#i am just genuinely angry right now

[skellebonez]

Ok people. Real talk for a second. Cause I am genuinely pissed off.

Stop. Reposting. Other’s. Art.

Save it all you want, but stop saving it or screenshoting it and then resposting it (especially without crediting the original artist).

You may think to yourself “oh, I’m just one person so what harm could it do?” and let me ask you this.

How many other people do you think have thought the same thing? That they are just one person resposting another person’s hard work thinking that it won’t have any kind of effect on anyone? Thinking “oh, this is only for me and maybe my friends”. Or “this will give the artist EXPOSURE so it’s fine” (which makes no sense when you don’t CREDIT them and no one can figure out who the artist IS).

Because let me tell you, I have seen what having three or eight or DOZENS of people reposting or liking and sharing reposts of an artist’s work does to some artists. Yeah, some are going to say “meh, I don’t really care” and brush it off. But that’s not every artist.

I have seen artists completely stop posting art online because seeing people take their art and share it without bothering or caring to share who made it makes them feel like ya’ll don’t actually give a shit about them. You only care about what they can make and how you can take it for yourself. I have seen other artists give up on art entirely because they genuinely feel like it’s pointless to keep drawing and sharing at all because it will all just get taken anyway and no one cares who the original creator is.

So why bother making more?

Do ya’ll WANT artists to stop sharing their work for you to see and appreciate?

Because taking it and reposting it is going to make some artists stop sharing their work entirely. Reposting art only does two things: momentary gratifaction for yourself and hurting artists.

And if you are so selfish that knowing your actions hurt other people, emotionally or financially or otherwise, doesn’t get through to you to make you understand that what you're doing fucking sucks then…

Congratulations.

Hope ya like looking at nothing in the future.

And just use the fucking reblog button IT IS RIGHT THERE. THAT'S WHAT IT IS FOR. TO SHARE ART. WITHOUT REPOSTING IT. WHERE PEOPLE CAN SEE CREDIT.

DAMN IT.

[teaboot]

tranny freak :)

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

why is everything (showing other people respect. being patient and kind. not flying off the handle about stupid things. emotional regulation and self-control. et cetera.) so easy when I'm not around my parents and so so so so hard when I AM around them?

[pinksilvace]

actually I'm NOT done with talking about the scene in Antarctica. It's been talked about ten thousand times before but OUGHHHG the creative direction!!! It's the only scene where Pitch isn't connected to any shadows!!! because it's a domain we would associate with Jack!!! The two of them are alone and Pitch has nowhere to slip away to and the art book specifies that this is the place he feels safest so he doesn't need to be near any shadows!!! in the place meant to represent Jack's emptiness! that's where he's most comfortable... and then he goes on a lecture and says I KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LONG FOR A FAMILY

[nerdy-talks]

Warning : This post is going to be a very personal rage dump/rant.

There are heavy topics involved, including cancer and death. Also explicit language.

Out of consideration and respect to those of you who would prefer not to read it (since I completely understand why you wouldn’t want to), I will continue under the cut

Also pictures of my dogs, to break up the doom and gloom ^^"

-------------------------

I absolutely despise, loathe, hate toxic people.

Especially when those toxic people are the “wolf in sheep’s clothing” type.

Especially when those people don’t have the fucking balls to confront others directly and just choose to slink about behind the scenes like scummy little vermin.

So… my uncle Joe passed away a few days ago.

It was expected. He had been battling pancreatic cancer, which ended up spreading into his liver and lungs.

With that being said, even though he will be dearly missed, at least he no longer has to suffer.

I was close with my uncle.

In fact, it’s no exaggeration to say that I was much closer to him than I was with my own father (my Dad was a permanent presence in my life up until the day he died, but we had an extremely tumultuous, dysfunctional, volatile, abusive relationship.)

