thomas the creep

Midday Slumber

Summary: Thomas Jefferson de Lucifer never imagined that just one man sleeping could unravel him like Alex did.

Authors note: This au is based off of @katzun’s sinners au. Look at her art FIRST to understand the dynamic between Alex and Thomas. (PS surprise @katzun !!)
 “Stop doing that. You look like a creep.”

Thomas looked up from his bed over to James who was in the corner reading a book about the human world. Although James was his best friend, Thomas had to admit that James was a bit of a loner who would much rather read and observe humans than to have one as his pet. It didn’t make any sense to Thomas, but the research seemed to be paying off. Ever since Thomas had given James the responsibility of tempting humans to commit sins so they would come to hell in the afterlife, hell had a sudden influx of souls, which everyone was more than pleased about. However, James had a bad habit of slipping into human mannerism instead of the demon’s etiquette he had been taught since he was a child.

“What are you talking about?” Thomas asked with furred eyebrows.

James glanced up from his book for only a moment to flip the page, then continued to read. “Staring at Alex. You know, if he woke up to you staring at him like that, you can forget about asking him on that ridiculous date you planned out.”  

“Shut it, James,” Thomas hissed, tail flicking back and forth annoyed. “Nobody asked you.”

He turned his attention back to Alex and smirked. Alex had been living with him now for a few months. When he first took Alex away from the human world, the two of them would always bicker back and forth. Every single day was a constant struggle for dominance and control of Alex. Looking back, Thomas isn’t even sure why he didn’t kill Alex those first couple weeks. But, something had changed between them. They still bickered, but now it was more fonder, almost playful. Thomas had fallen for his human, but he would never admit that to anyone except for James.

Perhaps the reason why Thomas liked Alex was because Alex was different from the other humans he had kept as pets over the centuries. In fact, Thomas knew from the very beginning that Alex was different. Most of the things that made Alex unique were surprising to Thomas. He wasn’t afraid of Thomas, he didn’t cower whenever Thomas came into the room, and he seemed rather fond of pain and acting out. But, the thing that surprised Thomas the most was Alex’s lack of sleep. Being a demon, Thomas didn’t need sleep. However, according to James, humans needed at least eight hours of sleep a day. Alex barely got four causing James to constantly be on his back about forcing the human to sleep. It wasn’t Thomas’s fault that Alex persuaded him with “other activities”.

Although Alex seemed superhuman sometimes, he was just as mortal as anyone else and crashed once a week when Alex slept for most of the day. These days were Thomas’s guilty pleasure.  It was the only day that Alex allowed Thomas to coddle him.  Maybe Thomas was taking advantage of Alex’s tired, incoherent state,  but it was the only way that Alex would cuddle with Thomas without complaining.

“Thomas, are you listening to me?” James groaned tearing Thomas away from his thoughts. Thomas opened his mouth to snap back when he heard Alex groan indicating that the smaller man was waking up.  Thomas jumped and waved James out wanting his private time with Alex.

Alex yawned and sat up rubbing his eyes. Thomas nearly died. Alex was so adorable when he was tired and had bedhead. Thomas immediately gathered Alex into his arms and sat him in his lap.  

“Mornin’ darlin’” he drawled with a chuckle planting a kiss on Alex’s head knowing he wouldn’t complain. “How did you sleep?”

Alex yawned and snuggled into Thomas’s slightly furry chest.  Unlike people,  Thomas’s chest hair was sinfully soft due to him being part ram. Thomas took great pride in his looks and hygiene routine exclaiming that the ruler of hell had to look his best.  Thus,  Alex could always count on a warm body to hold him.  “ ‘t was good. Tired.” he muttered back burrowing into Thomas’s chest.  

Thomas chuckled and cradled Alex back and forth softly in tune to a song that Thomas was humming in his head.  “Still?  You’ve been sleeping all day. Aren’t you getting hungry?”

Alex shook his head and closed his dark rimmed eyes again already drifting off.  “I’ll eat later.  Don’t want to move now.” Thomas only smiled and continued to rock Alex back and forth.  If anyone saw him,  Thomas,  Satan, the ruler of hell,  coddling an insignificant human as if he were a baby,  he would be ridiculed and laughed at.  But,  in his private quarters,  he could be as affectionate with Alex as he wanted. Eventually, Alex dozed off again snoring softly.  His grip on Thomas loosened, and Thomas laid him on his back to sleep again.  He sighed planting a kiss to his forehead.  Maybe he should go see James.  After all,  he had made the goat man wait outside his bed chambers for a good hour.  Thomas stood up to leave when suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed his leg fur.  

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Alex muttered and pulled Thomas back roughly causing him to fall back into the bed. Alex sat up and wrapped his arms around Thomas’s neck kissing the sensitive spot right behind his ear. “You’re staying here to entertain me until I’m too exhausted to stay awake.”

       Thomas grinned.  For once,  he couldn’t agree more.  

sorta not a full EU thing but i thought it would fit?

