#reply stack

[ingeniousmindoftune]

Can you please do Sinners with Sammie x Reader. But please make sure that reader or your of gets bitten but not turned. Basically just do the whole scene with the vampires invading the speakeasy and then reader gets bitten, then sammie sees her and he follows through with his promise of killing her if she gets bitten.

Bite of Betrayal

Sammie x Reader

Warnings: Vampires,violence, emotional angst, betrayal, near-death, protective love, heartbreak, blood, gore, trauma, intense emotional angst, heartbreak, violence, protective/possessive love, emotional aftermath, themes of death and trust.

Note: Reader gets bitten but not turned. This is a bittersweet/angsty scene with strong emotions and gritty atmosphere.

Word Count: ~2,000

The speakeasy felt like a secret carved into the earth—its ceiling hung so low your shoulders brushed the dark-stained beams, and the thick limestone walls swallowed every roar from the street above. Rich burgundy velvet drapes pooled at the floor, muffling footsteps and hiding corners where whispers curled like curling smoke. The mahogany bar gleamed under wrought-iron sconces whose amber flames trembled against chipped plaster. A lone pianist’s fingers coaxed a smoky jazz lament from yellowed keys, each breathy trumpet cry sliding through the haze of whiskey fumes and hushed confidences. Candlelight puddled in brass holders, flickering over brass footrails and stained-glass mirrors, giving the whole room a secretive, golden hush.

You hadn’t noticed Sammie slip in beside you until his elbow pressed against the small of your back. His trench coat still clung to the damp chill of the alley, and the brim of his fedora cast a shadow over his eyes. He leaned forward, the scent of cedarwood cologne drifting against the whiskey in the air, and his lips, cool and deliberate, brushed your temple. He straightened, fingers curling around the ornate brass rail. “Don’t move,” he murmured—so low you might have imagined it. “I’ll be right back.” His smile was a promise you’d never doubted.

Then something snapped.

First, the sconces guttered, their flames sputtering like wounded insects. The pianist’s final chord hovered in the air and died. A woman’s scream ricocheted off the stone, sharp enough to freeze your blood. Crystalware shattered—glittering rain against the polished floor—as cold seeped through the candles’ warmth. Then came the sour tang of spilled bourbon fused with something rotten, like soil left to rot under a forgotten tomb.

Shapes unfurled from the gloom: towering silhouettes, limbs too long and thin to be human, sliding across the floor with a disturbing grace. Their eyes burned ember-red, teeth curved into cruel crescents that gleamed white in the candlelight. A hungry stench rolled off them in waves, sinking into your gut and twisting your stomach into knots.

Chaos ignited. Glass bottles exploded in showers of amber liquid; patrons stumbled, screaming, arms flailing as overturned stools skidded across the boards. A red-faced drunkcareened into a table, sending glasses flying. In the far corner, a man’s howl cut off mid-word as invisible hands yanked him across the floor, his throat opened in a spray of ruby that painted the wood in wicked arcs.

Vampires.

Your heart thundered so loud you felt it in your ears. Instinct sent your hand to your thigh, fingers closing around the slender silver blade Sammie had clipped to your garter. In one fluid motion you drew it free—only to freeze as icy breath ghosted across your neck.

“I always liked sweetbloods,” a voice rasped, low and amused. A gaunt figure drifted into the candlelight, pale collarbones gleaming, a cruel smile curving his lips.

You spun and slashed. The blade carved a burnished arc across translucent flesh; the creature’s laughter echoed like bone rattling. In a heartbeat he seized your wrist, yanking it back until pain flared along your bones. His amber eyes danced with savage delight.

“Feisty,” he growled, tilting you toward the bar. You felt the polished wood bite into your spine as he slammed you forward—glass beneath you shivered and splintered under the impact. Pain exploded up your back in hot shards, but rage blazed brighter. You kicked out, boot connecting with his shin. He snarled and bared his fangs.

Then he struck—jaws clamped down on your shoulder in a vicious arc of white and crimson. Fire surged through you, searing nerve endings with each pulse. You screamed raw, a ragged sound that cut through the din as cold began to snake through your limbs, dulling your world.

Bang! Bang!

Two thunderous cracks shattered the frenzy. You convulsed as the vampire’s weight slumped from your shoulder. The world tipped; your vision fractured into shards of shadow and flame. Through the haze you saw Sammie standing amid splintered glass and overturned chairs, his trench coat ticked with ash and blood. A pistol hung limply in his hand, smoke curling from its twin barrels. He had shot point-blank into the creature’s skull; gray dust drifted down from its ruined face.

“Y/N—!” His voice cracked, wrenching the edges of panic and relief together.