We visited my uncle Joe regularly ever since I was a baby, all the way up until somewhat recently. He spent countless hours at our place throughout the years. He was super close with my parents, doing tons of outdoorsy activities with them. I spent a good amount of my childhood with his family. When his wife passed away, my parents helped him and supported him. He helped us move twice. My Mom took his kids places when she was just dating my Dad. When my Dad passed away, my uncle Joe was there for me without me even having to ask.

Literally everything was good between us, and always has been.

It’s also thanks to my uncle Joe that we gained a new furry member of our family last year, who we named Dandy 💙 my uncle’s dog had puppies, he asked how many we wanted, so we took one lol

(I’ll include a few poor quality pictures because… well, I should probably break up this message with a little “positivity”, right?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was Dandy when he was still just a baby, 4 weeks and 3 days old.

Look at the cute little potato 🥹

We visited my uncle Joe every week to see him grow and develop, anxiously waiting until he was old enough to bring home.

And this was the day he finally joined our family ~

Look at how tiny he was compared to my one Black Lab (sorry for the terrible quality picture. Our carpets are old, but I swear they don't look that dingy ^^")

And here's Dandy today, one year and five months later ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway! Back to my rage-fueled rant :

My uncle Joe met someone about a year and a half ago, and she moved in with him pretty quickly.

Which certainly wasn't a bad thing. We were genuinely happy for him.

She seemed very nice, sweet, accepting, kind, receptive, and welcoming.

But for whatever reason, the dynamic changed the moment my uncle fell ill and the control landed in her hands.

Since my uncle Joe was sick, we all mutually decided that it would be best if communication was between my Mom/me and her (we would text her to check in to see how he was doing, as well as find out if/when it was a good time for us to visit)

This is where some inconsistencies started to appear.

For example :

She would tell us not to visit because my uncle was too sick (which was totally understandable!), but then would tell us a few days later how he was doing great and had fishing trips planned all week.

I 100% believed her at the time.

After all, everyone has both good and bad days.

But then when we would visit, my uncle Joe told us how he couldn’t fish anymore because the chemo was causing neuropathy in his hands, and he couldn’t hold his fishing pole or cast/reel the line in.

Though we just assumed he discovered those issues after she told us about those supposed fishing trips.

But the true eye-opener happened during our one visit. My uncle Joe welcomed us into his home, we talked, found out some updates about his health (which was declining), etc. He was open/transparent with us about everything.

When my uncle went to the bathroom during that visit, his girlfriend made the comment “I probably should have told you guys not to come here, since he’s in a lot of pain today.”

Knowing my uncle, I didn’t budge from my seat. I knew that if he wasn’t up for company, he wouldn't hesitate to tell us to leave.

And I’m glad we didn’t leave… because literally 10 minutes later, her granddaughter came waltzing in to visit her.

My uncle came out of the bathroom, sat on the sofa doubled over in pain as he was talking to me and my Mom (at this time, we asked him directly if we should leave, since we knew he was dealing with a lot and we didn't want to overstay our welcome. He told us not to leave, that we could stay because he felt like shit regardless).

But as he was sitting there, clearly in pain, his girlfriend and her granddaughter asked him to get up and carve a watermelon for them instead of doing it themselves.

What sense does that make?

'I should have told you guys to stay away, but I’m gonna make him strain himself and carve a watermelon for us even though he’s already suffering and struggling enough'

…. Okay. Fuck you too.

We obviously didn’t say anything. We just visited for a little while longer, then left with a friendly/cordial “goodbye, nice to see you again” to her and her granddaughter, told my uncle that we would be thinking about him and see him again, and wished them a good day.

Two and a half months passed before we heard from them again.

Why? Because she refused to answer our numerous calls and texts.

She deliberately ignored us, which actively prevented us from having an opportunity to see my uncle.

And she knew damn well that we wouldn’t just show up at my uncle’s house unannounced because we didn’t want to disturb him if he wasn’t feeling up for company.

We only got in contact with him again after he directly called our phone and left a message saying “hey, just checking in. I hope you’re both doing okay, since I haven’t heard from either of you in a while. Stop by when you can”.

