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Jasmin Lee Cori, The Emotionally Absent Mother: How to Recognize and Heal the Invisible Effects of Childhood Emotional Neglect

#☽ * -- juliet / musings .

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#☽ * -- juliet / musings .

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favorite platonic relationships: bonnie bennett, caroline forbes and elena gilbert “Promise me something, both of you. Write it all down. Everything that you accomplish in your lives, every crush, when you fall in love, when you start a family, every time you fantasize about wanting to kill Damon. Write it down so that one day when I wake up, I can read all about my best friends’ lives and feel like I was there.”

#☽ * -- juliet / isabel & rachel . #when they're getting alone lmaoo

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myspace era tom hardy is something so personal to me

#☽ * -- jasper / musings . #like i’m sooo sorry but it’s so true #the one where he’s holding a giant knife to a cashier and smiling i’m going to pass out thank you for embodying jasper king <3

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Eileen Myles, from “Smile,” in I Must Be Living Twice [ID in alt text]

#☽ * -- juliet / musings .

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OLIVIA BAKER ALL AMERICAN | 3.09 “Testify”

#☽ * -- jasper / musings .

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#☽ * -- jasper / jack .

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“She didn’t need to be saved. She needed to be found and appreciated for exactly who she was.”

— j. iron word

#☽ * -- juliet / musings .

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burninghoused​:

henry had always been a liar. it wasn’t malicious, it might have even been the opposite, but it was integral to him — he had spent so much of high school lying. about his sexuality, about his family, about everything he felt. & adult life … as different as it was, in many ways it wasn’t at all. he was still here, lying to his classmates’ faces. yes, he was happily married. no, he didn’t want any kids. yes, he’d made so many good friends in la. it was easy as breathing, delivered without flinching, his usual even, steady tone. & fuck, he didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know how aidan was, where he was, if he was even alive. he should have known. he never should have let him slip away. he remembered one night, halfway through a bottle of adam’s favorite overexpensive whiskey, he’d decided to fly to new york to hunt aidan down, just in case, just to make sure — only for his husband to stop him, talk him down, because dunne’s an adult, he can cut contact with whoever he likes, & adam had never liked him, anyways. asshole.

henry watched jasper carefully, dark eyes catching his every pause, every move. jasper knew something that he didn’t, he was sure of that, more than anything, & he hated him for it, for it & for more than he couldn’t put words to. he had a choice to make. he could lie to him, try to coax the information out of him some other way, turn the tables on him with a sharp remark about the dunnes’ brotherly bond that might make something slip out in anger. or … he could tell the truth, if his pride could bear it. humble himself with honesty, begging for scraps of information about someone who didn’t care enough to answer in four fucking years. he resisted the urge to clench his jaw, purposeful in his omission.

“he’s been quiet for awhile now,” henry said calmly, no answering taunt given. “i only want to be sure he’s alright, jasper.”

there was good reason for his butting heads with henry. they were simply too different - watching him now, the impossible stillness, it was world’s away from the near constant cataclysmic edge jasper teetered upon. if he were to lean in, press an ear to his chest - would he hear a heartbeat? or would he hear the calculate ticking of a well-oiled machine? he would occasionally hear them laughing in aidan’s room across the hall, but could never figure out what it is that was so funny. perhaps they were watching something as insidiously boring as a live feed of a courtroom, searching for joy in the deadened faces of jury members whose dinners were going cold on their tables at home.

even so, there was a pause long enough to confirm jasper’s assumptions. aidan had vanished. he would have reason to assume him dead had riona not advised he still made contact on rare occasion - called late at night every few months, no more than three times a year, to ask if they were all still alive and to affirm that he was, too. a year and a half into the silence, jasper had visited home half a heart bleeding and severed to the core. for the first time in his life, he had cried - really cried. on her knees before him, she gathered his hands in hers and stroked them gently, looking up at the worst of the two loves of her life with those big, watery eyes. give him time, darlin’. he’ll come back. 

well, fuck him. he could have his new life, whatever or wherever that was, and he’d be hard pressed to get a welcome home from jasper if he did get homesick. and fuck henry, too. what’d he ever do for him? jasper set down his mug very suddenly on the stone wall, coffee sloshing over the rim, and cleared his throat with a retched growling sound. “sure if he wanted you to know that, he’d tell you himself,” jasper stood and stretched out his arms. he was exhausted - he hadn’t slept for more than an hour. “but you’ve not gotten an invite to his funeral, have you? so why don’t you count your blessings and not go asking for explanations where you haven’t fuckin’ earned ‘em.”