Strong arms swept beneath you, lifting you from the wreckage. Sammie pressed you against his chest, his fingers trembling as they probed the crimson stain blooming at your shoulder. His eyes, wide with horror, locked on the curved silver blade slick with your blood.

“He bit you,” he hissed, every breath rattling like a cracked bell. “If they bite you—”

You forced your throat to work, croaking out a nod. “I—I tried to fight—”

He recoiled as if struck, light flickering in his eyes, turning cold. “Do you remember what I said?” His voice was hollow, like a gravestone.

You did. If their fangs ever broke your skin, Sammie would kill you before you could rise as one of them—a vow he’d fulfilled for countless others. Your pulse hammered in your ears as you met his gaze.

“Sammie, please,” you whispered, fingers clutching the lapel of his coat. “I’m still me. I can feel it.”

He flinched, pain warring with resolve. His pistol arm rose, hand shaking so hard the barrel quivered against your chest. “You don’t know that,” he rasped.

“Sammie, you love me,” you pleaded, voice raw.

His jaw clenched like steel. “I do,” he choked, “and that’s why I can’t let you become one of them.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached for his shaking hand. “Then help me live,” you begged. “Don’t—don’t kill me.”

His shoulders trembled; the barrel lifted, wobbling. He stared at you, the weight of every promise pressing down. The gun slipped from his feeble grip and clattered to the floor. Sammie sank to his knees, pulling you into his lap, pressing his forehead to yours. His breath was hot, ragged against your skin.

“I should kill you,” he whispered, voice breaking. “But I can’t. I won’t.”

You closed your eyes against the pain, drawing what little strength you had into a single breath. “Then help me live.”

A fierce determination flashed in his haunted eyes. He brushed your hair back, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “We’ll find a healer—witch, alchemist, whatever it takes. I’ll burn this city to ashes before I lose you to the darkness.”

Your blood dulled your limbs, but in Sammie’s arms you felt a fragile spark of hope. “I trust you,” you murmured.

He lifted you gently, cradling your injured side against his heart. “Then trust me this: I will save you. If you do turn, I’ll be the one to end it. But until then, I swear I will not let you go.”

With that vow echoing in the ruined speakeasy, he carried you into the night—leaving behind splintered wood and spilled blood. Beyond those battered doors lay a world ablaze and unknown, but in Sammie’s steadfast grip you were still alive.

But little did you know, he planned to kill you once you entered the night. Because he made a promise, a promise he would hold to heart.

[koipepo]

before the credit scene played, i was quite happily living in a world where Sammie went back to the juke house, and found Stack still alive, and they became Codependent As Fuck, and the fact that i cannot have this is a crime

i want Stack to follow Sammie around. i want him to keep an eye on his baby cousin. i want him to sneak in at night and curl up with the last bit he has of his brother (their cousin) and i want Sammie to wake in the morning completely unaware, but quietly wondering about the best sleep he's had in weeks

i just. clenches fist. why did they not give us this. please. Stack as Sammie's ghost of a protector. Stack clinging to the very last bit of Smoke he'll ever have. to his family. the one thing keeping him almost-human

but anon.... you remember the deadliest weapon we own.. OUR IMAGINATION///

it's actually sooo easy to apply your perfect and heartwrenching headcanon to the ending we got! the way Stack talked to Sammie in the ending, it's giving the vibe of old protector already (he strolls in front of Sammie like he already plans this for a while) yet also the role of the devil who tried one last time to tempt Sammie (to vampirism, immortality)...

a reminder to Sammie that this Stack will never be the Stack Sammie knew and wishes he could return to, yet this Stack whos all wrong, who's both alive and not still and will look after him. not for one second i was worried Stack in the epilogue will hurt Sammie, he's just built different asdfgh

Some things change yet some things remain painfully the same 😭

[sumerianlanguage]

what is the longest attested sequence of =ak that you've seen in Sumerian texts?

Hmm! I did a little searching, and here's what I've got.

"=ak" is one rendering of the Sumerian genitive case ending, roughly corresponding to English "of" or the possessive "apostrophe-S". It links two nouns together, X-Y-(ak) being "X of Y". The -a sound appears only after a consonant, and the -k- element only before a vowel and not at the end of a word, so in some circumstances (end of a word, after a vowel) it disappears entirely: lugal-uru "the king (lugal) of the city (uru)".

You can have multiple nested genitives, in which case the same rules apply: lugal-uru-e-k-a "the king of (-a) the city of (-k-) houses (e)", with the first -k- being the "inner" genitive and the second -a being the "outer" one. Jagersma (2010) lists several examples of this "stacked genitive", like tug-gu-anshe-k-a "the cloth of the neck of the donkey", as well as instances where additional case endings can be added after the genitive(s), like igi-shabra-Enlilakash "before (-sh) the eyes (igi) of (-a-) the administrator (shabra) of (-ak-) Enlil" - the final -akash represents three case endings in a row.