So we went to his house.

When we explained the situation to my uncle Joe/passive aggressively confronted his girlfriend, her excuse was “oh, sorry. The reception here is bad so my phone was probably just acting up.”

For two and a half months?

Even though she was literally using her phone in front of us, which appeared to be working perfectly fine?

Even though she’s always on her phone every time we see her?

Even though she could have reached out to us, yet chose not to? Not even once in two and a half months??

I call bullshit.

My Mom even told her that she was on the verge of sending a text that said “okay, cunt.” since we thought she was ignoring us after not responding to our multiple texts/calls.

We all laughed it off as a joke, Joe's girlfriend even said “hahaha, I probably would have laughed if I got a text like that!” … but it most certainly was not a joke.

(My Mom is extremely outspoken and normally doesn’t hold back, especially when it counts. She’s the type of person you either love or hate, but she’s definitely one of a kind and the perfect example of a strong, independent woman who gives zero fucks lol)

Anyway, that visit went well. We behaved like usual, talked to both my uncle and his girlfriend normally, caught up on stuff, etc.

After that interaction, his girlfriend miraculously responded to every single call and text (bad reception, huh? Funny how she had zero service issues after we called her out in front of my uncle)

But basically every time we talked with her, she would say “it’s not a good time to come by, he’s really sick.”

And we would always respond with things like “we totally understand”, “thank you so much for letting us know”, “we wish there was something we could do to help”, “we’re here for you if you ever need anything or anyone to talk to since we know this also isn’t easy for you”, “we’ll check in next weekend”, “please take care of yourself”, “we’ll be thinking about you”, etc.

Then finally, my uncle Joe told us to stop up again two weeks ago. So we did.

He was extremely sick and remained in bed, but we said hello and he told us that we are more than welcome there and we could just visit with his girlfriend. So we did. The visit remained cordial and friendly.

The next day, my uncle called and apologized for not getting up when we were there.

We immediately told him that he has absolutely no reason to be sorry, that we completely and wholeheartedly understand, that we would understand even if he told us to leave the moment we arrived, and that we were keeping him in our thoughts.

The week after that, his girlfriend said he was too sick for company (which again, we obviously understood and thanked her for letting us know, wished them the best, etc).

We didn’t visit my uncle Joe after that. He passed away before we had another opportunity to see him.

Now, here’s where my anger starts to come into play :

His girlfriend didn’t let us know when he passed away.

We found out from my other uncle, Mike, two days later. (My Dad had 3 brothers. His eldest brother is my uncle Joe who just passed away. His youngest brother is my uncle Mike who let us know what happened.)

So my Mom called her and offered her condolences, asked how she was doing, told her that we’re here for her, and asked about the arrangements. My Mom also told her that Mike was the one who let us know about Joe.

She made the comment “there’s going to be a small ceremony, but only for immediate family.”

Which didn’t make sense to me or my Mom. We were both very close with my uncle Joe, we are family. So that comment seemed a bit… off?

But we dismissed it and instead talked to my uncle Mike.

We asked him to please keep us updated, since we wanted to pay our respects to my uncle Joe and our family.

Well… I don’t know what the Hell that lady said to my cousin (Joe’s son), but he told my uncle Mike not to tell us anything else.

That snake in the grass obviously ran back and told my cousin that we found out about Joe’s passing from Mike.

But uhh... We deserved to know.

Now, we literally just found out this morning that the ceremony was held yesterday. We weren't invited (the day/time wasn't publicly announced).

We were excluded. We were denied the opportunity to say our final goodbye.

I blame his girlfriend. Completely and entirely.

I especially find it super interesting that she didn’t attend the ceremony either… almost like she was afraid that we might possibly show up and confront her (which we would never do, purely out of respect for my uncle Joe)

When my uncle Mike told us, he apologized. But we told him that we don’t blame him, since we certainly didn’t want to put him in the middle of it.

