#young sam

[theygotlost]

family iconograph at koom valley ♥

[sphyrne]

art of the vimes family really makes me feel like

[pratchettquotes]

"This is all rather fun," said Sybil an hour later as the coaches headed out of the city. "Do you remember when we last went on holiday, Sam?"

"That wasn't really a holiday," said Vimes. Above them, Young Sam swung back and forth in a little hammock, cooing.

"Well, it was very interesting, all the same," said Sybil.

"Yes, dear. Werewolves tried to eat me."

Terry Pratchett, Thud!

[dimity-lawn]

I came across this meme the other day and immediately thought of Vimes, Sybil, Sam, and Cheery.

[ezzakennebba]

𝙸 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗 // 𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢 (𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 - 𝘬𝘪𝘮𝘺𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘸𝘴𝘰𝘯)

[cephalopod-celabrator]

Three Critical Rules For Surviving In Discworld:

Do not threaten Sam Vimes Jr, definitely not while Sam Vimes is in the room

Do not disrespect Granny Weatherwax

Do not let Lord Vetinari detain you

[yeoldecryptid]

I like to think that Discworld’s version of How to Train Your Dragon is the result of Sybil getting bored and writing a children’s book for wee Sam.

[runfreebirdrun]

done with Snuff and thus Vimes' nobbification is complete. i thiiink i'm going to go read The Truth next, and then maybe double back to Moving Pictures?

[thebeautyofspn]

9x07 Bad Boys

[j3llyf1shdust]

cute and marketable!

[solarcas]

Suptober Day 15 - Abstract "cool it, college boy, you're not the only one who picked up a book from time to time"

[Open for better quality!]

[sphyrne]

sybil and her sams <3

[pratchettquotes]

Upstairs, in what had been up until then the cash office, Young Sam slept peacefully in a makeshift bed. One day, Vimes hoped, he would be able to tell him that on one special night he'd been guarded by four troll watchmen. They'd been off duty but volunteered to come in for this, and were just itching for some dwarfs to try anything. Sam hoped the boy would be impressed; the most other kids could hope for was angels.

Terry Pratchett, Thud!

[green-typewriterz]

Some hurt/comfort with sam please?

When the Sun Hits

Sam Winchester x gn!reader

summary: set in 2001, you and Sam finally get the chance to go to prom together

Ask: Some hurt/comfort with sam please?

Warnings: injury, mention of blood, sam is pining and awkward

Author Notes: thank you for this ask my love! Sorry for disappearing for so long, i got a new hyperfix im sure many of you can understand! Also I took what I had an ran with it so sorry if this wasn’t what you imagined!

word count: 2135

SOMETIME IN 2001 - FEBRUARY

Sam sat across the room from you, his chair far in the back and to the left whereas you sat to the front…you had pulled the short straw. You found yourself turning around every now and then, locking eyes across the room, trying to get him to laugh. He was in one of his bad moods today, hair in front of his eyes and hood up. You and Dean had pretty much accepted the fact that you’d be moving around alot, your families working together as hunters but Sam wasn’t as happy about it. He didn’t want to leave again.

“Y/N,” the teacher began and you spun back around, eyes wide. “Eyes on the front please, Sam doesn’t need you distracting him.” You nodded and got back to work, though you could feel Sam’s gaze burning on the back of your head.

You had known Sam for as long as you could remember, the two of you used to share toys while your parents were out hunting with John. He was always a shy kid, but this year seemed to be the worst of it. Maybe he was going through a phase.

Class finally ended and you packed up your books before heading to the back of the class, kneeling down and leaning against Sam’s desk. He looked up and smiled, muttering a quiet, “hi.” you grinned and grabbed his bag, watching as he pushed the hair away from his eyes (it had been longer than usual lately).

“Are you still upset about moving again?” You asked, walking alongside him, his hand gently holding yours. Sam sighed, shaking his head as you made your way out of the school and toward the same motel you had been staying for the past few months.

He ran his spare hand through his hair. “It’s just…we’ve just got comfortable here. I’ve actually made friends that aren’t you or Dean. I just wish we never-.” He stopped himself short. It was a stupid thing to wish.

“I know,” You replied. He wished his family weren’t hunters. You both stopped in front of his door, staring at each other silently. It wouldn’t be long before Dean got back and started his relentless teasing, so with one final goodbye, you went your separate ways.

