#other conditions that it might be instead

[drdemonprince]

perhaps i'm being very autistic about this, but trying to figure out where i can contribute my time and energy is so hard because there's so many actually important issues. actually important ones. spreading yourself thin isn't helpful, but even if you tune out the roar of people demanding that you care about every last thing, the tug on my heart is still strong. probably another lie capitalism has pounded deep into our minds, that we have to do it *all* even. even knowing that many of these issues are inter-related, and doing the things you *can* is what's important and contribute to unraveling the greater fabric of bad shit. how on earth do you find that spot though? where you don't go mad going in mental circles about what you're *not* doing? idk i can't be alone in this?

I have an instagram post about this with regard to donating to Gazan fundraisers that you can read here.

Here's my take: when we get swept up in not being able to "do it all" or freeze up with complete inability to choose any cause to work toward because we can't decide which one is the most worthy, we are operating out of a highly individualistic framework that positions the self as the agent of change.

It might not feel like it is a self-centered perspective, but it's exactly the kind of isolated, self-as-savior, systems-ignoring outlook that a culture of capitalism and rampant Christian moral Puritanism conditions us to adopt (even if you're not Christian). I have a whole book about this btw.

I have felt overwhelmed with my inability to "help everyone" or address every cause before, and frankly the solution was to get over myself and realize that I have a very limited ability to make a difference and that simply doing my part is my only duty, not doing it "all". I have to trust that I am but one small, relatively insignificant human and that I am surrounded by literally millions of other humans who care and will pick up their small part of the work as well.

it doesn't matter that i select the absolute optimal ideal cause or place into which to put my energy, because frankly i am not important. i just need to show up and pick up some work. there will be plenty of work left for the next person to pick up.

It was absurd main character energy to expect myself to do everything or to be able to "save" people. And yet that was exactly the kind of moral burden I was putting on myself for a very long time. And it led to overcommitment followed by burnout, spreading myself thin, and most crucially failing to make any my efforts part of the work of an enduring, tightly knit COMMUNITY.

A focus on individual effort makes us neurotic, alienated, self-focused, lonely, confused, conflicted, and forever putting our energies into initiatives of limited value with limited potential for payoff. instead, choosing one little lane to do our own bit of work in -- literally ANY lane, so long as it is accessible and motivating to us and plays to our strengths -- will mean that we are actually making a difference consistently and connecting to others who are taking part in the work too.

we must do this work not to morally purify ourselves, which is not possible, but because we see something worth doing and we decide to get up and do it. the arena in which you choose to make a difference can be literally anything from donating to people's gofundmes to sharing other people's fundraisers to feeding your neighbors to blowing up a pipeline. it literally does not matter which particular choice you, specifically, make, only that you do something and keep at it at the pace that is sustainable for you. and trust that literally millions of other people are all around you doing their tiny tiny part too.

[sumicchin]

CHIMES OF THE HEART

❃ a wind breaker (satoru nii) reader insert.

CHAPTER 2

Sakura needs to remind everyone that his apartment complex doesn't have galvanized steel extensions.

content warnings: female reader, everyone testing sakura's patience

Nirei

No luck here on our end!

Tsugeura

nada here as well!!

Anzai

she's better at hiding than me that one time with KEEL

Takanashi

Skill issue

Sakura reads the messages his classmates sent in their group chat, all of them having the same result. They all decided to go by pair with the exception of the captains and kings as solo to respond quickly to their subordinates. Sakura found himself wandering near his apartment, what's already eerie in ambiance has been worsened by the rainy weather. The perfect hiding spot for a fugitive, he thinks. While there's the possibility the target already escaped to the next town, him feeling the target's skin told too much that the person wouldn't last long if the rain persisted.  'If only I was quick enough, I could've caught this person easily,' he mutters to himself. 

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and whisks it out swiftly. A message from Kusumi, one of Kaji's friends, was sent to all Bofurin students with a video attached.

Kusumi

Sent a video.

This is her right????

Sakura watched the short clip and sees the now clear figure of a girl hanging onto a lamp post, back hunched and labored breathing. His phone rang again, another message from Kusumi.

Kusumi

Kaji and I are near an alleyway by the bakery btw!

Come quick >< !!!!

I think she knows we're here but she's not moving (⁠;⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

Sakura doesn't understand, but he immediately runs to the said location. Just earlier, he was trying to fight this person, but now he's running with all his might under the rain for some stranger. 

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

Many students had already arrived at the girl's location, but none of them knew how to handle the situation. Kaji, already waiting for about a minute or two, stepped forward but was pulled back by his shaggy-haired vice-captain. "She's gonna die from hypothermia if we keep acting like pussies," Kaji scowls. He turns his head back to the girl, only to see Umemiya next to her. Sakura arrives just in time to see Bofurin's leader take off his dark green tailcoat and put it over the trembling girl who hasn't moved an inch.

"We aren't here to harm you, we promise you that." Umemiya keeps his eyes on the girl whose lips are a shade of purple, hands gripping the lamppost already pruning.

What they didn't expect was to see their leader in a defensive stance as he blocked a punch directed to the face.

"Let us help you, please." He states with a firm tone while making sure he isn't gripping the girl's fist roughly. He felt like he was touching ice, and he needed to work his magic soon to save her fast. Umemiya was thinking of having someone come out and help him seize the girl, but he noticed the pressure on his arm was gone.

He felt a weight on his chest instead.

Everyone watches as the girl falls towards Umemiya, who is fast enough to catch and wrap his arms around her. He then proceeded to carry the unconscious girl who was barely breathing in his arms.

"Whose house is nearby, quick!"

Everyone looked at each other, until a certain first year raised his hand.

"My place is nearby, but I don't think it's the best place to keep her," Sakura says. Umemiya however argues that it's their best option so far, so they decide to rush over to his lodging. Some of the boys ran to shops to get supplies such as heat packs and warm soup.

