#this one was thrown by one of my studio partners

[claypigeonpottery]

sold

#possum #possum core #opossums #ceramic mugs #pottery #ceramics #ceramic art #sgraffito #carving #underglaze painting #coffee mug #wheel thrown pottery #this one was thrown by one of my studio partners #glazeware

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - Epilogue

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Pregnancy. Some healing of generational trauma, reconciliation, regret, past pain. But mostly fluff. Summary: In the time after returning to your original timeline, life seems to have many more surprises left for you and Max. Notes: Editing this chapter has been a good old fashioned cry at my laptop, I will admit that entirely. This little family has given us such a wild ride, and we are so grateful to each one of you for reading along for every twist and turn. Please join us for Hummingbird Has Landed, starting next week!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16 ~ Ch 17

Six months fly by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it the day of the wedding has arrived. Seacliff has been thrown open for the occasion, decorated top to bottom in roses accented with spring wildflowers and with every curtain thrown open to let the sunlight in. At the end of your second trimester, you tend to get tired earlier in the night so you and Max had opted for an afternoon wedding with sort of an high tea theme for the food. The music is all perfect for dancing to, of course, and everyone from the dance studios you now frequent to the girls from the coven to your extended vampiric family has been invited. He’s even made a few friends at the firm where he now works, opting to go into real estate this time around. After spending a hundred years building different houses, he knows a thing or two about it.

Allison and Eddie will be the ones to stand up for you today, of course, as Allison learns each day a little bit more of what it means to be a vampire who has kept her humanity through every step of the change. You and Max had stood up with them at City Hall a few months ago and helped throw their more laid-back wedding reception at Chateau-sur-Mer. Now everything is set up for today’s success as well. All that’s left, really, is for Max’s surprise to arrive.

Max hovers, a habit that he’s developed even more as your stomach has grown. In love with the slow heartbeat of his child in your stomach and the sweet smell of your blood. He craves you more than you know, but he’s refused to drink from you since finding out that you are carrying his child. Not willing to risk anything, even after decades of taking your blood.

“Everything’s fine, love.” He’s always been a doting partner but for the last few months it’s increased exponentially and somehow you’re even more in love with him for it. “We’ve had weddings before. Everything will be just fine.”

“I know.” He does know that, but for some reason, this is the one that is making him nervous. “I’m excited.” He admits quietly. “This one is us. Our original timeline.” He pushes away the pang of sadness that seems to be creeping up every time the baby moves, or he thinks about being a father. The loss of his family is more poignant in this time because there’s no good reason they are not here.

“That’s why this one is exactly what we wanted. Good music, good food, not too fancy but not too casual.” You reach out and squeeze his hand, rubbing gently along his arm. “It’s the Goldilocks of weddings.”

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, shaking away his disappointment that parents who don’t care about him aren’t sitting on the groom’s side and focuses on you. “You should sit before the ceremony.” After so many years together and so many weddings, it seems ridiculous to observe the ‘no seeing the bride before the ceremony’ tradition. “The baby was really active last night; I know your sleep wasn’t the best.”

“The baby’s excited.” Over your second trimester you’ve started to get the feeling that your little witch-vampire pup can sense your emotions, and he knows you’re excited for today. “And Tracy brewed me a little potion for today. Energy without caffeine so I won’t get too tired and I can enjoy the day.”

He eyes you, but he doesn’t say anything. Always wary about portions because he’s paranoid, not because he doesn’t trust the witches that make up your very supportive coven. “Do you want a little massage before we start?” He offers, knowing how much you enjoy the back and foot massages he’s gotten pretty good at.

“It’s perfectly safe,” you assure him, but you’re already sitting back in your favourite chair with bare feet ready for rubbing. This is not going to be a day for silk stockings or anything delicate like that. “It’s one of Lina’s recipes. Tracy is having fun going through her grimoire.”

Max chuckles at how quickly you move when you are offered a massage. It’s cute how much you enjoy being pampered and he loves to remind you that you are the absolute love of his life. “Honestly? I trust them. I’m just worrying to worry.” He tells you as he sits down on the little foot stool. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are today?”

"Hmmm, only once." Max starts in on your swollen, achy feet right away and you hum happily, sinking back into your chair and letting your hands cradle the large bump that threatens to take over your entire torso. Max Phillips makes big babies, apparently. "The grey suit is one of my favourites, by the way," you hum, referencing the three-piece heather grey suit he chose for today with dark red accents that match your bouquet of roses and Allison's red bridesmaid dress. "You look like a dream."

“Not nearly as dreamy as my pregnant, gorgeous, glowing wife-to-be.” He teases, winking at you. Since the beginning of the week, he’s called you his fiancée or wife-to-be. The new ring on your finger would never replace the original that has so much meaning for the both of you, but he has always given you new rings for every wedding. “But I have to try to look my best when I will be by your side.”

"I hope you don't mind." Holding up your other hand, you show him the original engagement ring he gave you in 1885 sitting on your finger, like a family heirloom accenting the beautiful sapphire ring he chose for you in this timeline. Your something blue, he had told you with a grin. "I felt like this time was the time to wear both."

“Whatever you want.” He promises with a grin. “Eventually we will have enough rings you can wear a different one every day.”

"I'll have a very full jewelry box for our son to pick from when he eventually proposes to his soulmate." Finding out you're carrying a little boy had had both of you crying in the doctor's office, overwhelmed and emotional about the next generation of your family to come.

“Very true.” He presses his thumb to the arch of your foot and he grins when you groan.

"I'm so glad I decided not to wear heels today," you huff, laughing slightly as your head falls back on your chair.

“Me too.” Max snorts. The sparkly white shoes you have chosen are cute and practical. “Although I still like the barefoot and pregnant wedding idea.” He teases with a wink.

"Maybe next time." That draws a deep laugh from you, and you lean back even more. "We'll have that one in summer, when being barefoot doesn't mean stepping on cold floors."

“Next time.” He agrees, although he doesn’t know if there would be a next time. All that matters is your comfort. “We still have an hour and a half before the ceremony.” He chuckles. “Maybe we’ve become too efficient at getting ready for these things.”

"Probably. Sixth time's the charm, I guess." You both laugh, enjoying the quiet and the comfort of being together upstairs in your bedroom. The Taylors, Renee, and Mr. Finchley were all invited to come today as guests but they had balked at the idea of not helping to put together today's event. As a result you've had twice the staff in getting the house ready today and everything is ready ahead of schedule. "Although..." you glance up at the clock and realize it's almost time. "I did plan a sort of...surprise for you today."

“Sweetheart…” he tilts his head and pouts at you adorably. “I thought we said that we were going to keep it low key?” He huffs. “Now my surprise is just going to be a normal wedding gift exchange.”

"I know what we said, and your wedding present is entirely separate." The photo album isn't technically complete anyway, since it has photographs of your first five wedding days already set in it but has left plenty of room for your sixth. "This is just for you."

“Is it something kinky?” He asks with a wicked grin on his face. “I can get behind that. Unless you want to get behind me???” He jokes.

"Not until this little pup comes out to greet us," you laugh, knowing your maneuverability isn't great these days.

“I don’t know, you were pretty kinky last night.” He reminds you. “Or was that someone else that wanted to ride my cock while I gave her tits all the attention?”

"Oh no, that was the horny pregnant woman you're marrying today." And damn last night was a good night.

“I know, and I love her.” He laughs and looks around. “So tell me about this surprise?”

As if on cue, there is a knock at your bedroom door and your own housekeeper clears her throat gently on the other side. "Mrs. Phillips? It's time."

"Thank you, Mrs. Moreau. We'll be down directly." Thankfully your shoes are nearby, and you flash Max a small smile. "Ready, love?" You ask, knowing that he has no idea what's waiting for him downstairs.

“Sure.” He shoots you a suspicious look but quickly applies himself to putting your shoes on. “You’re lucky you don’t have stinky feet.” He teases and pats your knee when he puts your foot down, both of them now wearing comfortable shoes.

The result of about three months' worth of phone calls is waiting downstairs, and you take Max's hand to walk downstairs together. There's a chance he'll be upset with you. Angry, even. But you've known him for long enough now that you don't think he will be – or at least you hope that he will see the gesture for what it is. A loving attempt at bringing him the happiness that you know he's been missing from his life.

He’s curious when he sees that the formal parlor is where you are guiding him. Wondering what you’ve had delivered and he stops dead when he hears a voice he has not heard for a lifetime. He wouldn’t recognize it for the fact that it was permanently attached to a thousand different childhood memories.

"I reached out about three months ago," you explain, feeling him stop dead beside you in the hall. "I told them that we were getting married and that we're expecting, and honey...they miss you so much."

“They— you called them?” He asked dumbly. “That’s— that’s my parents in there?” He asks, feeling like he’s in a dream even though he’s not dreamed since he’s been changed.

"I'll let them tell you everything." He isn't shouting or refusing to see them, so you're taking his quiet wonder as a very good sign. "But...I obviously left out the whole time travel, magic, and vampirism part of our story. I did tell them we're Wiccan, though. So they wouldn't be confused by the handfasting today."

He nods but he doesn’t say anything. Still process the fact that his parents are beyond those doors. People who had abandoned him when he needed them most. Part of him wants to run away, to refuse to see them, but you are squeezing his hand and looking so hopeful when he finally looks at you.

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay.” They’ll be disappointed, and so will you a little, but you’ll all understand. “I just knew that if I asked you about having them over, you would refuse on principle.”

“No.” He chokes out, shaking his head and for a horrible moment, he thinks he might cry. “I just can’t believe they came.”

“Well…” When you look up at him again, you offer him the softest, gentlest smile possible. “They wanted to apologize in person.”

“What did you say to them?” He asks, unable to believe the people who had disowned him, told him they never wanted to see him again, want to apologize.

“I actually did very little of the talking.” You nod to the door and squeeze his hand again, ready with a handkerchief if he ends up needing it. “Do you want to go in?”

“Um, sure.” With his free hand, he meticulously straightens his vest and his hair before he moves. He’s nervous and honestly a little afraid his parents want to ruin today for him.

When the door opens there are two people standing by the windows, looking down the lawn where your wedding ceremony will be and out to the sparkling ocean. Jeff and Maria Phillips stand together in a moment of awe before Maria is rushing forward and stops still in front of Max with one arm outstretched. “Max.” Her instinct is to call him honey, but she doesn’t know just how much he would hate that. “You—we tried everything we could think of to find you and we’re—” She chokes up almost instantly, The regret painted on her face as obviously as daylight.

“We’re so sorry, son.” Jeff has come up behind his wife and put his hands on her shoulders. “We should have taken you at your word when everything happened and we didn’t. That’s—we can’t undo it, Max. But we’ve regretted it every day.”

“Why?” That is the question that plagued him for years. The thing that had broken his heart and confused him. His parents weren’t the warmest people, but he had thought they had loved him enough to believe him. “You told me I was a disgrace to the Phillips name, that you wished I had never been born.” He reminds them. “Why?” His hand lets go of yours and rests on your stomach protectively. “I can never imagine telling my son something so cruel.”

“We received a phone call from the young man who…who accused you.” Usually quite a proud man, Jeff Phillips flounders in explaining himself to his son — a fully grown and obviously proud man in his own respect. “And from the Dean of your college, as well. We were told the proof was irrefutable and we knew you were ambitious, it all just…” he stops, shaking his head and letting it hang in a moment of shame. “Your great-grandfather, my grandfather, had done a lot of very unfortunate, mostly illegal things to get ahead in his lifetime. I tried to raise you as far away from that kind of life as I possibly could, and it—it was a lie that hit too close to home. And I thought I’d failed you. Instead of taking responsibility for that, I lashed out. And I don’t expect you to ever forgive me for it. But your soulmate reached out to us and said you were getting married, so we wanted to at least tell you that we love you on your wedding day.” The gift they had brought was out on the table in the foyer with a few others that had been mailed — an heirloom for the baby with a long letter of explanation and apology. That way even if Max didn’t want to see them, they could at least leave him with words of love in another way. The Phillips family crib and baby blankets made by Max’s grandmother belonged with him now.

Max swallows harshly, knowing that before you, before his time in the past, he would have sent them away for the pure pleasure of watching them hurt the way they had hurt him. To lash out and make them feel the rejection and heartache he had lived with for years. Except, he had to watch history repeat itself in a sense. Knowing the path that was before a headstrong daughter and equally stubborn parents. Watching the silent heartbreak and pain when their daughter distanced themselves from them. Knowing the further heartache that was awaiting them. He had sworn that he would be better than his parents and if he sends them away, what does that teach his son? His parents only have a small amount of time left, should he deny himself that time out of some childish need for punishment? Over the centuries, Max would like to believe he’s matured.

He frowns, looking at the table that has the gifts on them and then looks back at his parents. “Are you staying?” He asks, unsure if they wanted to stay or if they just wanted to make peace.

“We’d like to,” his mother offers, eyes flickering once over to you and then back to her son. She knows the decision isn’t theirs or yours. “But only if you want us to.”

“What made you look for me? Do you think that I’m telling the truth? Or—” Max has to know, he has to know what changed their minds.

“We tried to look for you just a couple of weeks after everything happened.” Maria takes a small step forward, so deeply hopeful that Max will forgive them. “The school said they couldn’t tell us anything besides the fact that your transcripts had been forwarded to another university, and there wasn’t a Find My Phone or anything like that, that we could use to try to find you.” Her voice wavers, obviously emotional, and she sniffles softly. “We realized that the son we’d raised…you didn’t deserve to be shunned even if you had made a mistake. We’d just been so shocked that we reacted on instinct.” Another small shake of her head comes with a few small tears that Maria quickly wipes away. “We should have believed what you told us over anything else. Over any other fear or story. The more times we talked through it, the more we realized…cheating was never the shortcut you were going to take. You always worked too hard for that. And we’d pushed you away for nothing.”

“I had to go to Romania to find a school that would accept me.” Max tells them, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he wrestles with himself. “You lost the son you knew there.”

Your hand slips gently over his, holding it in yours and wondering if this was a mistake. You know how much Max misses his parents, but some hurts are just too deep. It would be truly unfortunate if this was one of them.

“It’s obvious you’ve become a good man even without us.” His father acknowledges, nodding sadly. He knows he failed his son in so many ways, and he really doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself. Maria had fought him in the beginning and brought him around to the truth in time. “But if you’d let us, we’d like to get to know the man you are now.”

“There’s something you need to know before you make that decision.” Max opens his eyes and looks at the older man who is so much like him, even though he has his mother’s ears. Then over to his mother who looks like she is about to break down sobbing. “I’ve wanted you in my life for years, but I won’t let you back in only for you to run away when you find out.”

“Whatever you want to share with us, we want to hear.” It’s a promise, and Jeff Phillips doesn’t take that lightly after all this time.

“Technically….” Max squeezes your hand gently. “Your son, I— died in Romania.” He admits quietly. “I was turned into a vampire.”

The quiet in the room could be cut by a knife, and you hold Max’s hand tightly while his parents process what he’s just said. It’s confusion — deep confusion — more than anything else, but after a seemingly interminable few minutes, Maria nods. “Are you happy?” She asks, aware that her husband must be looking at her like she has three heads right now.

“I am.” Max nods. “I have my soulmate and our child. I’ve done things you would never believe. And now, I am seeing you again.” He gives her a small smile. “After I— was changed, I came back. I saw you from a distance.”