Thomas stood there in the creeping darkness and looked out over the manicured lawn at the point the fae woman had disappeared, gooseflesh rising on his bare arms until the inbetween came and placed a scratchy blanket over his naked shoulders. The sudden reprieve from the curling shadows that licked about the warmly lit porch was a relief, a burden perhaps, and he turned away to look at the people gathered on the porch. Nancy- mother, cried a small part of his mind not lit with the fantastic sights and sounds of under-the-hill- stood clutching iron and salt in her delicate hands and he flinched on reflex before remembering that he was safe from all harm it could inflict on him. His gaze wandered across her face like that of a stranger and he marveled at the similarities between them- the arch of their noses, the sweeping curves of their lips- before averting his gaze at the lurch in his stomach to focus on something, anything else. To the sharp twist of the inbetween’s mouth as they hang iron washers from the rail, hands twisted with silver and scars but strong and quick nevertheless. As he stares with singleminded focus at them as they work Thomas realizes that those are the kind of hands people fall in love with; not to be confused as beautiful hands- far from it if the thick, welted scars tracing up their forearm were any indication- but clever and dependable as anything he’d ever seen. The hands of a sometimes protector, an honest and truthful person.

“-nd lay down salt along all windows and doors, inside and out. Hey. Thomas.” The sharp call of his name startles him from his reverie and he snaps his gaze up to the shrewd face of the inbetween with the hot prickling shame of someone caught staring. He shifts under their gaze and swallows down the knot in his throat, wetting his chapped lips once and opening his mouth only to be interrupted by as his mother pushes forward with a steely nod, eyes flickering to him before they move back to the inbetween, “Yes. We’ll do it, don’t worry. Right Thomas?”

Finding himself mute once again all he does is nod and clutch the blanket closer and lets his mind and gaze wander once again before his spine snaps up and his head whips around to the sudden burning against his back, breath leaving him in a stuttering wheeze that sends his heart haywire in his chest. Staring back at him and half forgotten beside a post is a mirror of himself. Startling in its symmetry and even more disconcerting in the easy way it holds itself here, in a world filled with iron and salt, the mirror stares back at Thomas unflinchingly and even quirks the corner of its mouth up at him. Fear- more than he should feel considering where he’s been- races up his spine and makes the hair on the back of his neck prickle as he stares wide eyed and frantically drinks in the familiar features that shouldn’t belong to anyone else. It’s perfect, nearly painfully so and Thomas has to fight the tremor in his hands as he realizes that no, it isn’t perfect, there are cracks almost imperceptively small one wouldn’t notice if they weren’t looking for it.

The mouth with its full, sweeping curves, plush and ripe for kissing but still too sharp and too wide where it smiles, something unmistakably other at the edges. The eyes- full of rich brown but too dark, too lacking in the warmth necessary for humans and a little too far set. Lies in their wideness, in the friendly innocence such eyes have. His hair too wild even compared to Thomas’ own thick curls and gleaming just right under the porch light with colours found only in the deepest forests, far from prying eyes of humans. Little things. Things that would go unnoticed but that leave a vague wrongness in one’s bones. A wrongness Thomas had come to recognize as Other. As dangerous and not to be trusted.

So the Other Thomas smiled wider and pushed off from its post with easy grace- a flinch, carefully pulling its hand closer with a wary glance at the porch rail, iron, as his mind supplied- and moved to the front door as the muted conversation between the inbetween and his mother picks up, “He’s staying here. She left him here and he’s mine now.”

The tight purse of the inbetween’s mouth speaks volumes of their displeasure but they make no counter argument about it, silenced but the stubborn jut of Nancy’s jaw and the white knuckled grip she has on her iron. It seems like the unvoiced battle of wills stretches on for hours before the inbetween gives a grudging, “Fine. Keep it.” that is followed by the Other’s seemingly chipper announcement that he’d set up the guest room then- wrong, not his voice, an underlying deepness like the ceaselessly flowing honey of under-the-hill- before Nancy interrupts a a voice that holds more warmth for the thing that pretended to be her son than Thomas could scarcely believe, “What should we call you?”

The Other pauses with its hand on the door, dark gaze flickering over Thomas for a brief moment before it gives a warm smile that does nothing but set a heavy stone in Thomas’ gut, “Call me Not Thomas for now.”


Some reflections on Penelope Alvarez

I love One Day at a Time. I love the Alvarez family. I love Elena Alvarez and her story. I think it’s an important one. But just as important is Penelope’s (whom I also love btw) story.

It’s necessary for parents of kids who have or will come out. It is necessary for those kids.

She’s not Victor Alvarez, who we’ve seen so often in media with “this is not okay. This will never be okay. This needs to be fixed.” mentality.

She’s not Eliza Danvers of Supergirl who will immediately give her daughter a hug and an “I love you however you are” after she deduces it before she’s even told.

She’s not Abulita Lydia who needed 30 seconds to recognize and overcome her biases despite decades of feeling one way about the issue.

She’s Penelope Alvarez, who knows this is okay. Who knows that this is important. Who knows her daughter needs her to be nothing less than supportive. But she’s just not there yet. And she hates herself for it, but that doesn’t suddenly make it not weird for her.

