mazegays

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the tragedy of tumblr is you will inevitably meet people who you should be having a sleepover with. you should be rolling around on their floor and rummaging through their fridge and watching shitty movies with. you should be shopping with should be going out to a cafe with should be wandering through the aquarium with. people who you should be experiencing quotidian joys with... and you cannot! because they live one million miles away

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obsessed with characters being saved against their will. being knocked unconscious and carried away from a danger they won't stop trying to fight. being shoved through a portal somewhere far away and safe right before it closes. trying to self-sacrifice only to have the exact person they're trying to save swap their places at the last second. getting the only cure to the disease or curse bc the person administering it loves them too much to give it to anyone else, including themselves. being thrown to safety right as they had accepted dying. someone else they thought had gotten to safety running back to drag them out of danger. it's so fucking tasty

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I got another photo with Giancarlo Esposito and the conversation went like this

me: hey 10 years ago I got a photo of you pretending a banana was a gun, do you remember me?

Giancarlo: of course I remember you

me: shit you’re a good actor

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these are all so real

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honestly the discourse on this site is so bad that I have a new hot take: if you use tumblr at all fuck you

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Maze Women 2025 Prompts

Happy Monday! Here are the prompts for this year's Maze Women

Reminders:

Posting is open from June 1 to July 31

AO3 collection is here and will open June 1

All kinds of content are welcome, as long as it is tagged appropriately

Have fun, support one another, and be kind!

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Reblog to bonk your mutuals on the head every time they start thinking negatively about themselves

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this or that

@crestfallercanyon thanks for the tag!! these are always fun even if picking between them is difficult coffee shop or flower shop | au or fix-it | enemies to lovers or childhood friends* | angst or fluff | love at first sight or pining | modern au or historical au | soulmates or unrequited | fake dating or secret dating | break up & make up or proposal & weddings | get together or established relationship** | oblivious pining or domestic fluff | hurt/comfort or crack*** | meet the parents or meet cute

*who says we can't have both at the same time? **i like writing getting together more i think (at least i seem to do it more) but i probably read more established *** hurt/comfort is my bread and butter and we all know this, but i will never say no to a good crackfic

tagging (no pressure!!): @pathsofoak @annabethisterrified @get-the-medjacks @thominho-incorrectquotes @hamartian-cathexis @itsthemxze @aurumacadicus

and now i'm off to bed : )

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This or That

Thanks for tagging me @sophinspace !!

coffee shop or flower shop | au or fix-it* | enemies to lovers or childhood friends | angst or fluff | love at first sight or pining | modern au or historical au | soulmates or unrequited | fake dating or secret dating | break up & make up or proposal & weddings | get together or established relationship* | oblivious pining or domestic fluff | hurt/comfort or crack | meet the parents or meet cute *was impossible to choose between though, my goodness

This was a lot of fun! Here are some (no pressure) tags:

@astralpenguin , @mazegays , @sneakyboymerlin , @aliveaudiencegang , @worthyprnce , @sgtmickeyslaughter , @michellemisfit , @newtedison, @its-tea-time-darling , @go-catch-a-chickn , @jrooc , @qlala , @coldflasher , and anyone else who would like to participate!

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i caught Newt and put him in a jar - now we can keep him safe in turns

who’s first?

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Maze Women 2025 Prompts

Happy Monday! Here are the prompts for this year's Maze Women

Reminders:

Posting is open from June 1 to July 31

AO3 collection is here and will open June 1

All kinds of content are welcome, as long as it is tagged appropriately

Have fun, support one another, and be kind!

[mazegays]

tagged by @get-the-medjacks, thank you for the tag!! this looks fun : ) (see her post here!)

first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have fewer) and tag ten people

Meant to be Thomas glances behind him.

i get myself twisted in threads “Run!” Steve shoves at Nancy, then at him, hard.

i'll say "just fine" Sometimes it’s all Minho can think about.

Can't number the ways I know you The first thing Thomas learns about the new kids on the block: They like to fight.

could've followed my fears all the way down Thomas watches the tops of the trees.

Delicately Intertwined The few hours in between the last time Jonathan had seen Steve, for the first time in months, seems more like days.

please take down the mistletoe Gally glares at Frypan.