#☽ * -- jasper / threads . #☽ * -- jasper / henry .

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falsd​:

it’s   almost   expected   that   she   tries   turning   down   the   offer   at   first.   after   all,   she’d   make   a   big   deal   out   of   avoiding   that   moment   so   far   and   if   he’d   be   any   less   persistent,   asher   knew   they’d   never   talk   about   it.   maybe   it   would   be   easier,   maybe   ignoring   the   awkwardness   would   be   the   simpler   way   out   of   it,   but   where   would   it   get   them?   where   would   that   take   them?   next   high   school   reunion,   just   as   uncomfortable?   one   of   them   ditching   altogether   just   to   prevent   running   into   each   other?   it   was   sad   to   think   about   that.   sad   for   so   many   reasons.   biggest   one   that   they   used   to   work   so   well.   used   to   be   able   to   lean   on   each   other,   to   listen   to   each   other,   be   there   for   each   other.   the   type   of   trust   he   craved.   reason   for   why   shoulders   roll   back   when   relief   washed   through   him   once   she   seemed   to   have   changed   her   mind.   an   opening.   a   foot   in   the   door.   a   chance   to   make   up.   and   he   fully   intended   to   make   the   most   of   it.   “sounds   fair.”   ash   plays   it   off   cool,   doesn’t   want   to   freak   her   out   despite   being   fairly   excited   that   she   joined   him.

terrace   door   held   open   for   her   so   the   two   of   them   can   slip   outside.   air   fresh,   freezing   almost   –   just   what   he   needs   to   stay   grounded   right   now.   “thanks   for   joining   me.   how   are   you   doing?   excited   to   see   everyone?   we   didn’t   talk   in   a   while   …”   the   normality   with   which   he   tried   entering   the   conversation   was   truly   the   most   absurd   part   of   everything.   like   he   hadn’t   tried   calling   her   before,   like   there   hadn’t   been   unanswered   text   messages.   not   that   he   would   hold   it   against   her.   and   yet   he   yearned   for   answers.   cigarette   lit   and   drag   taken   from   it.   he   keeps   his   distance,   doesn’t   want   her   to   inhale   the   smelly   smoke,   and   doesn’t   want   her   to   feel   pressured   in   the   conversation   they   were   about   to   have.   “you   know   it’s   …   all   good   between   us,   right?”   asher   tries   carefully.   “that   night   didn’t   change   anything   for   me.   i’m   happy   to   see   you   again.   and   i   wish   there   was   a   way   for   me   to   make   you   feel   the   same.”   a   little   bolder   now,   but   maybe   the   firm   words   she   needs   to   understand   where   he’s   coming   from.

the burden of her shame should not be asher’s to bear. juliet knew this. and yet, it was impossible not to make it his problem. perhaps he was dragging her aside to scold her - finally give her a piece of his mind after her desperate sin, and for forcing him to swallow the awkwardness of it all. it would sort of be a relief. she so often felt she was lying in wait of a punishment that never came, for one thing or another. or maybe her isolation was punishment enough - self-flagellating as it was. he politely holds the door for her, and she ducks beneath his arm into the october evening chill. it’s more than dusk settling over the grounds - it looks like, hugs her like, an omen. she shivers involuntarily and steps out onto the porch. 

her breath forms a cloud around her as he broaches conversation, or something deeper he was pulling from within his chest, carefully. she remains silent for a moment, mulling over his sincerity. perhaps this was not to be a telling off, and it struck her for a jarring moment that he might actually want to reconcile. forgive her. “that’s a lot of questions at once, ash,” she muttered quietly, a curt laugh jumping from her throat. the color of their breath was replaced by a plume of cigarette smoke. the smell actually drew her in - it reminded her of breaks out back of the auditorium, wind instrumentalists chain smoking, and her making fun of them for it. juliet loosened, spine straightening. she appreciated his directness. loose sentiments left her too much room to twist it all up in her mind into something it was never meant to be. “i-” her eyes narrowed skeptically, unlatching from his to look out over the dark expanse. “sorry, i guess i just don’t understand why. why would you not be angry with me?”