Umemiya, Kaji, Tsubaki and the first years arrive at his seemingly run-down apartment a few minutes later, laying the girl down gently in Sakura's futon for warmth. Said homeowner unfortunately did not own pillows, but Nirei was kind enough to offer his lap as a makeshift cushion. Normally, Sakura would've been embarrassed by what he was seeing, but the severity of the girl's condition had him too worried to care about public displays of affection.

"Kaji says that his group is going to arrive soon with food and heat packs," Hiragi relays to Umemiya whose gaze is stern and clearly bothered, different from his usual demeanor.

Hiragi swears to himself that Umeyama's expression had something other than concern showing.

Suo and Tsugeura were seated oppositely at the girl's side, their much larger hands taking in her cold, paler ones to warm her up while waiting for the heat packs. Kiryu and Tsubaki offered to rush to Cafe Pothos and ask Kotoha for help and spare clothes. Not much was going on inside the room while they waited for the second years to arrive, with only the labored breaths of the girl permeating their senses.  

"So this is yer place," Hiragi tries to break the ice as he looks around the room, searching for at least one piece of furniture. "Didn't know yer a minimalist."

Everyone looks at the two of them, the room's atmosphere slightly lifting. Sakura however feels embarrassed, having his friends over in such a cramped space. "I-I don't have any need for furniture...just a waste of money."

Umemiya lets out a chuckle from his underclassmen's persistence, "I can get you a bean bag and some curtains if you'd like!"

Sugishita glares at Sakura upon hearing Bofurin's leader offer his rival free stuff, "You should be grateful Umemiya-san is offering you gifts!".

"It was pretty concerning the first time we came here..." Nirei says with Suo nodding in agreement, feeling the girl's hand feel warmer as time passed. "I have faith that Sakura will eventually learn how fun it is to decorate."

Other than warming her up, Tsugeura fiddled with the girl's hands as if he were massaging it. A thought suddenly appeared in his head, face scrunching up as he imagined it.

"Doesn't this mean that she's gonna stay here with Sakura for the night?"

Said homeowner exploded.

❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋❋

A few hours passed, and everyone seemed to calm down a bit. After Kaji's group arrived, some of them bid their farewells but reassured they were willing to help if needed. Kiryu and Tsubaki arrived with Kotoha in tow, allowing her to clean and change the girl's clothing into warmer ones. They all sat in silence as they prepared warm food and drinks for everyone.

"So, is no one gonna fill me in?" Kotoha breaks the silence, everyone turning their heads towards her. Umemiya could only let out a weak chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry Kotoha, we didn't mean to keep you in the dark." Bofurin's leader turns to resident chatterbox Nirei, who still hasn't given up his job of makeshift lap pillow to retell the events—from the beat-up red light district traffickers to Umemiya almost getting squared in the face.

"She must've run away," Kotoha says looking at the near folder yet tattered kimono beside the girl.

Suo stares intensely at her sleeping figure whose breathing is now at a normal pace, "Perhaps she works at an izakaya...or even a brothel."

Everyone started formulating their own theories, on how this girl came to be and what drove her to act violently before succumbing to weakness.

"She looks like a princess while sleeping, straight out of a fairytale," Tsubaki says with smitten eyes, pushing away strands of hair covering her face. "I believe that Kotoha and I should be the first ones to have a talk with her once she wakes up."

No one seemed to reject the idea, so it was decided that they all go home to freshen up and come back once Sakura let them know she was awake. Upon hearing the idea, Sakura went into panic mode, asking his more experienced peers what to do if the girl woke up.

He was ignored.

So it was like that for hours.

The Haruka Sakura, resident bad boy lone wolf who happened to be given the flaw of being the worst at socializing, is now alone in his very humble (and minimalistic) abode with a girl who was now sharing his futon. He hasn't moved an inch since arriving at his own room, mind you. Every time he dared to make a move, to maybe freshen up since he stunk as hell from having damp clothes and a face full of wet concrete earlier, he suddenly retreated once he heard the girl make noises in her sleep.

Is it normal for girls to do that, he asks himself. His train of thought was broken when he heard actual words come out of her resting figure, repeating the phrase "Get away from me" with intensity.

His feet drag him towards the girl, her face sweating profusely and eyebrows knitted. She's having a nightmare.

Does he wake her up? Sakura finds himself reaching out to her but immediately retracts his arm. This internal warfare kept going until the girl calmed down on her own.

Nicely done, Sakura.

What he didn't expect was to suddenly have eyes staring back at him.

[heliads]

want you, need you - minho

Ever since you became a Med-Jack, Minho can't seem to stop collecting random injuries that absolutely require your attention. You might be catching on.

masterlist

The Med-Jack hut is either overwhelmingly busy or frustratingly slow, no in between. There are days when every single room in the place is crammed full of patients– somehow, every Slicer manages to cut themselves, and every Builder breaks a bone– and you wish you had picked any other job than this one. The busy days are rough. You start wondering what might happen if you stopped being able to put people back together as quickly as they fall apart. You think about the endless cycle of injury and healing until everyone wears out entirely, a map of bandages and skin pressed thin like dead leaves.

Those are the hopeless days. Then, you’ll have a dry spell, when everyone manages to get their stuff together and no one complains of sprained ankles or excessive sunburns. At that point, you start twiddling your thumbs and mindlessly organizing and reorganizing the medical supplies. By the end, you almost start wishing people would get hurt just so you’d have something to do. It’s an uncharitable thought, certainly, and one you regret once you’re stuck in the middle of another hurricane of aching Gladers, but when there’s nothing else to do, it comes nonetheless.

You’ve found yourself in the middle of another boring week. For the past few days, the Slicers have remembered how to hold their knives so they chop the animals and not themselves, the Builders hit their nails with their hammers instead of their thumbs, and the Runners don’t give themselves cramps and stay in perfect health.

