Sam Porter Bridges (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
300kgbackpack) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-04-04 04:22 am
300kgbackpack) wrote in ph_logs2024-04-04 04:22 am
Round and round it goes, connect, reconnect...
Who: Sam Porter and whom it may concern
What: Seasonal Log for current and near-future things around the event
When: Throughout the spring/early summer season
Where: Around the island as a whole
Warnings: Will update as necessary
Sam is one of the town's most hard-working couriers. He can often be seen quietly trudging his way about town, or the trails leading up to the island's more isolated inhabitants. He seems friendly with most everyone, exchanging a nod or a word or greeting, but by and large, he keeps to himself.
When his load is heavier, he has a cart and horse borrowed from the post office, but more often than not, he simply keeps his load on his back and steadily marches on.
He can often be seen with a baby strapped to him. She is definitely the more social of the two of them. Every so often, you might hear him whistling to her.
1. The Daily Routine
Ever since the recent population boom and people had begun to scatter about and find their own places to live, Sam has been there, transporting building materials, food stock, supplies and whatever else might have been asked of him. He's dedicated to the tasks as they're set before him and doesn't tend to turn down anything even if it's small or fragile and needing to be transported by hand to protect it. He's delivered pizzas in the apocalypse. This wouldn't put him out by any means.
Have you ordered something? Do you need it delivered? Do you simply want to meet Sam as he goes about his business? He doesn't know how to say no to anyone unless he's forced, and it takes a lot to push him to that point so if you want his company, you've got it.
2. Porter's Spring
Sam hasn't been up to the hot springs since they were opened up to the general public. At first, it was just him that even knew it existed, a waystation on his march around the island when he needed to recover. Then he'd introduced one or two others to the area, thinking that maybe they would like to partake of it themselves, that it might help them to recover from the harsh winter and its many aches and pains.
Now it tended to be crowded. If even one other person was there that he didn't have history with, he would leave the moment he heard them moving in the water. He'd lost the one place that he felt safest outside of the home that he'd built out of the blighted husk that he'd located out in the trees. It was only a matter of time, really. The place would probably end up covered in litter, disgusting and poorly maintained, if it was maintained at all, but until then, he could take a little bit of time to appreciate it still.
On a day when nobody else is there, he will make his way out there at the end of a particularly long day, and strip to nothing without bothering to duck into privacy. Here he will stay, with or without Lou, until sundown or until someone else appears up the path.
Wildcard
The catch-all for meeting the mailman, asking about his daughter, and generally getting to know the man with the towering backpack and the handprint-shaped marks all over his exposed skin. Maybe you're in the woods and found his cabin there as he hammers away at a project while Lou hangs out nearby in a little net swing with her plush rabbit. Either way, don't be surprised if he doesn't make eye contact.
What: Seasonal Log for current and near-future things around the event
When: Throughout the spring/early summer season
Where: Around the island as a whole
Warnings: Will update as necessary
Sam is one of the town's most hard-working couriers. He can often be seen quietly trudging his way about town, or the trails leading up to the island's more isolated inhabitants. He seems friendly with most everyone, exchanging a nod or a word or greeting, but by and large, he keeps to himself.
When his load is heavier, he has a cart and horse borrowed from the post office, but more often than not, he simply keeps his load on his back and steadily marches on.
He can often be seen with a baby strapped to him. She is definitely the more social of the two of them. Every so often, you might hear him whistling to her.
1. The Daily Routine
Ever since the recent population boom and people had begun to scatter about and find their own places to live, Sam has been there, transporting building materials, food stock, supplies and whatever else might have been asked of him. He's dedicated to the tasks as they're set before him and doesn't tend to turn down anything even if it's small or fragile and needing to be transported by hand to protect it. He's delivered pizzas in the apocalypse. This wouldn't put him out by any means.
Have you ordered something? Do you need it delivered? Do you simply want to meet Sam as he goes about his business? He doesn't know how to say no to anyone unless he's forced, and it takes a lot to push him to that point so if you want his company, you've got it.
2. Porter's Spring
Sam hasn't been up to the hot springs since they were opened up to the general public. At first, it was just him that even knew it existed, a waystation on his march around the island when he needed to recover. Then he'd introduced one or two others to the area, thinking that maybe they would like to partake of it themselves, that it might help them to recover from the harsh winter and its many aches and pains.
