Intro Post

#I don't take constructive criticism because I'm not wrong My tag for Maze Runner rambles/headcanons

#I'm bored let's talk My tag for Maze Runner headcanon lists

#the gladers: an interview incorrect quotes/captions

‧₊˚ ⋅ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ᓚᘏᗢ ᗢᘏᓗ

Ao3 is HelomoPomelo

my main account is @blacknwhite-dwarf-star BUT I'm more active on this blog

shouts-out to this fuckass coffee brand for making two identical bottles except one of them is called Unsweetened and tastes like tap water that someone shouted the word "coffee" at and one of them is called Not Too Sweet that tastes like nothing but pure liquified brown sugar

pretty much just had the back-to-back worst coffee experiences of my life

this is probably what coffee hobbyist Gally experiences every single time he comes home from work and sees Minho standing a-little-too-innocently in the kitchen

friend who's on season 2 of Invincible asked me what I'd do if I was friends with Multi Paul and now I have to explain to him that we wouldn't be friends

vampire Minho x human Thomas

but it's just Thomas with the biggest, gayest crush on Minho

and Minho who is desperately trying to keep him away (because if Minho hurts Thomas, he'll never forgive himself)

Minho who is pleading with Thomas like "please do not invite me into your house"

Thomas thinks Minho is anemic

because of his cold skin and all that

"Us anemic bros gotta stick together! I'll hold you steady when you stand up too quickly!"

Minho's heart, which died 40 years ago, is melting

but finally, Minho has to break the bad news to Thomas

not that he's a vampire — Christ on a cross, no

Minho can't bear to think of losing Thomas because Thomas thinks he's a monster

but Minho has to cut Thomas off

before Thomas gets hurt because of Minho

"But I won't get hurt," Thomas says. He reaches out and places his cold hand on Minho's even colder hand. Minho's entire body shudders as he fights his instincts to maim and bite. "I'll have you to protect me."

"I think if you stay with me, you'll just get into trouble."

"You're strong. You'll scare off the trouble for me."

Christ on a-

"Thomas, I'm trying to say I can't control myself around you!"

"Oh!" Thomas blinks. Then blushes. "Okay."

"Wh-What-?"

"We can kiss if you want. I've wanted to kiss you too. For a while now."

"N-No! What? Thomas! I meant... I'm going to hurt you!"

"Promise?"

"Thomas!"

somehow that night ends up with Minho being the one to be littered with bite marks while Thomas snores loudly beside him

what the fuck just happened?

"I bit you to save you" vampire w/ human but it's a vampire biting a stillborn child

is this anything

like vampire and human are good friends, and then human suddenly starts having a swollen belly

"Human, I do not mean to alarm you, but there is a parasite inside of you. It is feeding off of your nutrients and will create many negative side effects to your body. You will not feel well."

when the child is born dead, the human is heartbroken

those wails of grief and horror. sounds only a parent could make

among vampires, children are sacred

mostly because they are so few and far between.

and to bite a child (human or not) is to die because no vampire will respect a predator that stalks the young

they may not be human, but they are not beasts either

but surely, if the vampire bit to save instead of hunt...

It would certainly save the human from crushing grief

do vampire children age?

Vampire-born children age because the Old Blood flows through them

but a human child turned to vampire...

i dont remember what I said before about Minho gaining fat in Paradise

except for the fact that Thomas would be so happy because it represents how Minho can finally relax

and sure, Minho has a preference on what he wants to look like

he can still bulk and then cut; he can still run daily; he can still train with Gally to build muscle

but Thomas is happy to see that layer of body fat that wasn't there in the Glade

and Thomas is happy to know the fat will never leave

because for once in his life, Minho is eating enough food

isn't being served the bare minimum calories because WCKD never sends enough rations in the Box

isn't running himself to death but is instead on a healthy workout plan with Gally and Thomas (and Jorge and Brenda!)

and Thomas also loves Minho's body fat because...

"You're emasculating," Minho mutters

"Em-u-la-tor," Thomas says. He giggles and burps. And then flops over.

Minho catches Thomas' head before he can tumble off his lap completely. He wishes he had the courage to catch Thomas' hands too.