In theory, genitive elements can be stacked as long as you want, just as in English: "the power of the throne of the king of the city of the houses of copper" (or "the copper houses' city's king's throne's power", if you prefer). However, Edzard (2003) makes clear that "Probably for reasons of euphony, no more than two genitive particles were allowed on a string, even if three or more genitive relationships are involved." Jagersma gives an example of mashdaria-dam-shangnga-Ebarbara-k-ak-am "This is (-am) the ceremonial gift of the wife of the administrator of the Ebabbar temple," with three "of"s being covered by the two genitives in -k-ak-. Jagersma doesn't give an example with more than three nouns linked by these two genitives, but in theory you could have as many as you want. So the example at the start of this paragraph would be a-ashte-lugal-uru-e-urud-ak-a, with just the final two "-ak-a" representing all of the genitives - not *a-ashte-lugal-uru-e-urud-ak-ak-ak-ak-a, which would of course be ridiculous (^_~)

So if the question is "longest sequence of genitives", then I can find examples of three, but wouldn't doubt there are longer ones out there, and can construct my own of any length. But if the question is "longest sequence of =ak", the answer is... two. I hope that answers your question!

[truethes]

ok but i think this munday should be about loving yourself so fun fact is that ive really come to love how i write romantic / shippy things lately.

[crimeronan]

Titan Luz can be a terrifying divine empress with untold power and the endorsement of God himself. But she can also be an adorable kitty cat who wants pretty coloured claws and to take a nap in a big bed with all her friends and loses important government documents in her tail... both can be very much true.

Raine would rather like to find the national budget Luz said she'd sign off and she happens to be napping and there's no way to get it without waking her, and that would be inconceivable

FJSJDDJH. poor raine.

fortunately darius has no such qualms. darius pounding on luz's door in the middle of the day & startling both her and hunter awake like. Wakey Wakey Children. Are We Going To Let The Poors Starve Today??

[theperksofbeingstupid]

atoning for my crimes he's two apples tall now

canon

[missbloomiewashere]

Since no one is asking anything I might as well ask again!

So Miss Bloomie and Thavel, what's the stupidest/funniest thing you've ever seen a student do at this school?

” Recently Oliver, Zip, and Edward came into my class and asked if they could spend their lunch period there. I said yes and then,, “

“ they had a fucking chair war and it was so stupidly beautiful “

[enden-k]

Rrehahseb for an anon who'll probably reveal themselves later with some fanart.. yesyesyesyesy absolutely yes (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠)

AHSHSJDHD well thanks in advance!!! (and thanks to the ones who gave their permission yippieee)

[fortunesblade]

everyday i step closer to making zahav an original universe and just making him a dragon age verse truly... not a lot would change but also a lot WOULD you feel me,,,

[koipepo]

Hey I remember you from the Spiderverse fandom and I loved your art so much! Glad to see you're into Sammick too and all the other delightfully problematic ships within Sinners 🤭❤️

Hi hi! Thank you for your words of encouragement! Im just... Too weak for pure protagonist who attracts dangerous, cosmic level of antagonist ashdhjsn (Sammie is so prey coded too im sorry hes such shoujo protagonist)

I know that i will ship Remmick x Sammie the moment i stepped out of theatre but liking smokestack x Sammie caught me completely off guard... What is it with ryan coogler's movies that made cousincest an available menu on the plate 😂

[leocadian]

every single day i plummet into a new circle of hell and am subjected to agonising torture but all is well & good i have her on my side!

[milesofstars]

interested in your thoughts on lupin :O it's rare to see other people who are fans out in the wild

ahh yes!!! theyre arguably my favourite books (collection of stories.. ish.. what do you even call it?) other than crime and punishment,, and im still in the process of reading as many as possible, but ive reread a few too!!

i absolutely adore arsène lupin as a character and the way that the stories are written is always so entertaining,, plus the fact that theyre very short so it never feels like theyre dragging on (unlike my other favourite book.. shuddering..)

plus theyre even a main inspiration for a project im working on.. posts abt it will happen sometime soon, likely before the end of the yr or just after

INFACT, i started reading a few more of the stories just a few days ago in a book i got a while back but forgot was on my shelf, and im not joking that The Red Silk Scarf was so funny that TODAY i had to literally stop myself from giggling out loud in my maths class while i was reading it.. funnily enough i just realised i stopped myself from laughing by holding my red scarf over my face. huh. lupin is the silliest goofer

i always get super excited when i find other people who like arsène lupin,, or just references to him in media i like!! i kinda want to watch the lupin III series but i havent got around to it since i spend most of my time watching detective conan </3

sorry this reply was a bit long and wordy,, like i said i got a bit excited since nobody asks me about it loll but id love to hear more peoples' opinions on it too!! maybe one day ill post art of the funky thief himself

