#just woke up what's the move

[smokeys-house]

Just woke up, what's the move

[s0fter-sin]

trans!soap taking his baby and running away from his rich abusive husband

(cw angst, financial abuse, single threat of child abuse, single mention of transphobia)

he's owned soap for years, since he was a teenager; paid for his medication and all his surgeries and tied them so deeply, soap’s lost hope of ever getting away. he gets even worse when soap falls pregnant. he was always controlling; blowing up at him if he spent too long out of the house or did something without telling him. but he becomes utterly possessive during the pregnancy

soap knows it has nothing to do with his safety or the baby's

he knows he sees his baby as an investment; another being he can control and hold over him

he gets worse and worse but there’s nothing soap can do. there's been nothing he can do for a long time. then a few months after the baby is born, soap doesn’t watch his tone closely enough and his husband threatens to drop his baby in punishment for it

soap doesn't think. he doesn't plan

he takes his baby and runs

he sneaks out of the servant's quarters of the sterile mansion he's been forced to live in for almost a decade and walks down the street without a backwards glance; his baby the only thing in his arms. he knows all of his husband's cars have trackers, all of them in his name since he never lets soap drive or go anywhere by himself, so he walks far enough to be out of view of the mansion's cameras and steals one. it doesn't have a car seat and all he can do is clutch his baby to his chest as he drives

he doesn't know where he's going beyond away

he doesn't know what he's going to do; he doesn't have any money, no supplies for his baby, he doesn't even have water for himself so he can reliably breastfeed him. he's terrified his husband will find them; he’s always felt omniscient, always everywhere and seeing everything he did. if he didn’t have eyes somewhere, he paid someone who did and they always dutifully reported back to him

soap just keeps his eyes forward. just keeps driving and driving, lost to the road and numb until the low gas light pops up on the dash and it all hits him at once

he turns into a gas station he can't pay for, in a car he stole, and parks behind it and his baby immediately starts getting fussy

he can't even call him by his name sometimes; too afraid to get attached, too afraid to lose him. as if he doesn’t love him more than life itself

even throughout his pregnancy, as happy as he was to finally have a baby, he didn't know if he could carry to term and that fear just let his husband dig his claws in even deeper; paying for extra scans he could never hope to pay for, favours on top of favours so he would aways owe him and isn’t he such a loving husband? taking soap in when his parents kicked him out for being trans, looking after him for all these years? you can’t even take care of yourself john, you’d still be a woman without me, john, what is this tantrum about john-

soap tugs his shirt up to let his baby feed, drops his head back and cries

he can't stop it; wails loud and uncontrolled, chest heaving with his sobs enough that it sways his baby, occasionally breaking his latch and he can't even do this right-

he can't save him

a light knock sounds on the window and soap flinches, curling over his baby to protect him from his huband's cruel hands

but it's not his husband outside the window

soap blinks tears from his eyes and looks at the large stranger standing beside the car. a neck gaiter covers his mouth and it should be off-putting… but something about him stops the feeling in its tracks. the stranger takes a half-step back and lifts a chilled and sealed water bottle, pressing it towards the window

soap quickly swipes his face clean and rolls down the window. "sorry 'bout that," he apologises with a choked laugh, the careful front he’s built over the years cracked and bleeding

the stranger gives a dismissive but somehow not diminishing shrug. "long day?" he asks

"could say that," he gives a shrug of his own and pats his baby's back as he makes a disgruntled noise, unconsciously swaying him

he politely keeps his gaze up on his face. "looks like you could use a break."

soap's breath hitches, anxiously darting his tongue out over his bottom lip. "could say that," he repeats uselessly and takes the water with a quiet “thanks,”; his throat dry and screaming for it after crying so hard

the stranger hums, watching him down the bottle and soap doesn’t notice his eyes drifting to the backseat and footwell of the passenger side. doesn’t notice the slight tension in his fists at what he sees. "how long you been runnin', lad?"

soap freezes, the water settling in his stomach like a stone. he swallows thickly and the bottle falls from his lips