Thomas Merton, a Catholic monk, once wrote in a prayer “But I believe the desire to please you does in fact please you” which I’ve always thought to be the foundation for every loving relationship.

Parents know this. Penelope knows this. Every time Elena or Alex made her some macaroni covered monstrosity, it went in the Alvarez Museum. Every time they somehow managed to simultaneously burn and undercook her breakfast in bed on Mother’s Day, she ate it with a smile. Because the desire to please her does in fact please her, more than her kids know, until maybe they have kids of their own.

Kids need to learn this. That their parents aren’t perfect. That the best they can hope for is parents that have the desire to please them, the impulse to love them no matter what, the determination to find the support under the weird feeling.

And kids need to see that these victories are worth so much more because they are so hard-won. It’s easy for a parent who is okay with something to be okay with it. It’s much harder for a parent who isn’t to do everything she possibly can to get there because it’s what her daughter deserves. 

It’s such an integral part of some coming out stories, and almost all growing up stories. Kids will do things their parents don’t get or don’t like or don’t appreciate but the parents will try. From the first time they learn all of the Avengers, or Disney Princesses, or Pokemon, or vehicles in the Star Wars universe. Through friends they can’t stand, sports they think are boring, gender expressions or sexual orientations they just don’t get, significant others they don’t think are good enough. But they’ll smile and learn the characters, and give the friend juice and cookies, and argue with the referee, and talk to strangers at a gay bar to let their kid know that everything they are is okay. That everything they are is loved.

And someday when Penelope is more than okay with Elena’s sexuality, she’ll embarrassedly confess how it took her awhile to get there, and what she did during the journey, and Elena will look at her and realize her mom is even more remarkable than she thought. She’ll see a woman who is nothing but the desire to see her children happy, and what could be more pleasing to Elena than that. 

Dear kiddos, what to say to you? Hmm… how about since yesterday’s lil fic was SO ANGSTY this one is much more comedic? Honestly, I had so much fun writing this, like, illegal amounts of fun. A huge thank you to Binna @ciceroniantrash for laughing with me as I wrote it and for giving me that stellar line. Enjoy this one, bbys! ;D <333

Hi I was wondering if you could maybe write a small jamilton fic where Hamilton gets hurt and needs surgery but cant pay for it and Thomas finds out so he pays for it? Wasn’t sure if request were open sry if they aren’t. P.s I love your storys :D

“Ouch, ouch, FU––” Alexander was seated in one of the library carrels that lined the windows overlooking the quad, hunched over his laptop,.

“Uh, Hamilton? Would you mind shutting the hell up? This is the third floor of the library, ya know, the quiet floor? And if you think I’m past texting the librarians to come up here and shush your ass then you’re––”

“Oh my god, Jefferson, do you ever stop being a complete jerk or is this just a 24/7 kinda deal?”

Thomas stood up and glared down at Hamilton, who was in the carrel in front of him. He was about to go off on him again when he noticed the smaller boy was rubbing at his wrists rather frantically.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he muttered.

Alexander stopped rubbing his wrists and turned to glare back at Thomas. “Creep much, creeper?”

Jefferson rolled his eyes. “Insult much?” He paused for a moment. “Seriously, though, what’s up?”

“Seriously, though, leave me the hell alone,” Alex said, turning back to his work. He’d typed no more than five words when he flinched, muttering under his breath again. “fuck fuck fuck”

“Seriously, did you like break your wrists?” Jefferson cocked a brow at Hamilton even though the smaller boy wasn’t looking his way.

“It’s called carpal tunnel if you absolutely must know, Jefferson. It happens when you actually do your work.”

“Fine, whatever,” Thomas mumbled, sinking back onto his seat. Instead of returning to his work, he pulled up a new tab and googled carpal tunnel cures.

The first result that came up was a list of home remedies. He scanned them, knowing certain ones, like take a break, would never happen. He pulled out his phone and opened up a new message with Alexander.

T-Jeffs: Have u tried brace thingys?

Alabama Hammerman: wtf r u talking about

T-Jeffs: For your carpal tunnel, idiot

Alabama Hammerman: stop mothering me, creep

T-Jeffs: when you’re in pain I can’t focus
T-Jeffs: bc you’re so fucking noisy about it

Alabama Hammerman: for ur information I have tried braces, ice, elevating them, blah blah blah
Alabama Hammerman: nada
Alabama Hammerman: that means “no” in spanish, since I know u only bother with french

T-Jeffs: I know what “nada” means you asshole
T-Jeffs: so what, you gonna try steroids, then? surgery?

Alabama Hammerman: HA
Alabama Hammerman: as if I could afford that lmao

T-Jeffs: I’m a trustfund baby u can trust me

Alabama Hammerman: I know you’re rich no need to rub it in my poor face

T-Jeffs: how stupid are you?