Well. Not every Runner.

Even during the most boring stretches of your admittedly short career as a Med-Jack, you can guarantee that you’ll have one specific patient. Just like clockwork, every few days a certain dark-haired, teasing someone shadows your door, complaining of overworked tendons, pulled hamstrings, heatstroke, and every other medical condition under the sun. If Minho can think it up, he’ll say he’s got it.

It’s honestly becoming ridiculous. For someone who’s such a capable Runner, it is truly remarkable that he survives so many ailments. One would think he would give up running entirely if it gave him this much grief. Yet every day, Minho sets out for the Maze with a cheerful disposition, and at least two times a week, he appears in the Med-Jack hut, sporting some new injury that materialized at some point during the day.

So, when you look up from labeling the medicine cabinet for what must be the dozenth time this month, and realize that you haven’t seen the Keeper of the Runners in a few days, you know that it’s about time for him to come down with the flu, a severe migraine, or maybe both at once.

True to form, you’ve barely finished going through the medications on one shelf of the cabinet when Jeff, one of your fellow Med-Jacks, comes into the room. “You have a patient,” he says impatiently. “Guess who?”

You roll your eyes, although you can’t help a small smile. “Can’t you handle Minho yourself?”

Jeff gives you a look. “I tried. He told me he wanted to wait for a professional. Figures.”

You snort. “You’ve been here longer than I have.”

“I told him that,” Jeff complains. “This might surprise you, but he didn’t care.”

“Tell him again,” you say, turning back to the pill bottle you’re labeling. “I’m busy.”

Jeff heaves a dramatic sigh. “I’m not wasting my time with that. He’s your problem, go fix him.”

You shoot him a confused glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” Jeff retorts, reaching over to grab the bottle out of your hands. “Ever since you started here, Minho randomly comes over all the time. You know he used to hate visiting the Med-Jacks before you arrived? Now he can’t stop showing up.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you protest weakly.

Jeff sighs again, so deeply you swat him on the shoulder. “That’s klunk and we both know it. The data doesn’t lie, Y/N.”

“There’s no data,” you argue, but Jeff’s already waving you out of the room. 

You make a face at him, then go down the hall until you find Minho waiting in one of the smaller rooms meant for patients. He’s poking at some supplies on a small table in a corner of the room, but he straightens up excitedly when he sees you.

“Doc! I’m so glad you’re here.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “What have you done to yourself now, Minho?”

“That’s no way to treat a patient,” Minho frowns exaggeratedly. “Whatever happened to bedside manner?”

“You got bedside manner the first ten times you showed up for no reason,” you tell him pointedly. “After that, you get whatever I feel like. You should be happy I’m still giving you bandages. We only have so many, you know that? Maybe I’ll start charging you a fee.”

“I can pay,” Minho says lazily, leaning forward so you can feel his breath hot on the side of your face. One of his hands starts to curl around your side, pulling you closer to him.

Dangerous, he is. You idly push him away with your palm, pretending to examine the supplies he’d been poking at earlier so you have time for the heat to leave your face. “How about you just tell me what’s wrong with you this time?”

Minho sighs dramatically. “Well, since you care so much, I’ll have to tell you that I’ve broken an ankle. It hurts so bad. This might be it for me, Y/N.”

You arch a brow. “Which ankle?”

He pauses a moment, thinking. “Left.”

“You’re standing on it just fine right now,” you point out.

Immediately, Minho shifts all of his weight onto his right leg, grabbing the back of a nearby chair for support. “No, I’m not. Look, I can’t bear the pain. It hurts.”

You just look at him. Minho looks back at you, unable to stop the corners of his lips from curling up into a proud half-smile. “Do you really expect me to believe that?” You ask.

He gasps. “Y/N. Are you trying to discredit your own patients? Some Med-Jack you are. I bet Clint would trust me.”

“Then go talk to Clint,” you say, making for the door.

Minho hurries over, flinging out an arm to close the door before you can open it. “Wait, wait. I didn’t mean it, sweetheart. You’re the only Med-Jack for me, I swear it. Clint is nothing to me.”

You take an obvious glance towards his feet. “That ankle sure seems to be healing fast, huh? You moved over here like it was nothing.”

Minho leans his back against the door. “Alright, you got me. Nothing’s wrong with the ankle. Still, my lungs have been feeling exhausted lately, that might be something–”

“That’s because you run everywhere,” you say, grinning in spite of yourself at his antics. “Come on, Minho, you’ll have to get a better excuse someday.”

“My bad for wanting to see you,” he returns. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever. I miss you,” he adds a little quietly.

It makes you smile in earnest this time. “So you’re here to be a good friend, then.”

“Yeah,” Minho says, and you might be kidding yourself but you swear he sounds almost disappointed, “A good friend. That’s me.”

You tap him gently on the arm to get him to move from the door. “How about I promise to find you straight after my shift ends, and you agree to leave without using any more of my medical supplies? Jeff’s going to kill you if we run through anymore bandages, I swear it.”

Minho pretends to think this over. “Straight after? You promise?”

“I promise,” you repeat. “So? Do we have a deal?”

“We do,” he intones solemnly, and at last lets you open the door and usher him out, but only after extracting one more promise that you won’t delay to talk to Newt or anyone else once Jeff lets you out.

When you get back to the storage room, you find Jeff waiting for you, grinning knowingly from ear to ear. It bothers you for some reason, not the fact that he’s on this topic again but worse, the thought that he might not be entirely wrong for it.

“Wipe that look off your face,” you mutter.

Jeff’s grin just broadens. “How was your star patient?”

“Fantastic,” you assure him, “And I’d be fantastic too, if you could stop bothering me with whatever weird thing you’re thinking about right now.”