"not long enough."

the stranger just nods, looking idly back down the highway

"you know, this place is connected to a garage,” he starts, nodding back to a building attached to the station without taking his eyes off the road. “lotta people drift through 'ere on road trips; too many to keep track.”

soap frowns slightly, shifting his hold on his baby

“funny thing is, plenty of 'em just abandon their car when they break down. like yours,” he adds and finally turns back to him with a pointed look. “got a whole junkyard of 'em. just rustin' away. be pretty easy to convince me to trade ya one."

soap’s mouth parts in a gasp as he realises just what the stranger’s saying. "how easy?" he whispers

he shrugs and even with his face hidden beneath the gaiter, he doesn’t feel afraid. "i'd say this car'd be a good deal. would blend right in with the rest of ‘em; no one’d ever notice it. what say i take it off your hands?"

soap's breath shudders out of him, his whole body going limp with relief. his baby's eyes fall shut with a satisfied hum and for the first time he can remember, he feels the gentle touch of hope

"i think we can work something out."

🧼💀

ghost owns the service station soap pulled into. he wanted something quiet and isolated after he retired and you can’t get much quieter than a backwoods servo surrounded by forest. he hasn’t had anyone pull in in days so he’s quick to notice soap’s car. he’s also quick to notice soap's subsequent breakdown in one of the cameras. the sight of him crying, desperately clutching a baby like they’re all he has left in the world, is so familiar he felt sick with it

he knows someone running when he sees it

if he didn't check on him, if this lad disappeared one day and the baby along with him, he'd never forgive himself. the lad doesn't even have a baby bag or car seat with him, and the personalised sticker on the back window of a lady and a dog is a dead giveaway that the car is stolen

but the lad is terrified. and when he startled him, he didn't turn. didn’t lift his arms to protect himself. no

he covered his baby

like he was afraid he'd be hurt

that's enough for ghost

🧼💀

i'd wanna set this in the 80's or 90's, just to make it even harder for soap to get away from his husband. he's a trans man with a newborn; he has no one to run to and no resources to help him. his husband's bought and paid for everything for him since he was 17; a few whirlwind weeks of unbelievable dates and extravagant gifts and he was living in his mansion, getting married the day after his 18th birthday. he thought it was love. thought he was being looked after and cared for the way he’s always wanted

he was in pain and alone and naive enough to believe the first person who came along and promised to make it better. nothing's in his name, not his insurance or his meds, he doesn’t have a bank account or savings; other than a birth certificate, nothing even ties him to his baby. his husband could take his world away from him with a snap of his fingers and he made sure soap always knew it

he never had a chance of getting away

but ghost is ex-military

he doesn’t know the lad’s story, doesn’t know the details of what he’s running from. he doesn’t need to know

he decided he was helping him the second he pulled into his service station

[vaguely-concerned]

just had the thought 'in the end the most important thing varric taught rook was how to make a home for, with, and in other people' and then I had to go lie down on the floor and clutch at my head in unceasing agony for a few hours, as you may well imagine. hawke and the kirkwall crew........ in the end you kind of saved the world a bit in the most characteristically indirect and chaotic of ways. not by anything in particular that you did or achieved or accomplished (lmao imagine!), but just by -- having existed, and by the love that was always there, despite it all, in all its imperfections, even when no one was saved by it in the end. you're not here right now and you're not quite haunting the narrative but I hear your voices bickering and arguing and laughing from the other room. (and so, I think, does varric. all the time.)