Alabama Hammerman: smarter than u seeing as I actually do my work. are we done here? these papers don’t write themselves

T-Jeffs: and u ain’t gonna be writing either if u don’t get this fixed
T-Jeffs: now what I was TRYING to tell you is that I’ll hook u up with that surgery

Alabama Hammerman: stop. this isn’t funny, Jefferson

T-Jeffs: who said I was being funny?
T-Jeffs: I’m serious

Alabama Hammerman: you’re gonna give the person you hate most in the world enough money for surgery? wow, i must really be annoying u with my pain or something

T-Jeffs: I can’t believe I have a crush on someone who is so stupid smfh

There was the sound of a phone dropping from Alex’s carrel. Then there was a muttered what the ever living fuck?

Thomas got up and waltzed over to Alexander. “You done being dense?”

“You done shitting me?”

“I’M NOT KIDDING!” Thomas yelled. Everyone on the third floor loudly shushed him. “I’m confessing my love here, people!” he said, swiveling his head around, trying to glare at everyone he could.

“LOVE?” Alexander choked.

“Well… shit…” Thomas muttered, running a hand through his hair. For the first time in maybe his entire life, Thomas Jefferson was legitimately anxious.

“Love?” Alexander whispered, his eyes so wide it looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

“I mean, you weren’t supposed to know that yet, but yes, Hamilton. Love.”

“You love me and you’re still calling me ‘Hamilton?’” He glared up at Thomas, who simply rolled his eyes in response.

“You want a free surgery or not?”

“Do you want a boyfriend or not?”


Alexander stood up and kissed Thomas, cutting him off. When he pulled away, he was grinning. “Talk about boyfriends with benefits. Like, literally, health benefits.”

“I like you better when we’re kissing,” Jefferson said before pulling Alexander back toward him.

The third floor of the library broke out in a mix of claps, hoots, and groans.

“Get a fucking room!” Someone, probably Charles Lee, shouted.

“Excellent idea,” Thomas said. “I’ll go get us a study room,” he said with a wink. He made to grab Alex’s hand, but grabbed his wrist instead.


“Sorry! Goddamnit,” Thomas said. “On second thought, let’s make some calls, get you a consultation, then go make out.”

“This is not how I pictured becoming your boyfriend, but I’m totally cool with it,” Alex said.

“You mean you were imagining this?” Thomas smirked at Alex.

Alexander’s face slowly turned red. “N-n–– YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SAID LOVE!”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Come on, idiot. Let’s go make some calls.”

“Give the library some peace!” Lee yelled again.

“Shut the fuck up, Lee!” Thomas and Alexander yelled in unison.

They turned to each other and grinned, and before they knew it, they were kissing again.

“Kiss less, study more,” Burr muttered as he passed by them.

Alexander didn’t pull away, he instead flipped Burr off behind Thomas’ back, garnering one of Burr’s signature I’m-so-done-with-everything groans as he stalked away.

“You’re so hot when you’re upset,” Thomas murmured into Alex’s lips.

“Mmm, talk less, kiss more,” Alex said, biting down on Thomas’ lower lip, causing the other boy to yelp.

“Oh my god,” a female voice said from behind them.

Both boys sprung away from each other and turned to see Angelica staring at them, her mouth wide open, eyebrows high. It was too late when they realized she’d snapped a picture of them.

“This is so going in the group chat,” she cackled.

“ANGELICA,” they both shouted.

“SHUT UP!” Lee shouted.

“Oh my god,” Burr mumbled from some dusty corner.

“You guys think you should take your love fest somewhere that’s not so… academic?” Angelica said with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Alex whined.

“Good luck with that one,” Angelica said to Thomas.

Thomas laughed. “I’m sure as hell gonna need it.”

“Shut up,” Alex whined again.

“Let’s go make some phone calls,” Thomas said, making to gather up his stuff.

“Fine,” Alex sighed.

“Woah, phone calls? What a hot first date,” Angelica said.

“For your information Thomas is my boyfriend with benefits,” Alex said with the pride of a five-year-old child.

“I… I don’t even know what to say to that,” Angelica said, putting her hands up. “I think you need to learn what friends with benefits means.”

“With health benefits, Angie, where is your mind?” Thomas said with a wink.

“I could say something about kink shaming, but I’m just gonna go,” Angelica said.

“HE’S JUST GETTING ME SURGERY!” Alex said as Angelica walked away laughing.

“Maybe you should stop saying boyfriend with benefits, babe,” Thomas said with a chuckle.

Babe,” Alex whispered.

“Babe,” Thomas said again, waggling his eyebrows.

“The library is not your personal hook-up area,” Peggy said as she passed by the boys, sticking her tongue out at them. “And great pic! Saving that one for sure,” she said, holding up her phone.

It was a picture of Thomas and Alexander kissing, right before Angelica made her presence known.

“Let’s get out of here before we––”

“You! And you!” The librarian, Mr. King, stomped toward the two boys. “I’ve gotten multiple texts from students about some obscene hook-up happening here and this library is not the place for your romantic foray!”

“Lee,” both boys muttered at the same time.

“You are officially banned from the library for the remainder of the day,” he said in an incredibly snotty tone.

“We were just leaving,” Thomas said, making sure to take Alex’s hand this time.