“The world gave you a witch so you would have someone to understand you.” Maria observes, nodding solemnly. You had explained the pertinent parts of being Wiccan to his father over the phone months ago but hadn’t had that conversation directly with his mother so you hadn’t heard her reaction personally. “When did you come to see us, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. It’s a term he hasn’t heard from his mother in over ten years in this timeline and it makes him bite his lip. “August 14th, 2013.” He gives a small shrug. “Your birthday.”

It’s heartwarming, and unexpected, to know that he had missed them too. Just because you had said so in your call — it did not mean it ran deeply. But Max and his mother had always shared a mutual fondness for birthdays. “I wish you had come inside,” his mother admits, although she smiles in a sort of lopsided way. “Although…could you have? If we had not invited you? You’ll have to tell us what is real and what is legend.”

It’s curious that his mother automatically believes him, and he wonders if they think this is some kind of test. He’s testing to see they will believe him and chosen the most outrageous thing. “I don’t have to be invited in.” He laughs.

“Do you remember Vera?” His mother asks, seeing skepticism in her son’s eyes before looking back at her husband too. “The woman who lived next door and would babysit for us when Max was little?” To you she explains, “He would get off the school bus and go to our next-door neighbor’s house for a few hours until Jeff or I got out of work. Whichever one of us got home first would go next door and tell him we were home.”

“Yes?” Jeff frowns slightly, wondering why his wife would bring up a neighbor that was long moved away.

“When Max was a baby, and I would go over to her house during the day for a little change of scenery?” She pauses and looks back over at you with a smile. “Maternity leave can make you feel like your mind is melting sometimes. Find a safe place to get out of your own house. Even if it’s just someone else’s house.” The advice to you seems decent enough, and you barely have time to smile in acknowledgment before she’s looking back to her husband and son again. “Vera used to tell me stories from home,” Maria explains. “And…folktales are always founded in a little bit of truth, aren’t they?”

“She was Romanian.” Max remembers suddenly. “She told you about vampires, didn’t she?”

“She did.” Maria nods, but ends up shrugging reluctantly. “I thought she was an eccentric old lady, but I was grateful for the company. Now…I wish I had taken notes.” Stepping forward one more time, Maria takes a chance and reaches out for Max’s free hand. “We already lost you once, sweetheart. If this means we’ll never lose you again? That your soulmate and your son will never lose you? Then it’s a blessing.”

“I just— I didn’t want you to find out and throw me away again.” Max murmurs quietly. “I had planned on honoring your wishes, to never see you again. But— I— I’m glad you’re here.”

"We never should have said those things." Jeff was the one who said most of it, and he's been humbled enough by regret over the last decade to just...accept whatever it is that life puts out in front of him and his family. He may not understand it, but better to be confused and follow his wife's good example than to risk losing everything all over again. "We missed you, son."

Even though he doesn’t need to breathe, Max exhales loudly, trying to keep from crying. The whole in his heart that he’s refused to acknowledge since the day they had disowned him, finally starting to heal. “I’ve missed you too, Dad.”

The hesitation is cut from the room as Max's parents lurch forward to throw their arms around him and hold on to him tightly. As much as he hates to let go of your hand, he does, needing to basically catch his parents as they hug him. Closing his eyes and trying not to bawl like a baby as he inhales the scent of the people he had never imagined being close to again.

Maria is the one who cries, being dainty about it because she doesn't want her makeup to run or to stain her son's immaculate suit, but she can't help herself. It was not so long ago that she thought she would never get to even see Max again, let alone hug him.

The embrace goes on for longer than he had ever imagined until they break apart and Max turns his head towards you to find you crying quietly into a handkerchief. “Dolly, come here, my love.”

"I'm sorry," you murmur, laughing at yourself a little as you dab at your eyes. This is the reason you hadn't done your eye makeup yet. "Pregnancy hormones."

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” As soon as you are close, you are bundled into his arms and he is pressing his lips to yours. “I love you. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

"I'd do anything for you." And as many times as you've said it, the meaning always holds true. You would turn the world upside down for him – and you even have the power to do it after a hundred years spent honing your magic. "I love you so much."

“I love you too.” He promises gently. Kissing you once more before he turns to his parents. “Let me properly introduce you.” He offers. “Even though you’ve spoken on the phone.”

"We want to know everything." Max's father has handed his wife his handkerchief and is obviously stifling his own emotional reaction – and doing a very poor job of it.

Max pulls you closer to his side and his other hand is proudly protective on your stomach. “This is Dolly.” He does mention your real name, but wants them to know that you prefer your nickname. “My soulmate. The most wonderful woman in the world and the woman I will waltz through eternity with.”

Maria moves to embrace you without hesitation, but Jeff’s head tilts in obvious confusion and curiosity. “Waltz?”

Right. He had never really danced when he was with them. It was picked up in Romania. "I started ballroom dancing." He explains. "An elective in Romania. Dolly also ballroom danced competitively. My favorite thing to do is to waltz with this beautiful lady." He admits proudly.

“We choreographed our first dance,” you tell them proudly, as soft as ever at Max’s side. “You’ll see. He’s an exceptional dancer.”

Maria bites her lip, aware of missing so much time with her son because of their foolish mistake and she nods. "He is exceptional." She reaches out for one of his hands and squeezes it gently. "And you seem so happy." That's all that matters to her.

“We are.” If anything, that is the thing you can promise them. That you’re happy and living the very best, most fulfilling life you possibly can be. “Max is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

"And...his being a vampire is what caused you to meet?" Jeff asks, curious to how the two of you met and trying to wrap his head around the whole situation.

“My grandfather was one of Max’s professors in Romania.” This is the part that is going to get careful explanation, as you hadn’t gone into it over the phone. “He is also Max’s sire. That is…the vampire that turned him. My grandfather took Max under his wing, and even brought him to live with my grandmother here in Newport before she died. I met Max when I moved into that house, as well.”

"I see." There's obviously more to the story, but he won't pry. Right now, he is just glad the boy is talking to him. He knows that Max inherited his stubborn streak, and he could have been rightfully turned away with an expletive and he would have deserved it.

“You’ll meet him today, if you stay for the wedding.” There are still a few more months on Yayo’s ticking clock to join his wife and daughter in the afterlife, but he is waiting until your son is born to leave this world. He had smiled when the decision was made, telling you that wanted to bring good news to Cookie and Annie in the next life. “My grandfather is…a little dramatic,” you smile, stifling a laugh. “I’m afraid it’s a family trait.”

Max chuckles. "And since he is a vampire as well, he looks younger than you, Dad." He warns the other man. "However, Dolly's grandfather is the first vampire. The oldest in existence and has walked the earth for thousands of years."

“It’s a bit of a long story.” The expressions on both of his parents’ faces are something like an undergrad trying to work out a complex math problem, and you shake your head while running a soothing hand over your belly. “Can I offer you a tour of the house?” That, at least, is semi normal. Even if your house was built in 1888 and is still a functional Gilded Age mansion.

“It is beautiful.” Maria nods instantly and Jeff shakes his head. “Do you mind if I speak to Max privately?” He asks you before looking at his son. “Would you, son?”

You look to Max for his confirmation, and when he nods and leans over to kiss you, you offer him an encouraging smile. “I’ll show your mother the library first.”

Max nods, his eyes following you out of the room and he wants to follow you, but he is curious to what his father wants to say privately. Only when he can't see you anymore, do his eyes turn towards Jeff and he arches a brow.

“She’s quite a girl.” He says after the door closes, gesturing to where you have escorted his mother from the room with grace and surety.

"Yes she is." Max will always agree with that. His proud little smile on the corner of his mouth shows his happiness at being matched with you. "She's been through a lot and is still the kindest woman I've ever known."

"When she called us the first time, your mother thought she was an angel." Jeff smiles at that, his wife always has been the gentler out of the two of them. Just like with you and Max.

"In a lot of ways, she is." Max nods. "I normally call her Queenie, as another nickname." He tells his father. "And she is amazingly graceful, carrying a half vampiric child."

"And her..." his father clears his throat. "Her grandfather is...also a vampire?" He's not willing to go against a single second of this, his son is too precious to him after all this time, but he wants to at least make sure that he has everything he's being told straight.

"Yes." Max looks at his father. "I would have met her at Vanderbilt. Discovered that we were soulmates there. I actually had a blind date with her the day I was kicked out." He reveals. "But that didn't happen and luckily her grandfather recognized her birthmark on my arm and changed me." He slides his hands into his pockets, a defense against the hurt that is still there but slowly lessening. Ever more so now that his parents want to be in his life. "He arranged for us to have the meeting we should have had nearly fourteen years ago."

"Jesus..." If his wife was in the room, Maria would scold him for taking the Lord's name in vain, but Jeff just shakes his head. "I..." Jeff blows out a breath. "I know saying that I'm sorry will never be enough. But I really...I'll never stop saying it, if that's what it takes for you to believe how much we regret what happened."

"I believe you." Max has become closely acquainted with actions taken in anger and regretted later. He believes that your mother would have eventually broken the magic binding if she had lived. "Dolly and I talked about reaching out, but for a long time, I was so hurt, I wouldn't have come to you for anything." He sighs softly. "My wife doesn't have much family left. Her parents are gone, and I know she wants as much love for our son as possible. It doesn't surprise me that she contacted you."

"She said she lost her parents, and that you shouldn't have to lose yours as well." It's sweet, Jeff thinks, that his son already refers to his soulmate as his wife on the morning of their wedding day, but he doesn't say anything. It seems like your lives are complicated and he doesn't want to judge. On that, he has learned his lesson. "Max, you should...you should know..." He clears his throat again and casts an eye around the room. "I never actually changed my will. By the time I came out of the fog enough to even talk to our lawyer, I realized the mistake I had made. But it was already too late to find you."

Max frowns slightly, wondering why that would matter to him. Why he would be concerned with his father's will, but then it clicks. His father wants to talk to him about some kind of inheritance. He tilts his head curiously. "I see...."

"Obviously you don't...you don't need my help." The house his son lives in now is a literal mansion. It's far bigger and better than anything that he and Maria were able to give Max growing up. But there is a matter of principle and pride in making sure that they leave what they can to their son when they leave this world. "I had a cousin. A distant cousin, I mean. Who died two years ago. And the guy left behind a big plot of land as well as some assets. Combined with what your mother and I had planned to leave you...it's pretty substantial." He shrugs his shoulders a little, hands in his pockets in a posture that mirrors his son's. "Do whatever you like with it. It's yours. Or maybe your boy's, who knows?"

"Dad...I appreciate that." He promises, meaning it. He had long written off the idea of anything from his parents. "More than you know."

"Maye we can all take a trip together sometime?" He's lost so much time with Max that even being called Dad again has him close to tears, but he shakes it off for now. The day is already emotional. "I guess my mother's side of the family had some money, so it's a nice piece of land in upstate New York. Tuxedo Park. 'Pullman House', I think it's called. Can you imagine having enough money that your house has a name?" He chuckles at the idea, not realizing that his son’s current home most definitely has a name, and shaking his head.

Max freezes for a moment, his eyes widening slightly and he has to take a moment. "Pullman House?" He asks, remembering visiting the house, the last time being a very somber affair. "I— are you serious?"

"Yeah." Jeff nods, taking out his phone to pull up the pictures of the house and grounds that the estate lawyer had sent over. "Have you heard of it?"

"I— I didn't know we were related to the Pullman's." He admits, never looking into his family tree when he was back in time with you. He hadn't wanted to. "How?"

"My grandmother was a Pullman." He doesn't quite see why it matters, but Max seems to recognize the family name so he hands over his phone with photographs of the sprawling mansion. "They made train cars, I think? Back after the Civil War. Must have made quite a bit of money at it, to have a house like that, but it's not in the best shape now. We, uh...your mother and I thought, we could invest a little in it now to fix it up and rent the house out while we're alive. And once we're gone it's yours to do whatever you want with."

"I've been there before." Max tells him with a nod, "I mean, in the area. Tuxedo Park. It's gorgeous from what I remember." He lifts a brow and decides that maybe he should put forth an idea of his own. "It could be something we do together?" He offers. "Dolly and I love historical architecture. Obviously." He chuckles as he glances around the room. "We can start the restoration and see what happens?"

Jeff obviously hadn’t expected that kind of enthusiasm, and when he nods he put his hand out to his son to shake. “I’d like the chance to get to know the man my son has become,” he agrees, on the verge of being choked up again. “And I’ll never say no to getting to see my grandson. It sounds pretty perfect.”

Max looks at the offered hand and reaches out to shake it firmly. "That sounds good." He tells him. "But first, I need to make sure that my soulmate officially carries the Phillips last name." He jokes.

“Why don’t we catch up with our soulmates before they start making plans of their own?” His father suggests with a chuckle, knowing that Maria’s sweet disposition means it could very well happen.

"I'm glad you came." Max admits softly, frowning slightly even though he's completely happy. He's frowning so he doesn't cry, but there's a certain mistiness to his eyes.

“I’m glad, too.” On instinct, Jeff tugs gently on Max’s hand and gratefully holds onto his son once more in a strong hug. They’re both emotional, but if there was ever a time for it in their lives — this seems as appropriate a time as any to shed a few tears in each other’s presence. “I love you, Max. I’m sorry it’s not something you heard often when you were growing up.”

"Always thought I had done something wrong." Max confesses. "If I made the team, you'd love me. If I graduated with honors, you'd love me." He flashes an amused, self-deprecating grin. "If I was a ladies’ man, you'd – at least be proud of me." He snorts. "Always wondered why it was never quite enough. If I was just that much of a disappointment. So instead of talking about it, I decided being a cocky shit and show that I didn't really care what people thought of me."

“I pushed you hard because I knew you were going to do something incredible one day.” They’re both teary, standing together in that room, but it’s okay. It’s always been okay to show his son what he feels, he just didn’t know that. “Your Mom, um…she’s had me doing work on myself. I mean, we’ve been doing it together, but it’s mostly for…” He huffs, rolling his eyes at himself. “She comes to therapy with me a lot. Got plenty of shit to work out and I don’t want it to affect you anymore. And I really don’t want it to affect my grandson. So I’m…I’m working on me. I just really hope it helps. Because you were always enough, Bud. And I always loved you. I just didn’t know how to tell you that.”

"I understand." Max nods. "I've done my own bit of therapy." He doesn't mention it was back before therapy was a thing and it had been with his sire. "Dolly has insisted on it, because of her own issues and it's a good thing. To be the best version of ourselves for each other and our son."

“Do you have any names yet?” Motioning to the door, Jeff means to walk and talk if they can, trying to make the most of every second he has with Max. Of course there’s probably things to finalize before the wedding starts, but they at least have time to catch up to their soulmates.

"We were thinking Johnathan, for Dolly's grandfather and my sire." He smiles slightly. "Johnathan Jeffery Phillips." He watches his father, wondering how he would react to the middle name.

It’s instant, the way Jeff tears up all over again, and this time two thick tears escape his eyes before he can stop them. “Really?” He has to ask, wondering if his son had forgiven him long enough ago to have considered naming his son after the father who had made such an enormous mistake.

"We had long talks about it." Many hours spent talking while you laid in his arms and later when he was stroking the rounded stomach that houses his child even now. "If my son couldn't have his grandfather in his life, at least he would carry a piece of him with him." It was how you had phrased it and Max had nearly cried then too.