'did you think you mattered, hawke? did you think anything you ever did mattered?' yeah actually, varric says with da2 and keeps saying through the series. you were here. and I loved you. and as it turns out that mattered more than almost anything in the world, no matter how long it lasted or how fucked up it was at the time or what else happens, because varric manages to pass that feeling, that intangible... home, that echo of you all as you were together, that love, hopefully the best parts of it, on to someone else for them to bring with them on their journey, with their family. and maybe the world will be kinder this time. you never know. merrill's line of 'Everything affects everything. We were born, a bunch of things happened, and now we're in a mess with our friends.' varric's greatest fear of becoming his parents. even through the wreck and the ruin of the world, ghosts upon ghosts upon ghosts of love -- malcolm hawke, who we never even see, but his life touched hawke's and hawke's touched varric's and varric's touched rook's and rook is passing it on to the family they're creating. the unbroken legacy of love shines through in ways that are stronger and stranger than any magic. help

[softpine]

she's looking especially sacrificial lamb today 🥩

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[nikkalick]

I have chronic back pain, have for a while. It’s not so bad now that I had surgery, but I lived with it for years. I tried to go to a doctor for it, but they just said to lose weight, so I learned to live with the pain until one morning I couldn’t get up from bed. Couldn’t move without feeling like electricity was running up and down my back, burning my spine and leg from the inside.

This had me back in front of a doctor who (thankfully) listened and then for an entire year my insurance jerked me around requiring that I try different methods to manage the pain before finally agreeing to cover surgery.

In that year leading up to surgery something inside me broke. I couldn’t do the most basic tasks. Having to learn how to move my body in just the right way so that I wouldn’t lock up trying to wipe my own ass is one of my least favorite memories. Next to it is a tie between falling at my sister’s wedding because my leg gave out and being in so much pain I couldn’t sleep for days on end. I couldn’t sit, couldn’t drive, couldn’t bend or twist or even lay down without feeling like my nerves were on fire.

Work accommodated but I felt useless. I couldn’t lift inventory anymore. Couldn’t do a key part of my job that I (oddly) enjoyed doing. Commuting the hour to school twice a week was excruciating, but it was my first year of grad school. I had to push through. My professors were kind, they accommodated so that I could be as comfortable as possible in class. But I felt like a distraction, a nuisance, a bother. It was so hard to focus on lectures and homework when 90% of the input my brain was receiving was that of pain.

I grit my teeth and bore it, my mental health hit a new all time low, and I broke down in front my my mother more times than I can count. And I did this for a year because insurance refused to cover surgery unless I proved to them I needed it. I had to jump through their hoops and play by their rules to get the procedure I needed and that my care team knew I needed. I lost feeling in my leg and foot because they made me wait.

I will forever be grateful for the doctors who listened, for the physical therapist who advocated for me, for my mom who surprisingly became my rock during the whole ordeal. But my insurance company? They can go fuck themselves.

My pain before that year was bad, but not excruciating. My pain now? It’s minimal. Sometimes I still lock up and I’ll likely never have all of the sensation return to my left foot, but I’ll take the constant pins and needles over that year of pain any day. That said, had it gone on much longer I genuinely don’t know if I’d be here typing this.

Anyways…I guess what I’m saying is IF he did it, I get it. I really really get it.

[zer0point5ive]

lawrence post-bathroom

[veryaren]

Hello! I'm quite new to the idv fandom, and I was wondering why luchinini is so popular among many? No hate or anything like that towards it, I'm just curious!

welcome. it is batshit in here be prepared. AS FOR YOUR QUESTION.... I actually don't know. for me it's the character dynamic. I think they fit together well as far as complimenting eachother. antonio is a romantic hedonist who lives to love and be loved. and luchino is. WELL. other than being a freak for reptiles. a logistical sort with a great curiosity and an even GREATER penchant for sating that curiosity. other people might have different reasons!!!!!!!!!! I just think personality wise they compliment each other well. It's popularity (i say that lightly) could honestly potentially be attributed to the fact they're both Italian. WHICH IS KIND OF FUNNY. a lot of ships are very random here anyway so I wouldn't be surprised lol

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Back to your blog to look at your wonderful lofe-giving art

Charles looks so cute with the blush on and so sexy with the bdsm and crop top on ajfkakfk awoooga bark bark bark, drooling, looking very disrespectfully, staring, daydreaming, licking my screen afjkakkk

Also following that Charles bdsm and crop top combo (already very deadly) with hot fox haired magneto (ahckskfk deceased)

welcome back to the blog to ogle anon, lovely to have you 😌 !!! thank you for enjoying my bdsm charles art... i do love drawin blush i aint gonna lie ... i dont advise lickin the screen tho ... but everything else is encouraged 😌

the silver fox that erik is IS pretty deadly this is true... and that beyond his ability to fold anyone like an omelette .... thank you my friend ..