Jeff shrugs exaggeratedly. “Of course. I don’t know why anyone would think about Minho being unable to go three days without talking to you. That would be crazy.”

“It would be,” you add darkly. People in the Glade have said that you have a tendency for killer death stares. However, Jeff seems to be impervious to it, because he just keeps sitting there, proud as anything, as if he were in the right about this.

As if. This isn’t the first time your friends have tried to suggest there’s something going on between you and Minho, and the honest truth is that nothing has happened at all. Yeah, Minho’s your best friend, and yeah, your days are significantly better when you see as much of him as possible. What about it? It doesn’t mean a thing. Life is hard. If you want to talk to the boy who makes you laugh like no one else, you should be able to do it in peace.

You can’t deny that the rumors stay on your mind, and recently, you haven’t been able to deny them with as much conviction as usual. You’re not blind, Minho is good-looking, and maybe you start thinking about something past friendship when he makes another excuse to get in your personal space when you’re sitting together by the fire or walking through the Glade. 

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it before, but as good as it might be to have Minho in every way that matters, you’ll still be perfectly happy with just the one. You can’t risk your friendship, even if, two drinks of Gally’s brew into a Bonfire Night, you start thinking about what it would be like to kiss him, or worse still, when Minho drops by the Med-Jack hut again, you convince yourself that maybe he’s not just doing it because he’s a good friend but because he wants you just like you want him.

It can’t be, though. For one thing, Minho is notoriously confident. If he liked you, he would have told you by now. You’ve seen him argue with Gally for the fun of it, not to mention the fact that he chose to be a Runner of all things. Minho lives on a constant adrenaline rush. Compared to what he does on a daily basis, confessing his feelings has to be nothing major. If he wanted to tell you, he would, and he hasn’t, so obviously there isn’t anything to tell at all.

For another, and this might just be in your own head, but Minho is so brave and capable that he seems to eclipse everything around him. Maybe it’s just the force of your own perspective, but you swear the entire Glade orbits around him. When he gets back from a run, he’s immediately swarmed by Gladers asking him about how it was, if he saw anything important. He’s always the first person people talk to, the immediate choice for a dinnertime companion. Minho could have anything he wanted in the Glade. So why would he want you?

You’ve managed to force the whole thing from your mind as best you can. Minho is your friend. At least you can have him like that, even if it kills you sometimes to look at him and imagine all the ways you would love him if he would just give you the chance. Any good medic can keep their feelings internal when they need it, and you’re the best there is.

You meet Minho later that night as promised, and you do your utmost to pretend everything is normal. You stay with him until the sun sinks below the horizon, until the Doors slam shut, until the moon begins its familiar path across the sky. You talk the whole while, idle chatter that occasionally drifts off into comfortable quiet. You’ve never been able to do that with anyone before, feel so at ease that you can stay silent for minutes at a time and have it not be awkward, but with Minho, it’s so simple. Then again, you can hardly remember anyone at all. Maybe there was someone in the past who mattered to you just as much as Minho does now. Even without your memories, though, that feels impossible. Minho could have no substitute, not to you.

You’re expecting the next day to pass in a breeze of idle hours, but around midafternoon, your dreary day of organization and the occasional bad paper cut is harshly interrupted by the sound of chaos outside. There’s shouting for a Med-Jack, and then several people are rushing someone in. It’s a Runner, apparently, you hear the details as you run for supplies. The Maze started moving during the day and he got hurt.

You can tell from the way people start nervously looking at you that it’s bad. At first, they don’t say any names, but then you burst into the chamber that serves as your operating room and you know that it’s worse than you could have possibly imagined, for not only does it seem like there’s enough blood to drench the Glade, but the victim isn’t Ben or one of the other Runners, it’s Minho. Your Minho. Your Minho, bleeding out on your table, who will need you to save him.

You stand there for one fragile moment, drenched in horror, then spring into action. Clint and Jeff have surfaced by now, and you direct them to anesthetize Minho. You want him to feel as little of this as possible. After carefully cutting open his shirt to determine the source of all that awful blood, you determine that it’s not as bad as you thought, more of a broad surface wound than a deep puncture. That much blood loss is dangerous, though, and he’ll need several stitches to close the flesh.

About an hour and a half later, you’re done. You and the other Med-Jacks lean back, panting heavily. Your hands and clothes are smeared with red, but color has crept back into Minho’s cheeks, and he’s starting to breathe evenly again.

“How long until he wakes up?” You ask Clint.

He checks a nearby clock, then Minho’s pulse. “Fifteen minutes, probably, but he won’t be fully conscious for up to an hour.”

You nod. “That’s good. Clear out, you guys. Get some rest.”

Jeff stops by you on the way out. “You can stay with him if you want. He’d be glad to see you when he wakes up.”

You let out a slow breath. “Thanks, Jeff.”

He pats you on the back then leaves to wash up. You spare the time to scrub your hands and get on a fresh change of clothes, but head back to Minho as soon as you can. Ben was with him when the accident happened, he said that everything happened so fast he hardly knew what went down. You don’t want Minho to wake up alone and confused, covered in bandages and unable to shake the scent of blood.

Once the immediate danger is over, you’re left sitting in a chair by Minho’s cot. His chest is swathed in bandages, but no red has flowered through them yet, which is a good sign. As you watch, the fingers on his right hand start to twitch. Clint said he would start to stir around now, and you’re glad to see the signs of movement. Watching him there– so still, so motionless– it made you wonder if he would wake up. It made you wonder if there was any way you could survive if he didn’t.

Minho is starting to make small sounds of distress under his breath, so you lean over and take his hand, squeezing it carefully but comfortingly. “Hey, hey. It’s me. You’re safe.”

You hear the ghost of your name in his whisper, and then Minho starts to quiet down again, restless rustles turning back into quiet breathing. You check his heart rate with your free hand and are glad to see it returning to normal, shaking off the lethargy of the anesthesia.