Now it tended to be crowded. If even one other person was there that he didn't have history with, he would leave the moment he heard them moving in the water. He'd lost the one place that he felt safest outside of the home that he'd built out of the blighted husk that he'd located out in the trees. It was only a matter of time, really. The place would probably end up covered in litter, disgusting and poorly maintained, if it was maintained at all, but until then, he could take a little bit of time to appreciate it still.
On a day when nobody else is there, he will make his way out there at the end of a particularly long day, and strip to nothing without bothering to duck into privacy. Here he will stay, with or without Lou, until sundown or until someone else appears up the path.
Wildcard
The catch-all for meeting the mailman, asking about his daughter, and generally getting to know the man with the towering backpack and the handprint-shaped marks all over his exposed skin. Maybe you're in the woods and found his cabin there as he hammers away at a project while Lou hangs out nearby in a little net swing with her plush rabbit. Either way, don't be surprised if he doesn't make eye contact.
CW: outdated offensive language re:mental health, links to video depicting cinematic torture & death
...then he sees that shimmer. That sparkle, that otherness that ought to scare him.
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end...
I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body...
It takes John a few seconds to realize he's smiling--small, soft, shaky. When he does, he doesn't try to hide it, but he does look Sam in the eye and urges him to take the rag again. He also, very deliberately, very carefully, raises a hand to hover over Sam's forearm--urging him to drop it without touching him.
"I hear you. I--no, I don't understand, but I know what you're saying. Whatever it is that keeps you from dying, it's this stuff in your blood--and it screws with the brain as an organ. It can...cause craziness, or aggravate it if you're already nuts like me." he replies quietly, his gaze unwavering.
"Getting close to you, it's a risk...I hear that. Now hear me, or I'll never forgive you for bein' a big fat hypocrite, okay? Please, just--just listen. I got all the facts, I know what your deal is...and I don't care. I'm choosing whatever comes of it--'cause I'm not afraid."
He takes a deep breath--his tears begin to fall again--and John continues by telling Sam about everything else. He knows about what came before...
But now he tells him about the rest.
Three years in prison. An offer, to earn a pardon by going back to Vietnam.
Getting left behind. Being tortured. Getting rescued by Co Bao, the indigenous agent that didn't have to come back to help him but did it anyway.
And the price she paid for giving a damn about him.
no subject
"This ain't about whether you're afraid, and it ain't like anyone else ever fuckin' understood when I tried to explain it to 'em. That ain't the point here."
Sam's hand drops, and he digs for a rag of his own, whipping it out of his pocket to wrap around his hand to stem the blood flow. "I ain't Co Bao, I ain't just gonna up and die because we got close. What is gonna happen is me makin' you fuckin' miserable. I don't want that on my conscience. I'm not gonna hurt you just because you got it in your thick fuckin' head that you can just plow forward hard enough to get me to cow to what you want. You act like my opinion doesn't matter worth a damn when it's put up in the face of yours. I'm tired of people decidin' shit for me, and you ain't gonna be the exception to that."
Tying the rag off with one hand and his teeth, Sam paces back around to where Lou is watching the two of them with big eyes and a bewildered little frown. He kneels beside her and lays a hand on top of her head as he looks back at John. "She's like me. She don't die. But she ain't contaminated like I am. She has a chance at bein' more than I ever coulda hoped to be and she sure as hell doesn't deserve to be caught in the middle of a lopsided, damnfool relationship where nobody's happy."
no subject
Pisses him off a little, too because...because fuck, he feels better than he has in a long time. Knowing Sam is safe, that Lou is safe, that they can't be taken away from him, from anyone...
Just knowing John never has to live in a world they aren't a part of--he feels lighter than he has in years, steadier...he hurts, he wants, God how he wants, but...fuck.