“Well goddamn.” Gobsmacked, Jeff wipes his hands down his face and then claps Max on the back with a sigh. “I don’t even know what to say. Except thank you.”

There's nothing else to say at the moment, so Max just nods as you and his mother come into view. "There they are." He hums, smiling at the sight of you absently stroking your stomach as you chat with Maria.

“Hey, my love.” In your wedding dress, all ready for the day, you have been telling your mother-in-law a little about the history of the house and showing her some of the older books in the library. Seeing Max’s softened expression though, you reach out to him immediately. “Everything alright?”

“It’s fine.” He loves that you worry about him, it makes him feel loved. “I was telling my dad about the name we’ve picked out for the baby.”

“Ah,” you hum, leaning over the bump between you to kiss him softly. “Hence the tears?”

“A little emotional.” Max admits shamelessly, enjoying the bump of his heart as he presses his lips to yours.

“That’s good.” You tilt your head to kiss his nose as well and wink. “It’s our wedding day after all.”

"You are amazing, you know that?" He asks softly, kissing you again. "I can't believe you did this. Thank you, my love."

“You deserve to be happy.” The gentle reminder comes with a smile, and you squeeze his hand. “And I know you missed them.”

"You know me too well." He smirks. "Almost like you've lived with me forever."

“Hmm.” Humming a little, you end up giggling instead. “Almost like.”

There’s an inside joke there somewhere, making Jeff and Maria smile awkwardly as the two of you share a moment. “Did you tell Mom?” He asks you, wanting to make sure everyone was aware of the name.

“Not yet.” You look back at his parents but shake your head. “I thought you would want to tell them.”

He flashes you a grin, knowing you are aware that he still has a love of attention, but this is truly special. “Our son is going to be named Johnathan Jeffery Phillips.” He tells Maria, rubbing your belly gently.

“Sweetheart.” His mother is nearly in tears all over again, reaching for Max with overwhelming affection just as earnestly as her other hand goes to her husband. “Is it…” her hands are occupied, but her eyes move to you. “Was Johnathan your father’s name?” She asks as gently as she can.

“It’s my grandfather’s,” you tell her, touched that she would think to ask. “We think we’ll call him JJ for short, but we wanted him to have family names.” JJ is also a sort of family name; in a way you can’t really explain. Lina’s youngest son — little JJ Astor — was sort of your spiritual godson after he wanted to start learning his magic as a young man. You mourned him as dearly as the rest of his family did after the Titanic went down, even though you knew it was coming. That didn’t stop you from missing him.

“I— it’s a beautiful name.” Maria assures you. “JJ is a proper little boy’s name and then he can decide if he wants to keep it or go by Johnathan.” She is so touched that Max would include them in the naming of his child, despite the troubles from before. It will be one of the greatest regrets of her life.

“No matter what, he’ll always be loved.” Your hand smooths the underside of your belly as JJ himself makes an appearance in the conversation, kicking happily to show his approval — or at least his enthusiasm.

Max chuckles proudly. “He’s always so active. Giving mom his opinions on everything. He seems to like his name.” He tells his parents.

“I hate to interrupt, sir. Madam.” The petite figure of your housekeeper appears in the open library doorway. Mrs. Moreau has been with you since the house was finished in 1888, a determined and intelligent middle-aged woman-turned-vampire from Louisiana that prided herself on her skills as a caretaker. “But the other guests have begun to arrive. Mr. And Mrs. Perez are asking for you.”

“Of course.” Max nods and looks towards his parents. “I would like you to stay.” He tells them. “Please? We can talk and if you haven’t booked a hotel, you are welcomed to stay here.” He glances at you for confirmation, but he’s well aware that you’ve probably already planned for such an event.

“I already asked Mrs. Moreau to make up a guest room.” Obviously you had been hopeful that this reunion would go well, but you had really asked your housekeeper to make sure a few guest rooms were ready just in case anyone over indulged at the wedding. Safety first.

“Oh, well – are you sure?” The last thing they want to do is intrude on their son on his wedding night, but they also aren’t ready to let him out of their sight for too long as well. They hadn’t booked a hotel in case he refused to see them; the heartbreak would have been too much.

“We insist.” This is the outcome you were hoping for, after all, and you’re glad to see that Max and his parents are going to be able to patch things up. However slowly it happens, the work has begun. And that’s what matters most. “We aren’t leaving for our honeymoon for another week. And we’d like very much if you stayed.” The little train ride down to Washington DC will be welcome, and you had planned to take in museums and eat good food for a week or two before coming home again and making sure you have everything you need for the baby.

Maria bites her lip and looks at Jeff, wanting this more than anything. She’s missed her son, her only baby and now she’s being given another chance. “We accept.” She tells you with a happy grin. “As long as we can help in some small way. However we can.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.” You assure her, but for now you link your fingers through Max’s and smile. “We’re going to go finish getting ready. Please have a drink if you’d like and enjoy looking around a little before you take your seats in the garden. Mrs. Moreau will help you get settled.” There’s something to be said for having come into your own as a woman and a hostess in the Gilded Age, and with the help of women like your grandmother, Mrs. Astor, and Mrs. Vanderbilt. It has made you gracious and thoughtful, and very well prepared.

“Thank you again.” Jeff nods, looking at both of you as he compares the boy he had last known and the man and father-to-be that stands in front of him. “We will speak later.”

“We shouldn’t keep Eddie and Allison waiting.” A squeeze of his hand reminds Max to walk with you, and you hurry upstairs quickly to avoid being spotted by your newly arriving guests.

“Any other surprises that I need to be aware of?” Max asks with a smirk as he keeps his hand on your back, just in case.

“I talked my grandfather into cutting his toast in half.” The grin on your face is unrepentant. At the first of your weddings, Yayo’s reception toast was early forty minutes long. “Surprise.”

Laughing, Max shakes his head. “Yeah but now, we might have to have a speech from my father.”

“I’m rather looking forward to it.” At the top of the stairs, you can hear your brother and sister-in-law in your bedroom, humming over flowers and such. “I love you, Max. Forever. And I take that promise very literally.”

“I love you too.” Max stops you and cups your cheek. “You continue to surprise me, and I will never take you for granted one day during our existence.”

******

There are things about returning to Tuxedo Park that make you very nostalgic in a way that you cannot express to anyone besides Max. You came here together for Emmanuel’s funeral, supporting your grieving mother as her friends. It had been his parents’ wish to bury him here on the property, and now a large weeping beech tree oversees a small family plot on one end of the acreage. The distant cousin Max hadn’t known was buried here also, and had stored generations of family heirlooms inside the many rooms of Pullman House.

Going through these rooms is a lot of organizational work, but thankfully you can do quite a bit of it sitting at the dining room table with JJ in his Grow-With-Me chair beside you, kicking at musical keys and playing with the knobs, soft toys, and multicolored rings that the stationary play station has for his little mind to engage with. He seems to like the house well enough – although he did not like the drive here – and is currently staring and babbling happily at the far corner of the room while you look through old staff records and maintenance books kept by the superintendent.

“Hey love.” Max breezes into the room, taking on the role of handyman seriously, complete with walking about the house in flannel shirts with the sleeves rolled up and a tool belt around his hips. Not that he was really using it right now, but you seem to enjoy the view.

“Hey Daddy.” You stretch your neck to invite a kiss and he leans over obligingly as your six-month-old gurgles happily a foot away. “Are your parents back from town yet?”

“Just pulled in.” He grins and presses his lips to yours several times. “How’s my favorite girl. And my little biter?”

“He’s got a favorite spot on the wall to babble at and I’m reading through staffing records. Apparently the house got hit hard by Spanish flu and lost a few people.” You bite your lip, almost hating to say his name, but you have to. “Emmanuel’s nieces both died, and a few members of staff.”

Max sighs softly. “It feels like he should walk through the door.” He admits quietly. “Asking if we have time to check a design he had built and give our opinions.”

“Is it weird that I’ve always wished I could introduce him to my father?” The two men your mother had loved definitely had had more in common than not. Which makes sense, of course, in that your mother had a type. “I just know they would have been friends.”

“It’s not strange.” Max shakes his head. “Just like you shouldn’t feel bad for loving Emmanuel like we did. I think they would have loved each other.”

“I don’t feel bad. I mean it took some adjusting to…to realize that I miss him as my friend and he very well could have been my father.” You shrug slightly, reaching out your fingers to adjust one of JJ’s toys in his chair. “Being here just brings it all back. I’m sure if we were in the house I grew up in, I’d be thinking about my Dad instead.”

“Of course you would.” Max nods seriously. “Have you thought about my offer?” He asks softly.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually.” Ever since reuniting with his parents and the birth of his son, Max has been fully family oriented. He’s been endlessly helpful in every aspect of adjusting the way you live to make way for more family, and that included a very generous suggestion a week ago. “I think I’d like it very much, honestly. Bringing Mom and Dad back to Newport seems…it seems right. The family plot at Island Cemetery has plenty of room and it would be nice to not feel so disconnected from them.”

“You would be able to visit her whenever you want.” Max agrees. You’ve visited your parents’ graves a few times, but it’s too far to travel now that JJ is here. “I will have all the arrangements made.”

“Thank you, love.” A half-smile graces your lips, which grows when JJ babbles at the corner again happily. “And when we’re here, we can visit Emmanuel.”

“What is he babbling at?” Max wonders, looking over at his son with a curious pride. “It’s like he’s talking to someone.”

“I don’t know, he’s been at it the whole time I’ve—” But turning your head to actually look at the area where your son is focused makes you almost swallow your tongue. “Oh gods…”

“What?” Max’s fangs descend in a flash and he’s speeding over to JJ to whisk him into his arms. He might be a little overprotective, but this is his son.

"Emmanuel?" The ghostly figure in the corner is unmistakable, his tousled hair and immaculate clothing exactly the way he looked in life, if significantly more transparent and...somewhat more sad.

“What?” This time Max’s eyes are wide, not fearful or protective, but confused. “What do you see?” He demands again, staring at the spot where JJ has been babbling.

"I see Emmanuel," you repeat again, more carefully, seeing the figure of your old friend looking back at you. "That...that is you, isn't it?" The fact that Max can't see him makes you think it must be your and JJ's witch's blood at work, and you stand up from your chair carefully. "Can you see me, too?"

"Oh..." The shadowy memory of Emmanuel sighs quietly. "I can see you. And hear you. It's...I didn't know you could see me," he admits.

“What’s he saying? Is he talking back?” Max asks, looking back and forth between the corner and you.

"He didn't know that we could see him," you explain to Max, tears brimming in your eyes to see your old friend again. "But I—I don't understand." When you look back to the corner, Emmanuel has taken a step forward. "How long have you been here? I had no idea someone who had been a vampire could become a ghost."

Max tilts his head as you seemingly talk to thin air, but Emmanuel has to be there if you say he is. “Since I was destroyed.” He admits quietly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Max. “But you are here and— Annie? She’s your mother?”

“I suppose there’s…a bit to explain.” You glance back at Max where he is holding JJ close to his chest and bouncing your son gently in his arms. “This is when we are originally from. One of my powers is the ability to time travel, and I brought us back to your time by accident. But…yes. Annie was my mother. And the Browns were actually my grandparents.” You smile softly, almost laughing in disbelief. “And this is our son, JJ. Who apparently could see you all day today and simply couldn’t tell me.”

Emmanuel bites his lip as he stares at you. “I— I thought I was doing the right thing.” He tells you, having had decades to reflect on his mistakes.

“So did my grandfather.” Although you nod, regret sticks in your throat as though you were somehow complicit in the decision to sire your mother’s soulmate purely because you didn’t stop it. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Is that what happened?” Emmanuel asks softly, frowning fiercely as he tries to remember those last moments. There was just a fog, a hunger he had never felt before and then seeing Annie’s eyes filled with regret and pain. Realizing she had staked him. “I— I could never hurt her. She is my world.”

“I know.” Magic isn’t merciful enough to let you touch him — hug him — to offer him comfort, but at least you can give your friend some kind of reassurance. “And Mom knew that, too. That it wasn’t you, when it happened.” Maybe that’s how he ended up a ghost, instead of moving on? You can’t be sure. “No one who ever saw you together could ever doubt how much you loved each other.”

“I— oh god.” He closes his eyes, pain etched across his face. “I hurt her. I— I just wanted to live through eternity with her. To give her the world. I would have never…” Regret laces his words, fills his tone and he wishes once again, that he had never changed.

“Emmanuel…” Cutting him off softly, you find yourself reaching out a hand to him even though you know you can’t touch him. It’s just instinct. “It’s—it’s done with. And…even if you had lived on? It’s…Annie died in a car accident when I was eighteen. She was still mortal, Emmanuel. Despite having such a long life. There’s just… there’s nothing that any of us can do sometimes to prevent tragedy. I know that might not be the most comforting thing in the world, but please don’t torture yourself thinking that she’s still walking the earth in pain.”

“She’s— Annie is gone?” He chokes out, the pain of knowing his soulmate no longer exists, blooming. He had thought he couldn’t feel the crushing pain of loss as a ghost after so many years of haunting Pullman House, but apparently he could. “Dolly— I— she’s gone?”

“I’m sorry.” Maybe you should have eased into the news a little, but you had honestly thought it would be comforting to know she wasn’t in pain anymore. “It’s been almost fifteen years now.”

“Why am I still here?” Emmanuel asks, unable to ask the question to anyone else since he has shown up here to haunt the halls.

“I don’t know.” You tell him honestly. “I’ve…you’re the first ghost I’ve ever met.”

He nods and his eyes slide over to Max and JJ. “Is he—?” He asks, eyes longing as they look at the child. The child that in his mind, should be his grandchild. “Are you happy?”

It almost feels rude to tell him just how happy you really are, but there is such a small chance that knowing your family is happy and healthy might actually help him somehow — and you cannot lie to your friend. Not anymore. You’ve already kept so much from him. “Yes,” you nod, knowing that Max is right behind you with JJ in his arms and that every moment your family has together is not to be taken for granted. “We’re still very happy.”

“Good.” Emmanuel smiles and looks back at the baby again. “Your son?” He asks. “He’s bright. He saw me right away.”

“He’s six months old today.” You can’t help the immensely proud way you beam when talking about your son. JJ is your pride and joy and you absolutely will talk about him from dawn until dusk. “Seeing you is…it’s the first sign of magic he’s shown. And I’m so very glad.”

“Does he...need blood?” He asks curiously.

“Some.” And you’re grateful you had been prepared for that, otherwise it would have been a very rude awakening. “But according to Cookie, Annie stopped needing blood after she stopped growing.”

“And you?” He asks, curious as to what you experienced as a child. “Did you need blood?”

“Not that I remember.” It isn’t impossible that you were given it as a baby and simply don’t remember, but even with your memory as clear as it is you don’t recall any sippy cups of blood in your childhood. “But I do take some of Max’s now. To prolong my life.”

“That is good.” Emmanuel nods. “You deserve a long life. You were always so kind to me. Even if you obviously knew what my fate was.”

“You loved my mother.” It’s as simple as that, to you at least, and again you just desperately wish you could hug him. “And you were a wonderful friend to Max and to me. You deserve as much kindness as every other good person in the world. I���m just…I’m very glad that I could be one of the people you find it in.”