You've Got Mail Why can’t this be one of those things that’s easier than it sounds? your presence still lingers here It’s hard to catch his breath these days. 16 (no, 15) toothbrushes Thomas doesn’t know what they expect to learn from him. say when and my own two arms will carry you home “Teresa, are you sure we can’t use the next person asking for a love potion as an example?”

if this is more than ten no it isn't < 3 tagging: @pathsofoak @itsthemxze @its-tea-time-darling @thominho-incorrectquotes @hamartian-cathexis @crestfallercanyon @scorchedmazes @aurumacadicus @siegrrun @fandommenagerie

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Ivy trio mermay ✨

+ bonus „shiny Newt” and „matching his sister Newt” 🌝

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What they don't tell you about writing is that as you write, you discover scenes and entire plots that you hadn't accounted for that need to be written. So you can spend two hours writing and editing only to realise you're further away from the finish line than you thought you were when you started

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Chapter Two

Minho watches Thomas pick at his food; he’s anxious. He’d like to be able to tell him that there’s nothing to be worried about, but he can’t do that. He doesn’t know how Vince is going to react.

He wasn’t supposed to bring six people back. He was barely allowed to go in the first place. Vince worked with Gally, before, and he knew of Thomas, Sonya, and Harriet. When they could, he and Frypan had talked about them.

Aris and Brenda are the newcomers. Brenda has Jorge to vouch for her, but Aris has… no one.

He can’t call it a mistake, though. Not when it means they’re safe. Thomas is here, and he has some of his friends back. 

It doesn’t heal all the hurt, it doesn’t soothe the grief away the way he wants it to, but it helps. Because they’re here, and they’re alive, even if none of them are quite the people he used to know.

(He’s not the person they used to know.)

Vince probably won’t see it that way.

Vince will be upset he brought outsiders in at all.

They have the rules for a reason.

“Minho, come with me.” Vince doesn’t take him far, just out of earshot of the others. “What were you thinking, bringing six new people here?”

“They were taken, Vince, and they got out.”

“Of course that’s what they’re going to tell you. What if they’re spies?”

“They’d die first. Thomas nearly did.”

“Jorge raised Brenda, I know that much.” Vince says. “But the rest of them?”

“Thomas is my husband. Sonya is his best friend, and Newt’s little sister.” Vince… probably doesn’t know who Newt is, actually. “We all grew up together. Harriet and Gally, too. You worked with Gally.” 

“That I did. And what about the last one? Aris?”

“He was there with him. I don’t know him, but he was in there, same as the rest of them.” That has to count for something.

“I’ll have to talk to them individually. After breakfast, they’re not to have contact with each other or you until I’m done.”

“I’ll tell them that.” He already knows he’ll be next to impossible to work with all day; he won’t be able to stop worrying.

“Do you really think this has to take all day?”

“Vince is going to drag it out, hermano.” Jorge pats him on the back. “They’re fine. He’s a cautious man, and for good reason.”

“We’re all cautious.”

“He’s the man in charge around here. He’s got more to lose than most if he’s wrong about them. It’s not just trusting our judgment.”

“I know. Does he really think they’re spies?”

“No, I don’t think he does. There’s Gally now, see?” Jorge nods in the direction of the cabin..

It gets a little easier to breathe each time one of them comes back.

They’re not allowed to speak to each other when they leave. Thomas is the last to go in, and he can tell immediately that Vince is not pleased with them. The set of his face is very similar to those of guards he’d pissed off over the years.

“Why should I believe that you don’t mean to lead WICKED right to us?”

In response, Thomas starts counting his scars—he’s got a fair number without taking off his shirt.

“They took my older sister. They killed my younger brother.” He knows his voice still cracks when he talks about Chuck—Teresa had been older, grown by their standards. She’d known what she was doing. She’d known what she was dying for.

Chuck was just a boy. A child. He’s never going to forgive them for killing him. He’s never going to forgive them for taking away his childhood.

“They killed most of my friends. Almost all of the rest of us were kidnapped. Can you give me a reason I would work with them?”

“You make a point, kid, but I can give you a few. Protection in the future. Food, medicine, other necessities.”

“Minho knows where you are, though. And he told us that the first night. Why wouldn’t we just take him back to WICKED and let them get it out of him?”

“Even better point. You didn’t do any of that, though. Instead you followed him back, and you just happen to have Jorge’s daughter with you. Gally, who I was training. You, evidently Minho’s husband, and Sonya and Harriet, his friends. Aris is the only unknown variable among you. Certainly seems planned, doesn’t it?”

Thomas knows it looks bad. Of course it does.

They’re not with WICKED, and from the slight shift in Vince’s posture, Vince knows that. He knows that they’re safe.

He’s grilling them anyway.

But he’s not going to lock them up. 

They watch each other for a few tense minutes. Thomas doesn’t know what Vince is waiting for. What else does he want? A blood oath? For Thomas to beg and plead to stay? He didn’t do that when WICKED was torturing him, a staredown isn't going to break him.

“You’re dismissed, kid. Go back to your little friends. You can stay, for now.”

For now?