That evening was wholly uneventful, an hour or two of homework, some research for your dad then the sweet and familiar feeling of zoning out while listening to Deftones on your hard motel bed. ‘Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want.’ had just faded out when there was a gentle knock on the door, one you recognised. You opened the door and took in the smiling sight of your best friend. He was wearing an oversized tee with a blue dog on it that you had given him and a pair of pyjama bottoms. He looked much more comfortable than he felt.

Sam had been building up his courage since the beginning of the year and, knowing the both of you would still be on the case when it rolled around, he wanted to ask you to prom. Even if it were just as a friend.

“Hey Sammy,” you smiled and stepped to the side to let him in, noticing how he was fiddling with the strings of his pyjamas. He was nervous. “You ok?” It was a simple question, but from the look on his face you would’ve assumed you had asked him to marry you.

He laughed slightly and scratched the back of his neck, replying, “all good, just wanted to come chat!” He smiled awkwardly. God, he thought, he was already blushing. He sat across from you, slightly wet hair brushed to the side and fluttering eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his nerves but pressed play on your music again, turning the volume down so ‘when the sun hits’ could gently sit underneath your conversation.

“Y’know,” he began, hands fidgeting, “We’re gonna be in Oregon until spring, which means we’ll actually graduate this time.” he spoke, voice soft and wavering. “So um-”

He cut himself off, not knowing how to ask. He had wanted to do something nicer, get you flowers or something, but it hadn’t exactly gone to plan (that and Dean had told him to do it now before he got too nervous). You put your hand on his to stop it from shaking and urged him to keep talking and he smiled so softly you could’ve imagined it.

He breathed out before speaking again, “I was thinking we could go to prom? Together?” You went still. That’s what he had been nervous about.

“As friends?”

He seemed to shrink. “Uhm, yeah, if that’s what you’d want.” Sam was downtrodden, though he had expected you to take it this way, it still stung.

You smiled gently. “I’d love to go with you, but maybe not as just…friends.”

He looked up, confused for a moment. You had said yes. Blush bit at his ears as he fought the urge to get up and physically jump for joy. “I’d like that.” He managed to get out before standing again, you joining him by the door.

“I should probably head back, dad will be wondering where I am.” Though you both knew the statement wasn’t true at all, you agreed and let him walk out the door.

“Sam.”

He spun back around on his heel and you stepped closer, placing a kiss on his cheek. To him, it felt so gentle, like the breeze gently brushing his face, but it still brought up a blush so aggressive it felt like he was on fire.

SOMETIME IN 2001 - PROM

It was a few weeks before graduation, which meant it was prom night. You were sat in your motel room, in the nicest outfit you could find for cheap, waiting for Sam to finish getting ready. Since asking you to prom, the two of you had spent every waking moment together though you weren’t, as Dean would say, official yet (despite being only a label away from it).

Eventually, he walked out of the bathroom in a simple navy suit, one that matched your own outfit almost perfectly. You had both found them by chance in separate thrift stores and found yourself extremely lucky when they not only fit, but matched. “You look so handsome.” you said as he fiddled with his tie, trying to get it to sit right. Eventually, he gave up and gave you a look of desperation, asking you to do it for him with his eyes alone.

His gaze never left you as you fixed the tie, gentle hands righting the knot. Sam had planned tonight out to a tee: Dean was going to drive the both of you in their dad’s impala and then he’d get permission to take three (which was masterfully negotiated down from ten by Sam) photos. Then, he’d link his arm in yours like a gentleman and walk you into the gym. From there, his dancing skills took charge.

Each part of the plan went well and it was the middle of the night before either of you took a break to get a drink. There was a tired flush on both of your faces and a glint in Sam’s eyes you hadn’t seen since you were young. It was there, the two of you were sat when ‘your song’ came on. The song Sam had asked you to prom with (though it was more of a coincidence).

The boy took your hand gently and led you to the dancefloor again, his hands finding a place on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and swayed gently, humming along to the song and staring into Sam’s eyes. The night was perfect.

Or would’ve been.