“I am sorry.” Emmanuel murmurs softly. “For all the pain I cause your mother.” He’s had plenty of time to regret his change and now that he knows that he had hurt her, he is even more so.

“I wish it didn’t torture you the way it does.” It’s a sort of vain hope…or least a far-fetched one, but it is honest. “We are all of us only human, after all. Even witches and even vampires. We still make all the same mistakes and have all the same feelings.”

“I just hope that she was happy.” Emmanuel confesses. “After my time with her had ended.”

“In my memories of her, she was very happy.” It would be cruel to harp on the fact that your father was a good man and a good partner for her, and you won’t mention him at all, but you do smile reflexively. “Life when I was growing up was simple, and quiet, and happy. I can promise you that.”

“Good.” He smiles, nodding at the imagery you are producing. “That is all I can ask for.”

“You should know.” Stepping away from the topic of your mother or his regret for a moment is the gentlest thing you can think of in this moment. “Max and I…we’re helping his parents restore this house. They own it now. So we’ll be here, in and out, from now on.”

“Truly?” His eyes light up, delighted to maybe have company at some points during his existence as a ghost. “Would you— perhaps we could talk more? Not always, but some moments when you have time?”

“Of course we can talk more. And as JJ gets older, he’ll be able to talk to you, too.” His joy makes your heart ache, just like the very idea that you might not want to talk to him is absurd. “We’ve missed you, Emmanuel. Very much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He promises with a small, sardonic smirk. “Although it’s amusing that Max cannot see me.”

“We’ll have to talk about him while he’s in the room,” you tease, throwing a grin back at your soulmate. “It will drive him crazy.”

“Don’t you dare talk about me.” Max huffs, frowning fiercely at the idea.

"Love you, babe." A grin over your shoulder tells him you're only teasing.

Max huffs and rolls his eyes. “Keep it up and I’ll start calling you ‘Manny’.” He threatens his old friend, not meaning a word of it.

“You’ll do that anyway,” Emmanuel replies, knowing his friend can’t hear him but enjoying the comfort that you can. You’re the first person to ever see him and actually hear what he says and it’s more comforting than he can possibly say.

“He says you’ll do that anyway,” you pass the message along with a grin.

Max tries to look innocent but fails miserably when he grins. “True.” He snorts and steps closer to the corner with the baby in his arms. “I can’t see you, but I’m glad that you’re— not gone.” He settles for that and shrugs. “I don’t know what to call it, but I’ve missed our billiards games.”

“It’s hard to play billiards without a body,” Emmanuel chuckles. “But maybe your wife will be kind enough to help us play chess.”

“He says I should help you play chess.” Translating between them makes you smile. Something you never expected but it warms your heart. “And I happily agree.”

“We will have to do it.” Max nods and gives a small chuckle. “No cheating though. I know you.”

That makes you snicker, but you hold up both hands in innocence. “I promise I won’t help him cheat,” you vow, wiggling your fingers in his direction. “Now, can I hold our son, please?”

“Sure.” Now that there’s no danger, Max has no problem handing over JJ to you. The boy goes easily, babbling happily and pointing at the corner.

"Sweetheart, I want you to meet somebody." Cooing to your son, you press a kiss to JJ's forehead and carry him a little closer to where Emmanuel is standing, past the table and past the chairs you had been sitting on all day. "This is Uncle Emmanuel." How much of what you're telling him is actually sinking into his curious little mind, you can't be sure. At six months old, he's definitely not piecing together a family tree in his mind. "He lives here, so we're going to be very nice to his house, okay Bud?" Picking up his little hand in yours, you grin when your son giggles approvingly. "Wave hi, Bud! Hi Uncle Emmanuel!"

JJ has learned to wave and he throws his entire body into it. Babbling and gurgling with a giant grin on his face as he damn near wiggles out of your arms.

If Emmanuel could still cry, he would have tears in his eyes. But as it is, the emotion sticking in his throat gives him away. “He is a blessing.” He manages to say, regarding the little boy in your arms.

“Yes.” You will agree to that every time, and never contest it for even a moment. “He absolutely is.”

******

Despite it being over 100 years of you sleeping beside him while he stays awake, Max doesn’t leave the bed. Too content to hold you as your breathing is nice and slow. Unless JJ is fussy and then he leaves you sleeping to handle the baby. He slips out of the bed as you groan and turn over to hug his pillow.

Your dreams have gotten slightly stranger since starting to take Max’s blood — the strangest were during pregnancy, but thank the gods that’s over — but it wouldn’t be uncommon to dream of magic or anthropomorphic anything or even create entire other universes in your mind. That makes this dream, as Max slips out of bed to rock your fussy son in his arms, all the more remarkable for being normal. Just a dream of your grandparents and parents sitting around a table playing cards like nothing had ever happened between them.

Your grandfather is the first to notice you, turning and smiling at you, just like he had your entire childhood when he visited you in your dreams. “Muñeca, you have come.” He stands and waves you over to the group.

“Yayo?” It isn’t the first time you’ve dreamt of your grandfather since he left this life, but it feels so much more real. “Am I late?”

He shakes his head and moves to gather you into a hug. “You are just on time. Come. There are others who have waited so long to see you again.”

You can see your family in the room, but at your grandfather’s bidding it’s like a veil lifts and you step further into the dining room at Chateau-sur-Mer to see your parents beaming at you as your abuela starts to deal you into their card game.

“Come sit with us.” Cookie hums in delight. “It has been so long since I have talked to you, my darling.”

“Are you…” Aware of your grandfather’s power, you don’t hesitate to go to the table, but you do look back at him before reaching out to hug your grandmother. “Are you all really here?” You ask, already choked up at the idea of it.

“After death, hard feelings are not nearly as important as family.” Annie admits, reaching out and taking your hand when you sit down. “I have so much to apologize for, sweetheart. So much.”

“You did what you thought was right, Mom.” Being able to see her again — touch her — call her Mom instead of Annie? It’s such a gift. It’s more than you ever dared to ask for, even knowing what is possible in the world. On her other side, though, you fly out of your chair to go to your father. It’s been the longest since you saw him, let alone spoke to him, because talking to the photos on your vanity at home don’t count as much.

“Hey pumpkin.” The fact that you are grown makes no difference as your father folds you into his arms and pulls you onto his lap for a hug like you are still six years old. “I have missed you so much. Been watching over you.”

“I miss you, Dad.” Such easy words to say, even as they shake through you, and you cling to him for a hug. “I miss all of you, but…gods I’m so sorry I didn’t come to see you when I was in the past. I was terrified of changing the timeline.”

“Honey, we understand.” Your father reassures you, kissing your forehead like he would have when comforting you from a bad dream. “I am just glad you got to see your mother. Your grandparents.” He pulls back and smiles at you. “Now you get to see me.”

“I wish you could’ve met Max.” Looking up and casting your eyes around the table, you soften again. “And JJ. Yayo is the only one who got to meet JJ, and you would all love him so much.”

“We’ve met JJ.” Your father admits with a smile. “Dreams, just like now, with you.”

“You can…with JJ?” It shouldn’t surprise you, not after last week’s revelation that your six-month-old can already see ghosts, but you smile in relief. “Good. I’m glad he’ll get to dream of his family.”

“We won’t monopolize his dreams.” Cookie promises. “Just drop in from time to time.”

“How are you still able to visit us?” This question is for Yayo, who is quietly looking through his hand off cards with a small smile. “If you…passed on? How do you still have your powers?”

“We are waiting.” Yayo tells you simply. “For Emmanuel.”

“Then I think you might be waiting for a while,” you tell him, guilt creeping into your voice as you look around the table. “He’s…he didn’t cross over. We’re at Pullman House right now. And he’s still here.”

“He has to forgive himself first.” Annie murmurs, looking sadly over at your father and then at you. “But he will. And then we will all be together.”

"He's heartbroken that he hurt you." It's so important for your mother to know this. To completely wrap her head around it, even if you understand that she probably forgave him long ago. "He barely even remembers when it happened. We've...talked through it. Extensively." Call it Ghost Therapy, but you had been hoping that trying to remember might somehow help him move on.

“Tell him that I— we— are waiting for him.” Annie requests, looking over at her husband, your father, and smiling. “Your father is looking forward to knowing the man that I loved before him. That I still love.”

“I…always thought you would be such good friends if you could meet.” It feels odd to admit it to your father, but it’s honest. It’s how you’ve felt since very early on after meeting Emmanuel.

“I know we would be.” Your father chuckles and looks at Annie lovingly. “She has told me about her soulmate.”

“Did they…tell you about Max, too?” It might be selfish, to wonder if they’ve talked about you and your happiness — but this is your family. Your parents and grandparents. In your heart your hope they’re at least happy for you.

“Absolutely.” He assures you with a proud smile. “I’ve watched how he cares for you, loves you.” He bites his lip. “He’s the kind of man I always hoped you would be with.”

“I wish you could visit him, too.” You admit, smiling softly. “But he doesn’t dream. Or sleep, really.”

“Yes, he’s too busy watching over his family.” Your grandmother hums in approval.

“You made a good choice, Yayo.” Of that, you can assure him. “Eddie and Allison are doing so well.”

“They are, aren’t they?” He smiles the satisfied little smirk of contentment before he picks up Cookie’s hand and kisses the back of it. “They are made for it, so I have cashed in one last favor from the devil.”

“Oh?” To hear that he had any left at all is a surprise, and you sit up at the table.

“Yes.” He hums, arching his brow and letting the moment sit just a touch longer for the dramatic effect. “They will walk the earth for eternity as soulmates.”

“Yayo.” The well of tears behind your eyes is instant, tears spilling over onto your cheeks as you think of how much that will mean to them. “You—they’ll be ecstatic,” you sniffle, wiping away the dripping tears.

“I thought they would like my last gift to them.” He nods, and holds up a finger. “But tell them that they should still treat every day as if they have just discovered each other.”

“I promise I’ll tell them.” Is it possible they don’t know yet? That it hasn’t happened? You’re certain that Allison would have called if she and Eddie had suddenly gained each other’s marks on any random afternoon. “And…” you look to your mother but have to wipe tears away all over again. “I’ll talk to Emmanuel. To tell him it’s time to finally forgive himself. Because you forgave him a long time ago.”

“I wish for him to enjoy this eternity with us.” Annie adds, nodding happily that you understand and there seems to be no hard feelings.

“I’ll tell him,” you promise again. For all the lifetimes that you knew your mother — whether she was your mother or your friend Annie — you have been able to love her through all of them. It’s oddly gratifying that you’ll be able to send her soulmate to her now. So that she can be loved all the more.

“Thank you, love.” Annie beams at you. “I am so grateful that you came back to visit during my youth. That I know you as the woman you are as well as my baby girl.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you while we were there.” It would have been too much. Too complicated and too risky. But at least you had been able to know your mother for many more years.

“Oh sweetheart, I understand.” Your mother shakes her head and gives you a sad smile. “It would have changed things if I had known. And while I wish that I had not made mistakes, I did. I just hope you can forgive me for them.”

“I don’t think there’s a single person at this table who hasn’t tried a little too hard to protect the people they love.” Too much pressure, spellbinding, and accidental time travel all seem to be varying levels of the same misguided leaps into protection. It seems to be a family trait. “I understand why you did it. I’d do anything to protect JJ, too.”

“Just don’t repeat the mistakes we have made.” Yayo cautions you wisely. “Learn from our follies so you can make all new mistakes.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. The idea of all new mistakes being both daunting and very realistic. “I’m sure we will. That’s parenthood, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.” All of the adults chuckle, well aware of their own parental mistakes and your father strokes your back gently. “You are a good mother. You will be for all the children to come.”

“I hope it will be several,” you admit with a grin. “I’m really enjoying motherhood.”

“It will be.” Yayo confirms with a knowing smirk. He has his ways of knowing that his family will be happy and healthy for generations to come.

******

The sun rises right into your bedroom window at Pullman House, bringing you out of your dream gently but without question. The baby monitor is gone from the nightstand on your side of the bed and your husband is nowhere in sight, so he must have gotten up with JJ in the night to make sure you could sleep. Sometimes he’s fussy for blood and sometimes for a bottle, but either way Max is able to take care of him.

They’re sitting together, father and son, at the table in the breakfast room when you come downstairs in your favourite old t-shirt and jeans after taking a steaming hot shower. Any chance to actually take a lengthy shower and feel human again is not something to be undervalued as a new mom, you have found.

JJ squeals happily at the sight of you and you sweep into the room to scoop him up out of his seat. “Hey Bud,” you croon, kissing his little forehead before leaning over to kiss Max as well. “Were you good for Daddy this morning?”

“Say ‘of course I was, Mommy’.” Max answers for him. “Nothing short of perfect, my son.” He winks at you playfully. “Takes after his father.”

“Mmhmm.” Even if you smirk skeptically, it’s full of nothing but love. “So that means he wanted blood last night, then?”

“So much that I’ve been thinking of creating a ‘Little Biters’ line of baby products.” He snorts jokingly. “The mascot of the line will be Cutie.”

“Mommy’s little menace,” you tease, placing another kiss on JJ’s head before moving around the kitchen to pour yourself a bowl of cereal. “I…had a dream last night.” Looking back over your shoulder, you shoot Max a meaningful look. “A family dream.”

“Really?” Max straightens up and his brow furrows slightly. He’s curious at the timing, especially since Emmanuel’s appearance. “What was it about?”

“Yayo had some messages to deliver.” Your grandfather’s mastery of the dramatic never ends. “I played cards with my grandparents and my parents and we talked.”

“Bridge?” Max asks, having spent many hours playing with your mother and grandmother back in the day.

“Of course.” The smirk on your face is because you got very good at the game over the decades. To the point where you were almost better than your abuela. “Dad and I switched out. Apparently he never quite mastered it the way you did.”

“Was this….a visit? Or a dream?” He asks seriously, knowing that stranger things are possible. He’s currently feeding one of them.

“It was a visit.” The distinct, you grant him, is important. “Apparently Yayo still has a little pull where it matters. Don’t I think this will be the last one.”

Max chuckles and shakes his head affectionately. “Of course the old bastard does.” He huffs.

“They told me they’re waiting.” The reality of it feels heavy, weighing on your shoulders like Atlas balancing the world. “They haven’t crossed over yet because they don’t want to leave Emmanuel behind.”

“That’s…sweet.” Max admits, his expression soft and yearning. He has been a little put out that he can’t see his old friend, but you have been enjoying talking to him. “Very sweet.”

"You know the old chestnut about ghosts having unfinished business?" With a bowl of cereal now in hand and enough milk to satisfy you, you sit down at the table with Max and set JJ back down in his own seat. "Mom says Emmanuel has to forgive himself so he can move on."

“Yeah?” Max shakes his head. “How are you going to convince him to do that?” He asks. “Although, telling him that Annie is waiting for him is a good start.”

"Hopefully being able to tell him directly from Mom that she has already forgiven him will give him the permission he feels like he needs to forgive himself." It's your best theory, anyway, and the fact that your friend has been so tortured over what happened for more than a century grieves you in a way you didn't know what possible. "Dad wants to meet him. Wants to wait for him, too. It’s...actually incredibly sweet."

“I told you it was.” He huffs at you playfully, reaching out and taking your hand. “Were you happy to see all of them together? Especially your dad? Since you didn’t get more time with him?”