#☽ * -- juliet / threads . #☽ * -- juliet / asher .

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burnthcwitch​:

                  ♡       she snorts—bubbling laughter finally escaping in the brightest giggle. a large smile she tries to hide by covering her mouth, looking away from jasper. cause, fuck. what was that? five whole minutes? had to be a personal record to get her to loosen up a little bit, ugh, they can hear his smugness already. the teasing, the poking and prodding and playing around. when they were alone, there was only so long that she could hold it together. give him an inch-maybe half an inch. but he wasn’t so jasper when she was inches away. or maybe more jasper than before-either way they seemed overjoyed by catching that moment of panic. and loves that forever reminder that she was still. that. girl. or maybe it was jasper who hadn’t changed. “you made that so eaaasy, oh my god, do you wanna kiss me THAT bad? are you in love with me- is your dick hard right. now?” very clearly fucking with him, takes her time walking towards his car. her own baby was back in new york, her perfect 2023 range rover sitting pretty waiting for her to come home. still, anything was better than the ubers she’s been taking to get around. and she really did love driving. they’re too satisfied with themself to turn her nose up at the car, instead can appreciate how much jasper seemed to like it. this car was basically their peer, too. “a model, blah blah blah, i KNOW, right…”

                  ♡       “now i’m definitely crashing your car. killing us all, actually. put us out of our misery, toyota included.” this car had been around to witness god himself place the sun in the sky, this car was there personally front and center for the birth of william shakespeare, still drea approached it with the utmost respect and caution as if it were a new born baby. gracefully slides into the front seat, pulling up the seat, touching the mirrors and windows—the whole shebang. jasper may have to reign them in a little bit; they aren’t the teenager who would shyly ask him to cut class so they could kiss. now drea could put to words exactly what it was she wanted. and drea thought nothing would make her day more than to drive his car and make fun of him the whole way there. its penance for all of the times he’d made her want to curl up and die in high school, where they’d almost gotten caught because jasper lived on the edge. “are you a radio guy or a talk-the-whole-way-there kind of guy?”

jasper rolled his eyes, his tongue slotted between rows of crowded teeth to poke the inside of his cheek, trailing after her. “get fucked, drea.” he grabbed a fistful of his crotch as he passed, flashing wide eyes at them. “why don’t you check yourself?” it sort of felt like a lifetime had passed since the last time he’d behaved so freely. there was a short time in his life - post-washington, pre-divorce - when he was a man who could be described as happy. nobody ever saw it for him, but he’d lassoed the moon and pulled it out of the sky to get there and damnit, he’d earned that joy. until he’d done what he always did - poured gasoline over it all and left it out in dry heat while he retreated into the shadows. he was grateful to drea, however short-lived this relief would be. she relented to the slow emergence of a wide, glittering smile, letting a little more of that warmth wash over him. 

he slides in next to them, groaning as she immediately proceeded to alter and fiddle with everything within reach. “y’know what, just fuckin’ crash it. you’ve gone and spoiled it for me now anyways.” she seemed giddy, a field of warbling energy emanating around her outline. it was these moments he used to bleed from a stone. he could tell that, despite the complications of growing up, life had at least done them the service of uprooting that buried eminence hidden beneath the surface. his brow furrowed as they peeled away from the large, sagging cabin, and through the dense wall of trees protecting it. “did we never fuck in the car?” he was, in part, teasing them, despite the ounce of sincerity nestled under his tongue. “doesn’t that seem like something you should’ve picked up? but,” he jammed the FM button firmly a few times, having gotten a little sticky over the years. “both. i’m a very serious chef now, drea - you think i can focus without overstimulation?”

#☽ * -- jasper / threads . #☽ * -- jasper / drea .