Minho sleeps for a little longer. Afraid to upset him, you keep your hand in his. You can tell when he wakes again, because his fingers start to press against yours. Consciousness comes upon him like a wave beating upon the shore. All of a sudden, his eyes are blinking open, and then he’s trying to sit up too fast and is forced back down to the cot by a bout of dizziness.

“Easy,” you tell him, pressing him back. “Don’t try to sit yet. The meds aren’t out of your system.”

“Y/N?” Minho asks, voice hoarse.

Hearing the scratchiness of his voice, so totally removed from the usual confident cadence of his words, makes your throat close up. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m here.”

“Hey, Doc,” he says roughly. “Jeff won’t give me klunk about the bandages now, will he?”

“No, he won’t,” you say, torn between laughter and outright sobs. “How do you feel? Any pain?”

“All good,” Minho tells you. “What about Ben? Is he okay?”

“Ben is fine,” you assure him. “You’re the one we’re worried about, Minho. I knew the Maze was dangerous, but like this–”

He cuts you off, squeezing your hand. “Hey, all in a day’s work. I knew the risks when I went in.”

You shake your head, hot tears starting to well up in your eyes. “No, no. This isn’t fair. You’re not supposed to get hurt during the day. Minho, I didn’t even know anything happened, and then they brought you in, and there was so much blood– I thought I was going to lose you, and I didn’t even get to tell you–”

Even in the midst of your tears, you have the presence of mind to stop yourself before you give yourself away. It’s just– the thought had not abandoned you the whole time he slept, even the whole time you operated, that you could lose him without ever having him at all.

Minho shakes his head as best he can. “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

“But you almost weren’t,” you whisper. “What if Ben hadn’t been able to get you back in time?”

You take a ragged breath, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it’s no use. Your shoulders shake, and Minho leans up slightly, as if drawn to it. To you.

“You’re pretty even when you cry,” Minho says, one hand weakly rising up to brush a tear from your cheek. “How is that fair?”

You laugh haltingly, in between the tears. “Barely awake five minutes, and you’re already flirting.”

He grins. “It’s all I want to do.”

If this were any other day, you would be able to brush off that comment, but something about this moment, this space– no one else in the room, Minho’s palm still tenderly cradling your cheek, your heart still erratic from the stress– you can’t help but turn the words over and over in your mind. All I want to do. All I want to do.

“Minho–” You start.

“Shh,” he says. “You already know that. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen through it. My smart girl. All those times I came to see you. Don’t say you haven’t realized.”

“Minho–”

“Newt says I’m being stupid. That I shouldn’t keep trying to have something that isn’t mine. But I’ll tell you something, Y/N, I’m selfish, and I’m greedy. I want you, and I don’t want to think about you with anyone else but me.”

Your breath is harsh in your chest, heart beating so loud you’re certain they must hear it echoing all across the Glade.

Minho’s eyes are fixed directly on yours. He sits up carefully, enough to reach his other hand up past your waist to the small of your back. “Tell me you don’t want me, or I’m not going to stop trying to keep you. Tell me to stop.”

Your lips part as you try to form an answer. Minho’s eyes dart down to the movement, and they only rise to your gaze with great reluctance. “I don’t want you to stop,” you tell him at last. “I want you, Minho. Only you.”

Two years now, you’ve known Minho. You’ve seen him proud and defiant, laughing and joyous and as happy as anyone could hope to be. Still, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile as brightly as he does right now, right before he kisses you.

Every touch is electric, and this is the most powerful of all. Your mind is reeling from the moment your lips meet, sending you far beyond the reaches of the Maze to the sky itself. You could be floating forever if you wanted, and you only start to gradually come back to earth when he slowly breaks away.

“Minho,” you say, hesitating over every syllable.

“Y/N,” he mimics, lips turned up in an irrepressible smile.

“They’re going to want to know that you’re awake. I promised I’d get the others,” you tell him.

He considers this for a moment. “They don’t need to know immediately, do they?”

You smile. “No.”

Minho’s eyes glint. “Then kiss me again. You can tell them after.”

It seems like a fair deal to you. You kiss him to make sure of it.

maze runner tag list: @blondsauduun, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss,

@hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @imwaysthelastchoice, @fadedver, @il0vebeingdelulu

all tags list:

@wordsarelife

[fancygremlin]

I absolutely adore how the themes in Malevolent are introduced so subtly at the very start of each season. I feel that each season has distinct ones that could foreshadow how Arthur and John's relationship progresses throughout the show.

I will be rambling about it below (sorry if it's a but messy, I wrote it all in one sitting and didn't proof read it very thoroughly).

The first season is introductory, so we are shown right away how the characters struggle to come to terms with their condition and how to make the best of it to actually accomplish their goals.

This theme is introduced when we learn right at the start of episode one that Arthur is a pianist, as well as a private investigator. The piano requires two hands to play a song. The right hand plays the main melody, the one everyone recognises by ear and is more likely to hum when recalling the song. The left hand plays the accompaniment, the melody that is perhaps not as nice to hear on its own, but makes the song being played that much

It's not a coincidence that Arthur keep the control of his right hand, while John gains control of the left hand. Arthur is the one that has to interact with the world around him, he is the one that people see and hear and talk to, he is the one that ultimately controls where to go and how to move about a space. He is the main melody, the one people recognise and hear and remember. John is instead stuck in the background, unseen and unheard... limited to just relaying visual information to Arthur. However, without John's aid, Arthur would be incapable to do anything at all. John is the accompaniment: the trained ear can't hear it well, but without it, the main melody would not be as complete, or as rich, or pleasant to hear.

