Love Begins
tannertan36
Not today Justin
Three Goblin Art
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
titsay
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
we're not kids anymore.
Peter Solarz
⁂
Discoholic 🪩
Claire Keane
sheepfilms
tumblr dot com
Stranger Things
macklin celebrini has autism
Show & Tell
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
occasionally subtle
trying on a metaphor
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@wastheheart-arc
A study in immortality, love, forged family and motherhood. the constant changing of womanhood throughout the eras and what it means to be the matriarch.
independent, selective esme cullen from twilight. anti-meyer & heavily headcanon based
-> carrd.
loved by lychee (she/they) | 25+ | minors dni, personals do not reblog.
Avatar by the wonderfully talented Kippy, found @merveiilles!
P S A
I've officially moved over here. Feel free to follow me over, but I'll be re-following from there, too!
All the love,
Lychee.
P S A
I've officially moved over here. Feel free to follow me over, but I'll be re-following from there, too!
All the love,
Lychee.
P S A
I've officially moved over here. Feel free to follow me over, but I'll be re-following from there, too!
All the love,
Lychee.
" i d - - - did not k - - - know. i am so s - - - sorry . . . "
@mccklynaive (thank you!)
Esme isn't surprised she doesn't know. She's never told Val about it. This is now, that was then. The only difference is that today, Val asks. Asks about the portrait that hangs above Esme's office door. One that looks like no-one in the family— a baby, at that.
The silence that fills the room once she finishes feels as if it stretches for eternity. It is a relief to finally have it broken.
The apology from her is to be expected, and Esme immediately begins shaking her head. "No need to apologise, darling." Her words are strong, intentional. "You didn't know because I chose not to say anything. Not that I didn't want you to know, but, well... There's a time and a place for these things, I suppose."
She offers the briefest of smiles, privately frustrated that it still aches. Not necessarily from the loss, but the things that never happened. The what ifs of it all will always linger on.
"He's buried in Ashland. If you want we can visit him together some day."
After Loss
They lost someone...
"The pain will ease, you know."
"We won't forget them. They'll still live in your heart."
"I know it's hard, but they wouldn't want you to shut yourself away."
"They loved you so, so much. Don't doubt that."
"It's okay to cry, it's okay to grieve."
"I didn't know, I'm... I'm so sorry."
"Oh, my God. When did that happen?"
"Grief... does strange things to people, I understand."
"Hey, come here. Come here, it's okay, it's okay..."
"I know you miss them, of course you do."
"It's normal to feel... empty."
"Don't rush the healing. It'll come, it just takes time."
"They loved you, so, so much."
"You can't let loss destroy you. It's not what they'd want."
"Take my hand, take a breath. It'll pass."
"It feels like there's this - wound in my chest that won't heal."
"I miss them, God, I miss them so much."
"Why did they have to go?"
"I'm empty. Where they used to be."
"I don't think it's ever going to stop hurting."
"They were there, and now they're gone, but how can they be gone?"
"How can a presence that big just - stop?"
"I didn't think they could ever be gone, couldn't imagine this... alone."
"They're gone. They're not. They can't - they're not."
"Every time I think I'm over it and then it just... starts hurting all over again..."
"Time. They say it takes... time."
"I want to... hear them. Talk to them."
"They understood me, really, truly."
"The world is emptier, and it will never be full again."
"I... wish you could understand..."
Okay! In the process of making a new blog & moving over! I'm gonna continue active threads and stuff over there, but feeling cluttered and stressed on this blog!
Once everything is set up properly, I'll let you know 💜
#ALYAFAE: INDEPENDENT MULTI-MUSE BLOG FEATURING MUSES FROM VARIOUS FANDOMS; ALL MUSES ARE CANON DIVERGENT + HEADCANON BASED. WRITTEN BY GIN.
A small smile danced around the corners of Philippe's lips. "That would depend on which war we are talking about." He wouldn't normally speak so openly with a human (or any other warmblood) but he couldn't help himself. "What book are you reading right now, if you do not mind me asking."
"Oh, the civil," she answered without missing a beat. She didn't think much of his comment. After all, the revolutionary war had happened before, and as much as even her papaw or his pa wouldn't have been alive for that, it was the only other logical thing she believed he could be talking about. "This old thing?" she asks, briefly holding it away from her chest to examine the front page. "This is just as atlas... I like to think of all the countries I could visit one day, but I'm currently reading Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë. Why, do you have better suggestions?"
I don’t
like people
seeing me
vulnerable
What Flower in Victorian Flower Language are You?
Dandelion
"I would not have you otherwise".
You are the mom friend, your bag is full of everything for any possible situation every time you leave your house. Your friends know they can talk to you and that you will accept them and love them for who they are, not some idea of how you think they should be. You have amazing taste in food and are constantly baking things and gifting them to others. At some point, you tried some style of journaling, and it’s about a 50/50 chance that you kept up with it.
Your ideal home smells of comfort foods and has tons of windows so that it’s always filled with natural light. Everyone you care about gets a key to your door and blanket permission to stop by anytime.
