#theinevitablesense

[ashilrak]

Greetings! I know it’s been a Hot Minute, but @theinevitablesense and I are together in person! If anyone cares even a little bit, we are willing to answer questions.

Thanks! Have a great night! <3

[sapphiirose]

hey @theinevitablesense ! so i uhhh, may have written a little GSoFS thing for ya!

i don’t exactly have a title for it, but it’s very heavily based off of the musical “cabaret”. i’ll elaborate on that by the end !

——

It tends to get rather quiet when there’s no one home.

Of course, this isn’t some brand-new realization to Thomas. Everything was always quiet at Monticello. It’s been quiet for a long, long time.

There’s no reason for Thomas to question or feel any discomfort about it anymore, for it, like many other trivial things, no longer held any importance to him at all. After all, why should they?

He could spend this silence thinking like he has consistently been thinking before, of everything that could potentially fill the oppressive silence. Everything that’s no longer around, when so many good people are gone, and when love disappears with only the memory living on.

Or, his mind supplies, you could just not think at all.

There it was. The second option that’s looking more and more appealing to Thomas by the minute. Yes, he’s very much better off not traveling down the path his thoughts were taking. Not that he doesn’t deserve the mental punishment, of course, but he was just… tired.

In fact, he’d be sleeping right now if there wasn’t some sort of odd feeling gnawing at him. He has no interest in doing this, so why is he reaching for the nightstand beside him and picking up a pen and a scrap of paper?

Never mind why, Thomas thinks to himself. Just do it.

He takes a breath, and slowly begins to write.

“there was a hotel

and there was a great war

there was a city called new york

in a country called the united states

it was the end of the world.

and i was dancing with alexander hamilton

and we were both fast asleep”

Thomas looks at the paper, now with his handwriting scrawled on it. It reminds him somewhat of a strange kind of poem—must have been the odd format and rather vague type of commentary. Even now, he hardly knows why he apparently chose to write the things he did on it.

Shaking his head, Thomas puts the pen and paper back on the nightstand and falls asleep.

——

so what thomas writes here is very heavily based off of mr. bradshaw’s narration in the final scene of cabaret. you can find it here: https://youtu.be/FSPZnq8Ubzk

there’s also another reference, where it mentions love disappearing and only the memory living on. this is inspired by lyrics from ANOTHER cabaret song: https://youtu.be/Al2M5DCW_ZE

anyway, i hope you liked it !!

[ashilrak]

“No one else is allowed to see you like this.” Jamilton please?

PARKER WROTE THIS ONE @theinevitablesense

Thomas closed the door to to the closet, flicking the lock with one hand. “There, all cleaned up and taken care of.” He turned back to where Alexander was sat on the bed, his lovely Alexander. With his wrists tied up in expensive silk, the delicate late he wore, it was all gorgeous. A sight to behold.

The way Alexander cried made it even all the better. The delicate tears tracing down from his eyes, staining the fabric gag in his mouth dark. Thomas’ heart melted at the sight of it.

“Oh, love, don’t cry. You know it hurts me to see you cry,” he cooed. He crossed the room and raised one hand to cradle Alexander’s face. Instantly, Alexander thrashed, his head jerking side to side.

Thomas frowned, and caught Alexander’s head in his hands. “Come now darling, it’s alright, I’ve got you. The bad man’s gone away now.”

Alexander’s voice was muffled behind the gag. Thomas could see where he strained against his bonds. The rope holding his tied wrists to the wall was perfectly secure, no matter how Alexander pulled against it.

“How many times do I have to tell you, there’s no point in struggling,” Thomas says. “I don’t like it when you fight back. I don’t get why you insist on it when I could be treating you as you should be treated.” Thomas wiped the tears from Alexander’s face with his thumbs. “Soft, gentle. I would love to worship you Alexander, if you would only let me -”

Thomas cut off with a grunt of pain. Bright, searing pain shot through his body from his stomach, and when he backed up and looked down he found that one of Alexander’s legs had come free from their shackles.

“Alexander,” he growled. “What would you do that for?” Alexander glared at him as he desperately tried to kick off the other shackle. Thomas snarled, and grabbed for Alexander’s single free limb.

It wasn’t hard to control Alexander. The man was weak since he hadn’t behaved enough for much food. But when Thomas reached for the other shackle he found that Alexander hadn’t come free at all. Instead, the chain had been broken, leaving the cold circle of metal secured around Alexander’s ankle.

“Laurens,” Thomas spat, finally realising what the chain cutters John had held had been for. With no other recourse, Thomas let Alexander’s leg go only long enough to grab a spare length of rope. Alexander’s struggle was pitiful as Thomas lashed his ankle down to the bed.

“See what happens when you do these things Alexander?” Thomas asked. “I’m sure how you’re tied down now is far less comfortable than the shackles were.” Alexander just glared at him, the tears still streaming. Thomas sighed.

“Alexander, I told you not to cry,” he said. “Won’t you listen to anything I say? This could be so much easier if you just listened.”

Alexander responded by kicking the foot still in it’s shackle at Thomas. Thomas frowned, crawled back up the bed and grabbed Alexander by the hair. “What are you still crying about? John? Are you really that torn up about such irrelevant garbage?! Don’t you see, he had to die. No one else is allowed to see you like this. This is all just for me. And he tried to break that.”

Alexander’s eyes, red rimmed and wet, shut tight but still he fought. Alexander wriggled, twisting his body in ways that surely pulled on old cuts and twisted bruises. Thomas increased his grip on Alexander’s hair, his other hand going to pull the still-bloodied knife from his pocket.

“You stop this, you stop this fighting and this crying or I will give you something to cry about.”

// Possessive/Obsessive Spouse Sentence Starters 

[ashilrak]

Hi I'm writing some Jamilton fic that takes place during the revolution (Thomas fights alongside Alex) and I need some inspiration idk where to start help (I'm a huge fan of your underrated fix Alchemist Apprentice I recently read and commented)

The Alchemist’s Apprentice was actually written by @theinevitablesense

[ashilrak]

Hi I Also Love You

Hello!!! I Love You Too!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

// one thing you’ve always wanted to tell me

[ashilrak]

Friendship DELETED

[ashilrak]

@theinevitablesense

[ashilrak]

@theinevitablesense is meeting her girlfriend and is texting me about it while I’m watching project runway and telling her about how I’m rooting for the guy that looks vaguely like lmm and I feel like that describes my relationship status