Hands that are currently kneading his sides. Thank god he's not ticklish. Just emasculated.

"Fluffy," Thomas coos. "Squishy and fluffy and cuuuuuuuute."

"I could beat you in an arm wrestle with my pinkie," Minho says. Just to make himself feel better

"I love your tummy," Thomas replies. Minho is pretty sure he didn't even hear him. "I love sleeping on your tummy. Squishy little pillow."

"Emasculating," Minho mutters quietly. He doesn't have the courage to say it louder. Thomas always gets upset when he says stupid things like that. The only reason he says it now is because Thomas is drunk, so maybe he won't hear him or won't care.

"Min-Min's tum-tum is cute-cute," Thomas says wisely

Thomas tells Minho that he also gets as ridiculous as Thomas does when he gets drunk. Minho doesn't believe him. Nobody gets as ridiculous as Thomas. It's why Minho loves him so much

"You're em-emasculating," Minho says

Thomas hears that one. He pouts. Gently pinches Minho's soft sides.

"Soft and squishy," Thomas insists, looking upset. His eyebrows knit together. Minho swallows dryly

"Yeah, yeah," he says, breaking like a twig. Thank god Gally isn't around this time. "Soft and um... and squishy."

Thomas grins. Bright as the goddamn sun. Minho swallows again.

[excerpt from a minewt fic im probably never gonna finish]

For a long time, neither of them said anything. And then something crumbled inside Newt's eyes, delicate like a perfect porcelain teacup, and the words began to tumble.

"When I first saw you, you were wearing a silk blue scarf around your neck. I remember you because you came into my shop with bruises on places there should never be bruises, and red hand marks on places that ought to be kissed. I remember what you were wearing because it was blueberry season, and I couldn't help but think your rich blue scarf made you look like a noble, surrounded by my shelves stuffed to the brim with blueberries. Except, the scarf was the only expensive thing you were wearing, so you didn't really look like a noble so much as you did a runaway or a thief.

"You begged me for just a handful of blueberries, and you gave me coins that should've never been enough to buy you anything in my shop. Except it was blueberry season, and every single bush in the forest was teeming with them. I had picked so many that year that the only way I could think of ridding myself of them was to sell them dirt cheap. So you bought twelve pounds of blueberries for a price not even my cheapest books can compare to. I gave you free blueberry muffins because you looked so starved. It looked like it was the first time anyone had done anything kind for you.

"I thought you died. I thought you sold your scarf and had a week's worth of a comfortable food until the money ran out and all you could do was sit on the side of the road and wait. This town has never had a beggar before. I wasn't sure you'd survive.

"But then I started hearing about you. The human boy, the anomaly, the one who used magic without learning or even believing in it. The one who used magic to help people in the village without pay. You cured diseases, eased arcane pain, made prosthetics and wands and potions for magicians who lost their magic. You helped carry goods, helped elders buy from markets, delivered letters, hosted free dinners for all townsfolk, fixed broken pipes. And when you were tired, you helped children catch frogs, you baked bread for the schools, you made nests for birds, you banished malicious ghosts for free. I couldn't go a moment in the town without hearing about you, and I knew it was you because I couldn't go a moment in the town without hearing about your vibrant blue scarf. I used to sit outside my shop and wait, hoping to catch a glimpse of your blue as you flew through the streets on your broom."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. What will you do today? How will you help someone now? Will you visit the schools with cakes enchanted to sing? Will you knock on every door and offer your magical services for free? Will you sit in the park and charm the birds to sing melodies so that the old and the young can have an even more magical afternoon? And just what exactly could I do to have you and that scarf in my shop again? Would you still like my muffins? Did you even remember me? Blueberry season came and went. I didn't join the blueberry bake-off. I couldn't look at a single blueberry without thinking of you."

context + Gally

"Surrender yourself to a mandatory bloodletting." The words and the voice were authoritative, but the man himself barely had the decency to even glance in their direction, too busy scowling at a thick scroll in his hands, the paper trailing on the damp stone floor. That it was a miracle the ink didn't bleed crossed Thomas' mind before he latched onto something else.

