#mazerunner aris

[c4tb0y0]

After nearly three years of liking the maze runner I just found out Aris' name might be originated from Aristotle...

[elianglader]

We need to talk about this underrated trio

[friendly-reject]

Me secretly hoping for a part two: 👀👀

a gradum ad lumen - part 1 .

decided to post the first chapter to the Maze Runner fanfic I discussed earlier, I thought it would be a good way to ease back into things after my prolonged absence.  hope you all enjoy, please contact me if you have any specific requests for the series and let me know what you think!  ending is also a bit rushed, because i was super excited to get this posted for you guys, but i already have the second chapter in the works.

___

Word count: 2.1k!

Warnings : general TMR TWS; blood, slight gore, disturbing ideas / images, and depicted injuries.

Pronouns used: they/them – gender-neutral.

Prompt(s) used: “Who knows.  Maybe we’ve actually made it out of this hellhole after all.”

Pairing: TMR x GN!Reader.

A/N: just one; i imagined reader had a slight british accent when writing this, but feel free to think otherwise!!  this is also open to any skin tones, body sizes, etc.  i believe in inclusion to the fullest, and plan to make a few fanfics w/ a practising muslim reader in the future; lmk if you have any ideas! 

___

Staying out in the Maze was likely a dumb idea, especially with the ever-present thought of the fact that the Doors were bound to close at any minute pounding at the back of your head.

Nevertheless, your eyes were fixated on the sight in front of you, hands on your hips as e/c irises took in the thick vines that were rooted into the cracks lining the stone floor and stretched as far as the eye could see up the surrounding walls.  Your hand reached up to thread through h/c coloured tresses, thoughts bumbling about your head in an analytical manner. 

E/c coloured eyes moved after the beetle-blade, the metal, bug-like machine chittering as its red-light flicked across the wall it was scampering along before pausing.  Almost as though it sensed your presence, the thing’s head turned to you, camera staring right back at you as it focused on the stationary Glader.  You took a challenging stride toward it, surprised by the fact that it didn’t even move, the step bearing an experimental trial as well as it encouraged them onward.  You were quick to take advantage of the situation, leaping after the machine and closing the few metres of distance between you and the beetle blade in the process.  

Unfortunately, the sudden movement on your end had sent the beetle-blade shooting further along the wall, bee-lining it straight for a crack in the stone that it would just barely manage to fit into.  However, after months of trying to catch one of the blasted things, you’d come to learn a trick or two.  You kicked off the ground, clearly determined to finally get your hands on one of the rutting machines even if it meant having to risk the slight detour from heading back to the Glade.  

You swiftly scaled among the vines, arm shooting above head as your fingertips came to wrap around one of its legs just as the machine made to disappear.  Triumph shot through you as you were about to yank the thing back and disarm it, focused solely on the task at hand when a swift shout that consisted purely of  your name halted everything and sent them tumbling backwards when your single-handed grip on the vines jerked loose in surprise.

Your ankle, however, was more reluctant to follow, remaining  entangled amongst the vines, a sharp jerk sending jolts of pain through your leg the minute your back slammed against the hard, unforgiving floor.  The pain flared, your vision swaying as your eyes flicked to the shoes of the now approaching figure, clearly not pleased with the situation in the slightest as a frustrated and slightly pained groan drew past your lips.  Your thoughts of irritated agony echoed the emotion vividly as you practically felt  the bruises forming along your ankle, only to be interrupted by the same person who had caused you to lose your balance in the first place, a teasing lilt now lacing the newcomer’s voice, which you could easily pinpoint as Minho, 

“Man, I knew you liked me, but I didn’t realise you’d be throwing yourself at my feet the minute you heard me.  Not that I can blame you, I am pretty hot,”  Came his playful words, causing you to set your  jaw in an exasperated grimace before snapping a response. 

“Slim it, before it’s your ankle getting broken, shank,”  You growled, accent heavy and thick in their unpleasant predicament.  You took note of the airy laugh their running partner allowed to bubble past him before crouching beside you and gently unwinding the shrubbery the held them captive, leaving you to wince as your leg dropped to the floor alongside your other leg with a harsh ‘thump’.  “Bloody hell, that hurts like a fucking–,”

“Woah there, you think Newt’d approve of that kind of language?”  Minho snickered from somewhere behind you, the volume of his laughter only rising as you tilted your head back to shoot him the best glare you could muster from the ground.  After a few beats, he finally stifled the rest of his bemused sounds, eyes flicking from your haphazard position and back to your eyes that strained to keep pace with his own before he rolled his eyes and crouched down to offer you a hand up. 

You were rolling onto your stomach in an instant, gingerly twisting your aching leg a moment later with great care as to not let it snag in the chipped concrete floor before you flung your hand into Minho’s outstretched one while huffing a begrudging sigh.  His grip was cold and assuaging in contrast to your heated and unpleasant grasp from being pressed against the Maze’s floor, you noted in the fleeting moment in which your eyes met once more, only for you to bite back a bark of pain as you attempted to settle a sliver of weight onto your leg.  Had it not been for the Keeper’s firm grasp on you, you would have stumbled right back to the ground and likely been left there had he not shown up in the first place, but he offered a teasing scoff instead and slung your hand that was already in his own gloved one across his shoulders.  You obliged with his actions gratefully, almost gasping in relief as you felt the crushing weight alleviated from your injured leg, and began stumbling alongside Minho as he set a rather swift pace that you struggled to keep up with, considering you were only left with only one good leg.  