[lanayrutower]

this keeps me up at night btw.

[dawnofiight]

It's my monthly @pycth fangirl moment.

Todays topic: Baabe.

THEIR BABE IS MY ROMAN EMPIREAKSHIASJS ITS JSUT THEJQJSIAJA I WAKE UP THEYRE IN MY BRAIN I GO TO SLEEP THEYRE THERE, IN MY BRAIN, RENT FREE.

Love footage of my face whenever I see them:

[ofthecaravel]

You Know How To Haunt

A 'You Don't Go To Parties' Halloween Special/ Mini Fic/ Oneshot

Summary: Before the night they confessed, Danny and Sam had a very similar evening that ended very, very differently.

Tags: Pre-confession YDGTP Sanny, ANGST, feelingssss (that aren't one sided but Danny thinks they are), saucy thoughts but nothing explicit, basically just infuriating tension

Words: 2.7k

A/N: Sooooo I missed the YDGTP boys and wanted to give a little bit more of a prequel to give y'all a feel of just how tense shit was between them. Inspired by Jennifer's Body, 'Halloween' by Noah Kahan, 'Cheerleader' by Ashnikko, and @holdingup-fallingsky's glasses Danny edit <3

~~~

It was a dark and stormy night, and Danny could not for the life of him find Sam.

It was the typical shtick with a Halloween twist; Sam proposed going to a Halloween party (of course) with costumes, tacky decorations, and “babes as far as the eye can see”. Danny complained and fought it as hard as he usually did, but Sam won for the thousandth time and Danny found himself rummaging in his closet for any semblance of a costume. After tossing on some cheap glasses frames, a velcro bow tie, and a very slim fitting button down that Danny had zero recollection of ever owning, Danny announced his costume.

“A nerd?” Sam mocked, his voice and subsequent laugh muffled from behind the bathroom door where he had holed up to put the finishing touches on his own costume. “Not straying far from reality, are we?”

“Fuck off,” Danny laughed, adjusting the cheap material of the bowtie that was already beginning to strangle him a little bit. “Come on, do I ever get to see your costume or do you just live in my bathroom now?”

“I’d live in here if it wasn’t so filthy,” Sam accused. “I mean, seriously, man, do you ever take out the trash?”

“You’re deflecting,” Danny shot back in a sing-song, banging on the door. “Open up! Michigan PD, you’re under arrest for loitering!”

“You’ll never take me alive!” Sam screeched. “Geez Louise, one second…”

After what felt like an eternity, the bathroom door swung open with a practiced grandeur and Sam strode out with his arms held high, carrying two tinsel pom poms and donning a ripped up cheerleader outfit. He had put on blush in a way that could only be described as amateur and his long, chestnut waves were pulled up in a high ponytail and fastened with a blue scrunchie. Danny played off his suddenly very dry mouth with a look of shock as Sam did a ceremonious twirl and shook a pom pom right under Danny’s nose. Danny snorted and batted it away.

“A cheerleader?” Danny asked, clearly not sold on the concept. “I guess, just, sort of…why?”

“I’ll be the talk of the town, that’s why,” Sam hummed proudly, smoothing the cheap fabricky pleats of his dizzyingly short cheer skirt. “Also, I mean, I look amazing. So that’s a big plus.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Danny murmured, pretending to look away incredulously but doing it purely because he was finding it difficult to look at Sam’s costume at all. He felt the hot flush it provoked in his face and the last thing he needed was for Sam to notice.

“Hey, that’s my shirt!” Sam scoffed, yanking on the collar of Danny’s shirt. “What gives?”

“It was in my closet.” Danny pointed out.

“Yeah, well, it’s not yours,” Sam stammered, putting his hands on his hips and making the pom poms shimmy loudly. 

“What do you care?”

“It looks ridiculous.”

“I’m not sure I’m the ridiculous one here, Miss Team Captain.”

“It’s practically popping off of you, Dan.”

“Here, is this better?”

Danny undid the first top buttons and gestured at his chest.

“Now I’m a sexy nerd,” Danny purred, rolling his eyes and turning away from Sam. He heard Sam make a funny little noise he couldn’t quite identify before letting out an exasperated sigh that he knew all too well. 

“Whatever,” Sam muttered. 

