toothplant

[toothplant]

Yo I just want to say that you’re being kinda ridiculous with this whole Sammick thing. Some things you just need to keep in a private journal for your eyes only. You know deep down that putting shit like that online (fiction or not) ain’t cool. And the fact that you’re being rude to people simply calling you out is making it worse for you.

[toothplant]

Not Smoke and Stack scheming up a whole plan to catch these two lololol these guys are fiends 🤣

Once Smoke and Stack up and appeared out of nowhere Sammie suddenly gained clarity and remembered the brightly-colored condom wrappers sitting in the backseat. He can't do nothing but hope Smoke doesn't get close to the untinted windows that Remmick violated the very clear 'no sex' rule Smoke set for him before they left.

But Sammie's sweating bullets anyway 'cause Remmick can't spit out a good lie on the fly like usual, and they did a looootta shit they wasn't supposed to do...

Sammie tries to answer the question for Remmick, but he gets immediately shut up by Stack. "Smoke ain't talking to you right now, lil' Sammie. He shouldn't have no trouble answerin'. "

“You sober?”

“Yes, sir.” Remmick answers quickly, straightening his posture, arms at his sides. Sammie knows he ain’t, not completely—knows they each had at least two shots and smoked half a joint behind the bar forty-five minutes before they left.

But Sammie doesn’t dare say anything, not with Stack’s arm slung around his shoulder. He only prays Remmick manages to successfully navigate the series of landmines that is an encounter with Smoke.

And then Sammie remembers who Remmick is, and gives up hope with a heavy sigh. Stack gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“You know what time it is?” Smoke’s voice is sure and steady, unconcerned about staging an armed outdoor confrontation in the middle of the night.

“A little after ten. Sir.” Remmick replies promptly.

“And what time is Sammie’s curfew?”

“Ten PM.” Remmick’s voice wavers. “Sir.”

“Yeah.” Smoke cocks his gun, the sound echoing across the cul-de-sac. “What you doin’ out so late with my baby cousin, huh?”

[toothplant]

I just know Smoke and Stack was posted up at the front door at 10:01 PM, guns loaded. They are not fucking around. Remmick has the nerve to not only send Sammie back past curfew, but to also drive back under the influence. He's gonna be lucky to make it out alive.

“You sober?”

“Yes, sir.” Remmick answers quickly, straightening his posture, arms at his sides. Sammie knows he ain’t, not completely—knows they each had at least two shots and smoked half a joint behind the bar forty-five minutes before they left.

But Sammie doesn’t dare say anything, not with Stack’s arm slung around his shoulder. He only prays Remmick manages to successfully navigate the series of landmines that is an encounter with Smoke.

And then Sammie remembers who Remmick is, and gives up hope with a heavy sigh. Stack gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“You know what time it is?” Smoke’s voice is sure and steady, unconcerned about staging an armed outdoor confrontation in the middle of the night.

“A little after ten. Sir.” Remmick replies promptly.

“And what time is Sammie’s curfew?”

“Ten PM.” Remmick’s voice wavers. “Sir.”

“Yeah.” Smoke cocks his gun, the sound echoing across the cul-de-sac. “What you doin’ out so late with my baby cousin, huh?”

[toothplant]

Meet the family Friday

Remmick gotta deal with Mama Moore

He didn’t survive 🥀

[toothplant]

aaaaahhh not the busted ass car. AAAAAAA not him blasting rap music (nice assumption there too, Remmick 😑) like god damn they probably heard the mf before saw him. Sammie was probably sweating bullets cause he knows how Remmick can be and, lo and behold, the mf fucked everything up before he even went into park.

Not to mention the BUSTED car. The contraption looks like it was from the dump with a jar of nickels. Looks and sounds like it'll give out at any moment.

Remmick steps out the car and it all just falls apart. Yes, he looks like the guy who would buy it from the dump for a jar of nickels.

Stack's about to fall out, Smoke's shaking his head, Jedidiah's astounded, and Ruth's horrified. Sammie's siblings go from 😲 to 😟.