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spooksgrove​:

after arriving late in the night,  isabel made a point not to greet anyone before retreating to her room.  thank god everyone was an adult as absorbed in themselves not to disturb her,  or an adult boring enough to be asleep at a decent hour,  so she had successful avoided confrontation.  until now.  immediately recognizing the voice,  isabel threw up a middle finger to the air before even opening her eyes.  “i have people i can order to kill you now,”  she warned through a lie.  in this moment,  it really was a shame she hadn’t been born into a ruthless dictatorship. 

sitting up in her bed only when she smelled the unmistakable stench of jasper-brewed coffee,  isabel sighed dramatically and stretched her arms up in the air.  “ignore the pillows,”  she threw a hand out and vaguely gestured towards several strewn about on the ground.  “i swear to god someone was scratching my wall all night.  i thought it was a fucking cat.  whoever decided to prank me on night one is officially on my list.”  she smacked the empty space on the bed beside her as an invitation and then reached out to take one of the coffees.  “you think you don’t wanna be here ? ”  she sipped the warm beverage and offered a faint smile in lieu of a thank you.  “if one person asks me what it’s like being a senator i’m gonna drown them in the lake myself.  anyone upset about it can vote me out of office;  i don’t fuckin’ care.  it’ll be worth it.”

from among the landfill of blankets, a triumphant middle finger was hoisted, and had he not been restrained by the two mugs, he’d have grabbed it and twisted it back. chanting something like; if you can’t be nice, don’t be anything, bel. but, instead, he was left to the effectiveness of his smart mouth alone. “is that what being a senator is? and here i thought the job description was wearing boxy suits and getting zero pussy.” she emerged from the sheets as he stepped artlessly around the array of pillows littering the ground. he failed, multiple times, coffee dribbling over the rims and staining the polyester. “oops. oops. oops,” he chanted under his breath as she spoke at him. he shook his head, looking up at her as she stretched. “don’t blame others for your own mania, kid. audio hallucinations are very normal for people with insufferably boring lives.”

jasper handed her a mug and landed hard on the mattress, stretching out beside her and groaning. he was exhausted. “shut up, this isn’t about you. i was very clear i came here to talk about me and my grievances. you know i already had danvers on my back this morning? the fucker’s dropped his boyfriend and all, looks like.” he arced his spine, listening to it pop in several places.

#☽ * -- jasper / threads . #☽ * -- jasper / isabel . #SHUT UP...... the death of the author really popped off this time #tw: murder mention

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burnthcwitch​:

                  ♡        “googles me? please don’t tell me she’s seen my linkedin..” that would be a long, long list of all of the projects he’s dabbled in. so much for his perfect reputation, laurent’s online presence was sort of .. pathetic. it was his voice that had sweetened deals for himself, helped him survive all of this time. that same charm that he’d used the first time he met her family, mixed with the nervousness that came from a set of parents staring you down. her full house was one of the many things he’d envied her for. wished for siblings, maybe that’s why he’s so GOOD at growing close to nearly anyone. in a way, he did have his own sort of loneliness. t’s a surprise to know they still thought of him so fondly. he’d expected them to get a full rundown of how they had eventually broken up—all of the gory details, with swears of hating him forever.

                  ♡        infidelity was by far the worst sin in a relationship—consequences of astronomical heights and a lifetime of guilt were insured. a double whammy the night he’d called her, had the nerve to confess with clenched fists and tears streaming down. and he looks back on the moment now through a hypercritical lens—little room for nuance, even though deep down he knows he was influenced. telling her he’d cheated and breaking up with her were separate entities, even though he’d done it on the same ten minute phone call. one was a mistake-confiding in a familiar face and getting caught up in a moment, while the other was something he couldn’t quite explain. how could you tell your high school sweetheart that things needed to end because the voice in your head said to cut all ties? without sounding insane, or like a massive coward. and maybe it was a little bit of guilt, maybe the shame had pushed him to it-but he was certain him and his … ailment were not nearly enough for juliet. best to cut the chord.

