SUBJECT A2.

when i wake up I'm afraid somebody else might end up  being me. independent thomas rp. semi-selective. 18+ #subjectal

[subjectal-blog]

(   brreadcrumbs.   )

————- | | | ☢

                             ❝ This tastes like  straight up klunk. ❞                                     But even as he finishes, he takes                                   another drink  of the amber liquid                                   sloshing around in the mason jar.                                   Something  warm  buzzes  in  his                                   head,    and  he looks over at the                                   other with  a faint smirk.    ❝ Bet                                   you can’t chug it. ❞

(   Thomas eyes the liquid with legitimate disdain,   already well-acquainted     with its horrendous taste.   He's faintly amused by watching Minho suffer     through it, but     a bet. It's nature's call for an idiot boy. He rolls his eyes,     grabbing the glass from Minho's grasp.   )

                      ❝ Watch me. ❞

(   And    there he goes. Tipping the drink into his mouth and immediately     regretting his decision.  He chugs for a good ten seconds, getting about     halfway through the jar before he has to pull it away,   coughing his way     through a fit as tears sting at his eyes.   )

                              ❝           As if you could do any better, shank. ❞

[spideycentral]

By the end of the day, the Gladers had turned into a small army. A very pathetic, ill-prepared Army, Thomas thought, but an army all the same.

[subjectal-blog]

(   sassyundies.   )

[ + subjectal ]

          ❛ think you need to take it             easy for a bit, shuck-face.             you look like you’re about             to pass out. ❜

             ❝ It's fine. I'm fine. We can keep going.      The more ground that's covered the better, right? ❞

[imagineyourotp]

Imagine your OTP having rough sex when suddenly Person A hits their head on the headboard of their bed.  Person B laughs so hard they can’t finish.

[lookndead-blog]

can you feel it now mr krabs

[refuser]

[blindhim-a-blog]

why aren’t polygamous relationships more of a thing

[pointyearsuniversee]

[laptopped]

Kinda wanna punch you in the face, kinda wanna suck your dick

[stufffortheask]

Send me a 'shh' for my muses reaction to yours sliding their hand up my muses leg.

[subjectal-blog]

(   ofglue.   )

              // ♔

Eyes watch the other boy as he spoke, seeming to be having an internal war with himself and Newt’s expression was all pinched trying to figure  out what exactly the kid was on about. It was like Thomas was apologizing - not with his words but with his eyes and his actions. Everything the other male had done the past week had apologies etched all over - each touch, each glance, each favor - and Newt could feel the guilt practically radiating off of him. He had an idea what this was all about.                     ❝ I think I know what this is about                                        Listen Tommy, look at my face. ❞  Pausing a beat he waited for the other to look, his expression hard and square, no signs of the softness that previously took on his features. ❝ Now do I look like a bloody shank who’s gonna go broodin’ away on a grudge for a kid that wants me around so  badly he was dumb enough to drag my poor sorry arse out of it  all alive? ❞ The question was mostly rhetorical, but his eyebrows were raised like he expected an answer. Although his words came out sounding harsh, they were intricately laced throughout with unmistakable care for the boy sitting beside him.  ❝ Look I know the world isn’t posies and peaches, but I’ve come this far, there’s no sense in moping about it. ❞ He finishes, leaning back so he was lying propped  up on his shoulders - a move that made the previous  conversation feel so casual despite it being the  complete opposite.                                        ❝ 'Sides, if you hadn’t done it then                                         you’d never hear the end of it from                                         Minho. Shank would lecture your ear                                          off - trust me the kid can lecture. ❞

(   Thomas almost doesn’t want to meet Newt’s gaze,  but it’s instinctual;     as soon as he’s told to,  he does.  It’s clear that they’re actually going     to talk about it, which is terrifying and relieving all at once.  He inhales,     exhales—tells himself that the words  I hate you, Tommy  won’t come     out of his best friend’s mouth again. With his eyes locked onto Newt’s,     he listens. Shakes his head, chastised.   )

                ❝              No, I guess not. ❞

               (   It’s embarrassing to think that he’d been overreacting.   As Newt                     settles back and relaxes,  seemingly closing the issue with a few                     nonchalant words, Thomas feels marginally better. Assurance is                     always welcome,   although useless against how selfish he feels.                     Like he has to compensate for his guilt.

