but what if the gladers stopped trying to find a way out like where my rebel galders at tbh
the ones who catch beetle blades and take them apart, figuring out what’s inside them and what they’re doing. destroying them when they find out they’re being watched. the ones who take down cameras, smash them with stones and knives and their bare hands
the ones who keep asking more from the box, more weapons, more medicine, more armour. the ones who ready themselves for a fight, who can pounce whenever they need to, who turn to kicks and punches before anything else
the ones who claw a way through the walls, who try to blow up the maze by creating their own bombs, the ones who try to catch a griever and take that apart as well. the ones who burn down a forest, who dig holes into the ground, who climb walls and crash their fist into it in frustration because nothing works
the ones who keep destroying everything they find, ‘cause if there’s no way out, the ones who put them in here don’t deserve a way in. the ones who throw threats into the box, along with all the camera equipment they fucked up, making sure the creaters know they’re not going to take this
the ones who form a gang together, trying to stay strong against whatever it is they’re up to. the ones who calm down the gladers that’ve stung before, the gladers that wicked is now trying to control inorder to turn them against each other.
the ones that form blood bonds and whisper promises to each other in the dark. the ones that create code words so they know what’s real and what’s not. the ones who will stick together no matter what, because their bond is sacred and nothing can come between that
the ones who fight against their memories and the ones who fight to get their memories back. the ones that willingly get stung and the ones that make sure they get the serum. the ones that seal the doors, guard them, turning their prison into their home and everything outside of it in a war zone