"It was really nice to see Dad." To see him, to hug him, even if it was only in your dream. Dreams in your family have always been a little more intense anyway – but visitations are step above and beyond. "I think..." You glance up at your soulmate with a little grin. "Maybe we name the next little boy after him?"

“Next little boy?” Max perks up, considering you haven’t really talked about having more kids, and you had cursed him blue while in labor with JJ.

"I'm not saying giving birth was my favorite leisure day or anything." You snort at the idea, letting yourself enjoy a bite of your breakfast while you chuckle silently over the very idea. "But Yayo heavily implied a little insight into the timeline, and the fact that JJ will have at least a couple of siblings at some point."

“Can we start making them now?” Max asks, waggling his brows at you suggestively.

Shoving Max's arm playfully at the table, you make a soft if slightly non-committal noise at him and have another bite of your breakfast. You haven't been intimate since JJ was born and that's the longest you've gone in your entire relationship, but the doctor had been adamant that you needed time to heal and Max had agreed to follow medical advice without hesitation. "Let's see what the doc says when we get back to Newport," you tell him, that beaming grin overtaking your face again. "It took a hundred years to get JJ. Who knows how long we'll have to wait for the next?"

“That’s a hell of an age gap.” Max snorts, imagining JJ as a grandfather and becoming a big brother at the same time.

"It would be," you agree, laughing almost to yourself in silent little huffs. "Hopefully it won't take as long next time."

“Whenever you’re ready.” Max insists. He had even suggested wearing condoms when you were ready to have sex again.

"I love you." As many children as you many or may not have, as many different houses as you may live in, and as many decades or centuries as will ever pass between you -- this is the thing that holds it all together. The fuel that keeps your life going is right here at this table. And you can't help but be caught up in it a little when he slides his hand into yours and smiles. "Come on," you urge, pushing your cereal bowl away and nodding toward the belly of the house. "Come dance with me." It wouldn't be the first time he's twirled you around the dance floor at eight in the morning and you're sure it won't be the last, because the two of you never seem to tire of the waltz.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #Eddie BtVS #mysterious inheritance #time travel #witches #vampires

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

Closed Position Prologue

Closed Position Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo x OFC

Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble. 

Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo. 

Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.

👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, past alcohol abuse, and past drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.

Prologue below the cut.

In ballroom dance, the closed position is one of the most common in which partners face each other, typically offset, in an embrace that may vary slightly for each style of dance being performed. This position enables partners to provide the necessary physical contact and support to lead and follow. Increased body contact is encouraged because it allows for a deepened connection and furthers the use of touch to communicate. Another way for partners to establish a deepened connection is eye contact. Eye contact allows each of the dancers to anticipate and synchronize with the other’s movements. The stronger the eye contact and non-verbal communication, the more effortless and intense the performance will appear to be.

Because of the physical closeness and emotionally charged environment, ballroom dance can be an oddly intimate experience that requires a high level of trust between partners. It’s easy to understand why it’s heavily romanticized. For some, it’s not unusual that it may lead to feelings that extend beyond the dance floor.

In my line of work on a nationally televised tv show, I’m placed with a new partner every season. None of which I’ve ever actually achieved a real connection with (on or off the dance floor). It’s always very formal and instructional. Strictly a student learning from their teacher type of experience. The student (or celebrity in this case) is there for the purpose of winning the dance competition and any notoriety that comes with it. I’m there to teach them how to reach their goal and nothing more. I was, after all, in a sometimes-happy long-term relationship that I was not looking to jeopardize.

Everything changed the day Dieter Bravo waltzed into the dance studio. He was looking to repair his image and boost his career after a rumored long stint in rehab while I was simply trying to make it through my last season on the show. We were reluctant partners at first. I was aware of his bad boy reputation and didn’t want my professional image to be tarnished by his antics. He could sense my reluctance, which fueled the initial hostility between us. The hostility soon faded during our sessions as the electricity ignited. The attraction could only be ignored for so long. No one could have predicted the way our stars would eventually collide and be bound to each other’s orbit.

Next: Week 1

I included everyone who interacted with the initial teaser. Please let me know if you would like to be removed going forward.

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Let me know in the comments below if you would like to be added to the tag list.

Credits: Star divider courtesy of @saradika. Support divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

#dieter bravo #dieter x ofc #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal #closed position series #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo x ofc #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal Fanfic #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group H Round 2: #H7 vs #H3

#H7: Isekai subversion, now with more women and good writing.

#H3: Two guys time-travel through photos. Depression ensues.

Details and poll under the cut!

#H7: The Executioner and Her Way of Life (Shokei Shoujo no Virgin Road)

Summary:

Average student Mitsuki Mutou suddenly finds himself transported to another realm. Summoned by the king of this world for the remarkable power he is supposed to possess, Mitsuki is thrown out when it appears that he lacks a Special Concept. Moping about, he encounters a priestess named Menou who explains that Japanese people like him are known as Lost Ones, and such individuals never fail to have Special Concepts.

Menou elaborates that she is part of a church that helps abandoned Lost Ones integrate into society. She invites him to spend the night at her church, where the two can probe the nature of his ability. Eventually, they discover that Mitsuki's Special Concept is actually incredibly powerful and dangerous.

But is Menou's true goal to assist Lost Ones—or the opposite?

Propaganda 1:

An isekai that forgoes the usual tropes and exceedingly dull, whitebread protagonist in favor of a cast consisting more or less exclusively of varying flavors of deranged lesbians.

As a bonus, a certain scene halfway through the first episode made a lot of the worst parts of the anime community SO mad, and I feel like that’s worth something in and of itself.

Propaganda 2:

An isekai subversion that doesn’t feel like it’s subversive for the sake of being trendy! All of its unique parts have lore to explain them, and the world building of the series is super intriguing. The power mechanics are well-thought-out, and the fighting is unique and beautifully animated! Another strong part is the character relationships; I love the various dynamics between the main cast, and I love how none of them are reduced to mere tropes, as anime loves to do with its women. It’s also very funny, and the protagonist is one of my favorites <3333

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore, Suicide. Suicide is basically a deuteragonist’s goal, but it isn’t shown.

#H3: Link Click (Shiguang Dailiren)

Summary:

Best friends, roommates, and business partners Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang run a photo studio, developing pictures and the like. But that’s not all they do. The Shiguang Photo Studio has a secret extra service—they can deliver messages you never got to send and find information you never got to learn, so long as you bring a photograph, or maybe several.

Their method? A clap of the hands, and Cheng Xiaoshi dives into the past and into the body of the photographer. Guided by Lu Guang, he has twelve hours to achieve his goal, whether that is finding a secret, saying goodbye, or winning a fight.

Assisted by their friend and landlady Qiao Ling, the duo navigates a gallery of corporate lies, interpersonal drama, old regrets, and crime. In the second season, threads that began in the first episode of season one continues, showcasing the same level of brilliant writing and even higher stakes for our beloved characters.

Propaganda:

“Past or future, just let them be” is a message that is repeated throughout the show. At first, you’d think it’s just a matter of course, but after enough times of hearing it, it becomes depressing.

How can Cheng Xiaoshi be indifferent when he can feel the emotions of the person he’s possessing? When their pain becomes his pain as well? And so what if the person before him is already dead? At this moment, their hands feel so warm and alive.

This is where Lu Guang comes in. While Cheng Xiaoshi is the empathic and reckless type, Lu Guang is the cold and rational type. They balance each other out, and when they have conflicts, they face it maturely. They also care for each other so so much that the moment the other is in danger, all their principles get thrown out the window just to ensure the other person’s safety.

In s1, we watch them take on their clients’ orders. Through this, the show’s beauty is revealed: Simplicity and Sincerity.

Simplicity, because for a time-travel show, you’d expect the tasks to involve the fate of the world or something, but no. All the people Cheng Xiaoshi have dived into have been your everyday person—an office woman who gets harassed at work, a restaurant owner who’s grown estranged from her best friend, a man who wants to gain the approval of his girlfriend’s family, etc. Even when the stakes go high in s2, the core of the conflicts still lie in the character’s personal problems—which may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but they are not any less important. And I think this is nice. It’s hard to relate to grand plots, but it’s easy to relate to the day-to-day struggles that humans face.

Then Sincerity, because every single character is treated with care. Even characters you’ll never see again past their arcs manage to be impactful and unforgettable. They’ll claw their way into your heart and just stay there. I’ve rewatched s1 three times, but I still cry every time it reaches the basketball arc 😭. Then in s2, even the antagonists will grab for their share of your tears.

And you begin to question—Should they really just let the past or future be? If changing the past could save someone, is it really that bad?

The answer revealed in the s2 finale was so shocking that #link click trended for the first time ever on Tumblr after the episode aired, which is a feat in itself, considering how small the fandom is.

It has great animation, too. I especially love the 360° shots in some key scenes in s2 for they really amped up the tension. The fight scenes are also well-choreographed.

And all the music are bangers! S1 opening makes you wanna learn finger tutting, while the s2 opening is a masterpiece that leaves you in awe. (The s2 second chorus is just the first chorus played in reverse, making it sound like time is being rewinded. Fucking genius!)

If you still don’t watch Link Click after reading this, then you’ll be missing out in one of the greatest animated shows of all time. Just do yourself a favor and watch it already.

Trigger Warnings:

S1: Flashing lights in the opening, attempted and implied sexual harassment, slight panic attack, death, kidnapping, drugging, suicide, blood. Complete list of TW’s for s1 can be found here (it may be spoilery)

S2: Fast-changing images in the opening, domestic abuse, child abuse, emotional abuse, violence, blood, murder.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

#anime #donghua #best underrated anime #polls #poll tournament #tournament #anime tournament #animation #group stage #group stage round 2 #tournament polls #group h #the executioner and her way of life #teahwol #shokei shoujo no virgin road #link click #shiguang dailiren #时光代理人 #shi guang dai li ren

[tantalizingtopi]

Last Solstice I Gave You My Heart

Gortash x Dark Urge (Claret in this one shot)

Word Count: 1658

Disclaimer: characters are not mine, but Larian Studios for Baldur’s Gate 3

A Bhaalist Tradition (I just made up), one gives the person who has impacted them the most in the last year the heart of one who has slighted them or otherwise caused them grief. Claret had done just that last winter solstice, and her business partner had thrown it away, disgusted. She won’t make the same mistake again.

Claret watches the snow fall outside from her position at the Elfsong tavern, having taken the corner table for herself to drown her sorrows. She had nearly forgotten about last solstice and how she had declared her interest in her business partner, only to find her token of adoration in the garbage, and him annoyed at her for bringing him ‘gory tokens’ when she could just tell him who she killed if he needed to know about it.

She takes another long pull of her ale, knowing that trying to drink her sorrows will amount to nothing. She had taken care to carve out the heart of that man who had dared speak ill of the subject of her affection, how carefully she had removed it, cleaned it, and put it in the perfect packaging.

A Bhaalist tradition, one cuts the heart out of someone who has wronged the creature who has most impacted their life since the last solstice. Lovers give them to one another. This year, Claret is going to give her heart to Ghislev, who has agreed to become the undead Farslayer to further protect the temple. Due to the cult's growing influence in the city, more and more people are trying to find the temple, and security needs to be increased. Ghislev has proven himself to be both worthy of Bhaal and worthy of the honor. He only has asked to have one last winter solstice to be with his lover and to slay the one that has caused them the most grief.

If Claret were crueler, she would’ve picked his lover to be the sacrifice for Ghislev, as he is clearly causing Ghislev grief. Instead, she has killed his cousin, who had spoken out against the cult. She has the heart in her satchel, cleaned and fermenting in a jar with a white satin ribbon that had been soaked in the cousin’s blood. Claret finishes her drink, looking out once more to the heavy flakes. She pulls her cloak on and stands, only to feel a small tug at her side.

“Ma’m, this is for you,” the young errand boy says, holding out a folded note. She takes it and slips the child two silvers which he quickly pockets and bows, before rushing away. Claret unfolds the note and see the neat, tight encrypted lettering of the Banite.

‘Will I see you for Solstice? I have something for you.’

She sneers, crumpling the note. She had planned on stopping by his place for a quick romp after giving Ghislev his heart. But now she wonders if she should give him the satisfaction of seeing her. After all, their last meeting had left a bad taste in her mouth. They weren’t exclusive or anything, and they hadn’t ever vowed to be anything more than business partners, but having him cut her off early so he could go whisper sweet nothings in some patriars ear still hurt her. She didn’t like the way he made her feel in those moments, didn’t know how to handle herself. Their non-relationship was the closest she had ever come to anything remotely long term, previous affairs always ended bloody in one way or another and were exceptionally short-lived.

She leaves the tavern, heading to Ghislev’s home, still unsure of what she would do following her visit with the future farslayer. The streets, earlier bustling with people are nearly empty, save for a few souls hurrying through the storm to their destinations and those unlucky enough to have nowhere else to go but the streets. Still, there were fires in alleyways for those undesirables, and perhaps a few would be fortunate enough to breathe their last breath for Bhaal, as was common for those without someone to give a heart to their god instead.

The snow crunches in under her boots as she nears the small home in which Ghislev shared with his lover. Gods, Claret hates his lover, an arrogant sniveling little man who constantly ridicules Ghislev. She reaches the door and knocks, hearing voices inside.

The door swings open and the snooty face of the high elf gazes down at her. “Oh, it’s you.”

“I just need to see Ghislev for a few moments, Daevin,” Claret says, brushing past him. She didn’t make a habit of social calls, but she had visited them many times, taking a special interest in Ghislev, as he was one of her first recruits when she had first arrived in Baldur’s Gate.

Ghislev turns from the fire to look at her, confusion passing on his face. “Is everything okay?”

“No, things aren’t okay,” Daevin scowls, “you’re interrupting our solstice.”

Claret’s eyes flash, and she has to stifle her urge to sacrifice Daevin to her father right now. She grits her teeth and vows to end him once Ghislev is stationed as farslayer. Her voice comes quiet and low, “Care, Daevin.”

Daevin’s face pales and he says nothing more, but still holds his posture. Claret removes the jar from her satchel and presents it to Ghislev, bowing slightly. Ghislev bows as he takes it, “For me!”

“For you on the night of the most shadow. Your cousin shall not cause harm to you again,” Claret says. “I shall leave you to relish yourself in the night, for all too soon the dawn will come.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Ghislev says, bowing deeply again to her. Claret brings her hood up and steps around Darvin, pausing for just a moment to lock eyes with the elf, watching as he trembles before she whirls out into the night once more.

Claret finds herself in front of Gortash’s workshop, her mind still not made up if she should see him or not. She shifts on her feet, the cold beginning to seep into her boots. She sighs, turning to go when the door swings open to reveal her business partner, “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come.”

He beckons her inside and she hesitates for a moment before giving in and going inside. The workshop is warm and welcoming, and Enver helps her out of her cloak. He hangs it near the hearth as she takes in the space around her with surprise. The hearth’s fire glows brightly, two glasses and a bottle of wine sit on his cleared off workbench along with some meats and cheeses, there is even a scent of cinnamon and cranberries in the air. She eyes him warily, “are you expecting someone?”

“Only you, my murderous beauty,” Enver purrs. She laughs.

“You cleaned this all for me? How long did that take?”