Remmick talks for all of 3 minutes before Sammie's pushing him back into the car and burrowing himself into the passenger seat.

Remmick's like, "Did I make a good first impression, darlin'? I think they like me! 😁"

"... just shut up and drive, Remmick..."

Remmick meets the family friday but it’s a modern au and he’s picking sammie up from his house at night.

Little does he know that the ENTIRE family is there and they all rush out to the front yard to see who this white boy is that’s picking up their sammie (who is embarrassed as fuck and doesn’t want the fam to see remmick)

Remmick comes driving up in his busted ass car blaring rap (just in case) to try and impress everyone but he just gets blank stares. That and him trying to introduce himself and sammie shoving him back into the car and begging to leave cause he can already see Stack start to laugh and make fun of him.

[toothplant]

Remmick standing in the rain holding a boom box over his head blasting some r&b love song with the saddest puppy dog eyes he can muster outside of Smoke & Stack's place cause he and Sammie are going through a rough patch (Remmick being a possessive freakazoid again).

Sammie's in the middle of ranting to his cousins about Remmick's behavior and all the shit that went down during their argument when all three hear a noise outside.

He's outside the apartment complex doing this in a muscle shirt and raggedy jeans at 10 pm on a Monday cause he didn't think Sammie would walk out the door. Now he's got tears running down his face cause he can't stand being apart from Sammie for more than an hour. Snot dripping from his nose and drooling all over his chin going, "SAMMMIEEE!!!😭😭😭 I'M SORRY, BABY!!!"

Smoke and Stack take a peek at this old blubbering fool waking up the street with his sorry ass boom box from behind the window blinds, then turn to Sammie like, "this is your man??"

Sammie kinda looks away and scratches the back of his head from his spot behind them. Is he embarrassed? Hell yeah -- if Remmick was like, idk, a young adult doing this shit yeah it'd be cringy and stupid but it would make sense cause he's Sammie's age. But Remmick's ass is like thirty-four years old doing these melodramatic antics.

Stack's shaking his head and Smoke's giving Sammie one of his 'I thought you knew better than this' glares before opening the widow and telling to Remmick to get the hell on before he gets fucked the hell up.

Remmick stays put all they way up until he sees the twins walking out the complex, then he finally scrams (hides behind a dumpster).

(He'll be back later, he knows they can work this out. He just has to make Sammie believe!!!)

[toothplant]

I want to add on to this to say that if they do make themselves decent and eat some cake at the table (which might take a while on account of the viagra), it would be even more embarrassing because now Sammie's younger siblings are wondering why this old white guy is dating their brother, where he came from, and what they were doing to make their parents and cousins glare daggers at the both of them.

Sammie has his head down shoveling cake into his mouth as fast as he can without being impolite, and Remmick, lacking self-awareness, is taking large but slow bites cause damn, the cakes not that bad actually. Stack eating his slice like the tension isn't suffocating everyone in the room and Smoke isn't even touching his -- his appetite got ruined by the sight of this middle-aged tramp who preys on young boys. Ruthie taking slow bites and Jedidiah ain't touching his either.

Torture for all the adults sans Remmick, who either lacks the ability to read the room or just ignores it, and Stack, who finds the whole situation amusing. Sammie's siblings shooting questions, and Jedidiah, Ruthie, and Smoke straight up grilling their answers.

(I really wanna say they were kinda forced into it by Ruth or Stack cause Jedidiah or Smoke are definitely not letting old bummy weirdo anywhere other than outside)

Meet the Family but it's Sammie's whole family barging into his room to wish him a surprise happy birthday and seeing the boy getting humped like a dog by a grown ass man drooling like a ravenous dog with his tongue out and a dog collar that says "Remmick."

Cue the awkwardness as Sammie introduces his boyfriend of two years (Sammie is 19/21 and Remmick is 30/31) sitting on a cum-soaked blanket to his parents and older cousins. The whole thing is embarrassing for Sammie who's covered in bites, hickies, and slobber, while Remmick's sitting right beside him looking the same way with the damned dog collar and a pillow over his crotch cause he's still hard as a rock. ☠️☠️☠️

[toothplant]

Meet the Family but it's Sammie's whole family barging into his room to wish him a surprise happy birthday and seeing the boy getting humped like a dog by a grown ass man drooling like a ravenous dog with his tongue out and a dog collar that says "Remmick."