They don’t have nearly enough people here. It’s a small camp. They need numbers. They need people who know WICKED—their operations outside of the cities they control have stayed small. It’s not worth it, to them, to track down small groups.

If Thomas knows this after one night, there’s no way Vince doesn’t.

He has to let them stay.

They’re his ticket to getting back in. finish on ao3

i'll say "just fine"

Chapter One: some things you just can't speak about

Sometimes it’s all Minho can think about. He lays awake at night, watching Thomas sleep, always covered in at least two layers even on the hottest nights.

Why them?

Why did it always have to be them?

There used to be pictures on the walls: old, faded Polaroids from when their grandparents and parents pulled out their ‘back-in-fashion-years ago’ cameras. Digital, too, with the dates and events written on the back—sometimes careful, sometimes messy with their joy.

There used to be plants here, and the crack in the table has been there forever; no one can agree where it came from anymore.

Minho doesn’t know why this house is still allowed to stand.

It’s a sign of rebellion, maybe. By someone who sympathizes, even just a little, on the inside.

It’s his childhood home. He grew up eating dirt and mixing ‘potions’ in the now-ruined front lawn. He learned to bike and catch and run here, did his homework at the cracked table and eventually the desk in his room. Tried and failed to bake, multiple times, but got real good at making eggs in all forms. 

He and Thomas got married under what used to be a little apple grove, right in the backyard, at sixteen and fifteen. Before everything went wrong.

He takes what pictures he can save: Pool parties, homecoming, prom night, trying desperately to pretend the writing wasn’t on the wall that whole last year.

They should be in college. 

They should be in a little apartment.

They should be together.

He should have more than photographs.

A young Teresa, holding Chuck’s tiny hands. Newt and Alby, who eloped in a five-minute ceremony at the beach they grew up building sandcastles on.

Winston and Zart, planning. He remembers taking that one. Remember thinking ‘this is a moment history needs to record’.

He doesn’t know why he thought he would be the one who’d get to decide what went in the history books.

(he’s not sure history books are going to exist again.)

But he’s not here for pictures; he’s not here for memories.

Still, Minho takes the time to put them all in a folder carefully, making sure the corners aren’t going to bend when he puts it in his bag.

They’ll be good to have.

(he wishes he had a hundred, a thousand, a million more. he wishes he had his friends, his husband, his family back.)

The last time he was here, they were fighting. Fighting for their lives, screaming as dozens of people older and stronger, dozens of people who should have known better tried to kill them all.

Killed more of them than he likes to think about.

And took more than they killed.

He’s never going to find out what happened to most of them, he knows. He can try, but he’s one person. No one else wants to try again.

No one wants to come back here; there are ghosts in the walls.

It’s too bad they can’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know.

finish on ao3

[mazegays]

4- “warn me next time!” and Thominho for the prompt ask? 🫶

(Ann aka @get-the-medjacks from main 🙂)

hi!! thank you for the ask! i had a great time with it : ) I hope that you don't mind that i combined it with friends to fiances; i wasn't intending to but once it started heading that direction i didn't fight it so this one is longer, so it is headed to ao3... but i'm already past my bedtime so not tonight!

Thomas glances behind him. This exercise has a purpose, or so their cross-country coach insists, but Thomas skips out on it most days and the only person who consistently beats him is the person he’s looking for.

And they’re on the same team, so it hardly matters if they just switch places now and then.

Minho said that there’s something he’s supposed to be looking for in here, but the woods are dense enough that he could be going in circles all day and not find it.

There’s a rustling to his right, but that could just be the wind or an animal. Thomas doesn’t see anything when he turns to look.

“Come on, you haven’t found it yet?” Minho calls out. Thomas can’t place where his voice is coming from before he’s face-down in the dirt. “Oh, shit.”

Minho’s flipping him over before Thomas even has the chance to try. “Dude, did you really break your nose by falling into the dirt?”

“Warn me next time, yeah?” Thomas mutters, blood thick in his mouth. He hates nose bleeds. “Nah, it doesn’t hurt, just a nosebleed.”

“If you say so.” Minho helps him sit up, arranging them so Thomas is practically in his lap.

“What was I supposed to be finding, anyway?”

“It’s not as fun if I just tell you.”

“You could lead me there, then.” Minho’s not usually this cryptic. Maybe when they first met, for all of three minutes. And definitely not since they got their apartment.

Their apartment. When he thinks of it like that, he can pretend that they’re together. There have been times when he thinks that Minho might say something, or kiss him, but nothing’s ever happened. Not even when they’ve gotten drunk at parties; their friends would never shut up about it if they’d, like, made out or something.

“I guess I have to. Clean up your face first. Don’t want people thinking I’m murdering you or something.”