[shinelikethunder]

back in the Superwholock days there was this post getting passed around my corner of tumblr about "teflon writing vs velcro writing," ostensibly as a nutshell summary of why fandom reacted so differently to Steven Moffat and Russell T Davies as Doctor Who showrunners: slick and polished and easier to admire (when done well) or coolly assess its flaws (when botched) than to get a grip on or pull apart & tinker with, vs. messy and prickly and grippy and tinkering-friendly and prone to getting its hooks in you whether or not you ever wanted that

and that's very funny to look back on with the distance of hindsight, because to this day--a full decade after peak Superwholock--RTD-era Who and Kripke-era SPN remain THE most insane, crazymaking, irreversible-brain-damage-inducing, "compelling in the way where they make me INCREDIBLY ANGRY and ITCHY TO FIX THEM because i am so stupid-invested that they still have me by the balls, even when my engagement is just picking apart the frustrations of how and why they SUCK" turbo-examples of velcro writing i have ever encountered in my LIFE

hell, they aren't even so much like velcro as they're like snagging the folds of a lace circle skirt on a whole branch of actual cockleburs and trying to wash the shrapnel out with fucking gorilla glue

.....and then there's BBC Sherlock. which was neither velcro writing nor teflon writing but an elaborate many-year con, targeted at the EXACT kinds of people who maintain a secret good Supernatural that lives in their heads, whose one neat trick was to bait its marks into collectively hallucinating a brilliant show so that Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss never had to put themselves to the trouble of writing one.

[nekojima-neighborhood]

Good afternoon! I can't find instructions on how to build houses like in Nekojima, when each floor is a separate plot. Maybe you can help me? Maybe you still have a link?

Hi! I do still have the link! Here you go.

[dunadaneth]

continued from here

"I hope so," she said of returning to the North, wanting nothing more than to be on those fair lake shores. She almost wanted to smile at Elladan’s assuring words. Ever was he one to soothe troubles and unrest, and it had always endeared him to her. But she had been vague, and her words hid half truths long buried, and so despite his kindly meant words, they did not quite bring her the peace he sought to give, though he tried. This fate had been of her own making, despite how impossible it had seemed that it would pass; she would not regret the choices she had made that lead down this road. There was a ghost of a smile at her potential title, however. "Those days had formed us and given us life,” her words were nearly a whisper, spoken as they had been by her lover long ago, “but we will live that life, for all the good and ill it brings with it.”

       But with the thought of a potential future, one of hope and yet hidden fear, so too did her mind turn to another- one that she very well might not see at all. So much had weighed on her mind these many months. and even before their company had left Rivendell, there had been little time to think, let alone process the thoughts and worries that warred within her. There was only the singular focus of traveling south with her kin, to fulfill a destiny long in the making, from the lips of a seer long ago- a standard borne aloft, and a message given and received. But there were no words now, no prophecies foretold to give her comfort or assurances.

        It was the words of Halbarad, instead, that lingered heavily in her mind.

        She had accepted her duty held the likelihood of death, long ago. And now at the end of all days, where so many had been lost, and hope seemed such a fragile thing, a part of her almost welcomed it: twined with fear and shame and grief all at once. ‘This is an evil door, and my death lies beyond it. I will dare to pass it nonetheless.’

       Death, in the face of ones duties. Death, that had taken the lives of her kinsmen on this journey, those who would never live to see their sacrifices made. Death, that hung above them like the thick, acrid smoke of Mordor, threatening to choke out the stars that hung in the sky, one by one. Death, that had spared her, yet not her friends; their bodies left where they had been slain so cruelly, far from home, the blood on the walls and the floors glistening as the torches went out, and the war chants and cries of the dying filled her ears--

        She swallowed thickly, forcing herself out of the memories she had tried so hard to shove down, a tightness in her chest that squeezed the breath from her. In that moment, it was as though in one night many years had fallen on her head. Grim was her face, grey-hued and weary.

“Elladan, I...” He had tried so hard to bring levity to her, and she almost did not have the heart to voice her question. He had spoken of the North, of home, and she turned to face him fully, gripping both her hands in his. “I have one last favor to ask of you.”

She saw it so clearly now: the swaying of the blossoming willow trees, their tendrils and leaves perfumed with the sweetest of scents. The sunlight dappled on the blue waters, glittering like a thousand gems as the waves lapped at the shore. The city she so dearly loved, in ruins yet no less beautiful; home, as it always would be. Where she belonged.

“If I should die tomorrow, or in this war--I want to be buried in Evendim.”

@mindsmade

[lcgacyofages]

working on my google site for ease of access and getting some shots but

look at my son

Inquisitor?? more like InquisiBABE