The boys practically ran down the stairs and burst out into the cool November air. As soon as they were outside, they were doubled over in laughter.

They both looked into each other’s eyes at the same moment as they said “We are forcibly removed from the library.”

“We’re outside the library,” Alexander said.

“Indeed we are,” Thomas said.

Thomas leaned down, Alexander stood on his tiptoes, and they kissed.

(A/N: There will be a part two to this one sometime soon ;)))

The Creep Behind the Camera - a biographical film about Vic Savage, the con man director of 1964’s The Creeping Terror - will be released on Blu-ray and DVD on September 12 via Synapse FIlms. A 2K restoration of The Creeping Terror is also included on the Blu-ray.

The film details the unconventional making of one of the worst movies of all time. It’s written and directed by Pete Schuermann, based on true stories from people involved in the production. Josh Phillips, Jodi Lynn Thomas, Bill LeVasseur, Brian McCulley, and Laurel Harris star.

Special features are listed below, where you can also see the trailer and synopsis.

Keep reading

{ serendipity }

prompt: “i wanted to request some thomas x angelica stuff. maybe how they get together and how the sisters and alex react.”

“Duchess,” Thomas drawled, creeping up behind Angelica as she sat up in bed. He snuck his arms around her waist, gently kissed her shoulder. “You keep moving.”

She knew this scene all too well. She’d found herself becoming far too familiar with the satin sheets of his bed, the mahogany bed frame, his lavish home. She’d found herself becoming too familiar with the way his hands reached for hers, how his kisses felt against her skin.

Over time, she’d grown to love it. She learned to love him

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hercules carries Thomas around and sings to him because he's a good boyfriend

“Hmf,” Thomas huffed, stubbornly turning his head away as Hercules started a soft melody.

“You were out of my league,” Hercules sang, grinning proudly at Thomas as he pouted. Jefferson made a disbelieving sound in the back of his throat, twisting his body to face a different direction and jerked when he felt hands snake around his body.

“All the things I believed,” Herc’ hushed softly, pressing his lips against Thomas’s bare neck to punctuate his sentence, “You were just the right kind,”

“Hush,” Thomas whispered, embarrassment creeping up on him. Thomas could sense as Herc’ put a hand down and rested it behind his knees, hoisting him up bridal style in a cautious swoop and hugging him to his chest.

“Yeah, you were more then just a dream,” Hercules said softly, pecking his lips and offering a loving smile. Thomas tilted his head down, knowing that his cheeks were painfully bright.

“… I can’t stay mad at you.” He said, finally admitting his defeat.

“Yay!” Hercules chirped quietly, kissing up Thomas’s face as he silently celebrated his own little victory. He never liked having Thomas mad at him.

Why a Hamilton? - Part 4

Character: Jefferson X Reader
Prompt: Running away from your problems is a bad idea. Especially if you are running away in the rain. Extra especial if you get sick in said rain. :D
Word Count: 2,043
W/T: Some cursing
A/N: To the Anon wanting a Madison appearance, there will be a MUCH bigger role for him in Part 5, he just didn’t fit in all that well in this one. Hope y'all enjoy!


The sight of your warm and inviting home dawns in your eyes, the dim windows enticing you to run to them. A small smile works its way onto your lips, but only a moment before you begin to sneeze. You were happy to be away from Alexander and Thomas’ fighting for the time being, but you weren’t so happy about the quick cold you’ve caught from being out in this downpour for so long. The rain has even changed temperature against your skin, indicating that you almost certainly have a fever.

It’s always been like this, for you and Alexander both. You were both prone to catching some sort of cold or fever, but neither of you were ever stricken down by it. It would only last for a day or so before you’d be back on your feet, ready to go. You hope this is the same situation.

Gathering up the last ounce of strength you have, you trudge on to your house, ready to be out of the cold. A single bolt of lightning flashes across the sky, and a deafening clap of thunder follows after it, only adding to your desire to be inside. You sneeze again, a fleck of dry blood flying onto your forearm from your cheek, the cut from earlier stinging a bit. Shivering, you step onto the muddy pathway to the front porch of the house, praying that there was already firewood in the house. Sneezing again, you hike your dress up in your hands and ascend the small set of stairs up the front porch and to the front door, wringing out your hair.

Seeing as the front door was unlocked, you press your hands against the cool wood, the hinges obeying your push. You quickly step inside, allowing the door to slam behind you, the sound echoing through the empty house. The house itself was dark except for a single, flickering flame from a nearby candle that Alexander must have forgotten to blow out. Cautiously, you grab ahold of the silver holder, the light from the candle dully reflecting off of the metal, and tiptoe over to the other candles around the room, the interior becoming brighter and brighter. The added flames jump atop their wicks, their heated tops licking upwards, casting odd and scattered shadows around the room.

Silently, you stand in awe of the commonplace lighting, the sound of the relentless storm outside mercilessly pounding against the roof of the house. The utter absence of any other voices sends another shiver down your spine, an all too eerie sensation filling the room. Your quick onslaught of sneezes interrupts it, but the silence swallows the noise as quickly as it comes.