Cue the awkwardness as Sammie introduces his boyfriend of two years (Sammie is 19/21 and Remmick is 30/31) sitting on a cum-soaked blanket to his parents and older cousins. The whole thing is embarrassing for Sammie who's covered in bites, hickies, and slobber, while Remmick's sitting right beside him looking the same way with the damned dog collar and a pillow over his crotch cause he's still hard as a rock. ☠️☠️☠️

[toothplant]

Can't believe I shared my 'Meet the Family' idea on a thursday

[toothplant]

Sammick Soulmates/Fated mates (a/b/o) Pt. 3

So, building off of the second part of the soul/fated mate idea, specifically the part where Sammie 'feels' or senses Remmick's deep yearning & loneliness is much more intense than his and the fact that their connection stretches beyond time.

Sammie being Remmick's one and only soulmate, destined for him all those 1500 + years ago. He felt the longing throughout his entire life, just like Sammie did, felt the pull, but being born almost a millennium and a half apart from Sammie, the tug leads to nowhere and everywhere at once, as if it's searching for something it cannot find. Something it cannot find because it, they, don't exist yet. Living his life with a yearning deep in his chest for someone he doesn't know and being repulsed by everyone's scents, even people he finds attractive enough to court but just can't. Going to one of the elders only to be told he has a soulmate, that's why he feels yearning in his chest, that's why he repulsed by everyone's scents.

The Filí finding comfort in song and poems, voicing this yearning, this sorrow for his other half yet to come.

Being an enigma in his community because everyone else can court and mate freely yet he's bound by an instinct he's coming to resent. Going to his elders/a specialist after another year of waiting.

"How long?" He pleads. "Please, tell me how much longer?"

Being asked about the pull. Telling them the pull has no direction, it feels like he's being pulled into nowhere and everywhere at the same time, it's been that way for as long as he could remember. They're puzzled, then horrified. They tell him a tale, a dreadful tale of tragedy striking soulmates. One dying before they could meet, or having the bond broken, yearning for one another but unable to seek each other out. Widowed Soulmates: soulmates born without a pair, longing for someone not there. Extremely rare, and extremely tortuous.

Remmick spending the rest of the day digesting the sickening revelation, unable to stomach what this entails. He's mateless, destined to be alone. Becoming depressed at this news. One of the other Filí challenging him to find proof. He's a Filí, isn't he? If he has a lover, then they'll show themselves, won't they? If they've died, then he'll at least be reunited with them across the veil...

Remmick thinking it's a farce, but trying anyway. Singing and dancing at the next gathering, feeling the people, the music, the rhythm. Seeing the veil lifted before his very eyes, keeping as eye out for anyone he feels a draw to.

For the first time since Remmick was born he feels a tug to somewhere.

To someone.

To a figure, standing a little ways away from the crowd. He was... strange, undoubtedly. Very clearly from a foreign land. He wore peculiar clothing, nothing similar what he's seen before. They fitted his body like a second skin, showing his lithe, muscled form. His shoes were nothing like his, polished leather and hard soles. He had a stringed instrument, larger than his at the base, a gleaming metal disk with an complex design telling the poet that this instrument was expensive.

But he was handsome all the same. He had beautiful, smooth dark skin; short cut, coiled, curly hair that seemed oh so soft; and a smile that rivals the warmth of the sun.

He was standing, humming a tune, and Remmick wished he'd sing a song just so he could hear the entirety of that smooth, deep voice.

But his soulmate was entranced, not paying the other man any mind.

Unfortunately, the veil was closed before Remmick could work his way out of his stupor, but he didn't care. He was elated like never before.

He would summon the veil open a few more times, taking in his love, felling him, feeling the pull. If only his love wasn't in such a trance, if only he could see him. Maybe his lover is not far off, and they'll meet soon.

