of your case worker?”
“Sure do. Got it on speed dial.” There was a pause, then the boy asked in a rather defensive tone, “Why?”
To this, Oswald nervously rubbed the back of his neck. It was only now dawning on him how terrifying the request would sound to these kids. So he tried his best to lighten the situation a bit by saying, “Do you think there's a nice way to ask if I murder your previous foster parents? They've got a lot to answer for.”
Turns out, Blaine's glare was just as ice cold as Sabrina's.
“You don’t need the case worker to tell you that.” Blaine darkly informed Oswald. “I can tell you exactly who decided to gaslight Sabi in a heartbeat. Among others.”
“I hate that you know what the word is…” Oswald mumbled under his breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. Blaine cocked an eyebrow at him in response.
“You really are a good one.” he decided with a click of his tongue. He turned his attention back to his laptop before adding in a dark voice, “Don't fuck it up.”
And Oswald had no intention of doing so- not over his dead body.
DOB: 1 November 1979
Ethnicity: White - Canadian
Occupation: Writer, performance artist, actress
working on a fanfic late at night feels like a fever dream. I was awake then, but I don’t feel awake now only five hours later 😅🥰❤️❤️
I'm creating art for myself. I'm not doing this to impress other people because I'm doing this to make me happy, so it doesn't matter if it's bad. As long as it makes me happy and I'm not hurting anyone then nothing else matters.
There I put myself wrapped in unfettered feelings without any recognisable sounds except maybe for the heart-beats and the inhaled air slowly entering my otherwise uncaring lungs.
@latchmere-wavemachine connects the dots, i do the bad photoshop
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Cada vez que dices que te quieres ir. Cada vez que dices que estás cansada. Cada vez que te quieres rendir.
Tu batalla constante me pesa en los hombros. Me empuja hacia el suelo. Me desmorona.
Es tan agotador, que quiero dejarte ir a veces. Que quiero alejarme de ti. Que quiero rendirme contigo.
Pero si lo hago, vas a desaparecer para siempre.
Es agotador, pero no puedo dejarte ir.
No hasta que seas fuerte, no hasta que puedas levantarte sola. No hasta que quieras vivir.
No quiero que desaparezcas, quiero que seas feliz. Que no dependas de mi, ni de nadie.
Es un largo camino y aunque sea agotador, mientras pueda seguir levantándome, voy a seguir levantandote.
☽ Decimotercera nota.
I never find the right words to express how I feel. Do you?