“You are, by proxy. Coach is gonna kill us.”

“Hey, our training today is all in here. Coach doesn’t know shit.”

“Whatever.” Thomas rolls his eyes and tries to stand, his ankle immediately folding under him. “Oh, we’re so dead.” If he’s sprained his ankle now… he’ll be lucky if no one catches on. His connective tissue sucks at its job, so he’s very used to sprains and rolling his ankles, but that doesn’t mean that he’s supposed to run on them.

“How bad is it?”

“Probably about a two, by feel. Don’t know how swollen it is yet.”

“Do you still want your surprise?”

“What kind of question is that?” And the longer they can avoid going back, the more time he has to figure out if this is something he needs to go in for or if he can handle it himself.

“You’re not walking, though. I’ll carry you.” Minho doesn’t give him a chance to protest, moving so he can put a careful arm under his knees.

“This really isn’t necessary.”

“It really is. We’ve got races to win.”

“You mean I have races to win.”

“We’ll see about that.”

It’s nice, being in Minho’s arms; Thomas spends more time staring at them than he’ll ever admit to.

When they’re making dinner together, moving around their tiny kitchen like they’ve been doing it their whole lives. When they’re running, when they’re studying, when Minho’s lifting weights.

… Okay, Thomas can see why everyone else makes fun of them all the time. He can’t think of a single time they’ve been apart for longer than an hour all week. All month, probably.

What would Minho do if he just kissed him, right now? He could.

Thomas settles for nestling his head into Minho’s neck instead.

It doesn’t take long for Minho to get to Thomas’s surprise.

“The clearing? Why didn’t you just say that, dumbass?”

“Not just the clearing, look around.”

“Did you hide a picnic basket in a tree?” Thomas can barely see it through the leaves.

“Yeah, and I have to get it down now, so you’re gonna have to sit tight.”

They go out, yeah, but they don’t do things like this.

What if Minho’s moving out and he wants to break the news gently?

Minho has blankets and everything--one for the ground, and one to wrap around them as they eat. It’s not that cold, but now that he’s not moving, Thomas is getting a little shivery.

“This is nice.” Thomas can’t think of anything else to say. He doesn’t know what Minho wants with this. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d like it. And I got red velvet cake for dessert, from that bakery that you insist is the only place that does it right.”

When did Minho have time to put this together? They’re around each other all the time. Thomas’s favorite pasta salad is in there, and his favorite type of juice, from the brand that he thinks tastes the best.

“Minho…”

“Thomas, I know we’ve been friends for a long time. The first time I saw you, I was so annoyed by you, and honestly I still am, sometimes. But you’re my best friend. We live in each other’s pockets and I don’t want to do anything without you.

“So I asked our friends to help me set this up so you wouldn’t think anything was wrong, and keeping it a secret hasn’t been fun. I wasn’t even sure it was a good idea, because I don’t want our lives to untangle in any way.”

Okay, so he’s not moving out. Minho takes a breath, his lips parting, and Thomas can’t take it anymore. He’s going to die if he doesn’t kiss Minho right now.

So he does.

He loses track of time as they kiss. Ants are probably getting into the picnic basket, all over his red velvet cake, but it doesn’t matter when he’s kissing Minho.

Nothing matters when he’s kissing Minho.

As soon as they stop kissing, Minho wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him close.

“Marry me?” Minho says, wonderfully breathless.

“Are you sure that’s the next step here?” Thomas asks, but he’s out of air too. “Yes, Minho. Any day. Every day. Why weren’t we doing this before?”

“Because you’re bloody idiots!” Newt steps out from behind a tree.

“Have you been watching the whole time?” Minho pulls the blanket tighter around them, like they have something to hide.

“Well, someone had to make sure you didn’t die out here!”

“And, what, you volunteered?”

“No, we did rock-paper-scissors for it. And I lost.”

“You’ll have to play against Minho to make yourself feel better then.” Thomas laughs.

“There may also have been an agreement that you might end up engaged before you even started bloody dating, so I have something else for you.”

“Newt, if you picked out our engagement rings I will throttle you.” Minho says. “At least let us decide.”

“You lost that chance when you didn’t get together in high school. I didn’t pick them, your families did.” Newt hands them the rings; one is Thomas’s grandfather’s wedding band, and the other is from Minho’s father.

“Can I stay for cake, at least?” Newt asks, after they’ve put the rings on each other. They don’t fit quite right, but that can be fixed. 

“No. Get out. Don’t come back.” Thomas says, not looking at him.

He’s got a fiance to kiss. goal wc: 250 or less wc: 1235 (are we noticing a theme with these word counts? i don't think i've had one of these actually be 250 or less yet)

prompts list here on ao3 here