Then the Christians came, and ravaged their lands. Forced the religion onto his people and killed the resistors, other Filí, and anyone else who dared to keep the culture alive. Amidst witnessing the world changing so cruelly before his eyes, Remmick did it one last time. Took what remained of his community and had a party, despite the risks, in the dead of night. Seeing his soulmate one last time, though he wouldn't know it. In a trance yet again, singing his soul out, stomping his foot -- singing to the spirits, to the sky above, just like he is. He was surrounded by people, other people dressed like him, various tones of dark skin all around, save for three. A party? Oh, they thought so alike!

Remmick couldn't help himself, never could. He got closer to the boy, seeing his young, beautiful face as he made his way past the people. He felt a pang of insecurity. Remmick was nearing his mid-thirties by now, he hopes the young lad won't be put off by it.

The tug got stronger, Remmick's body was singing. He was stood beside his lover right as he hit a long note, pointing his finger to the sky as he did so. Beautiful, he always sounded so beautiful. Remmick could listed for hours. Remmick himself finished his last notes, right as his other did. His loves eyes were closed as always. The tug was so strong now, like never before. Gosh, is this how fated Filí feel when they meet!? Remmick could bask in the moment forever.

His love's eyebrows pinched together, gasping as he grasped his chest. He turned to face Remmick, turned his whole body, then opened his eyes.

Hickory brown saw ocean blue. Round, hickory brown eyes that Remmick could stare at for hours. He saw him! A look of alarm overtook his features, which Remmick didn't quite understand, but that was slowly quelled once his palm was taken into Remmick's hand. He sensed the tug, sensed his lover, sensed their bond. He knew his mate just took his hand. Remmick didn't speak, neither did his lover. They didn't need to. They longed for this moment, they wanted to bask in the awe.

In the sea of dancing people, both his love's and his own, he took both hands in his palms, squeezing them with gentle firmness, as if somehow he knew this would be the last time in a long time that he would be able to so such a thing, and brought them to his lips. He kissed his knuckle so sweetly, as if it was the holiest thing to ever grace his lips. The wait was worth the tears of frustration, the agonizing nights spent alone, the yearning aching his chest -- it was worth it to have this. In their own little world in a harsh big world, he'll take this.

But it was taken away faster than he could blink. Just like that.

There was petrified screaming followed by loud, bloody crunches. People running around and bumping each other to the ground. Blood. Barely hanging on heads. Slashed stomachs. Remmick didn't have time to mourn everything he lost before he was lifted up, staring down a monstrous being in the face.

Remmick put up a fight, not that it mattered. The bite was quick, he spent some time bleeding out. He thought of his dear lover, he hoped he could see him again across the veil. Hopes he can kiss him again. The world can't be that cruel, he thinks.

But It was. It was even worse.

He's no longer a man, now. Can no longer eat food. Can no longer feel the warmth that reminded him of his mate. Can no longer lift the veil. Can no longer reunite with his people. Can no longer bask in the presence of his own little sun, his home. Can no longer kiss his beautiful brown skin.

The directionless tug has returned. The yearning is deeper now, more space now that his soul is no more. There's something else taking space, too. Desolation.

He is alone now, completely alone.

Eventually, he forgets his lover's features, forgets his smile and hair and skin; the way he hummed and sang and strummed; how he cried and laughed and spoke. All the little bits that made his mate his mate slipped into the depths in his mind he could not reach, until he wandered the wicked world with nothing but what he was born with for the next thousand years.

Completely and utterly isolated, lost.

Tldr: Remmick was always mated to Sammie and could see him across the veil. The night Sammie performs at the Juke and unleashed his powers is the night Remmick was turned and lost his. They shared an instant together before Remmick was forced to be separated from his soulmate for a thousand and a half years, isolated and directionless since Sammie was far from being born.

[toothplant]

Sammie turning up to the family function with a whole ass husband and baby. Ain't never told anyone beforehand. Just walked in with the cutest little cherubian girl you've ever seen and a grown ass man carrying a baby bag trailing close behind him.

