ephesias-blog

[ephesias-blog]

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“you need help, with that?”

@ephesias // sc

        ❝   uhm   ---   no  . . .  thank you.   ❞

[ephesias-blog]

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You’re like a child; everything seems real to you. But for me, all this is like a dream, a dream dreamed by someone else.

(via stillbirthed)

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                  headcanon.

      in my first verse, it’s important to know that sam would not fight back, not even in the slightest. if your character were to attack, sam would be completely at the mercy of yours. this is because sam doesn’t care if he lives or dies, he genuinely believes that there is no value to his life, and that he deserves everything he gets. he has numerous scares on his body from juvie, he was the focus of a lot of rage from other inmates considering his crime and vulnerability. i believe that there have been multiple instances placed after he is released where a group teenage boys have cornered him and attacked. he’s an easy target and the fact that they believe he is a murderer plus the fact that he makes no attempt to protect himself, the boy gets hurt a lot.

      the first time he did fight back was when his father attacked him. when he realized what his father had done to his mother, to him. he fights him because he knows clarke deserves it, just like he did. a moment when his finger’s on the trigger, deciding whether or not to pull it, god knows he deserved to die, but sam is not a murderer, he is not his father. it is not until my second verse that sam actually becomes mildly aggressive in a situation where he needs to defend himself, a little more keen to self preserve, adding a little more value to his life, something that he considers worthless.

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Leave quiet people alone. Stop forcing them to talk if they don’t want to.

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expression  bored ,   he  did  little  to  calm  his  suspicions .   as  his  eyes  hung  to  the  other’s  visage ,   he  discards  a  cigarette  to  the  side .       ❝    FORGET  IT .    ━━━━    i  remember  you .   ❞

    he’s  used  to  being  threatened,  it’s  become  routine,  nature.  fingers  fix  on  the  hem  of  his  shirt,  twirling  caught  string  restlessly.   ❝     i   -  just  -  i  recognized  you.    ❞

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mistrust  flourishes  to  every  joint  his  body  knows .    it’s  only  natural ,   after  all .       ❝    ━━━━    DON’T  MAKE  ME .    just ,    stand  away  from  me .    ❞

      he surrenders  quickly,  taking  a  few  steps  back.  adam’s  apple  bobbing  as  he  swallows  anxiety.   ❝    i   ----   didn’t  mean  to  . . . .  sorry.    ❞

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           he  shifts  away.

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    ‘    not   like   i  killed   somebody.   ‘

                ❝        --------------        ❞

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    ‘    doesn’t.   matter.   ‘     words   repeatedly  bitterly.

         he  silences  himself,  he  shouldn’t  have  pressed.

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sam has probably apologized for breathing too loudly i want you to kno

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starter  call  ?  maybe,  definitely  ?

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            lips partition to allow air to flow smoothly betwixt teeth ;     inhaling sharply while feet carry him a fraction closer.     the urge to  comfort,    to  soothe.    it yearns and dances along every nerve,    encapsulating stuart in moral turmoil.      this boy is a killer.      (   his own mother,   can you believe ???   )     and yet,    the aura surrounding such a broken young man does not scream  MURDER.       it tastes sweet on his tongue,    not sour.   ��fractured and frayed at the edges,    but not shattered.        ❛  i’m  …..   i wasn’t  going  to.      i’m not going to.  ❜         a promise dulled by a slight overbite,   lesser lip drawn into the grip of teeth to silence himself before an impulsive attachment is formed.    something the stilinski boy is prone to doing. 

       fists  clench  for  a  moment,   is he really going to believe that a stranger means no harm.   ❝   because  i - i’ll  do  anything  if  you  just  don’t  call  him.   ❞   demeanor doesn’t say begging but his voice does,  something so broken and unnerving about his distinct desperation.  he’s not afraid of water as he is not afraid of weakness,  both he must bathe in.  wrong place,  wrong time.  that’s always it,  it’s always him.

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❝     that  woman  over  there   .     how  heavy  d’you  think  her  bags  are    ?     ❞     the  sleuth  points  towards  the  subject  once  more   ,   glancing  over  to  him  with  that    permanent    smile   .     she’s  blissfully  unaware  of  his    confusion    ,   taking  it  for  simply  not  hearing  her   .       ❝     i’m  nancy   .     ❞

       she says it so casually,  is this how normal people meet normal people  ?   does she really not recognize him  ?  and if she doesn’t,  how does she not notice the clouds over his head,  warning any passers that he is not to be touched, to be loved  ?   brows furrow as he looks towards the subject in question,  bags hanging in her arms,  on the verge of falling.    ❝    uh   ---   dunno  . . .  pretty  heavy  ?   ❞

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          everyone knows who  samuel donoran  is   ——–   a small town like  beacon hills  rarely manages to hide its secrets.     the very walls are porous ;     absorbing everything in its wake.    the people,   parasites.    swallowing information without an ounce of doubt that those facts  may not be entirely true.        &  with all this in mind,    was it really a good idea for the sheriff’s son to befriend someone so notorious ?            ❛   ——-   yeah.  ❜       voice tainted with guilt from an unknown source ;    APOLOGETIC  for this fact despite it being far from stuart’s fault.     he shifts his weight back and forth from either foot,   hands fumbling at his front.      ❛    is   —–   that okay ?  ❜

           ❝     i    ------    just  don’t      ❞        his mouth stops in place,  questioning what right he has to ask anything of anyone.  felons don’t find peace,  they find jail cells and trouble.   ❝    please  don’t  call  him.   ❞    do anything to me,  just don’t send me back.   he’s found that accusations can be conjured from air,  he is becomes malevolent without spitting malevolence.  having enough meetings with the sheriff,  him stopping by late at night with lights flashing to tell him that he burgled a shop he’s never been too,  just to find that the security footage clears him every time.  it’s almost become routine to wake up to red and blue peering in through his window.