                  ♡        he blamed himself exclusively for his indiscretions, held juliet responsible for no part. after all, she was doing what she was supposed to do-going on to be GREAT-to excel. over and over he had imagined what she must’ve looked like on the other end of that phone—and her current expression sends chills. this may be the closest thing to it. letting out the air of a balloon, they fizzled and flopped, and he searched for her gaze once more. his smile has melted away, replaced with confusion on what he’d done to put a damper on her mood. he doesn’t even recognize the ring anymore- it was a part of him, and coincidentally fitted for one finger. only explained if he was asked about it, didn’t even think of removing it. and even now—it wasn’t as if he’d come back to beg for her, didn’t feel deserving of that after he’d blown up their lives. he had hoped she was elated, found so many lovers that he was a distant memory. “i do, they were SO young back then. like babies, i hope they’re doing well too.” a clear of his throat, “otherwise-life has been good?”

the last time they’d spoken, it’d barely qualified as a conversation. it was more like an audition. juliet the observer, laurent the performer; regurgitating practiced lines, getting swept up by the dark magic of the moment, improvising and choking on honest emotion. she remembered it well. it was emblematic of the divot she’d driven between them - juliet sat alone in a grandiose but dusty library, studying for her music theory exam, and laurent clawing desperately for even a severed chunk of her heart. she’d only taken the call because, if she didn’t, it would’ve been the fourth she’d ignored that day. something in her was quivering like a clench fist. she knew the truth. at least, she’d anticipated half of it - he would leave her, and juliet had understood this from the very start. she’d ignored it for as long as she could. however, the unfaithfulness had been a shock, and perhaps the worst of it. buckshot to the gut. i knew i wasn’t enough, but did you have to rub salt in the wound, too? 

she hadn’t even asked who it was. in fact, she’d barely said anything at all. she’d come to hope, later, that her response (or lack thereof) had affirmed his decision. who is passed their own broken, blooded heart and is incapable of even a word - a sound - a wail of pain? she’d hung up the phone, walked to her dorm room, and remained there for three straight days. she still couldn’t recall this time too well. only the phone call, then darkness, then a crippling wave of loneliness that felt a lot like death.

it was hard to tell when she was, if ever, overreacting - her responses were often so internal that nobody was ever the wiser to comment. she wondered what the person who’d slipped that ring onto his finger was like. probably similar to him - less like searching for a jewel in wet mud and more like the jewel had been in his hand all along. she wanted to be happy for him. truly, she did. she just feared she wasn’t quite kind enough. juliet still avoided his eye. she needed to leave to collect herself, come back, try again. she wanted to impress him so badly - but, history repeats itself, and she continued to be her own worst enemy. “they are,” she answered, moulding her timbre into something close to normal. “they’re doing fantastic, actually.” both were married, both had children. suppose their careers weren’t quite the picture juliet’s was - but, who cares? really?

then, he asks a question she wished he wouldn’t have. juliet is a horrible liar - and laurent, perhaps, would remember this about her. she turns her chin to tentatively meet his searching gaze. she can’t help it; her eyes fall to the ring once again, but she quickly picks them back up. she cannot envision a reality in which laurent is unhappy. he was not built for sadness - she’d watch it roll off him, water off a duck’s back. she hated to pull him down with her. she wanted to tell him the truth, but she didn’t want to force the truth on him, either. a meek smile turned the left corner of her lip awry, and birdbone shoulders flitted in a shrug. “that depends entirely on your definition of ‘good’, i’m afraid.” 

#☽ * -- juliet / threads . #☽ * -- juliet / laurent . #im insane idk how it just kept growing

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I’ve been to a million auditions and the same thing happens every time, where I get interrupted because someone wants to get a sandwich. Or I’m crying, and they start laughing. Or there’s people sitting in the waiting room, and they’re like me, but prettier and better.

LA LA LAND 2016, dir. Damien Chazelle

#☽ * -- juliet / musings . #this... except she's talking about being somebody's one person in a relationship... HEHE #its not funny it hurts actually.

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#☽ * -- jasper / isabel .

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Gravel to Tempo // Hayley Kiyoko

#☽ * -- juliet / musings .

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#☽ * -- juliet / milo .