"Bloodletting?" he echoed, too disoriented by the overwhelming truth of the Right Arm's existence that he forgot to hold back his tone of utter shock and disdain. Recovering, he added in a much politer tone, "Sir, I cry for your pardon, but bloodletting is an extremely dangerous practice, and whatever beliefs you may have about the evil spirits in your blood-"

"Silence him."

Stars flashed in his eyes as one of the leather-armored men bashed his head with a shovel. Thomas fell to his hands and knees, gasping.

What followed was a sound that witnesses of the scene would later describe to their neighbors as not a yell or a cry but a roar of sheer fury as Minho dragged himself out of the churning river and threw himself at Thomas' tormentor. He crashed into the man and easily toppled him over, his steel armor and muscled body giving him the weight advantage, not to mention the weight he had gained from having water drench his armor and clothes.

Heavy as he was, he was slow too, and whatever blows he might have traded with the man were seriously hindered. Two other men of the Right Arm rushed over and hauled Minho off, easily subduing his sluggish flailing.

Thomas found his shoulders grasped roughly by a knight as well. His world spun as he was hauled to his feet, and he dangled limply in the knight's hold until the effects of the blow his head had taken abated.

"Sir," he managed to mumble. "Please."

"He's an apothecary!" Minho shouted from where he tussled with two knights. "He's an apothecary, he's someone useful for you! He risked everything to come here! He killed the King's knights for you!"

Whatever else he might've said was lost as his head was forced under the river. Thomas took a step towards Minho, concerned, and five swordpoints forced him back.

"Please, sirs. He's nobody harmful," Thomas said, or at least he thought he did. The world shifted strangely underneath his feet, and his own voice sounded as if it came from far away, as though he was yelling through a narrow, league-wide cavern. "He's- He's protected me on my travels to find you. He's an enemy of the King as well. He's ready to join you in your rebellion."

Nobody listened.

They forced Minho under twice more before his thrashing stopped and they could properly restrain him. Thomas noticed they kept him close to the river, perhaps in case they felt the need to dunk him again.

He swallowed his darkest oaths.

"Most intriguing," the man said. He had finally lifted his gaze from the scroll. Thomas wished he would lower his eyes again; the man was now studying Thomas with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. "An apothecary, or so your friend claims."

"I lost all my work in the river," Thomas said, trying not to let his anger show.

He and Minho had been on the bridge connecting the outside world to the hidden shelters of the Right Arm when they'd been attacked by arrows and forced to leap into the treacherous depths of the raging river below to evade them.

It had been a pure miracle that someone had protested the killing of two younglings, and an even greater miracle that a patrol of knights had actually been sent into the river in an attempt to retrieve them.

Thomas quickly glanced around the crowd of honestly pitiful-looking knights and spotted the young boy who had protested. He didn't meet Thomas' eye, he was busy staring at the ground with his eyebrows knitted in anger. His nose was crooked and bleeding. Thomas wondered at it.

Without taking his burning eyes off Thomas, the man barked, "Gally!"

The boy Thomas was eyeing jolted, then made his way to the front.

"This one," the man said, grasping and pointing his spear so that it rested between Thomas' eyes — Thomas heard a snarl from Minho, followed quickly by the solid thump of knuckle against flesh — "claims himself to be an apothecary."

"We saw the boy ordained with herbs and grasses when we spotted him and his companion on the bridge," the boy, Gally, mumbled. He was oddly soft-spoken for someone who looked so enraged. "I trust his word."

"And remember that you would have had him killed!" Minho yelled. He grunted as another blow was delivered.

Thomas yearned to look at what was happening, but with the spear so close, he didn't dare.

Nevertheless, Minho continued, "You owe him sanctity! An apology!"

There was the splash of water, and suddenly Minho went quiet. Thomas grit his teeth and tried not to shake with fury.

"The Right Arm," thundered the man, "is beholden to no one. Especially not to things of the King."

"We are runaways," Thomas said in the politest tone he could muster. "We were hoping to find you and join your ranks. We are no friends of the King, nor do we consider ourselves his things. Sir."