There was an impossibly loud crash and both you and Sam stared at each other in a split-second of recognition before the gymnasium went dark. Screams erupted from the crowd but the two of you stayed calm, quickly retrieving your respective silver blades that John had forced you to keep that night. Sam was furious. John had promised he would chase the monster in the opposite direction. The man had lied. In the panic, the two of you had been separated and you knew better than to call out for him in the dark school corridor.

You had prepared for this, trained. But you had never actually fought a monster before. Your hands shook from fear and tears glistened on your cheeks as you gingerly made your way down the hall. Your only lightsource was the large, dirty skylight that sat at the far end of the hallway and you found yourself glad - for the first time ever - that it was a full moon. Light trickled through the glass, fragmenting when a crack or some growing mould got in its path.

There was a growl from behind you and you stiffened, chills running down your spine. You turned slowly, eyes shut tight. You weren’t meant to be scared, you had been taught to not be afraid - so why couldn’t you find it in you to be brave. Your eyes opened and locked with the werewolf that was a mere centimetre from you now.

You gripped the blade with a sweaty palm and shoved it forward, piercing through the monster’s heart, though not before it could bring its claws down across your face. You both cried out and fell to the ground, you clutching your face and the werewolf growing still. “Y/N!” Sam called out as he sprinted over. Within a second, his hand was under your head and he was cradling you close to him.

Sam was hurt too, grazes littering his skin and a cut pulling at his lip - though he found that unimportant compared to the overwhelming amount of blood that seeped from your face.

“You’re ok.” He whispered, “You’ll be ok.”

THAT EVENING

You leaned against Sam as he got the first aid kit ready, having previously cleaned his own injuries as quickly as he could. Tears mixed with the blood on your face and Sam had to fight not to cry too, he hated seeing you hurt. “This is going to hurt, Y/n/n,” He began, eyes wrought with sympathy and a dusting of tears, “I’m so sorry.” he whispered and you nodded, preparing yourself. He moved his spare hand to the least injured part of your cheek for both control and comfort then gently let the alcohol John had provided trickle over your injuries.

You let your hand rest on his forearm, his mint breath fanning your face as you held in your tears with sharp breaths. “I killed them.” You whispered and Sam looked at you in empathy. He knew exactly how you felt. He didn’t want to shush you, (he didn’t know why people did that) he knew you needed to cry - but at the same time he didn’t want you to feel guilty.

“He was going to kill you. You did the right thing.”

You sighed, breathing shaky from the tears that stuck in your throat. “It doesn’t feel like that.” Sam stopped what he was doing and pulled away, eyes meeting yours.

He smiled gently. “You saved so many people, Y/n. no one in there would have been as brave as you.” Sam whispered and you nodded, finally finding it in yourself to agree with him. He gave you a break from cleaning the injury for a while and you got a better chance to look at him.

There were rips in his tux, some tinged with deep red stains and his previously white shirt was littered with mud stains. Cuts littered his arms and face while a particularly vicious bruise was slowly forming on his jawline. Despite all of this, he still looked handsome - you found it difficult to look away.

He knew what he was doing well enough, sanitise everything, clean the wound and then pray you didn’t need stitches - still, he couldn’t stop the anxiety from filling his mind. Sam was gentle, it was just who he was. Soft, caring hands worked quickly and lovingly while he muttered words of comfort. You were incredibly lucky, the wound was mostly superficial.

Both you and Sam sighed in relief as he placed the butterfly closure tape to each major point of the scratch mark. “See,” he whispered, “Told you you’d be ok.”

You smiled, careful not to tug at the cuts and leaned in, wrapping your arms around him. Sam’s hands found a home in your hair and he gently ran his hands through it as he sighed in comfort. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/n/n.” he whispered, voice strong, honest. You found it easy to believe him.

[ezzakennebba]

You were a phonograph, I was a kid // I sat with an ear close, just listenin’ (big black car - gregory alan isakov)

[jellymish-reblogblog]

So anyway, I've been thinking about Sam Vimes again lately, as you do, and I came to the conclusion that he vehemently objects to anyone calling his son "Sam Jr."

Because 1: That would make him "Sam Sr." and, though technically true, he won't stand for that, and 2: Sam Vimes wants his son to be his own person and: "I mean, imagine everyone calling him Junior! Nobody likes being called Junior! He's going to end up naming himself after one of the bloody dragons!"