It just pisses me the fuck off.

Bad enough she actively prevented us from seeing my uncle Joe, even on his “good” days. But then to keep us away from the ceremony too?

And she HAD to have fed my cousin a bunch of lies and bullshit to cause him to tell my uncle Mike not to inform us of anything. (Luckily for us, my uncle Mike loves to talk so he didn’t mind spilling the tea. He just felt guilty for not doing so sooner. But I understand why he waited, and I hold zero animosity towards him)

It’s especially confusing and upsetting since we always remained on good terms with all of my cousins.

We saw my cousins regularly, got along well with them, joked around with them.

Literally nothing that we did or didn’t do would warrant such a reaction from them.

If there was any fault on our end, I certainly wouldn’t be angry about this situation or waste my time typing this up. (I'm not the type of person who plays the victim, I admit when I'm wrong and own up to my faults/wrongdoings. That just isn't the case here.)

So it’s seriously a mystery to me… which is why I blame my uncle Joe’s girlfriend.

Absolutely nothing changed in the decades of knowing my uncle and his kids. Literally the only recent change was her coming into the picture.

(I also want blame my cousin, since he’s older than me and has a mind of his own… but I also know that he’s grieving the loss of his father, so I feel like that bitch took advantage of the situation to say whatever she wanted about us while my cousin is vulnerable and not thinking clearly/properly).

Regardless of the finer details…. I am absolutely livid.

It’s like a giant “fuck you” to us, like we aren’t good enough, like our feelings don’t matter.

And that pisses me off beyond belief.

I’m debating whether or not I should confront her.

On one hand, I probably should just let it go and move on.

But on the other hand… I want to play dumb, call her, and be like “How are you doing? Do you know when the ceremony is?“ just to see what she says.

And then tell her to go fuck herself.

Is that immature of me? Sure.

But I’m angry. Annoyed. Irritated. Fuming. My rage is boiling, my wrath is building. And I feel like exploding.

Needless to say… my Mom was right. That lady is a cunt. A toxic, festering, diabolical, oozing, gaping, pungent cunt.

If you’ve read up to this point, I genuinely apologize for dumping all of this off here.

I just needed to vent a bit.

I also owe everyone who has tagged me a HUGE thank you. You have all given me a much needed distraction from everything, plus I genuinely love being tagged.

So I will absolutely start posting/replying to those a little later (I've already started on them and have them saved in my drafts, I just want to finish them all and post everything at once lol)

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

They are trying to convince me Jason was always reckless and angry and impulse and tbh that fact is worse than them killing him

[just-rogi]

.

[jentlemahae]

-

[pepprs]

ok mutuals be honest. should i “break up” w my counselor over these texts yes or no

[hellfireeddiemunson]

sick of making plans with a specific friend only for her to not reach out abt actually hanging out until the afternoon after i’ve waited all day to hear back from her or for her to just cancel last minute entirely after i’ve again waited all day to hear back from her

[supergraphicultramoderngirl]

told my mom earlier that i’ve been intentionally filling up my time socially because i’m scared of having alone time bc the past few times i’ve given myself alone time i end up constantly thinking about being single and my whole shitty break up and i get really sad and angry to the point where i don’t want to leave my couch to eat or piss and she was like “that was a month ago now you’ll be fine you need to rest” and like objectively i know she’s right but also. i was also right.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

Sorry for fundamentally misunderstanding a character and missing the point the creators keep trying desperately to throw at me. I was raised to not respect them past a character's major run you see

[hexastitchimera]

Genuine observation, no sass and no disrespect, but being someone who is chronically OFFline & an active volunteer/activist for over a decade, and seeing what people say is "crucial discourse" online is... Quite the trip, honestly.

[majoringinsarcasm]

Crying. About. Politics.