"Then you will have no issue surrendering yourself to a mandatory bloodletting," the man said coldly. At Thomas' protests, he held up a hand and, in an abruptly much kinder tone, explained, "It is a procedure for our healers to check the purity of your blood. We've had many half-blood spies walk into our ranks. Perhaps if you both allow us, we might see to it that our soldiers could be gentler with your friend, who, I might add, has injured several of my finest soldiers."

So Thomas bit back whatever medicinal concerns and furious retorts he had and let the knights — soldiers, as the man called them, though Thomas wasn't entirely sure what a soldier was — prick his finger with a needle.

This is what they think bloodletting is? Thomas snorted to himself.

It was a considerably easier concession when Gally was the one to handle the process.

Minho, on the other hand, worked up a mouthful of spit and blood and spat in Gally's face. "No," he growled.

"Minho," Thomas tried to say, but the boy spat in his direction too.

"No! I told you, I'm not here for the Right Arm! The only reason I'm here is to see you properly off before I leave for my own travels." His anger told Thomas that he partially blamed him for falling into the Right Arm's grasps, something he had made clear during their travels together that he wanted to avoid. Thomas frowned, feeling both guilty and defensive.

To Gally, Minho said, "I have never requested nor sought your shelters, and I refuse to surrender myself to your bloodletting."

"You have seen our most secretive homes," Gally said quietly. His soft words suddenly seemed to hum with danger. "You cannot leave." He took a hunting dagger from his belt in one swift motion.

"Minho! Gally!" Thomas cried. "You can't-"

"Who I am has always been my greatest secret and burden," Minho murmured. He seemed to lose his fire at the sight of Thomas. It might've been a curious fact if Thomas wasn't so frustrated at Minho's stubbornness.

"You'd rather die than-"

"Nobody will die," Gally quickly cut in. "He will simply be imprisoned. Until he surrenders himself."

Minho's jaw tightened. He worked his mouth for a moment, as though he were chewing the words before he finally spat them out, and when he did, he spit it out with fervent venom. "Fine."

Gally nodded once, a sharp, quick movement, and then the soldiers grabbed Minho's arms and began binding them tightly behind his back.

"Minho!" Thomas cried incredulously. He lunged for the closest soldier. "Release him!"

Several hands reached out to stop him, but it was Minho's boot that dealt the blow which knocked him backwards. Thomas fell to the cold stone of the cavern, his hands clutched his chest where Minho's foot had made contact and gasped for air, winded.

"Don't interfere," Minho growled.

"Come," Gally murmured at the same time. He shot a glare in Minho's direction, sheathed his dagger, and gently lifted Thomas to his feet. His face didn't seem to lose that sense of anger. Thomas wondered if maybe that look was just burned into his eyes.

He was so injured and stunned by Minho's attack that he shuffled off in the direction Gally guided him in. He considered fighting back and insisting Minho be treated properly, or to rage and storm at Minho until the idiotic stubborn boy agreed to a simple needleprick, but the pain in his chest stopped him from uttering a single word. Something inside him, deeper than his flesh, ached. He felt something corrode between him and Minho.

"I don't understand," he whispered.

"I have a suspicion," Gally said. Something about his voice made Thomas frown.

"I don't wish to hear it," he said curtly, and he could tell by Gally's face that it hadn't been what Gally had been expecting.

"Things like him should be avoided," Gally muttered after a stretch of uncomfortable silence as he led Thomas down a long, stone hall. "You're better off never visiting him in the dungeons."

"The dungeons?" Thomas yelled. He threw Gally's arm off his shoulders and spun around to run back.

Too fast. He spun too fast.

Gally rushed forwards and grabbed him before he could fall to his knees. The world spun twice as fast as Thomas had, and suddenly, he found he could no longer hold his breakfast.

For as much as Thomas hated the soldier, Gally made no sound of protest as Thomas retched directly onto his chest.

—

"You shouldn't be here," Minho hissed as Thomas awkwardly clambered into his cell.

It was a chamber box bed, but instead of free-swinging, exquisitely carved wooden doors, there was only an iron-barred hatch that a guard unlocked for Thomas to climb inside.

"They don't even let you stand," Thomas said quietly, eyeing the roof of the bed. The box was designed in such a way that neither boy could comfortably sit up straight, forced instead to hunch over or lie down.