But a strong series of knocks rings out across the room, startling you backwards a couple of feet. Sneezing once more, you compose yourself slightly, wishing to be out of your sopping wet dress. The knocks sound again, this time an urgency to them. Taking a deep breath, you wrap your fingers around the handle once more and crack it open, peeking out around door to see who was there. Eyes wide with worry and hair drooping with rain stood Thomas, his magenta coat a deeper shade of purple than usual. “Thomas?” You manage to ask before another sneeze, your vision blurring for a split second. “May I come in?” He laughs nervously, glancing up at incoming rain. Opening the door further, you motion for him to come in, something dropping in your chest at the sight of him drenched.

“Wha… I don't…” You trail, fumbling to find the right words for the current situation. “Are you alright?” He spouts off, holding your chin in his hand as he examines your cut from earlier in the meeting room. “W-what are you doing here?” You finally muster out, his face inches from yours. His dark eyes lower to meet yours, swimming with emotion. He pauses for a moment, almost as if he were surprised by your question. “What do you mean, Y/N? You were injured and then you ran off without warning and… why wouldn’t I have followed you? I had to make sure you weren’t in pain, at least.” He answers softly, his hand moving from your chin to gently running itself across your cut. You wince at the touch, taking in a sharp breath. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You open your mouth to tell him yes, but instead you quickly snap your head to the side, breaking into a small coughing fit. You lean away from him, trying to keep your hacking under control. “Obviously you aren’t.” He breathes, blinking slowly. You smile weakly at him, unsure how to respond. “Come on, you need to get out of that dress.” Thomas deadpans, his eyes still worried sick over you. “Bet you’d like that.” You murmur, earning a mischievous smile from him. “You’re not wrong, kitten, but that’s not what I meant. You’re going to keep coughing as long as you’re in that thing.” Giving him a small nod, you briskly brush past him, heading towards your bedroom. You try to snake your hands around to untie the back of the dress, but that’s when you remember that you’re wearing your “help dress” as you call it, being that you always have to get help untying it.

“Uh, Thomas?” You call out, already knowing that your cheeks are burning pink. “Yeah, what do you need, are you okay?” He asks, rushing over to you. You cough again, your vision blurring for another moment before turning to him, a sheepish smile etched onto your lips. “No no, I’m fine, I just… I need help untying this.” You admit, not wanting to meet his gaze. A surprised noise escapes Thomas’ mouth before he can stop himself, forcing an embarrassed blush across his own cheeks. “Uuhhhhhh, yeah. This here?” He asks hesitantly, the warmth from his hands burning through the damp dress backing. You place a hand under the breast of the dress, making sure it doesn’t slip. “Yeah.” You breathe, trying to suppress the heat rising in your cheeks and chest. You could feel him right behind you, his body not even inches from yours. Thomas’ sickly hot breath creeps down your neck, making the hairs on the back of it stand up as he continues.

“Y/N!” Alexander shouts, scaring you just as badly as it does Thomas. He shoots backward, and you spin around on your heels just as quickly, scanning the now wide open front door, where your brother stood, about to boil over with rage. “You fucking Francophile! How dare you enter my own home and then proceed to-” “Alex it’s not what it looks like.” You plead, stepping in front of him as quickly as you can to stop him from charging st Thomas. He himself was also soaking wet, but it was a minimal detail compared to his outrage. “Not what it looks like?! He had his hands all over you, Y/N! Like hell it wasn’t what it looked like!” He fumes, attempting to push past you. “Like hell I would mistreat Y/N like that.” Thomas growls, stepping towards Alexander. “Both of you stop it.” You demand, glaring at Thomas while pushing Alex back with your free hand. “Alexander, you are jumping to conclusions again.” You hiss. “How am I jumping to conclusions when I saw everything I needed to?” He exclaims, crossing his arms.

“Please explain this to him, for most definitely will not listen to me.” Thomas groans, rubbing his temples. “Alex, you remember this dress, don’t you?” You ask as politely and aggressively as you can sound. “Yeah that’s your… Oh. It’s the ‘Help Dress’, isn’t it?” He trails, quickly putting two and two together. “Yes. And because you weren’t here at the time, I let Thomas help me, before you so rudely yelled at him.” You spit, pinching the bridge of your noise to try and refocus your vision that seems to keep going fuzzy, especially when you sneeze or cough. “Exactly why he should-” “Thomas, don’t start this.” You warn, still trying to clear your sight of all fuzziness.

“So what if he as just helping you out of your dress, Y/N? He shouldn’t even be here in the first place! This is the Hamilton residence, last I checked.” Alexander points out, narrowing his eyes at him. “Well maybe it’s because I wanted to make sure that your sister hadn’t been hurt too badly by your ill actions to her from earlier. Forgive me for attempting to care.” Thomas sneers, rewarding him in another glare from you. “Get out of my house, Jefferson.” “No. In fact, I’m going to stay here to make Y/N isn’t feeling awful.” He refuses, trying to push Alexander over the edge. “That isn’t your decision to make, so I suggest you leave before things turn ugly again.” Alex huffs in an attempt to control his anger. “Oh? And what are you going to do about it, you short fucker?” “Guys please.” You beg, trying to push them away from each other again.