“Keep up or we might as well roll out a picnic blanket and wait for the Grievers to come and enjoy the quick meal we’d make for them,”  He managed after you stumbled for the nth time, his breathing clearly heavy, and the signs of strain obvious, but he didn’t so much as falter as he continued practically dragging you in the direction of the East Doors.  You couldn’t help but cast a partially distressed glance in his direction, feeling nothing but sorrow at the unnecessary weight you were forcing him to bear, but you knew that he would only tighten his grip on you if you tried to manage without him, so it was a losing game either way.  You cast a final glance his way, but he seemed to catch notice of your lingering stare in his peripheral vision, not even fully turning his head as his mahogany irises focused on the twisting corner wreathed with thickly woven vines just up ahead.  “What’re you lookin’ at, shank?”

You pushed off the ground with your good leg, springing forward and stumbling a few steps as Minho matched strides with you, huffing your response between focused breaths and sighs,  “Nothing.  Uh –,”  you panted softly, sweat beading on your forehead as you continued to manage single steps in the time Minho made three paced strides.  “ – anything planned for tonight?” 

The two of you rounded the corner and you could practically feel your running partner quaver in relief, his response breathless but audible as the two of you attempted to hurry through the homestretch. 

“A big plate of whatever crap Frypan has cooked and a warm shower to rest my weary bones.”

You were about to scoff a laugh the moment you cleared the Doors, already shouldering him with an eye roll and a witty quip soon to follow, when someone called out to you and Minho.  Both your heads turned in unison, your steady steps pausing as his arm fell to your waist to hold you steady, and a beaming smile instantly made way through your exasperated frown as you caught sight of Chuck ambling straight for you, Newt trotting not far behind.  

“What happened?  You guys were out for like, two hours longer than usual!”  The younger boy exclaimed as he approached, finally taking in the sight of you leaning against Minho and his arm around your form before he gagged and darted away.  “Get a room!”

You choked a surprised laugh at the suddenness of Chuck’s joke, watching his retreating figure stick out his tongue at Minho’s irritated expression, which made him look as though he was about to go after him had it not been for Newt’s prompt arrival.  You greeted him with a soft “hey” and the same smile that had been present for the short period of time you had to talk to Chuck, which the blonde seemed to eagerly return, nodding at Minho and taking in the closeness between the two of you.   

“You two had an eventful evening, huh?”  There was no malice in his voice, merely just an amusingly intrigued tone to his words as he gestured to Minho’s gentle hold on your waist, which made you fumble over your words momentarily, rapidly moving to explain the situation as your hands flicked subconsciously along with your rushed train of thought.

“Oh, uh, Minho distracted me whilst I was trying to grab a beetle-blade, and I ended up falling.  Blew my bloody ankle, it seems,”  You gesticulated to the obviously sparse pressure you were putting on your leg with a slightly nervous laugh as Newt cracked into a brighter grin.  

“It was your fault,”  Came Minho’s facetious remark before he cursed under his breath suddenly and knocked your shoulder.  “Since you’re too busy chattin’ up a storm, I’m gonna have to do the maps, aren’t I.” 

It was the second in command’s turn to scoff lightly  and wave a dismissive hand in the Asian’s direction. 

“Consider it an order.” 

“The things I do for you shanks.” 

“Yeah, a bloody hard life you have, shank,”  Newt mused, his smile never once faltering before his eyes finally strayed back to you.  “I’ll get Jack or Clint over, see what they can do in the meanwhile.  Probably just needs to keep off it for a while, take it easy.”  

“Ay, ay,”  He quipped, a lazy, two fingered salute his makeshift form of a farewell, quick to turn on his heel after his fingertips tapped your shoulder in a reassuring manner before he jogged off in the direction of the Map Room, leaving you and Newt to your devices.  

The two of you immediately fell into a bout of comfortable silence as he slowly edged toward you, taking Minho’s place at your side and slipping an arm across your shoulders before looking to you for silent confirmation to begin guiding you to the Medjack hut.  You nodded easily, instantly finding a compromised speed to limp alongside Newt, your own arm settled just under his shoulder blades as you both made your way across the Glade with the sun fully beginning to set behind you.  

“So,”  He began after a moment, doe eyes fixated wholly on you as you carefully navigated through the swishing grass.  Gladers were bustling about the expansive courtyard, some carrying plates loaded with food while Builders wrapped up the day, Gally’s shouting fit heard even from the distance you and Newt were as he ordered the others around.  “You ready for tomorrow?” 

Your head perked up in curiosity, brow furrowing as you called upon even the slightest memory to recall what was supposed to be taking place the next day, finding rather quickly that you wouldn’t be able to.  You offered te blonde a confused look as you continued to keep pace with him as best you could, only stumbling every few feet or so now that you were walking across the even terrain of the grass-laden field.  “What’s going on tomorrow?” 

The second in command chuckled, the sound more akin to the shard of a melody plucked out of a long-since-forgotten song, ancient and rich and beautiful as the golden rays of the dissipating light hit the panes of his face and sent the amber tones to his eyes sparking.  It was truly a peaceful moment, one that you found yourself eager to meld into as you laughed alongside him. 

“Greenie day.  I’m surprised you didn’t remember though, you’re usually more on top of it than I am.” 