"I'm a prisoner, Thomas," Minho said shortly.

"You're a suspect," Thomas corrected. Minho gave him a look, and Thomas winced.

It wasn't really much better.

"At least they give you a bed," Gally said from outside the glorified cage.

Minho said nothing, but his eyes hardened from frustration to cold fury. Thomas frowned.

Gally had been making quips about Minho for days. It made liking the soldier and sharing his quarters nearly impossible, even as much as Thomas wished he could do both. It was always good to have friends.

Minho seemed to be... struggling. Vibrating, almost. Tensing his muscles unnaturally. Thomas' frown deepened.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, reaching out to trace the contours of Minho's bicep. Minho flinched away from him.

There was a moment of strained silence, where the ocean of emotions inside Minho's eyes shifted from the fiery, half-blooded dragon into something Thomas could only describe as cornered prey.

"Gally?" Thomas called, not taking his eyes off Minho. "Could you give us a moment of privacy?"

His request seemed to throw Gally off-guard because it took a moment for the soldier to respond, "Of course. Five minutes."

Thomas waited until the sound of Gally's footsteps retreated. Minho didn't.

The moment Gally was out of view from the iron slats, Minho threw himself forward. Instinctively, Thomas flinched, throwing his hands up to shield his face. Normally, it would've made Minho jerk back with hurt in his eyes. This time, Minho only wrapped his limbs around Thomas and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Power rippled through his muscles. Thomas swallowed.

"I worried for you too," Thomas said awkwardly.

"Need you," was Minho's only explanation. "Please, I need you. Sleep here tonight. Every night. With me. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Thomas opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Minho did something very odd. He released Thomas from his embrace and began bundling him into the thick blankets, letting out soft snuffling sounds as he did. Fire flickered out from the corners of his mouth.

"Minho, what are you-"

"Please, Thomas. I- I apologize, I just- I need... you."

It had always been Thomas' sneaking suspicion. Ever since Minho started sleeping at the mouth of the caves he and Thomas were hiding in, Thomas had suspected...

"You're hoarding me, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

Minho froze. Eyes wide.

"No," he whispered. His eyes turned round and soft, like he was almost betrayed that Thomas had figured him out.

"I learned it from the witch we met in Torutiem. Sometimes, dragons will hoard humans. They'll protect them and try to sleep on top of them. It's more common among half-human dragons."

Minho swallowed dryly. He looked down, studying the way he was bundling Thomas into a blanket ball, like he was a mountain of gold coins. And the way he was sitting on Thomas' legs.

"I don't- I haven't- You're not- Your- Your dagger," Minho said desperately. "I-I've hoarded... your dagger. It has a diamond on its pommel, so I- I-"

"I don't have my dagger anymore," Thomas gently reminded.

"No, you- I- No, really, I hoarded your- your- I-"

"It's okay," Thomas cooed, taking Minho's face into his hands. "I love you too."

"I do not-!" Minho cried, jerking back. "That's not at all-!"

"You couldn't sleep without me. I heard from Gally. It's difficult for a dragon to sleep without his hoard."

Minho seemed to give up and fell on top of Thomas. Thomas wriggled slightly in his blanket shell, getting comfortable. Minho's abnormally high body temperature quickly bled through the blankets, and Thomas let out a sigh of relief. Gally's soldier quarters were cold and rather damp.

"I don't love you," Minho said weakly. "That's- That's a human trait."

"You are human."

"Not human enough," Minho whispered. His tear dropped from his eyes onto Thomas' lip.

Thomas licked it up and swallowed, tasting the years of misery and salt Minho had gathered, running from the King's knights, hunted for the crimes of his dragoness mother and traitor father.

"You've never been not enough," Thomas whispered back. "I love you."

Minho smothered his face into the blankets. "Love you too," he mumbled.

brainwashed WCKD soldier Minho would try to kill Crank Newt

love headcanoning things for characters who are ~not that deep~

Multi Paul was just a child when he escaped ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)♡

he was starving for some semblance of control over his own life, but he was escaping into a completely unknown world where he'd no doubt struggle to do anything by himself

so he went back to what he knew how to be, and he told himself that it was okay because this time, he was a weapon by his own choice