                                         He leans back, too, shoulder-to-shoulder with Newt.   )

      ❝ I didn’t do it to save myself a lecture. But it’s definitely an added             bonus. He would’ve done the same thing, you know. If it were him.               Probably thought that I’d listen better than that stubborn shank. ❞

                                     (   His lips twist into a wry smile.   )

                      ❝ Wrong, that. ❞

[whispcr-deactivated20160325]

[crranked-blog]

bla bla bla, usual spiel about how i never expected this number of followers. although, honestly, i never did - not over such a short time, anyway. although, it depends on whether or not you classify ‘four months’ as ‘short’, right? anyway, thank you all so much for deeming me worthy of following; every single of one of you deserves to be hugged by thomas sangster at least once in your lives ❤

[crranked-blog]

Read More

[subjectal-blog]

(   ofglue.   )

              // ♔

(   A laugh slips from the boy’s tongue and he shakes his head, throwing an arm around Thomas and pulling him marginally closer. It was a move that was so fluid - so natural, as if he’d been doing it his entire life. He couldn’t tell if that was a Newt thing or a Thomas thing, but he also couldn’t remember being real touchy feely with any of the other gladers, so he considered it the ladder and brushed it off.   )              ❝ I’m only pulling your leg - listen, you know Gally yeah?                 Gally’s a real proper Slinthead sometimes, but he’s got a                 funny way of showin’ he cares and that’s how he does it.                 He’s just watching out for his brothers. You just gotta earn                 his trust - make him think he’s in control of the situation. ❞     (   Newt shrugged, reaching over to take the last bite of the            sandwich from Thomas’ hands, eyebrows lifting as if to             challenge him to take it back before slipping it past his lips.   )                                    ❝ What you dreamin’ about anyway?                                                                                  Me, dare I ask? ❞

(   Thomas is  jostled  slightly by the movement of Newt’s arm around     his shoulders, and he’s reminded once again just how  strong  his     companion really is.  Even if he hadn’t been crying,  the sentiment     would’ve been appreciated nonetheless; physical comfort's craved     by many of the Gladers,  he'd bet.   The easy camaraderie causes     Thomas to like Newt more than he had before.   )

        ❝ Why does he get to be in control? I thought that was Alby’s job?                      And yours. I’d follow you over him any day. ❞

                       (   He watches the sandwich disappear, only slightly disappointed,                            and takes a moment to register the presented query.  How does                            he even begin to answer a question like that--?   He  huffs,  lips                            twitching into a smile.   The wetness of his cheeks starts to fade.   )

        ❝ First of all,  don’t choke on that ego, shank.                         I wish I could explain. They don’t make much sense,                         but—sometimes… they feel like memories.  Rather                         than dreams, y’know?  And yeah, sometimes you’re                         there. So’s the rest of the Glade. ❞

[subjectal-blog]

(   brreadcrumbs.   )

————- | | | ☢

                              Oh. Oh shuck. He feels Thomas relax under his legs,                               but his   words   are what get him.  He makes a face,                                grateful that  Thomas can’t  see  just how affected he                               is by the comment,   and after a moment of gathering                               his wits once more,     he grips  the  back  of Thomas’                               neck, fingers just shy of rough. 

                         ❝ It’s like  you  were made to  beg,   Tommy, ❞                               he says, voice teasing, but regardless with                               one last squeeze he  rolls off the other boy.                               He sits next to him,     leaning  back  on his                               hands,  and is grateful that his pants aren’t                               too tight. Life is rough sometimes.   

       ❝ I’m waitin’ on the sappy love declarations,            dude.    Better  make me swoon or you’re            gonna be eating dirt again. ❞

(   For a moment or two, Thomas is afraid that his efforts were in vain.     There's silence behind him until there's not, and Minho is dropping     a comment that doesn't surprise Thomas in the least. It prompts an     eye roll  [  and a flare of heat at the back of his neck, embarrassed,     underneath his friend's palm  ]  but Minho's finally gives him space.