You hummed.  It was odd, how something so big followed by the most looked forward to night of the month followed right after slipped your mind, but you figured that in combination to the surge of new Runners and having to train them alongside Minho had proved to be a bigger distraction than you had originally though.  So you shrugged, a content sigh tugging at your lips as you leaned into Newt with a nod.

“‘spose so.  Let’s just hope they aren’t another nutjob like Gally.”

[kestis-advent]

@mazerunner-rarepairs some Aris/Thomas free space for the rare-pairing bingo.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55595356

5 times Thomas noticed Aris blushed peculiarly when he lies + 1 time, he saw it, and told him about it.

[st4rfvckerr]

idk about you guys but i think @mazerunner-rarepairs needs more poly dynamics !! here's some Aris/Newt/Thomas (aka my self indulgent ship) chaotic domestic fluff (they go on a road trip !!)

(also i was thinking of writing the Teresa/Brenda/Rachel pov of this fic, lmk if you guys would like that !!)

prompt: alternate universe + write more than 1 rareship in a fic

When Thomas’s mother asks if he would like to come back to his hometown for spring break, he immediately accepts.

When his mother asks if he will bring his boyfriend, Thomas falters.

The problem isn't that he is single, the problem is that Thomas has two boyfriends.

(In which Thomas & Teresa are twins and both bring their respective polycules back home, their mother is clueless, Thomas owns a lot of weird shirts, Newt has intense road rage, and the boys never have enough bed space.)

[directionerplusgleek]

Aris knows what he wants. He just doesn't know how to keep it

And maybe his current method is a little self-destructive.

Submission for Rarepair Bingo - "Because I want you to."

@mazerunner-rarepairs

[stochastique-blog]

Weird

#mazerunner #scorchtrials #aris #thomas #teresa #newt #minho #thescorch #wicked #leave #book #movie #edit #quote

[stubbornnly]

More character sheets!

I’ve made it a habit to draw one a night, so I’m not going through art block as hard as I did.

So here is Brenda and Aris!

I’m drawing my own versions of the mazerunner cast based off of the books and movies, it is Completely okay to disagree with how I interpret them!

With Brenda I took some creative liberties on, and Aris I tried to make him look more scrawny-teen like.

[mazerunnermovie]

Tune in to the series finale of Teen Wolf on Sunday, 9/24 at 8 PM ET / 5 PM PT for the new #DeathCure Trailer.

[mazerunnerbook]

Huge Happy Birthday to @AmlAmeen (Aka Alby) + @LoflandJacob (Aka Aris)! #MazeRunner https://t.co/DMOtuYngvo

Huge Happy Birthday to @AmlAmeen (Aka Alby) + @LoflandJacob (Aka Aris)! #MazeRunner pic.twitter.com/DMOtuYngvo

— If you ain’t scared… you ain’t human. (@MazeRunnerBooks) July 30, 2018

via Twitter https://twitter.com/MazeRunnerBooks July 30, 2018 at 08:24PM

[minekanikonimanica]

Worth it yung ilang beses ako nagpabalik-balik sa sorting area kaninang madaling araw para dito. Lahat na lang kasi ng nakakasalubong ko meron nito sa cart. Pag may nakikita ako, may may-ari na. Tapos... Nakita ko siya... On the umpteenth time na pumunta ako sa sorting area para maghalukay sa mga cart na iniwan at mga librong hindi binili at hindi binalik sa lagayan. Dinampot ko... Tapos tumingin sa paligid kung may magre-react na sa kanya yun... BESH WALAAA! 😻 So yun 😹👌😹 . . . . . @bbwbooksph #BigBadWolfBooksPH #bbwbooksph #bigbadwolfph #bbwbooksphilippines #bigbadwolfbooks #bookhaul #bookhauling #bookhoard #bookhoarding #bookloversunite #bookstagram #bookworm #booklover #instabook #bookclub #youngadult #YA #boxedset #fiction #booksale #bookfair #bookish #books #mazerunner #themazerunnerseries #jamesdashner (at World Trade Center Metro Manila)

[elianglader]

Aris Jones appreciation post

[inklingofinspiration]

a gradum ad lumen - part 2 .

you guys can probably guess by now that i’m a more spontaneous author, so my activity will have it’s ups and downs, and I may just be inactive for months on end when i lack motivation / time to write.  but with my high muse for this series so far and the release of season three for umbrella academy, i’m hoping to get out a good amount of writing for as long as i can.  but anyway, chapter two!

___

Word count: 3.9k!

Warnings : general TMR TWS; blood, slight gore, disturbing ideas / images, and depicted injuries.

Pronouns used: they/them – gender-neutral.

Prompt(s) used: “Who knows.  Maybe we’ve actually made it out of this hellhole after all.”

Pairing: TMR x GN!Reader.

Parts you may have missed : Part 1

A/N: I always forget to beta read my writing, so if parts don’t make sense, just ignore it.  I typically do end up reading them after my pieces are posted, so I’ll likely get around to fixing any nonsensical bits the following week.  I also apologize for the long and pretty bland chapter, I’m hoping things will be more eventful from here on out. 

___

“Jeez, talk about a storm.”

You and Minho were spectating the harsh winds and rain from the safety of your room in the sporadic and rickety building you called the Homestead, watching as the unrelenting weather drenched anything the instant it touched it, the Gladers that were darting about the perfect example as they hastily went about gathering personal belongings and other things prone to being destroyed due to water damage to shelter in the Homestead.  Newt was amongst them, the sight of the Keeper directing the traffic through the already muddy grass and whipping winds more than enough to entertain the two of you as you awaited your impromptu supper to finish cooling down.  