Part of the reason you care so much for others is because you think you’re broken and are trying to make up for it. You are not broken, and you are not whole. You are a person, and people are messy and complicated. There’s no need to chase after a redemption arc, you are trying so hard and that’s all that matters. Take some of the grace you offer to others and apply it to yourself.
the words aren't enough. jasper understands that, too. esme's weariness and misery seep into him, more so now that they are in close proximity. he could leave — but esme is not like him, or rosalie. they prefer to sit with their pain in solitude, but esme takes great comfort in her family. at the moment, his presence doesn't seem to be helping, but it isn't making things worse, either. so jasper sits next to his mother of sorts, so close their shoulders brush, and projects calm into the air.
he has always had a harder time than the others, accepting the familial roles within the cullen clan. jasper carries a vague recollection of having a family, when he had been human; he distantly remembers the scent of lemon verbena clinging to his mother's cotton skirt, recalls playing with siblings beneath oak trees growing along the perimeter of the farm. but those are mere wisps of ghostly memory, and his life with maria had been nothing like a family. the leader of a coven had been swift to kill and quicker to punish; that had been the only way to remain in control. it had taken him a long time to believe that carlisle would do neither, and longer still to begin to view the cullens as family rather than coven.
but with esme — it had been quicker. even back then, he had often caught himself gravitating toward esme and emmett, both of their emotional signatures always warm and bright. esme had never been anything but gentle, even when jasper had acted more skittish creature than, well, person. she is an easy individual to love.
at last, he speaks again. " i never wanted you to experience that. " the words won't help, but he voices them anyway. he hesitates. he wants to say he is sorry for what had happened to the newborn girl, bree, but doesn't dare. " any of you. "
As much as Esme is thankful for the maternal role she has adopted in this new life, she's not ignorant with it. She is acutely aware that everyone in this coven had their own, human mothers once. She does not intend to replace them and she makes sure to remind them of that.
But if Esme finds herself yearning for mother's love sometimes, then she knows they must do, too. The love she had for her son was left with nowhere to go; loving the members of her coven eases that ache somewhat, although she knows it'll never truly be the same.
The calm creeps up on her unexpectedly, although she shouldn't be surprised. It infiltrates her hands first, fingers uncurling around her upper arms before travelling down her limbs and encouraging them to fall into her lap. The weight on her shoulders lingers, but it feels somewhat lighter.
Like she can sit up straighter.
The bed dips and she sees Jasper's reflection next to her own in the window. It's moments like these that disrupt the acceptance she fought so hard to find in this life. She doesn't voice it—she can't—that the way her hands ended young lives reminded her of a husband who wished to do the same to her once.
"I know, Jasper." Her voice struggles to raise above a whisper. Fatigue is a foreign sensation to them, but she feels it now. "It wasn't your fault. It's no-one's fault but that of the Vo—"
She bites her tongue, a shaky exhale following. There's no point speaking a truth that everyone knows. It won't change anything that has come to pass; it won't change Carlisle's opinion.
Her hand finds Jasper's own. She can feel his arm against her own, but she still feels as if she's floundering at sea. Fingers interlink with his own, the faces of a guard watching her every time she dares blink.
"I never wanted you to experience that again." She's heard his story— briefly, in snippets. She let him feed her his past in drips and drabs. Esme is not one to demand anything of anyone. He came here and chose to trust, and so Esme did the same in return. "We promised a life that didn't have to be that way and we let you down." Her head tips forward so she can stare at her lap. Guilt has made it impossible to keep her eyes on Jasper's reflection. "I'm sorry."
What Kind of Love do You Keep Locked Away
The Love That Never Asked to Be Seen
You don’t speak your love— you sustain it. You exist in the in-betweens: glances held just too long, messages half-typed and never sent, kindnesses you hope they notice. You’ve trained yourself to be low-maintenance, the kind of person who doesn’t need too much, doesn’t take up space, doesn’t break the silence. But in doing so, you’ve made your love invisible.
You say you’re protecting yourself, but maybe you’re just scared to ask for something you desperately need. There’s a beautiful, aching warmth in your heart, but no one knows it’s there because you never let it out. Maybe it’s time to stop waiting for someone to guess you’re worth loving out loud—and start believing it yourself.
“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole life fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”
— F.Scott Fitzgerald
“Do you really think I would ever grow bored of you? I could watch you for hours.” It might have sounded strange to say things like that but Carlisle only spoke the truth. It came as a big bonus of being a vampire that he could sit still and do nothing, not even noticing the passing of time. And to do so with his mate was even better.
He nipped on her neck once more, chuckling. “Your next muse, huh? Why does it sound like you already have something in mind?” Because she always did when it came to him and he loved it.
In one swift move, Carlisle turned her around then, facing her with a playful grin. “I’d gladly be your muse. Say the word and I’ll be at your mercy, Mrs. Cullen.”
It doesn't matter how long they've been together, Esme still reacts the same way as when they were courting. The same, bashful smile curves her lips with his remark.
A small yelp of surprise fills the space between them as spins her around and that lingering smile has developed into a grin, her laughter following soon after. "Oh, really, Mr Cullen?"
Her hands come to rest against his chest as she takes a moment to simply take him in before rising onto her toes to briefly press a kiss against his lips. Then, with a mischievous smirk, she loosens his tie before beginning to unbutton his work shirt. "Well, I for one prefer you less dressed— my art will be better for it too," she comments, pointedly making eye contact as she undoes his final button and allows the fabric of his shirt to fall apart revealing his sculptured torso. "Don't you agree?"