He's introducing his mini Moore family while everyone looking like

[toothplant]

Thinking about Sammick soulmate au except it's songs, like at some point you hear your soulmate play or sing a song and you know they're yours. Remmick of course hears Sammie outside the juke joint, and maybe Sammie knows when he hears Remmick singing in the circle outside (or it could go a potentially less bloody route where they find each other pre-canon)

Also, Remmick calling him "Mo shíorghrá" (my eternal love/my soulmate) and telling him "Is ceol mo chroí thú" (I love you/you are the music of my heart)

[toothplant]

I'm very pleased with the uptick of Sammick a/b/o on Ao3... brings me much joy to see!

Now to wait for the mpreg... 😈

[toothplant]

Sammick Soulmates/Fated mates (a/b/o) Pt. 2

Sammie yearning for something since birth, maybe even since before he was even born. But for as long as he could remember, he’s always felt a strong connection stretching far beyond the fields, beyond the town, beyond the Delta, beyond time itself. As a child this confused him, made him odd, made his parents worry. This connection, this longing, felt like steady, old, deep, as if God has recycled the bones of an old lover and with it made his, torturing the pair with a distance felt across the land and the heavens. He didn’t understand the meaning of it, this soul-deep yearning, but he also understood in every other sense. 

Sammie always had a strong fondness for the night. When he got older, It became a bit of a joke between him and his mom. She recalls countless times when he would get fussy as a baby, but could always be lulled to sleep under the blanket of the stars, and once he got old enough to see, he would gaze up at each and every pinprick of light with wonder unseen like anything she’s witnessed before, resting his head on her shoulder until his eyelids got too heavy to ignore. He’s never been able to go to sleep when he should, even when he spent long, grueling days out in the scorching heat, back sore and fingers blistered from picking cotton. He always had to indulge himself, take in the atmosphere of the night: calm, quiet, cool. It tugged at that constant in his heart, in his bones. Plucked at his soul until the notes of a tune left his dried lips, but he took it further. At ten years old, a few feet into his backyard, he sang in the moonlight.

He loved singing. Was humming ever since he was little, would stretch his ear to the Blues musicians playing on the street as he tended groceries with his Momma, would beat rough rhythms into whatever surface was sturdy enough and would make noise. Music was his escape, his life, his soul. His father was indifferent and his mother tried to act the same, but he caught her tapping her foot to his rhythms a few times. Some people around the neighborhood said he was like his uncle, though he was never around the man enough to know if that was true. Regardless, it also gave him a way to voice the hardships he faced, the yearning in his chest, the aching pull to out there. He wondered what’s out there waiting for him. He wondered if it’s a who out there instead of a what. If they felt this same pull, however many miles apart they are. He sang about it.

He did that a lot, wondering and singing. 

Then a few years later, word gets out that his cousins killed their own daddy, and they skip town. Sammie was a good boy and had good friends, but he felt lonely all the same. Lots of things changed. His cousins left a hole in his heart, one he didn’t know how to deal with. This added to everything he was feeling, all the wishing that things would go back to how they were. He sat with it one night, thinking about how he could turn it to words, to rhymes, to song. He was frustrated that nothing was coming out right; it just wasn’t the right time. He instead decided to feel the hole, to face his yearning. His yearning for his cousins, for how things used to be, for the great world beyond the town, for his soulmate.

His soulmate… his soulmate…

His soulmate, it’s what he calls it now (yes, because what if!), ebbs at daylight and grows under moonlight, but never quells or overwhelms. He doesn’t know what that means, so he chooses tonight to investigate why. He focuses on it, feels the warmth in his chest, really feels it. 

It feels like… a tug? A pull somewhere up north. Far northwest. Faint, but there. Lil’ teen Sammie almost jumps from his place on an old bucket. He’s mindful of his excitement (he shouldn’t be out at night) but progress! He can sense it!

If he had doubt before, then he’s definitely sure it’s a soulmate now.