“Jefferson, stop.” A new voice demands in a rather polite tone, adding only confusion to the mess. Glancing around Alexander, you catch sight of Madison standing in your doorway, shaking off an umbrella onto the porch. “James? What are you doing here?” Thomas questions, the surprise and confusion very evident in his voice. “I came because I knew you were going to get yourself into trouble.” He answers softly, a look of annoyance on his face. “From what I can glean from what I am seeing, I would go as far to say that my hunch was correct.” Madison carefully leans the umbrella against the inside of the wall and shuts the door behind him, the small click filling the room instead of a slam.

Another onslaught of coughs rattles through you, making your vision fuzzy once again, this time much darker than the first few times. You feel as though you hear Madison mutter “same” under his breath, but your dizziness is a much more pressing matter at the moment. “Look,” You start, trying to steady yourself. “Washington told me that I need to get you two to work this out. So if you could figure this out before I pass out, that would be fantastic.” You grimace, a wave of exhaustion flooding over you as another round of coughs overtakes you. “What? Y/N, are you okay?” Alex quickly asks, stepping forward to feel your forehead. “Not really.” You murmur, still trying to blink away the fuzziness. “You’re burning up.” He whispers, taking your hands in his. “Which is exactly why I was helping her out of that sopping wet dress, Hamilton.” Thomas scoffs, gently pulling you back towards him. “You have no need to, Jefferson. You don’t know how bad our immune systems are. You may take your leave now.” You blink at Alexander, trying to get his face to focus, but everything seems like it’s wrapping into an impressionist painting, where the colors blend together and nothing is in focus.

“Both of you, please stop arguing over her health.” Madison interjects, stepping forward. “At least I don’t lash out and physically hurt people.” Thomas fires back, tugging on your shoulder a little harder. “At least I know that I’m not going to let you touch her.” Alexander presses, almost yanking you back to him. “Guys.” You whisper, black dots now appearing across your eyes. Neither one of them look to you, they just continue to argue, your arms being pulled on mercilessly. You try to shake their grip, but their hold on you seemed to be the only thing keeping you upright. “Hamilton. Jefferson.” Madison finally raises his voice, allowing for it to boom around the room. Both men turn to him, surprised. They both unlatch themselves from your arms, only giving you full mobility to drop to the ground.

The hardwood floor rushed to meet you, and your head bashes against it, pain surging through you. The black dots grow to swallow almost everything in sight, and the shouts become faded whispers as your weak immune system takes ahold of you, pulling you to unconsciousness.

Why did you have to be a Hamilton?

anonymous asked:

"Who were you with?" Angelica/Jefferson thank you!!

There was something wonderful about feeling Alexander’s eyes land on her, in seeing him tense, eyes narrow and examine her, looking for a single hair out of place. There were several. Angelica tucked a stray hair behind her ear and twisted it up and around a pin that was already tight against her head. 

It didn’t take very long for Alexander to walk over and offer his arm, and soon they were spinning around the floor - Eliza engaged in some conversation with some politician’s wife. Alexander’s movements were stiff. “Who were you with?”

Angelica smiled and looked over to the corner Thomas was just now creeping out of, saying nothing. 

“No, not him.”

She laughed. “What does it matter? If anything, I feel like you should be angry at him. After all, shouldn’t you be more protective of your sister

Alexander huffed and looked to the side. “Mrs. Church, if that was all that you were to me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. After all, what place do I have in the affairs of a married woman?”

“You’re right,” she said. “What place do you have in the affair of a married woman?”

He nodded and turned away Their fingers brushed when they faced each other again. “Well, I’d love to have a place, if the lady would allow me.”

She felt her lip curl. “You’re married, Alexander, to Eliza, my sister. Do not forget that it was I who introduced you.”

“Out of a sense of obligation and nothing more, I am certain.” Alexander guided her into a spin.

anonymous asked:

lmao the discourse has nothing to do with a 30 year old man who posts butt pics/sexual fan art for his mostly underaged audience of course not, that doesn't make sense at all. what it's really about is asexuals. mmmm yes what a sound conclusion. tell all of the minors and csa victims like myself that hating thomas sanders for being a creep means that they're aphobic.

oh my goodness you guys look at this!! i did it!! i managed to attract an Angry SJW Anon!! does this mean i’m officially tumblr famous?

lmao he’s been posting butt pics for years but this discourse springs up the week after he starts talking about supporting ace/aro people and y’all expect me to think that’s a coincidence fat chance

anonymous asked:

Thomas creeps me out, he gives off this "i'm a pure baby who loves everyone and accepts everything uwu" vibe that he plays at for his ego secretly. his fans feeds into it too like "omg you're a literal saint from the heavens!" when he's probably fake as fuck because no one is like that in real life. i know i sound bitter and pessimistic but considering how popular he is and the porn post i wouldn't be surprised.

no literally that’s how I see him tbh
no one is like that irl
he’s just… too positive. he acts so young and it’s just… so weird. like seeing him interact with people on his blog feels less like a human talking and more like a company’s twitter

The Sacrifice (Newt Imagine)


So if you take requests: You are Thomas’ sister and Newt’s girlfriend in the maze. You get out but instead of Chuck it’s you who jumps in front of the bullet and dies. This beautiful death scene where you convince them to go on, that you are ok. Some time later Thomas and Newt are talking with each other about how wonderful, amazing etc girl you were. Like a lot of mental pain (I’m on the mood xD) Sorry, if this is too specific or you don’t have time. It’s ok if you don’t want to write this.