I try not to think too hard about anything otherwise I’ll lose my mind. And this is not a hopeless post. This is just me saying. I feel like. A lot of people are gonna vote for Trump. From your hardcore republicans to truly normal people who are like well Biden was bad we can survive Trump again. And I think about the policies and laws and regulations that have been Good that aren’t in the big news. And I think about how RIGHT NOW states are banning books and sex ed and queer people just living period. And I think about how if the state of things is this bad Now? What’s it gonna be like under a presidenr who Actively agrees with or will go along with this shit for votes.

“We survived Trump” says the people who are still here. “We can survive another four years” says the people who won’t be pushed to maybe not stick around for that long.

[rachiller]

At this point if she’s reaching out & I’m now the one not replying bc I’m mad about her ignoring me for two days does that make me the immature one? Like. Have I become the monster

[mostly-imagines]

Motion Sickness

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason makes you cry after a fight

warnings: angst with comfort

“Jason—”

He waves you off immediately, “No, I’m not your problem, okay?”

Your arms drop, “You’re not a problem at all, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“Then what are you saying?” he challenges. 

You almost bite your tongue but then decide against it, “I’m saying you’re being an asshole right now just because I tried to help.”

He’s angry and you’re someplace in between desperate and tired, but you push on, hoping you’ll be able to solve this without an extended argument. To little avail though, apparently. 

A tense exhale from him, “I don’t need your help, I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.”

“It’s not about needing it—”

“No, it’s about wanting it. I don’t want your fucking help,” he snaps. “I’m grown, I can handle my problems myself.”

You drop your hands to your sides, “Then what am I doing here, Jason?”

“I don’t know!” You can literally see the regret sweep over his face but he lets the moment consume him and the words linger anyways. 

You know he doesn’t always think before he talks, especially when he’s mad. You’ve seen it plenty when he’s fighting with his family. This is the first time it’s shown up with you though, and while you know it’s not coming from a place of genuinity—it still really fucking stung. 

Far from being in your control, tears slip out, more at his tone than his words, and you remove your gaze in favor of the linoleum tiles. He says nothing as you start to cry, which only makes the heat of the moment worsen. 

“Okay,” You take a deep breath, pursing your lips. “You need to go away.”

There’s a long, hard moment of silence, but ultimately he doesn’t fight you on it, only exhales harshly and slams the door on his way out.

The resulting reverberation of the apartment has your shoulders shaking, tears falling onto your shirt.  

You and Jason don’t fight often but when you do it’s usually about insecurities and fears coming forward. He’d been having a bad night to start with and all you wanted to do was make him feel better but he wasn’t willing to talk to you or let you do anything for him. He gets selfishly selfless like that, but you know why.

You know him, in and out. You could’ve anticipated this—you should’ve. You should’ve approached the topic more sensitively. And it’s not his fault, his life has taught him that it’s safer to believe that other people don’t have his best interest. You know that. 

Yeah, you know him in and out, but he knows you in and out, too. He knows you’ve shown him nothing but kindness and generosity since the day you met and you’ve reinforced a thousand times how safe you are for him. But if he still can’t trust you to care about him, then what are you doing here?

You let yourself fall back onto the arm of the couch, huffing in defeat. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when Dick awakens, the bandages across his abdomen digging into his skin uncomfortably. He sits up, bedsheet pooling around his waist. The ache of the bruising pushes him towards his old bedroom door before he’s even fully coherent, narrowly missing shouldering the door frame as he passes through.

He’s still half asleep as he thumps down the staircase, cold hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He’s so out of it in his blind search for painkillers, that he nearly misses the large shadowed figure huddled up on the couch.

Dick stills, blinking warily.

“What’re you doing here?”

His younger brother says nothing, only continues to stew in the shadows, staring at the rug.

As his eyes adjust, Dick takes in his appearance: messy hair, tired eyes, only clad in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

He rubs his eyes, approaching with measured steps, “What happened?”

Jason remains silent for a long minute before grunting out, “Got in a fight.”

Dick nods slowly, shuffling forward a little more to sit on the far end of the couch. 

“What’d you do?”