Despite the later time that you and Minho had come  back to the Glade, bringing the arrival of the unexpected storm with you, Frypan had managed to set aside a few bowls of still hot vegetable stew with freshly baked bread rolls that you were more than eager to devour the minute the soup cooled.  In the meantime, you nodded in agreement with Minho’s comment, idly picking at a loose thread dangling from the hem of your nondescript shirt as the two of you continued to watch.  You had dragged a stool up to the window, knowing that you’d be there a while if your running partner planned on staying by the window for the entirety of the rainstorm, and you were more than relieved that you had done so beforehand, even the thought of trying to stand for that long with your injured leg enough to make you shudder inwardly. 

You and Newt had managed to find Clint just as he was throwing empty jars and bandages into a bin, which typically signified that he and Jack were about ready to retire for the evening, and have him run a quick but thorough check on your ankle after explaining what exactly had happened to the medic.  Thankfully, after he rolled it experimentally, observed your elicited reactions, and asked you to rate the pain you felt when standing or attempting to walk on it, he confirmed Newt’s suspicions and said that the swelling would subside after a few days, the pain sure to follow suit as well.  All you had to do was keep off it as much as possible, though, which put you in a bit of a bind; Clint had been sure to specify that “staying off it” included going out into the Maze until he cleared you again, the news making you deflate slightly.  Luckily, you were still able to at least hobble around for short periods of time, which meant that you could pitch in with the Trackhoes and whatever tedious tasks Alby needed help with around the Glade for the time being, and you were more than content to do it – so long as you were helping in some manner. 

After a few moments of the rain beating away at the roof overhead, the wind sweeping around it to form an uneven staccato, you finally managed to verbally respond to Minho, pulling your gaze away from the grey expanse of the sky to glance back at your steaming meals and back to the other Keeper as you spoke,  “hopefully it’ll let up soon.  Can’t have the Glade too wet with a new Greenie coming up tomorrow.”

You watched as he tipped his head toward you, nodding as he seemed to fully process your words. 

“Oh yeah, poor slinthead.  Almost forgot about that.  You’re gonna be here to see him bawl his eyes out and then get his ass beat by Gally, you lucky duck.”

You stifled a laugh, shoving Minho’s shoulder playfully before shaking your head and stretching your arms out above you, practically able to feel the weariness and fatigue as it settled into every crevice of your bones from the day’s strenuous events.  

“You’re gonna be here for the bonfire too, slinthead,”  You replied as you got to your feet and awkwardly limped to the makeshift table tucked into the corner of your room and retrieving the two bowls and plate under Minho’s humoured gaze.  He watched as you attempted to balance a bowl in each hand and the plate on your forearm, finding very quickly that the porcelain of them were heated almost searingly to the touch, which caused you to nearly up end them on the Runner before he snatched them out of your hands and herded you back to your stool.  You were left with the plate of bread rolls, which you quickly set aside on the window sill and plucked one right off the pile, wasting no time in savouring the food after the long day you had and the sure-to-be-longer one ahead.  

“Save some for me, will you,”  He joked, pulling up a chair of his own beside you and discarding the bowls of soup to snatch up a piece of bread himself.  You glanced up at him in response, chucking the first thing you could find at him, which just so happened to be a wad of paper to his head.  Minho jerked back, surprise quickly melting into a challenging grin as he tossed the piece of paper right back at you.  It only took a minute or two for you both to forget about the storm and dinner before you had tackled him to the floor and began trying to gain leverage over him as he struggled in your light grip.  Play fighting might as well have been a part of your daily routine, with how often the two of you found yourselves tussling about, whether it was while you were on lunch break in the Maze, trying to prove who was stronger, or just out of pure happenstance.  Either way, it always managed to have the two of you laughing, that much evident as you managed to plant a firm hand beside Minho’s head, your eyes locked with his and both of you breathless.  

“So. . .” you began, barely able to speak without a few bouts of quieted laughs escaping you, your sides heaving all the while.  “You have anything planned for tonight?” 

The male seemed close to choking, his own laughter clearly visible in his expression as he brought a knee to your stomach, sending you sprawling on the ground beside him before he mimicked your original position, his typical prideful smirk on his face,  “I think I should be asking you that.” 

You couldn’t help the grin that overtook your features, whether your heart was beating like a forgotten door in a windstorm due to the situation at hand or the fact that you and him had just spent a good five minutes play fighting completely unbeknownst to you.  However, just as you sucked in a breath to suffice your winded and strained breaths, words practically dancing on your tongue with your prepared riposte, the door to your room swung open to reveal an unmistakable blonde standing right in the doorway.  His doe-like eyes took in the scene before him, gaze sweeping from Minho’s turned head, wearing a cocky grin at his processing expression to you struggling in the Keeper’s grasp, desperately not wanting him to get the wrong idea.  

“We– we were– Minho tackled me!”  You cried in feigned anguish, an arm dramatically coming to drape over your forehead, your body going limp in response.  Under the joking front, you just hoped that it was enough to distract the second in command from the conclusions he could draw from the position you and Minho were in.  “You have to help me!” 