He grins. “Longer than I’d like to admit, if I’m being honest. I wanted to make the longest night special for you— for us. I know how special it is to you, now.”

“It’s just another night, another silly holiday, Enver.”

The smuggler rolls his eyes. “Don’t be flippant, it’s unbecoming.”

“Much about me is unbecoming, which is why you don’t find me mingling in high society all that often,” Claret replies, a grin on her lips.

“Don’t tell me you still upset about the other night,” Enver replies.

“I came here, didn’t I?”

Enver opens the drawer to his workstation and pulls out two ornately wrapped packages and sets them in front of her. “I was planning on giving these to you later, but perhaps it’s best I do this now.”

Claret eyes the boxes in front of her, hearing a soft metallic sound coming from the smaller one, but makes no move to open them. She occasionally gave small trinkets to her business partner, usually tokens from the people she had eliminated on his behalf as per their agreement, but never had he returned the gesture. His acknowledgment of their dealings have been grander gestures, such as torture racks of her ancestors which were now proudly on display in the temple. “What are these?”

“They’re gifts, Claret. For you,” Gortash’s smile doesn’t meet his anxious gaze. “Just open them.”

Claret’s fingers shake slightly as she pulls at the golden ribbon on the first box, the bow unwinding easily. She lifts off the lid and stares inside. “Enver?”

She pulls the glass case from the box and looks at the organ suspended in the middle. He gives her a small smile. “I wasn’t aware of the custom last year, and didn’t know the significance. This is the heart of the man who hit your little urchin girl last tenday in the park. I only hope it begins to make up for the way I mishandled your gesture.”

Claret’s eyes water as she smiles. She had went to find the man and couldn’t. She often gave coins and baubles to the urchins that hung around the park she frequently busked at for a brief escape from the temple. She was self taught and not particularly good, knowing only a small handful of songs, but the street children would dance and play about when she performed and it made her feel like she was doing something nice for them. “Thank you.”

“Open the other one,” he encourages.

She picks up the smaller box and opens it, pulling out a chain from which hangs a tiny metal heart, the intricate device moving—no, she realizes, beating— as if it were a real heart. Enver steps closer and takes the box from her hand, pulling her palm up to rest on his heart. She feels his heartbeat at the same rhythm of the one on the chain. “What is—“

“Claret,” Enver says quickly, his pulse beginning to race under her touch, “you have my heart. I know that our relationship is unorthodox and far from ideal, and that it may be our downfall in the end, but you are the only person I have ever given my heart to, the only person I will ever give it to.”

She presses her lips to his. “Blessed Solstice, Enver.”

“Blessed Solstice, my love.”

#baldur's gate 3 #fanfic #bg3 #bg3 dark urge #bg3 durge #dark urge #durgetash #gortash smut #gortash x durge #lord enver gortash #durgetash beginnings #durge #durge x gortash #smuggler gortash #enver gortash #low key my partner and I both like Enver as a name #for a future offsping

[jake-kiszkas-smirk]

Greedy

Sam Kiszka X Fem reader

18+ only, minors DNI

This is definitely not my best work, but I really struggle with writing Sam. Id almost just categorize this as a blurb. I hope its still decent! xoxox

Warnings: Degradation, fingering (vaginal and anal), choking, unprotected sex,

You made your way through the crowded bar, 2 beers in hand as you made your way back to Sam. He was right where you left him, playing pool with his brothers.

"Hey Danny!" you said as you got back over, "When did you get here?"

"Just a few minutes ago, it's good to see you y/n" He said as he pulled you into a side hug.

"You too," he replied,

"Fuck" You heard Sam say on the other side of the table. He had just made an awful shot. You made your way to his side and held out his beer to him,

"Here ya go babe"

"Yeah, just put it right there" He motioned to the small table in the corner where Jake's gf was sitting with the guys drinks. You were a little thrown off by his answer. No thank you? Not even a smile, just an order. You shook it off, walking over and placing his beer on the table like he'd asked. You chatted with Jake's partner for a while, and then walked back over to the game of pool being played. You waited for Sam to take his turn, and then walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around him. He wiggled out of your grip, gently pushing your arms away, but pushing them away none the less.

"What is your deal?" You finally asked, not willing to let it slip this time,

"I'm playing a game of pool right now y/n, in case you hadn't noticed." He motioned to the table, speaking in a tone that was very condescending. You immediately felt the 3 other guy's attention fix on the two of you.

"Ok AND? You weren't taking your turn I was just trying-"

"AND you're being fucking clingy" He snapped, "Can you just give me some space?" You stood silent, a slow blink and a quirked brow. You could feel your blood boiling, but you reigned it in. He hadn't even looked at you when he talked to you, but the other 3 saw your reaction. Their eyes got wide, probably waiting for you to rip him to shreds, take him down a few pegs. That is how you would have normally reacted. Tonight, tonight you weren't going to humor him. You weren't sure what his issue was, but it wasn't you. However, you weren't a fan of how he had just disrespected you in front of not only your friends, but a whole bar. When you didn't speak, Josh did

"Sam, don't be a dick to y/n because you suck at pool" he said, always one to stick up for you, even though he knew you rarely needed assistance.

"No, it's ok Josh" you said calmly, walking back over to your little table in the corner. You sat there for a few minutes before Jake came over,

"It doesn't justify how he just treated you, but he had a rough day in the studio today, thats why we came out tonight" he shrugged. You nodded, that did explain his shit mood. He had been quiet at home earlier, and even quieter on his way to the bar.

"Who is DD tonight?" You asked simply,

"Danny, why?" you nodded, digging in your bag.

"Because I'm about to leave. Can you do me a solid and keep Sam distracted while I do? Not that he'd fucking notice." you clenched your jaw as you finally found your keys. "And don't tell him that I left?"

"You, are something else. I don't know why he ever crosses you" Jake smirked, "Give me a few minutes and then you can sneak out. You know he's gonna be pissed right?"

"Thats the plan" you replied with a devilish grin. Jake just shook his head and walked away. After a few minutes he led Sam over to the jukebox. You grabbed your bag and disappeared into the crowd, out the door, and into your car. You got in and turned it on, sitting for a second, wondering if this was wise. To hell with wise, you thought, Sam had been a complete dick and needed to learn a lesson. You put the car in drive, and went home.

Once you got home, you immediately changed into your favorite cozy sweater and a pair of panties. After slipping on your favorite chunky socks you picked up your book and made your way to Sam's at home studio. It was your favorite place to read, it had a comfy little armchair you liked to curl into. You wanted to escape the bullshit of this night and drift off into your fantasy world.

You weren't sure how long had passed, but you were pulled back to reality when you saw the flash of lights from someone pulling into the driveway. You scrambled to find your phone which had fallen between the cushions. It had been 2 hours since you got home, and you had multiple texts-

9:23 Sammy- Where are you?

9:47 Sammy- Y/n, I'm ready to leave, where are you?

10:02 Sammy- I'm getting worried, can you please respond

11:05 Dan the man- Just a heads up, we are almost to your house, and he is PISSED

Shit. Shit. You had been given time to calm down, but Sam..

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard the front door slam shut.

"Y/n!" He barked as you heard his footsteps quickly approaching down the hall. You were frozen in your chair, the edge in his voice already had goosebumps on your skin. He appeared in the doorway, his brows pinched together and his face red. You could see that his jaw was clenched.

Oh, he was mad. He was so, so, mad.

"Sam-" You started as he stalked across the room to you,

"Shut it. You just sit there and fucking listen." He snapped, leaning down and caging you into the chair by putting a hand on each armrest. You shrunk into yourself as you looked up to him with wide eyes, "Do you know, how worried I was when you weren't answering my texts?! I walked around that bar so many times, I checked outside, I was a wreck. And then I thought, 'oh she has her gps on'. So I look, and imagine my surprise when I see that you aren't even at the bar, BUT AT HOME." He shouted.

You were trying to listen, you really were, but you had gotten distracted. His lips were pink and his breath smelled like tequila, his chest was heaving up and down as he talked, his brows were furrowed, he looked too good. You wanted him, and you wanted him like this.

"Y/n! Are you even listening?!" He snapped, grabbing your chin now. "I asked what you were thinking?! Leaving me at a bar and just not answering my texts!"

"I was giving you space." you replied, batting your eyes and playing dumb, "Just like you asked." He glared at you, a muscle in his jaw feathering.

"So this was all some fit, because I didn't give you attention when you wanted it? Are you fucking kidding?" He questioned, grip still on your chin. You held his stare,

"I'm really sorry" You said, sugary sweet as you danced your fingers across his thigh. He caught the glimpse of the wicked smile that graced your lips,

"You're not sorry." He knelt in front of you, hand dropping to your neck. He held it in a barely there grip, "You're just playing the innocent little slut card now because you want to be fucked."

"Uh uh" You hummed with a shake of your head, a lie.

"Thats why you got so mad huh? Because you wanted to be fucked back at the bar too, didn't you? Wanted me to bend you over that pool table and make you cum right there in front of everyone? Greedy little spoiled brat not used to being told no?" He raised a brow, waiting for your response,

"Not my fault I've been spoiled" you challenged, shifting in your chair to spread your legs,

"Good girls know to accept what they are given and be grateful, not to go around begging for more" He paused as his eyes drifted down to your core, taking notice of the way your panties now clung to you, "But you're not a good girl are you?"

"I-" You started, only to be interrupted by him

"That was a rhetorical question. You and I both know you are anything but a good girl." the back of his knuckles brushed up your thigh, making their way up as he spoke. "Slut, whore, brat,- those are all words that describe you, never good girl"

"You love it" you replied, hands gripping the arm of the hand around your neck, pressing your hips forward to his other hand that was resting so close to where you wanted it.

"Look how desperate you are y/n," he slid your panties to the side, teasing his fingers through your slick, "Show me how bad you want it," He stilled his hand, two fingers resting right against your entrance. With your upper body pinned to the back of the chair by his hand around your throat, you started rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers the best you could.

A smug smile played on his lips as he watched you struggle. A frustrated whimper came out of you, his fingers only going in about halfway wasn't nearly enough and he knew it,

"Was that a sound of complaint?" He asked, pulling his fingers away,

"I need more" You whined,

"More? You need more?" He stood up, venom lacing his words, "You want more? I'll give you more."

You gasped as he hauled you up from your seat, a harsh grip on your arm as he manhandled you over to his amp, bending you over it. Your toes barely touched the ground, so your legs were basically dangling. He yanks your panties down your legs, then you're just laying there with your hands splayed on the top of the amp and you wait for his next move. You could hear his pants and belt fall to the ground.

"Greedy sluts like you always want all their pretty little holes filled," He ran his tip through your folds, "You don't deserve it, but I'm going to give it to you anyways." He pressed into you abruptly, punctuating his words,

You moaned out as he started thrusting. His pace was relentless, and you wondered how he kept his words so steady as he pounded into you

"I bet my cock in your cunt still isn't enough for you, is it?" He rasped, coaxing another moan from your lips as his slickened thumb began rubbing circles over your back entrance. He growled lowly when you arched your back as best you could with your feet not touching the ground, "Tell me what you are, and you can have it"

"A greedy slut" You said eagerly, not worried at all about how needy you sound, "I'm a greedy slut and I want it"

"Thats right" He pressed his thumb into you, this move gentle in comparison to his cock slamming into you. He was quickly reducing you into a mess, and you still wanted more.

"Sammy....." You groaned, sounding pathetic. When you felt his eyes on your face you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue.

"Insatiable, spoiled, brat" He hissed as he shoved his fingers in your mouth. You sucked on them, eyes rolling back as he railed you into the amp. His hips started to falter, moans slipping from him every time you moaned around his fingers. "Goddamn you feel so good" He said under his breath, his first compliment, a sign that he was losing it. "Time to give me what I want, cum for me" a few more thrusts, drawing you closer with each one,

"Don't be selfish, give it to me y/n", he ordered,

so, so, close,

"I said cum!" he snarled, and that was enough. You came hard as he fucked you through it. He didn't slow his pace at all, chasing his high. "Gonna cum" he groaned,

"Inside, inside" You mumbled around his fingers he kept in your mouth.

Suddenly you were empty. He had removed himself from every part of you, and was stroking himself as he came on your ass. You had to admit he was a vision with his cock in his hand, but you had been denied what you asked for,

"Ugh, I-" you pouted

"Awh, did you want it inside?" He feigned empathy, you knew he had heard you. You stuck out your bottom lip, puppy dog eyes on display as you nodded.

"Why don't you show me some gratitude, then? See what that gets you hmm?" his voice had changed, he was just as fucked out as you at this point.

"Thank you," You said simply, trying to see him out of your peripherals.

"For what?" He pried, taking his fingers and collecting some of his cum from your skin.

"For fucking me" you conceded. As the words left your mouth his fingers slipped into you, putting his release where you really wanted it. He was obscene, you loved it.

"Again," He commanded, repeating his movements, fucking his cum into you each time you thanked him. This process repeated until he was content.

He grabbed your hips, helping you off the amp. The indentions from it covered the front of your thighs, your hip bones already starting to bruise. He inspected them, kneeling and pressing gentle kisses to them.

"Let's go shower" He mumbled as he stood, taking your hand and leading you down the hall. "Sorry for being a prick earlier,"

"It's ok" You said, following him on wobbly legs,

"I guess sometimes fucking you fixes my attitude too" He laughed nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck,

"I mean...you said it, not me" You smirked at him as he pulled you into the shower.

#sam kiszka #sam kiszka smut #gvf #greta van fleet #greta van smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #fan fiction #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fanfic

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

Rebecca Ferguson: "I'm done with super power women"

At the same time that Rebecca Ferguson is seen in cinemas in the blockbuster Dune: Part two, she dreams of making small films and acting in theatre. For Gunnar Rehlin, she talks about the sex scenes, the successes - and why there won't be more films with Tom Cruise.

Rebecca Ferguson is tired of playing "super power women".

-I'm good at it, but it's boring, she says.

Therefore, there will be no more impossible missions with Tom Cruise - she was asked to make another film in the series, but declined.

-For the first time I feel like a free agent (a player without a contract with a club, ed. note), she says and laughs.

Instead, she wants to enter the narrow world of cinema.

- And then I want to be on stage. I've never done it, I didn't study acting, I was almost thrown into it. So right now I'm sitting with the freedom, but I don't have any pieces. The other day I read a play for the first time, I haven't done it before.

Rebecca Ferguson wants to make smaller film and theater It might seem a little contradictory that we're sitting at the luxurious Rosewood Hotel in London talking about Rebecca's desire to make smaller, leaner films, as she's currently doing interviews for the mega-budget production Dune: Part Two, with an estimated production cost of over $120 million. This day I meet Rebecca and Stellan Skarsgård, the day after I meet Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Florence Pugh and the director Denis Villeneuve, among others.

But Rebecca's desire to do smaller films seems sincere. She says:

- Just this morning, I received an offer to do a small role in a studio film, for a lot of money. But I don't want to feel like I'm working just for money. I discussed this with my husband. Many people say that you should strike while the iron is hot, but I don't want to. I'm very happy with what I'm doing now, I want to do roles that neither bring me down nor lift me up. I don't care.

Now, this shouldn't be taken as saying she doesn't want to make a third Dune movie. Number two ends with a cliffhanger that points to a sequel.