Jason doesn’t have it in him to comment on how his brother immediately knew he was the issue. It just makes the entire thing hurt even worse. Instead, he tells the truth. 

“Be myself.”

Dick says nothing, 

When the silence persists, Jason elaborates, even though it’s the last thing he wants to admit to.

“I made her cry,” he says, voice below even a whisper. He hates it and he hates himself for leaving you when he knew he’d hurt you.

Dick nods, not saying anything. He’s definitely been there before, though he’s not nearly as volatile as Jason can be, so he can imagine how this likely played out. In any case, Jason has never responded well to being pushed to talk about his feelings so Dick lets him get there in his own time.

He’s half expecting to end up with no results at all, but Jason pipes up after a minute, voice broken.

“I don’t know what she wants me to do,” he rasps.

Dick takes a deep breath, adjusting his posture. “When girls are mad you give them space but when they’re sad you definitely don’t. Is she sad or mad?”

Jason exhales desperately.

“Both, I think.”

Dick nods, understanding.

“Then go home.”

Jason shakes his head, defeated. “She told me to leave. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“What did you say?”

He huffs, not wanting to bring the memory back up. “I basically told her to fuck off.”

“Yeah,” Dick drawls. “I wouldn’t let that simmer.”

Jason’s head snaps over to him. “She’ll break up with me?”

“No, I don’t—” Dick pauses, thinking over his words. “It’ll be fine. Just go home.”

Despite taking the long route on the way to the manor, Jason sped back home on his bike, now unwilling to leave you alone for another second longer than he had to. 

He creeps through the front door of your apartment, proud and only a little hurt that you’d remembered to lock it. 

The apartment’s mostly quiet, nothing but a lamp lighting up the front half. He can hear the shower running from where he stands, the waterfall noise awfully muffled from behind the closed bathroom door.

He bolts the door behind him, pushing forward towards the hallway. He approaches the bathroom door, noticing how there’s no light flooding out from underneath.

“Baby?” Jason calls it out quietly, like he’s scared to commit to alerting you of his presence.

He hears no response, but he knows you heard him. He knows you heard him in the same way that he knows you’re sitting on the shower floor, curled in on yourself under the sensory relief that the pouring water brings. He doesn’t know how, he just does.

So he leans against the door, listening closely, and calls out again, “Can I come in?”

There’s a solid ten seconds of silence before you respond, just barely audible over the cascade of water.

“Not right now.”

Your volume has him wincing, saddened and embarrassed that he’s the one that made you feel like this.

He reluctantly walks back to the bedroom with heavy shoulders, thudding his weight down on the mattress. He sits half folded over himself for the next ten minutes, thinking only of you, sitting alone in the shower with your thoughts.

He perks up considerably when he hears the water shut off, and after several long minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, towel wrapped around your middle.

He stands up when you enter the bedroom, hands stiff and awkward at his sides. You barely look at him, having trouble willing yourself to do more than glance. 

Your eyes fall downward, your lips pursing. You instinctually move to clutching the towel tighter around you, more than anything because you don’t know what to do with your hands. 

It makes his heart break to see you so out of comfort around him—because of him—so he gives you the benefit of privacy, turning around so you can get dressed. It kills him to do it, makes him feel like he’s just some stranger in your life rather than him. But he supposes that he deserves to feel like that right now. 

Whether or not you wanted him to turn around goes unsaid, he can only hear the quiet shuffling of you putting clothes on.

He waits until the movement stops, after he hears the squeak of the bed springs and the faint sound of the sheets being pulled up.

He turns around again with a silent sigh, taking in the sight of you laying in bed, back turned to him.  

He approaches slowly, stopping just before his knees hit the mattress. He notices quickly that the t-shirt you’d chosen was one of your own. He frowns.  

“Sweetheart. Can I touch you?” His voice is soft and low, like he’s trying to coax you back out to him.

It takes a long few moments, but you nod.

He sits down on the bed, still hesitant to go through with it.

“Will you turn over?”