In season two we have them transported in the Dreamlands and this is an environment that John is more familiar with. This is not a safe place to stay, anything or anyone could bring harm. We see the characters pushing their boundaries, learning how to survive... but is it fair to respond to a harsh environment with more harshness? In about episode two (I think, I am writing this all from memory, so sorry if I am misremembering), Arthur mentions Aesop's fable of "The Woodcutter and the Trees". The quote that is being repeated multiple times over the course of the season is "at least the handle is one of us".

If we want to apply the fable to Arthur and John, it could be possible to infer that Arthur might be the axe, while John is the handle. Arthur is the one that is foreign to the place, that does not understand it and is more often than not ready to resort to more violent or extreme methods to escape or resolve issues. On the other hand, John mentions that he has faint memories of the Dreamlands, he is part of them and he remembers he had some sort of control/dominance over them when he was part of the King in Yellow. It's because of John that Arthur is even able to access the Dreamlands in the first place, so maybe John did betray in some way his nature and bringing harm to the place that he once called home.

In season three, the main theme was the (1) loss of humanity and (2) identity. In this case, this was communicated, respectively, (1) by removing a thing that was at the core of the characters' personality, and (2) by offering a narrative foil to the characters.

Loss of humanity for Arthur was symbolised by the destruction of Faroe's music box, which sent him down a very dangerous and dark path of self-vendetta fuelled by murderous rage. On the other hand, Arthur's narrative foil was Larson. Both characters experienced a great loss, but the motivations and (in particular) emotional response to the event was what made them become very different people. Arthur's loss of his daughter haunts him constantly, drags him down with the gravitational pull of a black hole. He cannot forgive himself, to the point of considering himself a monster that does not deserve redemption or forgiveness. On the other hand, Larson willingly sacrificed his daughter for power and money and never experiences any remorse or guilt for his deplorable actions.

Loss of humanity for John was shown by having Arthur strike a deal with Kayne: John is back, but with none of the memories or experiences he lived with Arthur. He is back as a manipulative fragment of the King in Yellow. It's interesting how he regains all his memories when Arthur plays Faroe's music box. Of course, John's narrative foil is... another version of himself... Yellow. I could write an entire essay comparing the two and their respective journeys on how they wanted to try so hard to form their own identities... but I'd go off on a very long tangent. This is already long enough and I am blabbering too much.

I've JUST started season four today and I am two episodes in and I am suspecting that this season's theme is fractures... Just in episode one I heard Arthur choosing a story about a broken relationship between two friends, then the multiple mentions between Arthur and his father in law, and then in episode two there was also the broken window in the room they are renting in Mary's apartment... I am honestly so scared that by the end of this season something very big will happen that will push Arthur and John apart and fracture their relationship almost irremediably.

I know John is hiding something very big from Arthur and it's very possibly something regarding Kayne. I also have a sneaky suspicion that Arthur had a real chance to get some answers about Kayne from Yellow, but of course he just decided to NOT DO THAT!

Can't wait to have this show mess me up once more.

[bunn-iiii]

let's play a game of how many blood panels have I done in the last year and how many more am I gonna have to have!!! (hard ver: extremely afraid of needles and have trauma surrounding needles)

[aplpaca]

something that might be useful to people, but i recently learned that what i thought had been part of auditory processing issues is actually receptive language issues. cause id always heard audio processing issues described as "difficulty processing what youre hearing", and assumed that having trouble processing the meanings themself was part of it. but apparently audio processing is more accurately described specifically as like, "having difficulty processing which words are being said". and i definitely experience that, but apparently having difficulty connecting correctly-heard words to their meanings is actually a receptive language issues thing rather than an audio processing issues thing.

like, ive described my receptive language issues before as like, if my brain is a lake, then the lake is frozen and the words im hearing are sitting right above the ice and wont sink in. i can perfectly recognize the words, but either it takes longer for the meaning to click, or it doesn't click/permeate deep enough for the meaning to be fully/intuitively understood, or in some cases the meaning just doesnt click at all.

and another way this differs from audio processing issues is that it can apply to written words also. so like, having to read a sentence several times before it stops being just a mental noise and starts meaning something. or having to double check written instructions just as much as id have to ask for clarification on a lot of vocal ones. and i hadnt connected this to the same thing happening with vocal words before but yeah, both part of receptive language issues

[priceofreedom]

rebirth is gonna destroy us i just know it

[asjjohnson]

Part 10 of my poll adventure fic. Links: the beginning, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9.

---

Danny walked with Sam and Tucker toward his first class.

Just as he started to step through the doorway, Sam touched his arm.

"Wait, Danny, I should warn you..." she said, and searched Danny's face as though she was about to tell him bad news. "A new transfer student was introduced yesterday while you were gone."

His ghost sense had gone off partway through class yesterday and he'd spent a long time searching for the ghost before finally giving up, missing the last few hours of school.

Danny tilted his head to the side in confusion. "Okay? And... there's more to this, isn't there?"

Sam and Tucker looked at each other for a moment, Sam giving Tucker a pleading look, before they both turned back to Danny.

Tucker said, "You remember Gregor?"

Danny frowned. "He's back?"

"Well, noooo..."

"But he does kinda resemble him."

"Okay, whatever. One more thing to think about," Danny said with a tired sigh, and then walked into the classroom.

With a quick glance around, he saw a head of white—or maybe platinum blond?—hair. The boy had his head down, writing something in a notebook.

So that's the kid Sam and Tucker were worried about.

He wasn't sure what his friends thought about him—whether they thought he could be a GIW operative, or some other kind of spy, or maybe even a ghost in disguise... or if they'd just wanted to remind Danny that Gregor hadn't been any of the above. But he would be prepared, whatever the case was.

Danny sat in his own seat, and pushed the transfer student to the back of his mind for now.

He talked with Sam and Tucker for a few seconds. Then Valerie came into the room, looking tired.