“I’m good,”  Newt managed, having to stifle his own laughter as you struggled in Minho’s grip, attempting to throw him off in a myriad of ways as he continued.  “Alby wanted to see the two of you, so I’d suggest postponing your little. . . session until after you talk to him.  Something about the Greenie and a tour.”

You exclaimed a sound of protest, reaching for the wad of paper you had thrown at Minho only a minute or two prior, and chucking it the blonde’s way with the sole intention of hitting the back of his head.  But he ducked out of the way and padded down the hallway just in time, allowing it to hit the wall and sink to the floor almost soundlessly, his giggles and laughs audible until he clomped down the stairs and disappeared out of sight.  As soon as he was out of earshot, Minho let out an audible groan and moved to lay on the floor in a position similar to yours, clearly dreading the unexpected meeting with Alby.  You both lay in silence for a minute or two, your eyes fluttering shut as you exhaled.  After a moment or two, you rolled onto your side. 

“Come on, shank, best not to keep our loving leader waiting,” You stated as you rolled your shoulders back, wincing gingerly as you finally stood back up.  

You both were downstairs and standing where Alby sat at the bar on the first floor of the Homestead, either swishing a glass of water or one of the bitter tasting concoctions Gally mixed up the evening before every bonfire.  Silence had settled over all of the other Gladers, each of them tucked into their own sleeping bags and strewn about the floor and practically everywhere you stepped.  At least half of them usually slept outside, but with the prolonged rain, it wasn’t quite doable, so whenever a rare storm did happen to spring forward, everyone settled with cramped space in exchange for warmth and a dry place to sleep.  Lucky for you, you didn’t have to stress all that much about sharing your space whenever it rained, courtesy of the fact that you’d gotten your own room far before any of the others had even arrived in the Glade, save for Alby and Newt, which was something you often thanked the stars above for.  Being crammed into a room with about a dozen other people wasn’t exactly on the top of your bucket list. 

You were pulled from your abrupt train of thought though, when your first in command turned to nod at both you and Minho and gestured to the stools on either side of him, a wordless motion for you to sit. 

You eagerly complied, the aching of your ankle beginning to set in and make the gears of your brain falter every minute or so from having stood for a good few moments.  Minho claimed the seat to the right, leaving you to sink into the stool on the left before Alby tilted his glass in your direction, which you steadily declined with a meagre wave, only for Minho to pluck the drink right out of Alby’s hand the moment it was offered and down the whole thing.  Judging by the bitter expression that overtook your fellow Keeper’s face, it answered the question that had drifted through your mind a minute earlier; Gally had been handing out samples of his drinks, then.  

You and Alby shared an off-handed snicker before the latter composed himself and began to speak at last. 

“Since Y/N here’s screwed their ankle for the time being, you’re gonna be stuck with running by yourself for the next few days,”  Alby pointed out, directing his words to Minho, whose thoughts were practically on display for anyone who passed; thanks for stating the obvious.  But he remained silent nevertheless, only nodding along and allowing the other ample time to speak.  He turned to you next, jutting his chin almost imperceptibly,  “which means I want you to show Greenie the ropes.  I’ll still show him around, Chuck’s already been assigned as as his tour, but just keep an eye out while you’re stuck here, yeah?” 

“On it,”  You confirmed with a complacent tilt of your head, which Alby returned without missing a beat. 

“That’s all, I just knew it’d make Minho mad,”  He mused after a moment of you both staring at him expectantly, as though he had more left to say.  A muttered “yeah, whatever” was drawn from the aforementioned Runner, at which you grinned and nodded toward the two of them once more. 

“Good that.  I’m gonna head to bed then.” 

Minho and Alby spoke their quick farewells in your direction as you headed back up the stairs, careful to avoid any of the loitering Gladers as you stepped around any of them that were inconveniently stationed right in the middle of the hallway leading off to your room.  Once you finally slipped through and into your room and shut the door behind you, night had fully fallen, starlight and moonbeams spilling through the window as you cleared the dishes from yours and Minho’s dinner that had been left on the sill and set them aside on the table they had been originally.

Thankfully, you had changed the minute you had gotten back to the Homestead after your checkup with Clint and Minho was off showering, so you collapsed onto your bed with a content sigh, feeling as though you fell asleep the instant your head hit the pillow.

—

You were awoken by a rapid knocking on your door, a voice slurred from sleep sounding from the other side allowing you to conclude that it was wake up call, to which you allowed yourself to brush off momentarily.  You rubbed at your eyes and blinked a few times, huffing a bleary sigh and swinging your legs so that they dangled over the edge of the mattress.  You stretched out your limbs before finally slipping out of bed and padding rather wobbly across your room to retrieve your running harness hung by the door before you remembered your little predicament as your ankle knocked against the leg of your dresser.  You bit back the urge to curse the stupid thing, finding payback as you harshly pulled the drawers open and rifled through clothes you didn’t use when running.  After a few moments, you settled with your go-to outfit for whenever you didn’t care to put too much effort into searching for clothes but still wanted to look presentable.  

You were changed and out the door in a matter of minutes, waving to Winston as you passed him on the way down the stairs and high fiving Chuck’s outstretched hand before you easily climbed down the handful of steps that led from the Homestead and onto the dew-misted grass.  The other Gladers were milling about, sleep still laid thick in the air along with the early morning scent of the lavender you had begged Newt to plant for about a month straight, claiming that it would help keep everyone who passed calm and content, when in reality, you just wanted it there to help cover up the eyesore of the Bloodhouse and aesthetic.  You grinned at the memory as you headed for the kitchen, recalling how proud he had looked when it first began to bloom and the way he looked as though he was about to burst when you thanked him eagerly.  