An even longer pause and you’re flipping over to face him. You don’t make eye contact, only look blankly past him. Your blinks are heavy, and even in the dark, he can see that your eyes are still bloodshot. 

He brushes your hair back, his fingers feather-light against you, like he’s scared to touch you too harshly. Like he’s touching porcelain.

He lets you hold the silence for a while, reasoning with himself that you’ll talk when you’re ready.

You let it go on longer than he’d hoped, past the point of him knowing what to do with it. He’d hoped you’d yell at him. He can take that, he knows he can. He can see plainly that you’re thinking deeply and wants more than anything for you to say it, scream it if you have to. 

He knows he deserves it and he frankly would take anything over the silence. But then again, he doesn’t deserve the reprieve, does he? No, but he’s not strong enough to deny himself the chance to hear your voice.

“Say it,” he urges. “Please.”

Your fingers tap against the bed sheets for a moment before you sit up, almost defeated. 

You face him, taking a breath and relenting. “I don’t like that you said that to me.”

He nods, brow deep. “Me neither.”

Your shoulders sag at that, and you feel stuck in the moment. You feel guilty too but you don’t know if you should. He didn’t mean it, you know that, and they weren’t his words, really. But the snap of his voice when he’d said it and the look on his face—it made you feel terrible. It still does.

You look awkwardly to the left, feeling heavily spectated by him and so hyper-conscious of all of your movements. The downturn of your lips gives way to burning in your eyes and before you can do anything about it, tears are spilling out. 

Jason sees it immediately, his head lulling helplessly. 

“Oh, baby. Please don’t cry, please.”

But that only makes it worse, the tears falling faster and heavier at his soft tone.

He forgoes asking permission and pulls you directly into his chest, a firm hand on the back of your head. It’s what you needed though, to be close to him right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry, baby—” he murmurs against your hair, pressing a rough kiss as he holds you tighter.

You shake your head, sniffling. “It’s okay, Jay.”

“No, it’s not.”

That sentiment lingers for several minutes, as he holds you cheek to chest and rubs soothing patterns into your hair.

It’s not long before you’re able to fully relax against him, his touch feeling nothing short of therapeutic. Your breathing eventually levels out back to baseline and your thoughts start to find peace amongst themselves.

When you’re ready, you sit back from him, letting him see your face again.                    

He visibly winces as he scans over the tears on your cheeks, how they’re starting to stain.

You’re still upset, a little, but not nearly as much as you’re sure your face is conveying. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, wiping your eyes with your sleeve.

He shakes his head, “If I ever say something like that to you again, hit me. I’m serious.”

You drop your hand onto your lap, tilting your head at him with a serious look. “I’m not going to hit you—”

“Then break up with me. Don’t ever let somebody talk to you like that, especially not me.”

His voice is hard and you can tell the impact of his words have every bit of weight intended.

Your mouth closes and you waver unsure of where to go with that. Your gaze falls down to where your hands lie discarded on your lap and there’s a palpable shift to the air in the room.

“Hey.” He pushes your chin up to make you look at him, “Listen to me. You’re the love of my life. You hear me? I’m supposed to take care of you, make you happy. I don’t…I can’t talk to you like that. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Your eyes flicker back and forth across each others and you can see the genuine sincerity etched plainly across his face.

He processes the comprehension across your own before his jaw tenses for a moment and he adds, “Nobody’s gonna talk to you like that, much less me. Yes?” 

You start to nod slowly and he mirrors you until he’s convinced of your belief in the statement. 

He rubs calm circles into your thighs as you both sit with the conversation, the light sounds of each others breaths the only sound heard. This silence isn’t the same as it was before though, it’s safer, more comfortable. It’s familiar, if not weighted.  

“I love you,” you tell him quietly.

His eyebrows furrow like his heart was just shattered. 

“I love you too, baby. So much.”

🦟 if you don't reblog things i'm actively sending bad vibes your way 🦟 and maybe also a plague