“Get in the car, Stacy, the cheer squad needs you,” Danny joked, grabbing his keys off the wall and tossing a convincing smile back at Sam, already dreading the night that lay before them.

~~

To Danny’s disgust, Sam had been thoroughly right about his costume being a hit. People couldn’t keep their hands off of him; smoothing their palms over the felt number 1 on his chest and lacing their fingers with his to shake the pom poms and asking him over and over again to twirl. Sam, as he always did, gathered his crowd right within eyeshot of Danny, who sat in annoyance on the couch with a full Solo cup. Granted, Danny had corralled a few friends of his own to talk to, but he couldn’t help but sneak glances over at Sam every other minute. With each sip of his drink, Danny warmed up to the truth about why he was so pissed off at all the attention Sam was getting: Sam wanted the attention, but Danny wanted to be the only one to give it. And more glaringly, Danny wanted to be the only opinion that Sam actually cared about. There were all the usual underlying feelings behind it that Danny kept at bay like he always did, but Danny wasn’t all that interested in tuning in to the mushy gushy. As the alcohol softened up his gaze and warmed his limbs, he found his eyes dragging over Sam’s long legs and the curve of his neck, allowing himself to add on to a fantasy in momentary increments. However, after his attention had been drawn into conversation, Danny looked back to find that Sam had disappeared. Without thinking, Danny got to his feet and excused himself, stumbling through the crowd to track Sam down.

--

Danny couldn’t find him. He traversed the entire lower level of the house, ducking under cobwebs and paper bats and even circling the bonfire in the backyard in hopes of catching a glimpse of Sam and his stupid, slutty costume. After making his way back inside, Danny looked at the crepe paper that had been taped from banister to banister on the stairs and knew that if Sam was anywhere, it was where he wasn’t supposed to be. Danny stepped over the makeshift caution tape and jogged up the steps, becoming increasingly convinced that he was going to walk in on Sam and some random in the throes of passion. His stomach flipped and he swallowed thickly, waving off the imagery and reminding himself that he just wanted to know that Sam was safe. That’s all. 

Danny felt pretty bad about snooping around someone’s house that he didn’t know, but he knew Sam wouldn’t, and that’s why he was so certain he would find him up there. Sure enough, Danny hesitantly opened a random door and saw Sam sitting cross legged on a bed, flipping through a thick scrapbook by the warm light of the bedside lamp. His ponytail had been abandoned and the scrunchie was now around his slim wrist, the sequins catching the light as he continued to look through the scrapbook. His upper body was swaying slightly in a seasick, wobbling way that let Danny know Sam was properly drunk, which was further confirmed when he looked up at Danny and let out a surprised gasp.

“Oh my god, hi!” Sam greeted cheerfully, dropping the scrapbook and holding his arms out to Danny. “Come here.”

“You want a hug?” Danny giggled, his annoyance already melting away. Sam tended to do that to him, despite the annoyance always coming back tenfold after some time.

“No, help me up,” Sam whined. He hooked his arms around Danny’s neck as Danny pulled him to his feet, making no motion to move away as he sank into Danny’s embrace and let out a comical sigh, nestling his face into the crook of Danny’s neck. Danny let out a low chuckle and held him lightly, his heart threatening to beat through his chest as Sam swayed in his arms. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Sammy,” Danny joked, his voice cracking slightly and making him cringe at his own sudden ineptitude around his friend of over 10 years. He could hardly believe how pathetic he was sometimes.

“But you’re so cozy,” Sam argued, his voice muffled and sweet against Danny’s skin. 

“Do you wanna go home?” Danny asked gently, the noise of the party oddly melting away as he tentatively smoothed a hand over Sam’s hair.