You were among the first early risers who managed to snag places at the front of the line to collect breakfast, which allowed you to peer over the counter to see what Frypan had whipped up for the morning.  You could typically tell by what had been cooked whether he had been in a rush or not, so when you laid eyes upon buttered toast and boiled eggs with vegetables freshly sliced from the garden, you knew he had to be in a good mood.  When it was your turn, you slid into place opposite from where Frypan was standing, offering him a bright grin and wave before he slid your tray of food toward you.  The chef looked up, a matching smile instantly greeting you as he leaned against the counter. 

“Hey, N/N.  Heard about your fiasco yesterday,”  He prodded teasingly, to which you rolled your eyes playfully and lifted your tray. 

“Seems as if everyone has,” You shot back easily, tapping the counter by way of farewell along with a laugh at his words.  “Thanks for the food!  See you at lunch!” 

“You too!” 

You sighed mindlessly to yourself as you walked from the kitchen, the golden rays of sun bathing you in much needed warmth and a light breeze batting at your hair as you walked.  The table that you typically sat at appeared after a moment or two of walking, the worn picnic table a good few feet away from the front door of the Homestead but at a central point that allowed you a view of all the other Gladers as they seemed to wake up more and more by the second.  You seated yourself in the middle of one of the benches and set your tray down, opting to wait to begin eating until the others arrived as you humoured a glass of water idly.  

You could feel unadulterated excitement as you remembered that it was Greenie day, practically trembling in your seat because of it.  Whenever a new Glader arrived, you took the opportunity and ran with it; you didn’t view them as another mouth to feed, rather the prospect of another pair of hands to help around the Glade and another person to share the crappy experience of the Glade itself with, as corny as it sounded.  A new person meant the possibility for a fresh set of eyes that just might be the key to finding a way out, essentially.  The idea was something Minho often teased you about when the time for a newcomer approached, but you knew it was all in good fun.  

You were about to glance over your shoulder in search of your friends when Newt, Chuck, and Alby all seated themselves in one spot or another at the table.  You grinned at the sight, Newt seeming to sense as much as he took up the seat next to you, and merely responded with a breathy laugh and quick shake of his head.  Chuck had already launched into a rigorous rant about one of the Trackhoes that had left a particularly big mess right outside of the kitchen when bringing in the vegetables of the week for Frypan to use that he’d ended up having to clean, you listening intently all the while as you pushed around the piece of toast on your plate with a fork.  Despite how clearly frustrated the younger boy was, his animated hand gestures that subconsciously whipped back and forth along with his words were enough to make you take it all in with an amused smile, left breathless once he finally finished and turned to his plate while you laughed lightly. 

“Well, we appreciate you cleaning it up, I didn’t even realise anything had happened.  I’m sure Newt can give whoever it was an hour-long lecture to make sure it doesn’t happen again, though,”  You replied between drinks of water.  You nudged the blonde’s leg from under the table and shot him a sideways glance, subtly tilting your head toward the other boy when he looked up at you in confusion.  Newt stumbled to respond, tapping his fork against his plate as he let out a slightly nervous laugh. 

“Yeah, of course.  I’ll put the shank in the Slammer next time he does it.”  

Chuck beamed, shooting the second in command a thumbs up as he took a bite of his sandwich, clearly eager to get the day started as he rushed to finish the meal.  From beside him, Alby stood, silent as ever as he watched the conversations take place, gaze occasionally lifting from his plate to glance at each of you but finally spoke as you made eye contact with him. 

“Since Greenie obviously isn’t gonna be coming anytime soon, probably in the afternoon, we’ll just have the tour be tomorrow,”  He stated in an almost bored tone, his shoulder rolling back in the direction of the Box.  “He can work with you and Newt in the gardens ‘til then.”

Newt jumped in before you could answer with more than a nod,  “Good that.  We still on for the bonfire?” 

You and Chuck both looked up from your plates at that, your eyes sliding toward Alby as he seemed to consider Newt’s words, weighing the options. 

“Yeah, I don’t see why not.  ‘Sides, I think the others’d kill us otherwise.” 

—

The early afternoon sunlight was searing as you lifted a hatchet you’d been working with for the past hour above your head before bringing it down to split a block of wood in half and embed itself into the stump below.  

After spending your morning weeding out the vegetable garden and picking carrots, you had found that the wood to be used in the fire that night still had yet to be chopped, so you were more than happy to step in and come to the aid.  Newt had tagged along, the two of you drifting in and out of conversation as he carried on with tasks around the stump that you were chopping wood at and keeping an eye on your ankle in case you misstepped or twisted it on accident, and he was taking his first break of the day, his body leaned against the the fallen tree as he watched you bring the axe down on one of the last pieces of wood.  You huffed in exertion, the back of your forearm coming to wipe the beads of sweat from your forehead before giving the tool a final swing to set it purposefully into the tree stump.  

You heard Newt whistle, your head turning right to glance over at him before he tossed you his water bottle, which you snatched out of the air and took gratefully.  You were about to hand it back to him and utter your thanks after a long minute of downing the water when the final blare to announce the arrival of the Box sounded, all the Glader’s heads shooting up in response.  You shot Newt a grin before he laughed and rolled his eyes, gesturing for you to head toward it with him on your heels.  

