#wakeupsam

[impulsivc]

‘ how did you know i would want to? ’

meme | accepting | @wakeup-sam

      “’cause i know you. and i’m a good guesser.”

[impulsivc]

Drabble AU: Sam dies in your arms

           he’s seen death. he’s seen a lot of it. he’s seen it on tv, in video games, in movies, he’s seen it happen to his mother -- progressively and then as her eyes seemed glazed over as she took her last breath. he’s seen it in newspapers, at countless funerals, and when he stumbles out, half carried by lydia and scott is crying and allison is dead. he’s seen it after climbing scaffolding and pulling out a pin. you’d think he’d be a bit desensitized by now. and maybe that’s true of the people he doesn’t really know, names that hold no meaning to him -- that’s all he’s had to deal with more recently. but now?? there’s a small body that belongs to a girl with blonde hair who he’s holding in his arms and there’s way too much blood. maybe he is desensitized because at first it doesn’t make sense to him, how there can be so much of her blood outside of her body. it’s not where it belongs. it takes too many moments to click that she’s dying. she’s dying and there’s nothing he can do. “sam -- hey, sammy, stay with me, okay?? you’re not gonna die, you’re gonna stay here. you’ve been through too much to die now.” he doesn’t even care that her bloods seeping through his fingers and that’s all he can feel -- that, the cold, and her body moving with quick gasps as there’s not much oxygen left. and then as she stills when she dies. he stills then too, lips parted and eyes wide because he can’t believe this. he wants to shout and he wants to run and abandon everything -- but he doesn’t do either. his body bows forward and his head touches her pale and clammy one and he sobs. | @wakeup-sam

[impulsivc]

@wakeup-sam | from here. 

          as he’s given the okay, he remains close. if it’s not his lips brushing scarred skin, it’s his fingertips. he’s got his own battle wound from a wendigo -- not to the degree of hers, not even close to the degree of her experience, but he can understand. “yeah.” it’s a whisper. he’s not going to deny it -- scars aren’t beautiful, at least not to the person who wears them. scars hold traumatic memories that you wish you can forget but just can’t. he’s not going to try to be optimistic about this. at least, not really. “but you’re still beautiful, sam. people don’t see your scars and judge you based off them -- these don’t define you. you’re more than what happened to you on that mountain.”