Just after she sat down, Danny heard something buzz. She tensed and glanced toward the door with a frown, leaning forward slightly, as though preparing to leap from her seat.

"Good morning, class!"

Danny turned to see Lancer walk through the door. Lancer sat down and sorted a few stacks of papers on the desk, before looking up and beginning to call roll.

Danny started paying attention as Lancer neared his name.

"Dan Phantom?"

Danny startled, his desk rising an inch and slamming back to the floor.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say, "I'm not Phantom!" a voice behind him said, "Here."

Danny snapped his head around.

Green eyes lazily met his.

Danny stared, mouth still hanging open. It was like looking in a mirror.

"Danny Fenton?"

One eyebrow, above the green eyes, rose in question.

Danny's shin was kicked and he turned back around.

"Danny Fenton."

"Oh! I'm here!"

"Tucker Foley?"

"Here."

"Valerie Gray?"

"Present—can I use the bathroom?!"

Lancer pinched his nose and sighed. "Fine, but"—Valerie ran toward the door—"be back in fifteen minutes this time!"

Danny wondered where Valerie was going. His ghost sense hadn't gone off earlier.

But his thoughts turned back to the 'transfer student'.

He didn't know what was going on. Danny's eyes kept nervously glancing the kid's way, though he didn't seem to notice. Why did he look just like him?! Why was he here?! Was he him somehow?! What was happening?!

Lancer finished taking attendance and said, "Now, today we'll be reading pages—"

A ghost flew by the windows. And Danny's ghost sense activated.

He raised his hand. "Uh, Mr. Lancer, I also need to use the bathroom." His voice was higher than usual, still freaking out about the white-haired green-eyed kid that looked and sounded exactly like his ghost half.

Lancer looked skyward. "Fifteen minutes, Mr. Fenton. Fifteen."

He let out a sigh of relief as he ran from the room.

---

“Alert me when there’s an update” list:

@charlietheepic7, @chrysanthemum9484, @mymadmedleyw, @dp-marvel94, @aikoiya, @whydouwantmyname, @cinturon-cadena, @freakofyournature, @satanicrutialspecialist, @danphantom80, @kaezer, @chipsyay

(if you want on the list, specifically ask to be alerted for updates in a tag or comment. Ask again if I forget to add you! If I can’t tag you, I’ll send a Message.)

[monsterbisexual]

feeling like im being driven to my execution (its a drs appointment)

[steakout-05]

headcanons i have about Craig the scientist :)

as are most of the characters i have headcanons for, Craig is on the autism spectrum. he has a flat effect to his voice and facial expressions, doesn't really get most social cues, doesn't know how to react to others in pain the "right" way, misunderstands metaphors and speaks in quite a direct manner because it makes the most sense to his brain. he's quite a literal thinker. he also tends to hyperfixate so hard on a task that he forgets his basic needs and hygene, and thus has quite an unkempt look underneath that hazmat suit of his (which i will get into later!). Barry often ends up needing to get Craig something to eat because of how long he hyperfixates on something.

Craig sometimes doesn't exactly pay attention to his tone of voice, so sometimes he can say something that, to him, sounds completely normal, but because of his tone, can end up sounding really ominous to other people by accident ("We know who you are, Barry.")

Craig has traumatic cataract in his left eye (or wherever the fuck craig's visor crack is supposed to be in canon lol) from the explosion in 'Level 2' and is half blind in that eye. his eye has a very clouded look as a result of the injury. he's also got a huge scar there too that required some pretty gnarly stitches later, and his skin is almost completely numb around that area.

Craig also never really had the best eyesight before the injury, so he's always wearing these big ol' nerdy glasses underneath his helmet. and yes, they are tacked together with a band-aid lol

Craig is one of the few scientists who is not a clone of Peter Simpkins, the late friend of both Professor Brains and (in my headcanon'd canon) Craig. i like to think that Craig and Simpkins knew each other when they were first recruited by Legitimate Research and was pretty close to both him and Brains, and since Simpkins died, Brains has kind of taken more of a liking towards Craig (mostly out of loneliness and needing someone to help around at the lab, but he has a genuine fondness for him under his demanding and angry exterior).

There's a bit of a fan theory that Craig is the same guy as the scientist in the 'Robot Bird' rock opera, which i like to believe is the case. i mean, he's got the same monotone voice as Craig, it's gotta be him. i hope this does end up becoming canon because i think it'd make for an interesting conflict between Barry and Craig!!

Craig may or may not be related to Lab Lady.

Craig's counterpart in the mirror universe is named Kayla.

Craig is demiromantic and is questioning his sexuality (he thinks he might be bi or pan), though he definitely knows he loves Barry <3

Craig has an unhealthy habit of wiping his embarrassing memories, like, a lot. he wipes memories of awkward accidents in the lab, particularly painful failures, and most importantly, the memories of losing literally all his stuff and his career to Barry, which is why he doesn't immediately recognise him in the shorts. Craig has a lot of trouble recounting stories from the past because of this memory-wiping and felt a sense of emptiness, which getting hit in the head certainly didn't help with, so he tried inventing that apple in the Multiverse Madness event to get some of them back. it was pure dumb luck that Barry didn't end up witnessing what happened to Craig in the 'Robot Bird' opera and both are completely unaware of the disastrous can of worms that could have opened. bro's gonna end up like wallflower blush if he doesn't keep that memory erasing under control

and finally...