You arrived a minute or two after everyone else, your ankle’s several jolts of protest slowing you down to a fraction of your typical speed, so by the time you had even reached the fringes of the crowd gathered around the newcomer, the Box’s doors had already been thrown open, the Greenie likely already dragged out.  

Several murmurs and taunting comments were exchanged as everyone else seemed to get a good look at him, leaving you attempting to crane your neck to see over the sea of bodies crammed together, only for them all to let out a laugh in unison, all of them parting someone bolted through the crowd and headed straight for you. 

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a Runner!”  Someone called as the person who you could only assume was the Greenie continued sprinting, seemingly unaware of their surroundings as they took off.  You braced yourself for the harsh impact, knowing you wouldn’t be able to make it out of the way in time with the speed he was running at, but it seemed as though his luck ended about there, leading to him tripping and falling right at your feet.  

As dazed, hazel eyes looked up at you, you smiled, recovered from the minor scare he had given you and offered a hand for him to pull himself up, 

“Welcome to the Glade, Greenie.” 

[dylanobriengermanyblog-blog]

Erster The Death Cure Trailer! + Review + mögliche Spoiler?

Endlich! Nach fast drei Jahren ist es soweit: Der erste (Teaser-)Trailer zu dem 3. Teil der erfolgreichen Mazerunner - Trilogie ist erschienen.

Eigentlich hätte der Film ja schon Anfang 2017 in den Kinos laufen sollen, jedoch kam es März 2016 zum fatalen Unfall: Dylan zog sich am TDC Set mehrere Knochenbrüche zu. Die Hälfte seines Gesichtes war betroffen & er brauchte seine Zeit, um sich zu Erholen.

Aber jetzt ist Dylan Gott sei Dank mit gleich zwei Action-geladenen Filmen zurück! The Death Cure (Mazerunner - Die Auserwählten in der Todeszone) und American Assassin.

Zurück also jetzt zum TDC Trailer:

Der Trailer beginnt mit kurzen Ausschnitten aus den vorherigen beiden Teilen. Man hört Thomas sein bekanntes “Was ist das hier?” fragen, Teresa meint dann, dass sie ja aus einem bestimmten Grund hier wären, während Janson verkündet, dass sie ja der Wahrheit schon so nahe seien. Nach einem kurzen Einblenden des Filmtitels, sieht man dann Thomas (Dylan), Newt (Thomas Sangster) & Jorge vor einem etwas ramponierten Wagen stehen. Sie starren auf eine Art dystopische Stadt in der Ferne, während Newt erläutert, dass sie ja 3 Jahre im Labyrinth gewesen seien mit dem Wille auszubrechen und nun dort wieder einbrechen wollen. Man sieht auch kurz Brenda & Frypan, wobei auffällt, dass diese nun längere Haare hat.

Im Deutschen verkündet Newt dann, dass er bei dem Vorhaben in das Labyrinth einzubrechen, im Auto vorne sitzen möchte. Das Auto rast dann im nächsten Clip auf einen fahrenden Zug zu, auf dem man in einem anderen Clip mehrere Personen stehen sieht. Kurz sieht man dann auch den von WCKD gefangenen Minho im Zug sitzen. Thomas springt auf den fahrenden Zug. Im nächsten Ausschnitt weist ihn Brenda daraufhin, dass er ja nicht alle retten könne, Thomas erwidert aber, er wolle es versuchen. Scenenwechsel zum Zug, auf dem es jetzt zu einer gewaltigen Schießerei kommt.

Als Nächstes fragt Thomas etwas rhetorisch, wann das Ganze endlich aufhören würde. Teresa meint, wenn das Heilmittel gefunden wäre. Thomas gerät aus seiner Fassung und schreit, dass es kein Heilmittel gäbe. Wieder wird der Zug gezeigt, dessen einer Container jetzt ein riesiger Berg (Flugmaschine) nach oben in die Luft hochzieht. Thomas und seine Freunde klettern auf diesen und fliegen mit dem Berg davon. Zum Schluss noch ein letzter Wechsel zu einem Gespräch zwischen Dr. Ava Paige und Thomas: Paige meint, dass Thomas nun die Wahl hätte zwischen dem Retten seiner Freunde und dem Retten der gesamten Menschheit. Für was sich Thomas wohl entscheidet?

Der Trailer hat noch nicht viel vom eigentlichen Film gezeigt. Ist ja auch nur ein Teaser - Trailer. Dennoch gab es natürlich schon genug Material, um einige Vermutungen aufzustellen:

​Zum Einen bin ich mir ganz sicher, dass es einige Newtmas Momente geben wird. Leider wird aber Minho wahrscheinlich in mindestens der ersten Hälfte des Filmes nicht dabei sein. Aber wenn er zurück kommt, ist er bestimmt kecker den je!