-I have spoken to Denis about it and I would very much like to do number three, she says.

In the Dune films, a powerful science fiction epic set on distant planets, she plays the mother of Timothee Chalamet's protagonist.

- But I don't just see her as a mother, in Dune: Part Two she is a person who wants to get her way, says Rebecca.

"A lot of talk about the sex scenes" And that is probably something that also characterizes Rebecca Ferguson as a person. She is an extremely nice and spontaneous person, who is really not afraid to speak up when there is something she wants to protest against, but also does not shy away from handing out spontaneous hugs.

She has a very Swedish way of looking at work and its consequences – such as doing nude and sex scenes, something that was plentiful in the TV series The White Queen.

- It's not particularly convenient to do sex scenes, man, I have control over the scenes I do and what I show. This couple that Max Irons and I played in The White Queen had many children, so there was as much battlefield as sex in the series. When I was interviewed in the US, there was a lot of talk about the sex scenes and I said: "How do you make children in the US? This is how it works in Europe". By the way, the series was made in two different versions, there is more sex and nudity in the American one than the one shown in England. Sex sells, that's how it is.

Nowadays, London is both home and the hub of her career. She previously lived in Simrishamn. Her mother, who is from England, had moved here and Rebecca followed. For a while she kept the home in Simrishamn (her former partner Ludwig, with whom she has a son, lives there) parallel to the apartment she got in Richmond.

Began his career in the TV soap "New Times" But let's go even further back in time, when Rebecca lived in Stockholm and her career began, with a role in the TV soap New Times. She says that it was a coincidence that she was cast in the series, that it was because she attended Adolf Fredrik's music school and could sing.

The job with New Times caused her to miss high school. She moved away from home, took different jobs, enrolled in high school later, ended up in the United States where she was in a Swedish-American TV soap.

-Imagine being 17 years old and spending a year in Miami Beach, where the biggest problem was whether it would be the pool or the beach.

After that year, she still wasn't sure what she wanted to do.

- I traveled around, was in Thailand and got a diving certificate and wanted to become a diving instructor. I love the sea, love to dive - even though I suffer from claustrophobia. To swim with fish and to float around...

In 2011, she was back in Sweden and met the director Richard Hobert, who asked if she wanted to be in his upcoming film En enkel till Antibes. In it, Rebecca played a cold-blooded woman trying to trick an aging man, played by Sven-Bertil Taube. The film received good reviews, a foreign agent caught the eye of Rebecca and not too long after that she had auditioned for and landed the lead role in the BBC series The White Queen, which earned her a Golden Globe nomination.

Saying no to more Mission: Impossible Soon after, she caught the eye of Tom Cruise, which led to a contract for three films in the Mission: Impossible series. Since the third has been split into two films, number two (Mission: Impossible – Dead reckoning part two) will arrive later this year.

But there won't be a fourth film with Tom Cruise as Ethan Hunt, says Rebecca.

- I'm done, I've turned down part four.

What now occupies her most is the TV series Silo, which is filmed in a studio outside London. Rebecca stars in the dystopian sci-fi series about how humanity is forced to live in a large underground silo after the apocalypse. The first season was a great success, now the filming of season two is underway.

A few days before we meet, Rebecca was at the gala premiere of Dune: Part two in Paris. But while Stellan Skarsgård and the others went to the party, Rebecca had to take the train back to London in order to be there early the next morning at the recording.

-I film basically every day, it's a lot of stress. The others from Dune travel the world and do PR. I'm doing New York, I don't have time anymore.

Still getting starstruck Both Dune and Silo are sci-fi, but it's not like it's a genre that's particularly close to her heart. She says she enjoys the complexity of the worlds depicted and that the Dune films made this accessible in a way that the books they're based on couldn't.

- I like imagination, I'm at an age where you no longer fly on broomsticks. I want to go on adventures, and that's more than fantasy and science fiction.

A few years ago, she married Rory St Clair Gainer, with whom she has a daughter. Rebecca is keen to keep the family out of the limelight, although they sometimes accompany the filming around the world. The husband is a businessman and philanthropist.

Rebecca's work includes filming with mega stars such as Tom Cruise, Meryl Street, Hugh Grant and Hugh Jackman. Can Rebecca still be starstruck? Well, she became that, for example, during the filming of Dune: Part two, when an important role was played by the legendary Christopher Walken.

-I sat on my throne, with a cloth over my face, and did not dare to make eye contact with him. How could I dare speak to him? Then someone said he knows a lot about Marlon Brando, so when I got the chance I asked him to tell me about Brando - and he did.

Rebecca's career has long gone straight up. How does she herself view the successes?

- There are people out there who drive around with scripts and go to castings and never get any roles and who are probably better than I am. I don't mean that I'm bad, I work very hard at what I do.

- But I have never seen a future, I have never predicted that it would be a success. I haven't had sharp elbows to make it in Hollywood. I've wanted to do what I'm doing now for a long time, and it feels like such a damn luxury.

Translated from swedish for @rebeccalouisaferguson

#rebecca ferguson #interview #dune interview #mi7 interview #twq interview #miscellaneous

[hyuneytoast]

⌦ .｡.:*•°❀ when you give them flowers

. • genre: ot8 fluff

. • warnings: none

༄ؘ b.chan!

…you just made this man the happiest and, yet shyest, as he covers his face with his black sweater paws. The smile of his eyes give it away nonetheless. Chan keeps the flowers on his desk in his studio. So when he’s in need of inspiration or motivation, he’s reminded of you through the burst of color. Or when the hour is late, the flowers play as a reminder that he has a home to go to and you to stay beside.

༄ l.minho!

…“About time,” he said. Minho always shows his love through little ways aside from words and physical affection. And flowers are one of them, he often buys a bunch for you. So for you to be the one to buy him flowers? He’s more excited and touched than he let’s show, but maybe you can still tell through his eyes and their sparkle. He places the flowers on his nightstand, so besides you, they’re the first and last thing he sees. 

༄ s.changbin!

…the bigger the bouquet, the better. Changbin gets all giddy when you end up giving him flowers, let alone anything. The next hour or so after giving him the bouquet, you find out it’s not displayed in one place, but everywhere. Changbin breaks up the bouquet, displaying a flower here in the room and there in the kitchen, and so on. The scatter of flowers throughout the place is, in his eyes, more essence of you to go around. Why have one source of smiles when you can have a dozen?

༄ h.hyunjin!

…not only did you just give him flowers, but you just gave him a package of inspiration. Flowers from his lover? He is going to ingrain this into his mind, and step one is to paint them. He will pick the most pretty, fitting vase and put it on his shelf as he observes it before setting it upon canvas. And on your end, you gave him flowers, unaware you wouldn’t be seeing him for the next few hours. Hyunjin will also air dry them, because it’s a gift he refuses to throw out.

༄ h.jisung!

…panic was the first reaction you got out of him. Good going, you. Poor Hannie thought he forgot your guy’s anniversary or something. But when you assure him, he gets all flustered but wears the sweetest grin. “Wait, for me?” His cheeks are red like they’ve been dusted in the flowers you just gave him. After that, he won’t stop thinking about it and even show it off to the world. “My partner just gave me flowers. See? See?!” One of a kind, he says—the flowers and you (and his reaction).

༄ l.felix!

…he will give you the most brightest, surprised face. So what if he’s indecisive of what vase to set it in? Or where to even display them? Felix is undoubtedly determined to make them last too. He checks on them everyday, tending to them and refilling their water. And, to your surprise, they do last extra long. It’s, you presume, Felix himself—the extra dose of sunshine in this world. When the flowers do begin wilting though, he will be so pouty, but he’ll keep the memories of them forever.

༄ k.seungmin!

…you? Flowers? Flowers from you?? Talk about small but certain happiness. The day you gave him flowers was one of the little, but most precious packages of happiness for him. At first he was thrown off guard because the situation is usually vice versa. “Did you break something, or do something wrong?” But he’s only messing with you. Your gesture warmed him from the inside out. He will take a dozen pictures of the flowers, even hanging one on his wall along with the other memories of you.

༄ y.jeongin!

…the moment he processed the fact you bought flowers just for him, Jeongin never saw flowers the same since then. Favorite person equals favorite gift. He stares at them with a smile helplessly tainting his face. He’ll try to play it off, but the way he’s touched doesn’t go missed in one way or another. He will read articles on how to properly take care of them, and he will enjoy the moments where they remain alive under his care. The flowers you gave him that day became his favorite kind ever since.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: SKZ Materialist*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz fluff #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #jisung x reader #han x reader #lee know x reader #lee felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin imagines #chan fluff #minho fluff #changbin fluff #seungmin imagines #stray kids fluff

[iibonniee]

100 Ways to Say, "I Love You" | Lee Minhyuk

100 Ways To Say I Love You: “Give me a brush. I’ll fix your hair.” 

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Rating: G

Word Count: 0.7k

Masterlist | 100 Ways to Say, "I Love You" Masterlist

Settling down as an Idol with the public watching was always a very risky thing to do. But when Minhyuk knew he was in love, he would be damned if he let anyone get in the way of his heart’s desires. He had to admit he was surprised by the support he had received from friends, family, and fans as he wrote his note, saying he had fallen in love and they were expecting a little one.

His fans didn’t need to know how long he had been with his partner. All they needed to know was that he was truly happy. His heart was content, and nothing would come between that.

Welcoming his little girl was indeed the best thing to happen to him. He remembered crying harder than the wailing little girl taking her first gasps of air. He’d be afraid to say he won if there was a fight to see who would win the crying match.

Each moment with his little girl and the woman who stole his heart was a blessing he never knew existed. Each milestone he was able to cherish with his wife, to her first steps to betting whether she’d say “ma” or “pa” first, Minhyuk held incredibly close to his heart. One thing he would admit, though, was how he hated how quickly she grew before his eyes.

He knew there were times when he was gone touring, but he swore three months gave his daughter just enough time to grow before his arrival home. He knew trying to find a way to stop her from growing was simply impossible, so he cherished every second he could with her.

“Daddy!”

The sound of the studio door being harshly thrown open startled Minhyuk, causing the brush in his hand to stray to the right as his body jumped with it. Wide brown eyes shot towards the door in panic, no longer concerned about his painting but rather the shouting that came from his four-year-old daughter, Dae.

His arms were out in seconds, not caring about how messy he might’ve been. His eyes watched as the little girl crossed the messy room towards her father. Slight hints of distress swirled around her brown eyes as she jumped into her father’s awaiting arms. His heart raced as his hands checked to see if she was okay.

“What’s wrong, little one? You seem so distressed. What’s bothering you?” Minhyuk’s words flew out in seconds, wanting to find the problem so he could figure out the solution as soon as possible.

His eyes paid close attention to his daughter as she gave a slight sniffle, which he would’ve bought as genuine if it wasn’t for her failing frown. The second he watched her lip curve just an inch into a smile, a fake gasp fell from his lips as his hand began his assault to tickle her tummy.

“You little stinker! I thought something was wrong with you! Spill it! Tell me, tell me!”

“S-stop it, daddy!” Dae giggled, attempting to fend off her father’s hands, but to no avail.

“Not until you tell me why you interrupted me!” Minhyuk tried to seem upset about the sudden interruption, but his bright grin revealed the lies he couldn’t get out yet.

“Mommy wanted to do my hair, but I like when you do it more.” The little girl finally admitted. Her giggles were infectious even after he finished tickling her.

However, the confession caught Minhyuk off guard. He froze, blinked, and smiled as he glanced down at his daughter. She had his smile, a simple carbon copy of himself. Pretending to be in thought for a minute, Minhyuk nodded.

“Okay then. Give me a brush. I’ll fix your hair. I’ll make you look like the prettiest Princess ever.”

“Just as pretty as mommy?” Dae questioned, hope filling her brown eyes.

“You two are the most beautiful girls I’ve ever set my eyes on, Pumpkin. Now, go grab me a brush, and I’ll meet you in the living room.” He smiled, watching as her eyes lit up with excitement. She scrambled from his grip, running from the room to do what her father said.

As he watched her run, his eyes met his wife’s. Her smile was soft, telling him she had seen the interaction and was treasuring every second of it. His smile was unwavering as he mouthed “I love you” to her. “I love you too, Min.”

#kvanity #monsta x imagines #monsta x x reader #minhyuk x reader #monsta x fluff #minhyuk imagines #monsta x drabble #minhyuk scenarios #minhyuk drabble #monsta x fanfic

[rae-of-gold]

So I have a playlist for the EAH music au I made and I wanted to share some of my favorite specific songs for some of the characters.

(note: these are not what I think their voices sound like, moreso what their musical sound would be and/or the lyrics they would write)

(and another note: not all characters are here as not all character make music. yes they're all in the music industry, but that doesn't mean they write or create music. some do art, some marketing, some are lawyers, hell some are security. so if your fav aint here, they're doing something else)

Dexter: I'm made this whole thing for him but I can't decide on a single sound for him. I feel the closest would be With Confidence. I mean the playlist is long, but seven songs from just one band, from various albums too, I'd say that's one of the top runners.

Darling: since Darling writes the majority of Apple's music, her lyrics are like Taylor Swift songs. But she as an individual is a bit of an enigma. She makes her lyrics sound very much royal, when really she's a rebel, but she's also Wonderlandian at heart. So would she sound like Junie and the Hutfriends? Or maybe Studio Killers? or AlicebanD? very honestly it could be all, none, whatever. I do feel like those could fit her though.

Raven: I know that canonically she's a huge of fan of Taylor Quick but that doesn't mean she can't like other genres or that her own sound can't be different from what her favorite. I imagine her musical sound a lot like Icon For Hire, especially with the album You Can't Kill Us, I think it's a perfect fit for her. Paramore and Avril Lavigne are also close to her.

Apple: Taylor Swift. She is the pop princess and Apple would be too. starting her career at a young age, writing stories she makes up and having her sound change and grow the more she does. But also The Rise and Fall of a Midwestern Princess album by Chappell Roan once she breaks away from the idea of making music solely for the money and fame.

Briar: Ke$ha. just all her music.

Cerise: Disobedient from Steven Universe. it's just so perfect for her. The obvious choice is She-Wolf by Shakira, which is also there for her, but Sadie and the Killers.

Sparrow and his Merry Men: Hats off the to Bull by Chevelle. no thoughts, just vibes. OR (i guess one thought), i know a lot of people dont like him, i am not one of them, i think he's fun and classic stereotypical emo, TX2.

Poppy: genuinely imagine her and Holly writing and singing Something That I Want by Grace Potter about their parents. I feel like Holly and Poppy made like a single album when they were younger and both moved on to do other things but they both still really liked music. Holly nowadays just plays short covers of songs on social media and Poppy of course being a hair stylist that eventually joins Dexter and Darling's band. With a musical sound and voice like the lead singer in Tonight Alive.

Maddie: S.J. Tucker. I'm not a huge fan of her music, a couple songs here and there, my partner is and loves how witchy her sound is. Maddie ain't every witchy, but she is odd and witchy-ness can and is also very weird and goes every which way. one song can sound like a whole different genre from another and I feel like Maddie would very much like that sound. Especially with some lesser known instruments thrown in there. (if we wanna talk about what I think her voice sounds like; Madilyn Mei)

Ashlynn: Ryn Weaver. no thoughts just vibes pt. 2

Duchess: the plot I have for her is that she isn't very musically inclined. except for dancing. she can't play instruments and can barely sing. but she has the look and is willing to do anything to become a pop star. so I have a hard time deciding what she would sound like. except ambience music near a lake. she goes along with the vibe of AURORA. Who knows it could be a Paulo and Lizzy McGuire situation where she's just a pretty face with someone else's voice over hers.