under his helmet, Craig has messy dirty-blonde hair, a rounded face that has a few stray facial hairs he forgot to shave, a long scar down the left side of his face, hazel coloured eyes and pale skin. this design is inspired by the designs made by @dexterno-artz and @schnabel53 respectively :D

this is a sketch of my finalised(ish) craig design!!! i've shown earlier versions of this guy in a couple of older posts but i haven't really revised his design much until now. i kinda had the idea of him looking like a stereotypical nerd and then made him messier. i might tone the amount of hair he has down a tiny bit but also i really like the nerdy bird's nest thing he has goin on :) i like to think he literally hasn't brushed his hair in several weeks and it's just become a bird's nest from nights of staying up doing science stuff

how i feel about barry tbh. he's literally so dumb i love him

(also apologies for the photos being kinda blurry and me forgetting to turn off the filter. again. in my defence it looks really nice and orange on my phone)

sometimes i like drawing him saying stuff from the shorts to get a feel of how he'd look when talking and make sure he looks juuuust nerdy enough for me to go "yep that's craig". also his big,g, handns,s,

drew this as a quick side profile sketch to get a general idea of how i want to draw him from this angle. he's talking to barry offscreen and falling in love with him <3

stupid little comic with a stupid little interaction that would definitely happen between these stupid little guys <3 barry being a little asshole every now and then is very entertaining to me. i need to see him antagonising craig and starting an old couple bickering argument with craig, that would heal me i think

i think i'll post more of this design in the future, i really quite like it a lot :)

[possiblytracker]

HELLO????????

[githvyrik]

it’s so funny to watch the internet try to nail down the mental illness/personality disorder that makes people assholes. and by funny I mean annoying at best

[thebadtimewolf]

hey

do yall know any genuine rose tyler stans that are actually upset about how s1 rose was treated as an equal AND a love interest but as soon as s2-s4 rose was treated more as a equal BECAUSE of her being pideonholed as only a 'i can do things too! see!' archetype of love interests that it took two other characters to be treated as an actual equal? like why did ten thru donna said that he needs an equal and that what the dr needs an equal??

rose was already an equal in season 1. its established bts that rose was an equal to ninth doctor? but now why didn't that sentiment continued on with ten? what happened?

like martha is treated like an actual equal because the dr in the past have always hated themselves, reflected back at them, but still shared the joy and comradarie during a joint adventure with said version of self. like even the time lord victorious two parter book - 8 was flirting and 10 flirted back but at the end of the day - both of em can carry themselves without the arrival of the other, leaving the eyerolling and mild disgust or disinterest aspect to ninth dr when he shared a room with them. like the dr not wanting to "date" martha even though he literally in text trying real hard to pull the wool in both ur qnd his own eyes is essentially him trying not to fuck himself.

donna is - in an almost wish-fufilled in what the dr missed from the master - considered an equal preestablished since season 3 guest appeared and fully in season 4. shes seen as a pea in the pod like the dr master rani and romana - keeping up with that specific lot of em without going thru the 'but im better than you' alien egoist rhetoric that the time lords fall to in times of upper handedness. she can manipulate she talk fast she tech-savvy yet people-grounded BUT she makes sure the respect isnt temporary and doesnt lord it over people because everyone is great and without that person, the whole system can fall apart.

because so far, it doesnt feel that way. like are yall not mad that tenth doctor gave rose up?

after seasons of build up and getting shot and everything? the funky alien eldritch being in a mask of an earth lookin boy that had a chance to man up and show feelings when the opportunity is very in your face given to him to do so in a space where he could do so and — he just gave her up? all that moping and whining and when given what he wanted, he just went: no. here. i need an equal and i have donna so im giving you what i TEN think you want as an equal in me and thats him. BUT NINEROSE ARE EQUALS SHE NEVER SAID SHE WANTED HIM HUMAN BUT RATHER HIMSELF AS HE IS.

its like fridging rose but worse. in s2-4 you made her in memory of someone else that ALWAYS treated her as an equal instead of actually continuing on with that with the next face. death wouldve been more forgiving and thats not a great thing to come to a conclusion to. The one that really treated you as both a love interest AND equal is dead, and now you're married to the discarded imitation of the one that only typecasted you as a love interest.

tentoo should be mad abt this too but this aint about him, this is about yall and the rose tyler connundrum.

i wouldve settled for her having the hand - settling for the hand if that hand turned into ninth doctor (like full on christopher eccleston doing donna impression everything) instead of what we got - which was dust. it made more sense that way. because then the dialogue narrative - the doctor's excuse - wouldve been more well recieved. Does it need saying would have more weight if Eccleston played a NineToo whispered i love you because you know it was well meant. Genuine. Its coming from someone that always treated you as an equal and also getting that i love you and not just - oh the human i love. i miss them not because i treated them on equal terms, its strictly because i only love them - no equality at all

like yeah chris wasnt going to return but hes a movie actor - hes used to green screen. he couldve sent a video message in a leather jacket and let it be done. like we couldve had nine saying i love you to rose on doomsday like do you get what im trying to say like. like tooth and claw if it was nine and rose both wouldve been like 'oh look at that a werewolf transformation!' And not what. we got. LIKE DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN

[missingn000]

adding onto the anon who was talking about the horror of the crystal dragon section, i think part of it is the fact that we're mostly introduced to antics/shenanigans involving her (ie getou's consistent beef w/her and miminana feeding her gravel), but i also think another large part of it is that we're told she's eaten people (+ rika) but we don't really see this shown in such graphic detail until now

this is also a great point!! (also i chuckled both here and in your comment about getou having beef with her. it’s true theyre so fucking funny and he’s just constantly done with her sass) we’ve seen her fighting (like in getou vs toji where babygirl tried to roast our guy & getou vs rika where she pinned her to the altar) but yeah outside of that it’s miminana playing with her and her sneezing on getou and overall being a silly menace. and yeah you’re so right!! it’s mentioned she does darker stuff but. god i’m reminded of this one line in ch19 where gojo thinks “if anything, this is the difference between seeing pictures of a murder and being at the scene of the crime.��� the whiplash of show vs tell strikes yet again

[vitiateoriginator]

Before, my datemate and I were considering adopting a second cat once we move into our new apartment but now we're thinking about getting a dog instead 👀

[neverendingford]

.