His long-time suspicion is confirmed a few months later, when Smoke and Stack return one last time before going up north. They leave a guitar in his care, a beautiful black guitar with an intricate silver disk in the middle. Said they’ve had it for a while and ain’t got no taste for music, not like he does. It looks almost brand new, hardly a scratch to be found. He strums his fingers across the strings for the first time, excited but inexperienced, and feels something unlike he’s never felt before. Like the whole world opened up before him. Like it wasn’t just his guitar that was plucked, but the pull connecting him to his other half was turned into a string and plucked, forming a otherworldly chord that, for an instant, lit up his soul like nothing before. 

He chased this feeling all day and that night when he went to sleep, he saw him.

He didn’t know if it was a terrifying man, a handsome beast, or a weird mixture of the two; all he knew is that he wasn’t fully human. Moonlight highlighted his pale skin, showing planes of muscles and fat; his eyes black beautiful pools he could get lost in; lips lifted in a charming smile that makes Sammie feel guilty for finding attractive. Every part of him was solid and strong. He carried a banjo, the instrument kept on his person with a strong twine string. A musician, like him. This feeling of silent adoration didn’t last long. He transformed into something much worse.  

His ears elongated, his eyes burned blood red, his teeth sharpened to daggers, tongue lay long and thick. His fingers grew sharp claws. Sammie watched in silent horror as his body morphed into a grotesque creature he’s never seen walk the Earth before. It scared him. It enamored him. 

But he was confused. This man is old as dirt! Almost as old as his father! No way is his soulmate supposed to be an old man. An old White one at that!

He continued to be plagued by these… dreams? Nightmares? as he developed his craft as a Blues musician, practicing on his trusty guitar whenever he could. When he did, his body sang and the connection to the creature got clearer. He could feel him, feel his desperation, his anguish, his longing, much deeper and intense than he’d ever known, but emotions he understands perfectly all the same, strangely enough. He’s incredibly lonely, and maybe he is too. The beast could feel what he felt too. Sammie felt him through the pull, basking in all of him almost always. He didn’t know how to feel about it most days.

So he sings about it, these feelings. Does that for years. And every night he lays his head down to rest, he hopes that when they finally meet, it’s as sweet and romantic as he, albeit hesitantly, imagines it to be.

On the grand opening of the Juke Joint, after his performance, right after his time with Pearline, he feels it. A tug so strong he almost feels his bones rip out of his skin. It’s him! His soulmate! He’s quick to make himself look presentable, body strumming with an emotion he can’t determine as he made his way over to the door. 

Staring him down inside his cousins Juke Joint, unease pooling in his stomach and alarm blaring in his head, was never a situation he conjured.

Now for the A/B/O verse {: >

He’s always been attracted to the smell of petrichor. Since he was a baby he loved rain, loved the smell of it on dirt. Zooming out the house to play in the muddying ground before quickly being snatched back into the house by his Momma, opening the doors however much he could to take in the strong scent of “rainy dirt” or “smelly soil” or whatever his endearing name for the wet land was, wandering the woods after the storm was over just so he could be surrounded by the smell. Finding a good place to lay down at so he could bask in it for as long as he was allowed. The smell would reach the deepest parts of him, in some odd way — reach into his head and overtake it like fog over a swamp, like it belonged there, like it was natural. It brought him comfort and notes, little notes forming a harmonic, happy hum as he took in the scent that reminded him of… of…

He could never name it, but it was something great, perhaps he’s been needing his whole life. Maybe… maybe it was connected to the ever-present pull in his heart, which was made more known when he surrounded himself in the aftereffects of rainstorms. 

He loved it so much, there was just something about it that made him think he wouldn’t mind having a wife or alpha husband who smelled like that. Wouldn’t mind sharing a heat with them. Letting their scents get all mixed up, combining candied nuts to petrichor. He knew that they were out there somewhere, he could feel it in his bones. In his bones, it told him that that soulmate, that lover, was not here. 

The omega felt odd in that way, the instinct rejecting his peers and suitors caused some pretty hard times for him. Sure he had crushes on people — alphas, betas, even other omegas — but when he they would get close, let their scents get all thick and flirty, he couldn’t stand it; it just didn’t feel right. It was easier to ignore with people born with earthier scents, but it was still there.