“No!” Sam suddenly cried, straightening and pushing off of Danny, only to fall back onto the bed again with a bounce. He began to giggle raucously, holding his hands over his face as hiccups began to edge their way between laughs. Danny rolled his eyes and moved to pick Sam up again, but Sam swatted at his chest and wiggled out of his grasp.

“No, no, let me rest, you goon,” Sam slurred defiantly, even drawing a knee up to kick at Danny’s chest. “Ssh, I’m sleeping. I’m honking my mimi’s.”

“You can sleep at home, Sam,” Danny argued patiently, trying again to scoop Sam up and onto his feet. “Come on, up and at em, soldier.”

“I’m not your soldier,” Sam shot back, lifting his chin proudly. “I’m a cheerleader.”

“The very best,” Danny assured him with a grin, his breath beginning to shake with nerves as Sam’s hands reached for him, red hot and wandering as he grabbed at Danny’s shoulders and biceps. 

“You’re so strong,” Sam murmured, finally allowing Danny to pull him up again, swaying on the spot as his blurry eyes blinked up at Danny. His eyes were amber and nearly animalistic in the lamplight and Danny had to look away, kneeling down to pick up the abandoned scrapbook and tucking it where he hoped it belonged.

“What are you even doing up here?” Danny asked. 

“Bored,” Sam shrugged, beginning to wander around the outskirts of the room. “There weren’t even any good costumes here tonight which is so lame. And, I mean, there’s a whole floor we’re not even using? Of course I’m going to scope it out.”

“Yeah, you’re always where you shouldn’t be,” Danny teased, a touch of bitterness lacing his words. When he looked up at Sam again he knew his tone had gone right over his head, seeing as Sam was leaned up against the wall with his eyes trained on the ceiling fan, his head bobbing slightly as he followed each rotation. Danny allowed to indulge in another moment of observation, taking note of Sam’s exposed stomach and his arms tucked coyly behind his back. He was jolted out of it by Sam meeting his eye and grinning wickedly.

“Hi,” Sam sang softly, cocking his head at Danny.

“You ready to go now?” Danny asked, now desperate to get Sam as far away from him as soon as possible. He got to his feet and approached Sam, getting ready to argue before Sam surprised him by lacing his arms around Danny’s neck again and pulling him in close.

“Do you remember,” Sam started, whispering conspiratorially. “When we were younger, and we used to play boyfriend girlfriend?”

Danny felt an electric shock go through his body at the memory. It had been a truly innocent game, simply practicing the day to day motions they thought they might have to go through when they were old enough and had girlfriends. Who better to play with than your best friend? Plus, Danny had secretly always really liked calling Sam his “girlfriend”, and doing all the fake grand gestures to ensure his happiness had come very naturally. Sam had always said he was the best at being the boyfriend, and Danny had always believed it. 

“Yeah, sure,” Danny replied in confusion, his cheeks prickling with uncomfortable warmth again. 

“You’re always playing it when we go to parties and you don’t even realize,” Sam laughed. Danny’s eyes widened subconsciously and he stammered, knitting his brow in further confusion.

“What?” Danny managed, attempting a light hearted laugh. 

“You do!” Sam crowed in amusement, stabbing an accusatory finger into the center of Danny’s chest. “You love to boyfriend me. Years of practice. You miss it, huh?”

“Wow, you’re hammered,” Danny said dismissively, shaking his head. 

“‘S’not the point,” Sam sighed, his head dropping onto Danny’s chest, his soft hair brushing against Danny’s exposed skin and sending a shockwave through Danny’s reflexes. 

“I’m taking you home, Sam, end of story,” Danny whispered in Sam’s ear, attempting to straighten his neck before Sam’s hand reached up and pulled Danny’s head back down. Sam’s lips went to Danny’s ear in a whisper of his own.

“I hate you wearing my fucking shirt,” Sam whispered, his voice shockingly sober and coherent in the blink of an eye. A cold sweat broke out over Danny’s body and he felt his breaths coming out in jagged, stilted intervals as Sam kept him anchored to him. 