                            He dusts off the front of his shirt, which is admittedly a lost                             cause,   and turns to face Minho with his knees pressed to                             the ground.   His expression goes serious, and he doesn't                             hesitate to reach out and place a hand at Minho's jaw.   )

          ❝ I love you. More than Frypan's steak and any of the other                   shanks around here. Even with that shuck-ugly face of yours. ❞

         (   He gives his cheek a pat and leans in,   eyes dropping to              Minho's  mouth.   He  only  gets about halfway before his              hands relocate to the boy's shoulders to shove him back              against the ground with a light thump.

                                                                                  Victory.   )

[subjectal-blog]

(   xcurrere.   )

(   Transferring universities in the middle of the year was  never  going     to be an easy process, but there’s no way in hell that Thomas could     have endured another semester at his old school.   It’d been private     and  prestigious,   yes—and also controlling,   as if the freedom of a     college life was nothing but a myth.

            He feels slightly apologetic toward his roommate, who’d been graced             by a half-empty dorm for the fall semester,   but will now have to deal             with Thomas  filling up the unoccupied space.   The luxury of a single             room’ll surely be missed;   he resolves to not be a shitty roommate to             make up for it.

       However, he has to bother him for just a little while—until he        familiarizes himself with the campus.  Catching Minho in the        dormitory hall among other students,   the only recognizable        face for miles, he reaches out to place an amicable hand on        his shoulder.    )

               ❝ Hey, Minho--?        Where’s the cafeteria? ❞

[subjectal-blog]

(   ofglue.   )

              // ♔

His words are harsh & cold but just underneath the surface is a warmth and fondness for Thomas that he can’t quite explain to even himself. He’s not one to ask to be taken care of - prefers to be self reliant and is unrelentingly independent - and he’s positive if it was any other person in the entire would that had asked he wouldn’t have even given them the time of day. Thomas was different - he understood where the concern rooted from and he didn’t blame him. What he had asked Thomas to do was impossible, and he knew seeing Newt in that state of mind must have been traumatizing.                                     He only wishes he could blame                                                          the sting for his words. Stretching out his leg he gives Thomas an impressed look, rolling his pant leg down to cover a leg marred with scars that he was ashamed of and often kept hidden.                            ❝ Not bad Tommy boy. ❞ And although                              it’s spoken with a bite it’s said with sincerity,                              his lips twitching up into a smile and he is                              grateful underneath that hardened shell.                                                          And yes, it felt a lot better. He watched Thomas a moment before he speaks up, examining the boy who always seemed so nervous around Newt lately. He knows it’s because of the incident, but he neither of them have really talked about it since it happened. ❝ I’m not gonna croak the second you turn your   back.  You   know   that   don’t   you? ❞

(   Thomas basks in the mild relief that accompanies Newt’s praise,   glad  to     have helped even  incrementally  with his friend’s pain. He’s well aware of     the overwhelming need  to  protect            and the fact that it’s completely     unnecessary. They’re safe. SAFE.  A notion that once seemed impossible.     The blood may wash off of his hands and the scars may fade, but the guilt     will always remain.

          He’s unsure of where he stands with Newt, which is stupid. He knows           that;  yet,  he can’t help but wonder if Newt  RESENTS  Thomas for so           stubbornly  keeping  him  alive,   even  when he’d written that note and           begged and pleaded and endured all of that pain for—what? A chance           at a new life? Is that what Newt even wants?

                  Frowning, Thomas averts his gaze briefly before                         meeting Newt’s eyes.    Vehemently,  he replies,   )

    ❝ Of course I know that.  You’re            the last shank I’m worried about here. ❞

(   It’s the truth.  With only a couple hundred boys and girls left to build the     foundation of a society, one must be self-reliant. And Newt’s the king of     such a trait. He steels his voice into something more casual.   )

    ❝         I just want to help. ❞

                       (   I just want to make it up to you.   )