His heats were worse. Spending the few days of pre-heat hot, bothered, and sensitive — not just all over, but to the pull in his chest. It’s harder to ignore it, threatening to overwhelm him, but never does. He spends the following week glued to the uncomfortable bed inside the heat house, calling for someone he doesn’t know to quell the cramping, the pain, the ache felt all the way to the center of his soul. 

 It’s like something, some higher power like the Lord, was stopping him, telling him “no, not this one.” It frustrated him as much as it saddened him. Scared him too, once he swears he sees the man, the creature, in a dream.

He was a man and a beast, or perhaps a beast wearing human skin. He looked like a White man. Old and handsome, yes, but that wasn’t all. He had blood red eyes, a mouth lined with bloody, sharp teeth, and inhuman claws that could tear skin like paper. Hell, he was more monstrous than that. He kept changing until he looked like…

… like the Devil.

Sammie didn’t know what to make of this.

The teen never told his Pops about this problem, too afraid of confronting the shame of being repulsed by other’s scents, the guilt of having a monster parading as a White man as a mate, and what those meant for him, so he went to Annie. It was in the hoodoo practitioner’s house that he learned about soulmates, people destined to be together. He was both elevated and horrified. Elevated, because there is a perfect mate hand-crafted by God Himself just for him out there, waiting for him. There is someone out there who feels this pull, someone out there who feels just as much age-old yearning in their chests as much as he does, and it’s all for Sammie. Horrified, because he does not know who they are at all. The warning Annie gives him that not all soulmates are good mates, that they can bring suffering just as much as they can bring happiness, leaves Sammie shook to his core on his way back home. 

He doesn’t know what the outcome will be, doesn’t know what plan God has set out for him or why he chose such a creature as his mate, and this makes him scared, petrified even.

But… if the feeling of desolation within his lover, the unadulterated grief and desperation and need that wracked his form nearly all the time, was anything to go by, then Sammie thinks he needs the him just as much as Sammie needs the beast. He’ll take that chance.

So he sings to him, under the moonlight. Hopes that his tunes of a lover and life imagined makes their way to his ears and if even for a moment, assuages his anguish. Almost every night, he travels with his guitar and a lantern to his own little spot deep in the Delta woods, a sizable shed left abandoned, and plays just about anything he can think of. A recollection of his day, a song he’s been working on, regular old practice — all sung out into the moon and stars and comets, making the distance over people and towns and land to reach his lover wherever, if not to find their way to him, then to find comfort in his songs.

Years later, it happens on one starry night. The pull had been strong for the past few days, making him ache, making him excited. He has his head on a swivel for the past few nights, keeping an eye out for any pale man coming his way because he hopes to God they have the sense to not come to him anytime during the day. He felt them get close once, called out to them, smelt the scent of copper and petrichor permeated throughout the air, but they were gone. So he tried again the next night (a little desperate, but can you blame him?) and felt it again. He finished his last song, let the last chords fade into nothing, and opened his eyes. 

Candied nuts and coppery petrichor, the scent Sammie has spent his life loving, mixed in the air between the shed and the outside world. The source clad in causal wear and a face that could sweep Sammie off his feet if he isn’t careful. 

There stood his monster, his creature, his soulmate. The source of all his yearning, the other side of the pull he’s been living with for years, the one hand-crafted for him by God. The alpha picked only for him. 

His alpha, his mate, his…

[toothplant]

Walking my ass back up in here to announce a fanfic I made called Midnight Lovemaking .

Remmick and Sammie having loud sex in the woods while a surprise guest listens from afar. It's a little unserious, but very horny :)

[toothplant]

Really loved the reveal that Sammie’s guitar once belong to Smoke and Stack’s father.

The twins’ father stands out as the one truly abusive parent figure in Sinners. Sammie finds his father oppressive but the movie stresses that he’s at least trying to protect him. In general the movie focuses on how much parents and the community as a whole adore their children. The twins’ father is there through the shadow he casts on them, which shows up primarily in how they make sure Sammie isn’t being abused by their uncle.