Melody: she could be doing so many different things i dont know how to choose just one. i feel like her true sound is Maggie Rogers or Chase Petra while the music she's kinda forced to have per her Charming Records contract is more like Marshmello. Very electric.

Humphrey: Flamingo by Token. i know no other song by him, and i rarely listen to rap as it isn't my jam. Only reason i know this song was a friend from high school gave me some recommendations.

Meeshell: I like the idea of her sounding like Regina Spektor. A light, smooth, clear voice over music that has clear and distinct beats. Often doing music for movies, ending songs that bring the story to a fitting finish.

Hopper: he doesn't make music per my writing, but he does write lyrics. I feel like he writes things like Cody Fry or Gang of Youths. Horribly beautiful and haunting lyrics that tell stories of death and love and beauty paired with huge symphonic melodies that are overwhelming in the best possible way.

Faybelle: Becky by Be Your Own Pet. It took me some time to figure out what exactly her sound would be but i feel like it would be a lot of loud kinda venting music to get all of her emotions out in any way she can. Even though she can get them out just fine on a normal day (though she would never admit that's what she's doing, always playing it off as not as important as it is to her, especially if it's any feeling other than anger.) sometimes writing music for it just feels better.

Chase: yes I made him an important character cause fuck you, I do what I want. Starset. The song Carnivore specifically. I wanted him to have an otherworldly but grounded type feel. like all wonderlandians though his being more...I don't want to say put together. Cohesive than the others. while the other wonderlandians are somewhat all over the place with their acoustic music, his is electronic and always revolving around a certain theme.

and that's just the current generation.

The Evil Queen has a musical sound like Pat Benatar (a personal fav of mine) though the only reason she ever had any sort of softer sounding music was because of pressure from her manager and company.

Snow White has a sound like Whitney Houston, especially with Whitney's History with Dolly Parton. I don't know who Dolly would be in this, but i dont know where i was going with this train of thought. like i said, no thoughts, just vibes.

#ever after high #eah #dexter charming #darling charming #apple white #raven queen #madeline hatter

[claypigeonpottery]

got a vase to decorate!

#poll #vase #pottery #this one was wheel thrown by my studio partner/mom lol

[maybuds]

I also think it's interesting to see how movies and music are also not even marketed as art/stories anymore like the barbie phenomenon is such a clear example, the whole scheme was it's a Barbie movie! look at the aesthetic! it's all PINK! isn't it fun that it comes out the same day as that war movie that's all red and black ! boo explosions ahah !! like ??? where's the plot of the movie?? isn't anyone going to tell us that? and the answer is no bc it's irrelevant lol, ppl go watch it bc they can dress up and take pictures to post on Instagram, they go see the new mcu movie bc they "have to" finish the trilogy so they can talk about it on Twitter, it doesn't matter if all we have is reboots bc stories don't matter anymore.

it's also happening with concerts like people don't go to listen to the music (bc the music isn't even that great tbh ! it's just what's popular on tiktok!) but bc it's an ~experience~ and again an opportunity to dress up and post pictures!! even for the singer what they're wearing matters more than what they're singing! and I get that live music/concerts have always been an experience per se BUT it had never been this disconnected by the music itself imo

also I'd urge to recognize who is benefiting from these shifts bc what happens when going to a concert or watching a movie becomes something that requires a specific aesthetic that then needs to receive social media approval?? exactly, you need TO BUY STUFF! every time ! and who sells you the stuff ? the companies that have partnered with the company that made the movie of course! the popstar with their specific brand ! the influencers paid to go to that concert and that movie premiere! it's literally a Neverending cycle of money that you keep giving to the same people and a Neverending production of stuff that will be thrown away almost instantly bc it's made to become irrelevant almost instantly!

oh my godddd this is all so true, you said it all anon. and it’s depressing for the ones who want to produce and create art because this is what their hard work comes to, as consumables or just products to sell, and they end up just looking at it as another job instead of something they were passionate about in the first place. it’s a struggle with, like, reconciling artistic expression/meaning-making and earning an income, and you can’t blame them for choosing the latter at some point. it sucks, everything sucks, it’s unsustainable and it’s such a depressing scene to look at, especially when all you wanted was to create something meaningful. and it sucks that the way people now engage with this stuff on social media also inevitably perpetuates the shittiness of it for artists and creators everywhere, it just becomes a cycle and just the big studios and brands are benefiting from it

[jase-is-ace]

Batdr/Batim au stuff

some backstory for Logan Sanders and her connections to the studio.

In my au Thomas Conner had a partner named Bill Sanders who helped construct the Ink Machine. He was there when Bendy was first made but left when Joey wanted to experiment with human souls. He couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing.

He did not lock up Bendy, that was all Joey and the GENT. Bill did however take his youngest child into the studio one day and this is how Logan meets ink Bendy

She watched the cartoons with her two older brothers when she was little and grew to love the little devil darling.

Logan wasn’t afraid of Bendy. If anything he looked more friendly than the mascots at Disney land so she was willing to give him a chance.

Years later, Logan followed in her fathers footsteps and became a mechanic. She worked for GENT before starting her own business.

Her father was long gone when she received a letter from Joey Drew telling how he wished for Bill to pay him a visit since they used to work together.

This is how Logan was lured back to the studio. She brought her friend Maxine Miller with her and they were both thrown into the Ink Realm.

Logan and Maxine were separated and have their own story arcs within the ink realm.

I try to stay as close to cannon as possible but don’t attack me if it doesn’t line up exactly. I may take a few creative liberties here and there.

#Batdr #batim #batdr au #batim au #logan sanders #bill sanders #maxine miller #joey drew #tom connor #thomas connor #batim tom #bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #bendy and the ink machine au #bendy and the dark revival au #bitp #bitp prequel??? #bitp prequel #back into the pit #oc x cannon #cannon x oc #jase writes a thing #don’t mind me #Inkbound

[kuwdora]

om nom nom - Cooking/Baking shows I've been watching

Usually my go-to comfort show and things to have on in the background is Star Trek. I’ve been rewatching Lower Decks and want to start rewatching Strange New Worlds but my mind has not been able to relax and I feel like I've needed to try something new to occupy the weary brainmeats. So! I’ve fallen for cooking/baking competitions over the last two months. These are all things I found on Netflix.

The Final Table - a dozen teams of two chefs from across the world compete in country-themed challenges. I haven’t been up on cooking shows for awhile so I was surprised and fell in love with the depth and nuance that some chefs bring to their work. The sheer artistry and love of their craft! But also a lot of these chefs were thrown into the deep end when they haven’t had Japanese food before or their partner had more ideas/ability to pull off the idea for their dish for the challenge. It was very exciting. It also was filmed on the biggest soundstage and the most fake sounding studio applause and cheering but I had a great time following the chefs around the world.

Cook At All Costs - three people are given $20,000 each to bid on secret boxes of food and ingredient add-ons to create a dish for specific challenges. Whatever people have left in their bank is the money they get to bring home. There’s a lot of bidding wars and strategic haggling going on in the show and the set’s got a cute conveyor belt that brings out the ingredients and other competitive quirks that I quite liked. Very refreshing and fun.

Bake Squad - this is basically capturing the feel-good vibes of Queer Eye and puts it to baking feelings! Instead of competing against each other, their competitions for the chance to make a guest’s Big Event with a magnificent cake. It features four bakers who have different specialties and everything is so gorgeous, sweet and funny. Really really fucking heartfelt and delightful. 10/10 will watch again.

Baking Impossible - this show pairs baker and an engineer and gives them a challenge that requires both amazing design and flavor. There are cake robots! Cake cars! Cake buildings!! Their work is judged on the engineering/design merits as well as aesthetics/flavor/presentation. It’s hilarious and gripping and extremely outlandish and FUN.

Pressure Cooker - Top Chef meets Big Brother. 12 chefs enter a house. There are no celebrity judges. The chefs judge each OTHER’S DISHES and votes them out of the show. The ego! The mind games! THE FOOD! I was engrossed in a way I haven’t been with reality shows for ages.

Snack vs Chef - chefs/food scientists compete against each other for money. The challenge?? They are given classic snacks and are asked to recreate them and then also recreate their own version of it. Pringles. Oreos. This was fucking brilliant and tasty.

Drink Masters - Basically a bunch of bartenders/mixologists are putting together the most delicious concoctions I’ve ever seen. I want to drink almost everything I saw, even when I thought it would probably be personally offensive, because damn. The presentation and ingredients were so beautiful and interesting. There was a whole challenge where they made like, alcoholic boba pearl things. Molecular Gastronomy!! It's a whole chemical thing! Fucking wild stuff. Crazy Delicious - This show is not... good, I don't think, but it is entertaining enough for me to turn off my anxiety brain for a half hour. It's your usual 3 contestants and a cooking challenge with certain ingredients. Except they've designed a set on a soundstage to look like a magical forest where contestants will go and 'forage' for their ingredients. There's random shots of parrots and fluffy bunnies chilling out in the forest, and a delightful host with gorgeous bright dresses and colorful eye shadow. The food judges on the show are cast as 'gods' so everyone is cooking to 'please the gods.' The gods are all dressed in white and bestowing judgment and advice. Some of the contestants are really, really terrible home cooks but some of have managed to make goodies worthy of the show's title. It's definitely ridiculous.

Fried, Fresh, and Crispy - not a competition, but a travel food show featuring Daym Drop touring all the fried foods in the US. Daym is amazing and I am losing my mind at every episode and all the fried delights he’s bringing to my screen. I want to eat all the non-seafood/crispies please. Daym has me howling because he's so much fun and a delight to watch.

Got any cooking/baking shows that you’ve enjoyed? I’m also going to probably get into all the glass blowing/metalsmithing and flower decorating shows on Netflix at this rate. Also probably the interior design shows, too.

#kuwdora watches #cooking and baking shows #rec me some delicious shows? #my posts #textpost #queuedora

[therosecrest]

Damn. I dreamt an hour's worth of alarms before they went off. Waking every fifteen minutes to set the next one. Just to do the same again in reality.

I also dreamt of The Legend of Zelda. It looked like BotW Zelda and Link. They were dueling in a dance studio, or hall, with the other monarchs of the kingdom. Zelda had a glaive, and Link, of course, a sword. Even though it was a fight to the death, it was almost like a dance. From time to time, they would rotate partners and duel another person.

Eventually, Link and Zelda became opponents. They fought sorrowfully until Zelda wounded Link. It was a light wound, but she fell to her knees, unable to bear to hurt him anymore. He could not kill her either. Instead, she began to sing a song. A green, sparkling light began the emit from the tip of her weapon. It was like Macross or something. If something else happened, I don't remember.

I also dreamt of being thrown in a cell with five others. It was a room very much like Sixth's from Mirai Nikki, and there was a line of similar rooms opposite. I could see that they were occupied by women. It might have been the main cast of The Second Raid. Certainly, there was a pair of twins that might have been straight out of it...

Among us, one man was bound and blindfolded. Our prisoner. A prisoner among prisoners. I did not know him, but was bid to help the others punish this man. I helped to hold him down, and they cut off his legs below the knee with a katana. He wasn't let off with just that, though, but I don't recall what happened next. After that, we went to bed, but this scenario repeated itself again. That time, I only held him down.

I sometimes wonder what's going on in my head.

#dreams

[movedtodykedvonte]

Jack & Sammy Headcanons

Okay so like if Jack said not to Joeys offer I 100% believe Sammy would’ve thrown Joey to catch up with Jack walking out the door.

Met when they were in their late and mid teens

Sammy is the younger one by 4 years but everyone thinks Jack’s younger cause he’s more laid back

Jack offered Sammy a place to live after finding out this really talented kids was couch hopping (he was too young to be rented to but lacked the social skills to ask any band members to be a roommate)

If asked Sammy insists that he moved in cause Jack needed some order in his life but was actually just super grateful to sleep on a bed between gigs

Jack is more protective of Sammy due to Sammy being a bit more “eccentric” and it’s easier to play into those and take advantage of him

Sammy is the more creative one while Jack is more technical actually, though this only applies to their craft

Jack is like Sammy’s social guidebook as Sammy doesn’t get how to talk to people outside of work or music stuff

Sammy returns the favor by being Jack’s fire (Jack gets upset but he’s an avoider, Sammy will bite)

Adhd and autism solidarity

They shared an office before Jack relocated to the sewers. Sammy was very hurt by this but let Jack have his space

Taught Jack the the violin after Jack mused about being able to still accompany Sammy when he was resting his voice

Sammy doesn’t like pickles, Jack eats the pickles off his whopper (Jack also hates pickles)

Most of there fights are about how each overstep unintentionally

Sammy doesn’t like that Jack is always straightforward with him or brings him into social settings he knows Sammy won’t be 100% comfy/knowledgeable in (bad at parties and galas, not a showboat like Jack)

Jack gets frustrated when Sammy gets closed off and nippy with either him or people that are just trying to help. Wants Sammy to understand to get better with people he has to be uncomfy sometimes.

Sammy doesn’t like to be 100% alone rather be left alone with people around, Jack luckily understands this

Sammy never learned to cook so that’s Jacks job (sam can make like pasta and eggs)

Sammy cheats on the chore chart cause he hates doing the dishes, Jack let’s him

Bi and Gay solidarity

Are so close they have like tells when each other are getting tired, upset or nervous about something

Jack starts readjusting his hat a lot and puts a hand on Sammy’s shoulder Sammy literally just shuffles closer and closer into Jack until he’s practically on top of him (literally pushes my partner until we are out the door)

Sammy doesn’t sing a lot as it calls too much attention on him, of all the studio Jack’s the only one with the bragging rights of hearing his voice (team Sammy would’ve been a killer Alice Angel /j)

Jack didn’t talk to Sammy for a week after Sammy said he was being a distraction cause that’s like the biggest Sammy insult there is

When Jack disappeared Sammy spent a lot of his after hours looking through the studio and scouring the tunnels despite the dangers

Felt guilty cause he was involved with Joey, knew what was going on and didn’t tell Jack which could’ve prevented him from going missing

Became way more irritated and mean after Jack was gone, people pretended not to notice a change (unspoken rule was to not mention Jack and Joey knew better than to suggest hiring another lyricist)

The ink along with other things promised Sammy it’d bring Jack back if he listened

After the ink sometimes Sammy tries to carry Jack back up to their office so he can chill in the pool outside the door, sadly he’s too heavy/slippery

They remember each other and Sammy gives Jack a pass on being a heretic

Sings a lot more in the ink for Jack as Jack can no longer do so

Sammy hangs out on level 2 despite the village cause he still like to be by himself but not alone, Jack still understands

They deserved better. Shout out to these two ill functioning music men

#do some of these imply jammy? yes #do i ship it? #also yes #but I still like it keep it inconclusive #jack fain #sammy lawerence #bendy and the dark revival #batim #bendy and the ink machine #batdr #batim headcanons #jammy <3 #my tag for the good jammy ship #saw someone call it coffecake #which is also much better #coffeecake