Leider gibt es jetzt noch ein paar Spoiler, die ihr nicht lesen solltet, wenn ihr die Bücher nicht gelesen haben solltet…

! SPOILER ANFANG! Ich bin mir auch sicher, dass Seite 250 im Film dabei ist. Teresa ist ja am Ende des zweiten Teiles mit WCKD mitgegangen. Thomas Mission ist ja jetzt eben, Minho von WCKD zu Befreien. Im Buch weiß Minho ja nicht, dass Thomas Newt getötet hat. Wäre doch dann vom Film - Ablauf her der optimale Zeitpunkt, dass Newt stirbt, während Minho noch bei WCKD sitzt. Bei diesem besagten Treffen mit Teresa bei WCKD hofft Thomas, dass das Ganze endlich aufhöre. Teresa sagt dann ihren Satz mit dem Heilmittel und Thomas rastet aus und schreit, dass es keines gäbe. Vermutlich also hat Thomas seinen Freund Newt sterben sehen, da es ja kein Heilmittel gab, das diesen retten konnte. Bis zum Ende des 2. Teils war Thomas noch von diesem überzeugt und nun hat er durch dieses Erlebnis feststellen müssen, dass es keines gibt.

! SPOILER ENDE !

Auf einem der bisher erschienenen Bilder sehen wir Sonya & Aris mit den Anderen zusammen sitzen. Minho ist nicht dabei. Ich vermute, dass Sonya und Aris vielleicht WCKD entkommen sind und Thomas jetzt von dem Zug erzählt haben, in dem Minho jetzt gefangen gehalten würde. Thomas & co überfallen daher den betroffenen Wagon, der aber von WCKD’s Berg wegtransportiert wird. Daraufhin klettert Thomas dann auf diesen.

Wie erwähnt: Die Vermutungen müssen natürlich nicht stimmen, würden aber Sinn machen. Den offiziellen Trailer gibt es wahrscheinlich dann diesen oder nächsten Monat :)

[kestis-advent]

5k words of Aris doubting if he's doing the right thing while trying to bond with the girls through hair braiding and doing flower crowns with them. For the rare pair bingo.

Pair: platonic Sonya/Aris/Harriet.

@mazerunner-rarepairs

[st4rfvckerr]

@mazerunner-rarepairs it's still the 31st here so !!

honestly this was supposed to be Aris/Teresa but it kinda turned into Aris/Teresa/Thomas and im not mad about it

prompt: "because i want you to"

aka Teresa and Aris in the scorch after betraying Thomas

~

The scorch is hot and dry and Teresa is restless.

More than anything, she attempts not to think about Thomas, in the constricted little room adjacent to the cave she is currently sitting in. More than anything, she attempts not to think about Aris, curled across from her with his knees hugged to his chest. More than anything, she attempts not to think about what she has done.

She's exhausted and sore and still shaky from the aftermath of the day’s event and yet, she doesn't seem to be able to fall asleep. She squeezes her eyes shut and sees nothing but Thomas’s tortured face, frozen mid-scream, printed onto her corneas, an agonizing reminder of the actions she has committed, of her betrayal.

She tries to calm down her shaking, running a soothing hand down her arm and feeling the goosebump that had formed too long ago, but in vain. She only trembles harder, her core rattling as she grinds her teeth together.

Aris doesn't seem in a better shape, and even from where she is sitting Teresa can see how pale he is, his cheeks a sickly shade of white. He's avoiding to look at her and Teresa doesn't blame him, wishing she could seal her eyes closed and erase the vision of anything that would remind her of what she had been forced to do. The idea of Thomas alone in that small cell with the conviction that Teresa and Aris had never cared for him makes her nauseous. It's far from the truth, maybe further than Teresa would admit, and they both know it. She wishes Thomas could know that too, wishes she could run to him and embrace him, press her palms to the small of his back and his neck and promise him that she never wanted any of this to happen, that all she ever wished for was for him to be safe. That she loves him.

She doesn't move.

Aris shuffles, and Teresa’s eyes mechanically flick to where he is sitting. They share one long, meaningful look, and Teresa cannot take it anymore.

Come here. She reaches out telepathically, the morbid silence surrounding them too thick to be disturbed.

Aris doesn't budge, fidgeting with his hands as he adverts Teresa’s gaze again, his eyes running over the artificially carved stone of the cave they are sitting in.

I can't, he eventually answers, and even in Teresa’s head his voice sounds terrified.

He's shaking, wrapping his arms around his torso to stop the tremors, and Teresa wants to be the one to hold him. She runs her fingers over the warm sand, draws lines and circles absentmindedly to avoid thinking about her situation as she chews on her lips, wishing she didn't have to go through it alone.

She breaks.

“Please,” she begs, inadvertently slipping into verbal communication. “I need you.”

Aris blinks, runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. He untangles his long limbs and stands, stretching onto the position. He takes small, hesitant steps towards Teresa, and when he's close enough she pulls him in, burying her face into the pale skin where his neck meets his shoulder, breathing him in. Aris flinches but lets her, smoothing out her hair with his free hand.

He doesn't say anything but Teresa knows he's thinking, and feels his hesitation. She drives the pads of her fingers over his pulse point and feels his heartbeat, fast and sharp. His body feels wrong against hers, all cutting angles and prodding bones, but Teresa can't bring herself to care. Aris places an arm around her waist, securing her, and Teresa is more grateful for the contact than anything.

Aris eventually breaks their silence. He will hate us, he says in Teresa’s mind.

She feels sick, near instantly, her heart pounding painfully in her throat, reminded of the boy sitting not far from them after having successfully erased him from his mind.

She's almost mad at Aris, wants to claw at his skin and beg him to shut up. She doesn't, instead curling up a little closer to him. He's pliant under her touch and Teresa can feel his dread, too similar to her own. Somehow she knows that he, too, would do anything to get Thomas out of there.

Somehow she knows things won't ever be the same.

~