Submitted by amakanu

Your hand gently grazes the keys of the keyboard. Everything in this room feels so familiar. The way each computer is set up. You look at one of the screens, covered in dust and grime, as if it hadn’t been used in a really long time. A passcode is needed to enter into the files and while the others aren’t looking you decide to do your own digging.

The passcode is four letters long and you type in the first word to come to mind.


The screen glows red signaling you only have two more tries to gain access into the computer.


The screen glows green and you smile to yourself. This was your computer when you were with W.I.C.K.E.D. Files flood the home screen. You quickly shift through them and  find Thomas’ file–noting exactly what you all knew to be true. You were brother and sister. Deciding not waste any further time you search for Newt’s file which quickly pops up on the screen along with evaluation notes that clearly weren’t yours.

Subject A20 has been sent up into the maze, the first girl to be introduced to an area filled with boys. A5 seems to be taking a liking to her, chemistry and attraction seems to go unchanged since before the Swipe. Since A20 is no longer with us at HQ we can now list A5 as Not Immune to the disease we are attempting to eradicate. The Glue to are experiment is expected to live up until right before the Entrance to Paradise, upon which he would be to far gone to cure, if we even have the cure at all. Phase one is nearly complete it’s now time to discuss phase two.

Chancellor Ava Paige

Your heart drops and tears slowly slip down your face. There’s more to the trials than was anticipated. Exiting the Maze was not the last of the torture there is still more to come and Newt was in danger.

There will never be a cure. You know that through logical thinking, but your heart tries to tell you it may be possible. You know you could never live without Newt. He was your protector ever since you entered the Glade. You grew madly in love with each other in a place that was nothing but hopeless. When Thomas had arrived Newt was the only one who was willing to protect him as well knowing that my memory from life before the maze, of Thomas being my brother, must have been accurate.

“We’ve gotta go!” Minho yells.

You feel like as if you can’t function, but your body seems to be doing otherwise, as you lift yourself up and hurry towards the doors.

“No one’s goin anywhere!” Gally’s voice rings out startling you.

He’s holding a gun pointed at Thomas’ head and you instinctively creep closer to him.

“YOU DON’T GET IT!” He slurs, “We’re all dead.”

“Gally we can all make it through. Drop the gun and come with us.” Newt’s voice is soft but stern.

You peer at him through the corner of your eye. He was much taller compared to you. You always loved how he’d dip down to kiss you. His blonde hair was always perfect too and that accent makes you melt.

“No…He ruined everything.”

He raises his arm, aiming at Thomas, and pulls the trigger. You push your brother out of the way and everyone screams as Minho flings his spear into Gally’s chest.  Gally’s eyes become lifeless and you see the boy who you used to consider a friend dead in a pool of his own blood.

“We have to get going now.” Thomas starts, “Lets…”

“Newt.” You call out softly.

You press you hand against your abdomen and feel blood pouring onto your hand.

“Y/N!” His voice is shaky, “You’re gonna be okay I promise. We’re gonna get you some help.

You drop down to the floor and Newt gets onto his knees. He rips a piece of his shirt attempting to place it on your wound to stop the flow of blood, but you place your hand over his stopping him.

“It’s okay.” You say softly.

His face is a tear soaked blotchy mess and his hands were now covered in your blood.

“No Y/N you have to stay with me.” He cries, “We’re supposed to start our lives outside of the Maze. How can I do that without you?”

“I’ll see you soon enough, Newt. Help them through the rest of the trials.”

You feel as if you’re slipping away.

“Just remember, Newt. You’re the glue that kept me together. Now it’s time for you to do the same for them. You’ll see me soon. I love you.”

Newt’s POV

“No, Y/N! We’ve made it! Come on wake up!”

I’m shaking her, but she says nothing. Her eyes are still open and glassy and I press my lips to hers, but she’s still not waking up. I let out another cry and press her into my chest. She’s gone.

Thomas is crying too, but he’s insisting we start moving.

“Newt, we’ve gotta go.”

I take my fingers and shut her eyes, placing her back down on the ground and draping my sweater over her.

“I love you.” I mumble, “I’ll see you soon, love.”

Dear Fellow W.I.C.K.E.D. Staff,

I’m pleased to inform you all that Phase one is now complete. A20’s sacrifice was needed to conduct the beginning of Phase two. It’s now time to enter the Scorch.

And remember, W.I.C.K.E.D is good.

- Chancellor Ava Paige