"Sorry, all I'm hearin' is a bunch of bullshit." John replies quietly, calmly, watching the two of them together. "Because you explained your situation, I said I was willing to take my chances...willing for a chance, not that we had to do this whether you like it or not...and you're saying I'm not allowed--not that you don't want any part of me, but that you won't let me even if we both want it. It sounds like you just made my choice for me when you've had a bug up your ass about people do that to you. And don't gimme that crap about what's on your conscience, 'cause I'm pretty sure you just got real pissed at me for doing something similar."
cw: allusions to suicide
He never wanted to think of what happened with Higgs as a trauma, but...fuck. It was a violation at best.
As a last ditch effort to get some point across, Sam simply sits on the ground, letting Lou hold onto his finger, eyes down on the grass.
"Look at it this way: What would you do if you saw someone you cared about putting the barrel of a loaded gun to their head? I'm pissed at you for sittin' there, with that gun in your hand, begging to put it against your temple, with my finger on the trigger. I ain't fuckin' around with you about this, John Rambo."
CW: depersonalization
Crossing over, John sits down in front of Sam, a good two feet of space between them--deliberate breathing room, pointedly recognizing that damage that's still there and respecting it.
"You're not getting out of this unless you look me in the eye and tell me you want nothing to do with me. That you don't give a rat's ass about me, and you never wanna see me again. Do that and I'll do as you ask. I can live with that--if you'll really stop and fucking look at me, you'll see that."
And it does show if Sam really stops to look--sure, he still needs. He still hurts, still wants, still aches--but most of the tension has left his shoulders, and there's a light in his eyes that he might remember from the dream that John has forgotten.
"Whether you don't want me around, or you're just plain scared, Sam--I love you 'n Lou. And whether you send me on my merry fucking way or you let me stick around and just have a chance to...God, just fucking rest knowing you 'n Lou are safe? You're gonna leave here understanding that I get the danger. I understand it...but knowing I never have to live in a world you guys aren't in? It's gonna be the thing I hold onto for the rest of my fucking life. That's gonna be what keeps me going when I have nothing else to fight for."
He pauses, finally lowering his gaze.
"So just...tell me you don't want me, or deal with me, but I'm begging you to stop trying to prove to me how dangerous you are to my health. 'Cause I know, and I don't care--I just spent three years being reminded of how little I matter 'cause I'm just a really complicated weapon, and you were the one who made me believe I could be more. And I'm tryin' to be, Sam. I really am--if I wasn't, I'd have stayed away 'cause weapons don't love little babies 'n loyal, hard headed jackasses."
cw: more suicide mentions
John didn't have the same taint. He didn't have the same toxic bullshit in his body that makes others kill themselves. That once made him kill himself. That ended thousands of lives in one fell swoop. He doesn't know. He doesn't want to know.
Sam's head feels leaden when he raises it, trying to force himself to make the eye contact that John wants, when it's near impossible for him to look anyone in the face even at the most low-pressure of times. He's fighting back against his tunneling vision and the high whine in his ears that comes with the grief and anger that the whole exchange is bringing up.
"There's not a damn thing that can kill me in a way that matters," he growls. "I'm always gonna be this way. You can hope and pray and argue, but that ain't ever gonna make me anything more than this. And I don't want to be the reason that you hurt yourself. You deserve better. You're a good man. You talk about the people you had before n' I know that. Hell...I'd be lying through my fuckin' teeth if I tried to say I didn't feel somethin'. You were the first man I ever actually considered.
"Now...now I can't trust you. You look at me like I make the goddamn sun rise and I can't take it. I sit on this idea like we can't even be friends anymore, because any time you're within ten feet'a me it goes right back to bein' this. You want too much, n' you already proved to me that you don't wanna take no for an answer, so I'm fucked over a pommel, here. You talk a big game and then you look at me all soft like I'm trampling all over your feelings when lately all you've been doin' is ignoring mine. That ain't right."
no subject
But he’s been here before. He remembers that, after the dream—and this time, he’s ready.
So he rides it out, he finally breathes…and he leans over to kiss Lou’s head. Because this is the worst part.
“I messed up before. I know that—I could have lived with this, I know that now. And you—you have Lou. You’ve had. I never have. Not until you.”
He runs a hand over her hair, and he feels so cold.
“Gonna miss you, princess.” He breathes, then kisses her head one more time before he shifts to get to his feet.
“I didn’t take no for an answer before. I can now…take care of yourself, Sam.”