i know what i'm supposed to do now

@glueiisms / @bleedingcrank | x | always accepting

They didn’t have much time. A few minutes, tops, before WCKD realized the two of them were missing, and Thomas couldn’t let it get that far if he wanted his plan to succeed. His very, very terrible plan, the plan that would PROBABLY cost him all of his friends’ trust — but he kept telling himself that didn’t matter so long as it worked.

That’s what he told himself. But then there were moments like these, moments where he risked everything to try, however briefly, to convince them he was still on their side, no matter what he had to say or do whenever WCKD was watching. They were few and far between, because it felt to Thomas like WCKD was always watching, but whenever he saw an opportunity, he did his best to take it. Like he was doing now, alone in a corner of the compound with Newt, cameras set to loop to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

(Teresa wasn’t the only one who could figure out how the system worked.)

Despite the lack of time, he still wanted — needed — Newt to understand, maybe more than he needed anyone else to. To believe him, in spite of everything he’d said and done. He knew it was a lot to ask, considering the circumstances and all the ends justify the means BULLSHIT he’d had to spout since they’d been captured again (the very thought made his blood boil with bitter hatred and a barely-contained rage that surprised him sometimes; he could barely look Teresa in the eye without it showing, even months later), and he could tell that it was getting harder and harder for all of them the longer it went on — but he had to try.

@glueiisms | the museum of lost memes, rip

          “I’m...” really not fine, actually. Newt was right. All the places where the cranks had gotten him, all the bites and scratches and bruises that littered his skin, still hurt like hell no matter how hard he tried to keep them covered. And what was worse, he could feel himself getting sick; he was immune to the Flare, of that he was certain, but not bacterial infections. He knew he was running a fever, and all the physical exertion pushing his body to the limit wasn’t helping any. He felt awful, but despite all that, he still felt the need to pretend it wasn’t that bad. For the others’ sake. “I will be fine. Seriously, Newt, don’t worry about it. I’m immune, I won’t get sick. Let’s just...focus on getting to the mountains, okay?”

@glueiisms​ | x | always accepting

          “I was going to tell you about her. I was just trying to figure out HOW, and then Teresa---”

@glueiisms | x | always accepting

He’s disoriented at first. Everything around him is pitch black, no light whatsoever to help him gauge his surroundings, the air dank and stale. There’s the sound of metal grinding against metal, and a sudden lurch upward that startles him, makes him fall onto the hard floor of the elevator as it begins to ascend, swaying all the while. He has no idea where he is. At first.

Panic wells up inside him, makes his heart pound in his chest, makes him want to scream — to call out for someone, anyone, to help him. Nausea churns in his stomach. He tries desperately to think back, to pull up the last thing he remembers, hoping it will lead him to an answer, tell him where he is and why this is happening to him. It’s hard, but he focuses, drowning everything out and doing his best to picture the thing he’s trying to grasp in his head, just like Ms. Denton had always taught him in her classes.

Doctor Paige. She’s the last thing he remembers. Bringing him tea that had been laced with some kind of drug. Talking to him before…

Note: details can be tweaked for convenience, especially if I specifically mentioned your character!

It began when Thomas was tasked to keep an eye on a pack of teenage werewolves.

Well, really, it began when he was just shy of five years old, and Dr. Mary Cooper took him in after his original adoptive parents had died. He’d been given time to adjust to the change and settle into his new life, to get used to the way things worked in this new place, with this new person --- to bond --- before Mary started training him to become a hunter. Not a hunter of animals, playing a lethal one-sided game of tag with the deer in the woods, but a hunter of the supernatural; a protector of innocents both human and non-human alike. Just like her.

Over the next twelve years of his life, she taught him everything she knew about werewolves, beasts and spirits, and even magic (real, actual magic!); how to track them and lure them out despite their best efforts to conceal themselves, and more importantly, how to defend himself against them. He learned how to use weapons, guns of all sizes and shapes and calibers, bows and arrows, flash grenades and devices that emitted sounds that only werewolves could hear. (”Like a dog whistle?” “Exactly like a dog whistle.” “Cool!”)

Mary had always told him that these weapons were only to be used when necessary. Taught him that most things supernatural, be they werewolves or something else, were also people. People with lives, relationships, and goals, people who were not always ruled by their instincts. Full moons could be dangerous, to be sure, but for the rest of the month, they could look like anybody. Because they could be anybody.  And just because they had glowing eyes and sharp fangs some of the time didn’t mean that they weren’t also deserving of help, when it was needed.

But not all hunter families were like Thomas and Mary. Most of them, in fact, weren’t quite so lenient --- weren’t so concerned about the werewolves’ safety as well as the humans’. Hunters like Ava Paige, who, while she respected Mary’s skills and intelligence, believed that werewolves and other supernatural kind were ultimately a threat against humanity, and must be taken care of to ensure the safety of everyone around them. It was a philosophy that neither Mary nor Thomas could believe in, and one she was teaching her daughter, Teresa, as well.

Which was a problem for Thomas, because he happened to like Teresa. A lot.

But back to the pack of teenage werewolves.