And in the lie Stack tells Sammie, that his guitar once belonged to Charley Patton.

The lie fits with how Sinners is, amongst other things, a story about Sammie discovering what it means to be a blues player. He knows from the beginning that the blues are the only escape he’s found in a brutally hard life. At the same time, Delta Slim laughs at his inexperience: “What do you know about the blues?”

Sammie knows plenty about hardship, and he’s a dedicated musician, but he literally doesn’t know something about the blues: the guitar’s history. What he knows is that his cousins believe in him: they want him to play, they gave him Charley Patton’s guitar. Stack even seems surprised by Sammie’s talent when he hears him sing on the drive, so the cousins didn’t even necessarily know he would be good when they gave him the guitar, just that he liked music. They gave it to him out of love for him and faith in him.

When Sammie plays at the juke, it seems like those things drive him. He loves music, he has faith in its ability to free him. The connections to the ancestors that he creates reflect that love and faith, but they’re also invisible to him, and about the community as a whole. He doesn’t know the family history he’s transforming with his music, in the same way he doesn’t know the violence that’s headed his way because of his music.

It’s only after he’s survived the events of the movie, and seen the true power that he has as a musician—the guitar literally a weapon he can use to defend himself—that he also learns the truth about the guitar’s history.

By playing the guitar, Sammie is helping the twins process their relationship with their father. Giving Sammie the guitar is them passing on this part of their father that wasn’t violent; about crafting a legacy for him they don’t fear; about Sammie creating a future with it that isn’t harmful, something they can love and have faith in. Even lying to Sammie about the guitar lets Stack briefly free himself from his family history by rewriting it, replacing his father with someone they admire.

Through the night, Sammie learns the stakes of the power he has as a musician: that it can bind the community, that it makes him vulnerable, and that it can be used (literally) as a weapon against predatory whiteness. He still has to decide if he wants to pursue the blues, and now can make an informed choice.

At the same time, he finally learns about the most personal ancestors he connects to with his music: his own family history, his father’s brother and his cousins’ fraught relationship with his memory. One of the movie’s most spectacular scenes is about how Sammie’s music connects the community to their ancestors, and the reveal of the personal ancestry in the guitar is much smaller by comparison. At the same time, it suggests that Sammie—and the blues in general—doesn’t need to change everyone in order to have power. It’s enough to help just his family connect to their ancestors.

[toothplant]

sammick time travel au fic idea 💡

so we all know sammie transcends time with his music. Now, what if he could also walk through it ?

One day, sammie is just laying in the grass basking under the summer sun, mindlessly humming. It's relaxing, serene... hypnotic almost

his body starts feeling heavy, and he thinks he's going to fall asleep, but he can still hear himself humming loud, clear, and consistent

he feels like his body is floating now, but his mind is present. That's when he hears it... a second voice humming alongside his own. It's soft, gentle, and meshes lovely with his own

sammie wants to go towards it. With that thought, it feels like he's drifting towards this stranger

the second humming becomes louder, his own becoming distant but still there, still together

then the stranger stops the humming with a yelp, as if startled, and sammie hears "Cé tusa?" followed by a "Go raibh tú ag portaireacht?"

sammie's eyes are still closed. He has no idea what the stranger has said, and he doesn't care. There's a stranger near him as he has his eyes closed. Sammie doesn't feel safe.

he starts feeling his body get floaty again. He hears the stranger gasp and say, "Níl, fan! Ná téigh!"

Sammie jolts up, snapping his eyes open, and starts looking around for the stranger. He finds no one

Sammie dismisses the whole thing as a dream (deep down he knows otherwise)

sammie can time travel using his ability (not that he knows he has one). He encounters a stranger with the same ability (it's remmick before he was a vampire).

idk I just wanted a time travel au 🤷🏾‍♀️😆 I also think it's an interesting idea to explore lol

that's all i have 🦧 sorry if it's lame 😔 and don't mind any grammatical errors and spelling mistakes 🧍🏾‍♀️😭