“You wanna take it off me, then?” Danny ventured, his voice matching Sam’s barely audible pitch. He tried to make it a joke but his voice fell flat and serious. He could have sworn he heard Sam’s voice hitch before Sam let go of him, allowing Danny to step back and boggle at Sam’s bizarre behavior. Sam had such an odd glint in his eye, assessing Danny with his lip tucked between his teeth as he continued to struggle to stay standing. For a moment, Danny considered what he would do if he was less restrained than he had learned to be around Sam. There was a massive part of him that was aching and begging for him to pin Sam against the wall and tear away at that infuriating little skirt, holding him down by the warmth of his waist and shutting him up with his teeth and tongue. But he knew he couldn’t, so he stood with a scowl on his face and challenged Sam again.

“What?” Danny snapped, his frustration growing as Sam continued to refuse to leave. That’s all Danny wanted right now, but Sam never, ever gave him what he wanted. 

“I…” Sam trailed off and didn’t pick it back up, simply staring a hole through Danny’s head. Danny could practically hear the gears turning in Sam’s brilliant brain, but all that followed was silence. It was the loudest silence Danny had ever heard, and he wondered with a jolt if there was something Sam wanted to say that was akin to what Danny had been screaming into pillows and scrawling in journals for years now. Without a word, Danny pleaded with Sam to just say it so he could stop slowly crushing himself under the weight of whatever it was between them that neither of them wanted to touch. But he knew he wouldn’t, and Sam didn’t, and Danny let out a sigh that threatened to bring tears with it. He walked to the door and opened it, motioning with a nod of his head.

“We’re going,” Danny said firmly, taking off the stupid glasses frames and ripping off the bowtie with an extension of his pinkie, crumpling them into a ball in his hand and tucking them into his pocket.

“But-”

“I don’t want to play anymore, Sam,” Danny snapped, unable to even look at Sam when he said it. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend, which you’ve made very clear, by the way, so I’m not going to force you to do anything. But if you want a ride home and you don’t want to wake up choking on your own vomit in some random person’s studio apartment, the time is now.”

There was a beat of silence, and when Danny turned to look at Sam, he felt a stab of guilt when Sam gawked at him like he’d been slapped across the face. Sam let out a wordless scoff and pushed his way past Danny, turning to glare up at him.

“I can take care of myself,” Sam hissed, his words still blurry and drunk around the edges. “I don’t need you.”

“You won’t be thinking that tomorrow morning,” Danny countered fiercely. Sam rolled his eyes and began to descend the stairs, his sneakers slamming into each step as he ran away from Danny. Danny, as always, ran after him with a growing sickness in his chest. Sam stopped before he reached the front door, looking back at Danny one more time.

Danny knew he had to say it now. He wanted to. 

He wanted to beg Sam to calm down and to beg for his forgiveness, worshipping on his knees for his grace like he’d been doing for what felt like his entire life. 

But he didn’t. 

So out the door Sam went, slamming it and leaving Danny alone.

Again.

~~~ 

[litany-writes]

i actually am SO in love w lando’s little mullet that he’s got going on. normally i think that hairstyle looks so bad but idk what is it abt his cut it’s just. man. i need to put him in my pocket. i need to bite something. idk anymore.

[oozeandgoo-art]

had an odd dream that i was reading a comic book. sketched a couple of the pages i could remember.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

connection between "the poets are just kids who didn't make it" -> "I went to sleep a poet and I woke up a fraud" -> "I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead"

also a branch off there that ties Hand of God with TMOTM but that's actually a lyric comp I'm planning to make soon more than an actual note

[transmechanicus]

Anyways.