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wait, who is stephen? and isn't nick only mentioned like at the very beginning as the last leader of the glade that recently died! just, wondering why you would "die defending them" :)
WELL hello stranger first of all, you came to the right place to talk about stephen! (and yes nick was the last leader before alby and there is going to be a post about him someday from me)
I actually made a post about Stephen two months or something ago, you can find it here: CLICK ME FOR STEPHEN EMOTIONS
If you're too lazy to read it or if you're annoyed by my emotions i can give you a short summery of who he is and when he actually got mentioned:
"He leaned closer to the first cross. It looked fresh and bore the name Stephen - the n extra small and right at the edge because the carver hadn’t estimated well how much room he’d need.Stephen, Thomas thought, feeling an unexpected but detached sorrow. What’s your story? Chuck annoy you to death?”(The Maze Runner - Page 69)
I made up a headcanon for him and gave him a personality and a life in the glade and all that crap, it's in the post mentioned above if you're interested.
Now i'm going to start to rant so the rest is under the read more :)(If you're not going to read this - thanks for the question and embrace Stephen with love and happiness and idk being alive and if you ever want more Stephen (or Nick OR in that case Zart) just hit my askbox ♥)
What makes me continue this post is actually this one fact:I don't know if it was just a random grave we've seen in the trailer and there are more and we'll see them in the movie, BUT - and i already mentioned that in utter disappointment shortly after the trailer came out - the name on the cross we see is not Stephen. It's George.
And knowing me, i could probably make up a similar headcanon for George because I BET HE WAS A SWEETHEART, but i shouldn't go down this road because 1. it will hurt and 2. i'll be super sad if it's the only grave we'll see.
Because see, i care about that stuff because i fucking put my heart into this character and was so dumb to make a headcanon for him and now he's not even going to be mentioned in the movie (worst case scenario).
Tbh i didn't even think about the possibility that Thomas is going to be at his grave in the movie too and i was so happy when i realized he's at a grave and then it was just a punch in the gut with George.
AND I KNOW IT'S STUPID BUT I JUST CAN'T HELP IT OKAY.I mean i could also be super disappointed if Nick won't get mentioned but let's be real, i haven't been down the road where i emotionally attach myself to that character yet (which will eventually happen because my head is evil and already plotted his short life in the glade).
So.. Yeah, that's that. I'm just really protective over Stephen (which is in that case more or less an OC i guess?).It's stupid, i'm sorry.
Also in the quote above there is this part with "the n extra small and right at the edge because the carver hadn’t estimated well how much room he’d need" yada yadaAnd if you look at the grave in the trailer it's more or less like that and IM SAD OKAY
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You make me love Stephen so much. Before, I'd never really thought of him, and then you started talking about him, and now he's becoming one of my favourite characters in The Maze Runner. Just, Stephen. I need more Stephen. Could you write more Stephen? :)
I feel so great about making everyone love Stephen because Stephen deserves all the love he can get.And the following is going to be sad and i’m not sorry.
It began with Minho complaining that he can’t bring torches into the map room. Later Frypan started to worry that someone could accidentally kick one down while they walk through the homestead. Newt said he didn’t want to have fires all the time. So Stephen took it as his duty to find a way to make their life a little bit easier.
He worked four nights on the things that he found, hidden in their forest so no one saw what he was doing. He wanted it to be special, a surprise. Threw some stones at Minho who tried to sneak up to him.
But it didn’t matter because he was finished one hour before the doors would open and the gladers would spread out from their beds and back into work. It would be still dark and Stephens surprise would be perfect.
The runners were the first who appeared, stopping dead in their tracks when they saw what Stephen did. All the torches were blown out, it was pitch black in the whole glade, except for maybe a hundred small lights that covered the trees and every spot where once a torch was.
"Lanterns." Minho mumbles, amazed and stunned by the work it must have been to build together all the tiny broken things to a new object.
"Lanterns." Stephen repeats with a sly grin, watching the other gladers come and see what was happening."Nothing will burn even if they fall. You just have to refill the oil on the back of it and the rags will soak themselves and keep burning. I mean, you can take off the glass if necessary but it’s with a lock mechanism in case it really falls so no burning maps, no burning homestead and no burning gladers."
"It’s beautiful." Newt says softly, squeezing Stephens arm in a silent thanks.
And it was. It took the creepy atmosphere from their home that came as soon as it got night. It made it seem like there was no dark corner anymore, like everything was filled out with the soft light of the burning lanterns. It made the glade look homy, like they didn’t have to fight for their life and find an exit. It made their shoulders slump and relax, feeling safe.
That was Stephen for them. The only one who could turn broken things into new, beautiful objects. Who would take their fear and ease it with little gestures or gifts he would randomly share Who called the Grievers “Kittens” because it made the runners chuckle and relax, even though the fear was stuck deep in their bones. He was the only one who could turn the glade into something like home. He was the one who insisted on calling everyone family and making them feel like one.
The night Stephen was buried into the cold dirt of their home, the glade was lighted up only with hundreds of his lanterns. They put it on his grave, in the trees that surrounded it and the way the gladers came and carried his body to the hole in which he was supposed to rest.
No one moved after they filled up the hole again and set up the cross. They were scared to go back, to go to sleep and wake up tomorrow without having Stephen greet them with a new crazy experiment or just a lazy smile and hug. The warm light that surrounded them was soothing. It gave them the support they needed to grieve. The light was Stephens light laugh and his strong optimism and everything that was family for them.
The morning after the funeral they took down every lantern they could find in the glade. They started replacing them with their torches, taking the pain and grieve with them. They brought back the old, the fear, the coldness of their home. Trash was once again trash. Ideas only stayed ideas. They removed everything that could possibly remind them of the pain of losing their friend. The one who made them a family.
Only two lanterns stayed in the glade though. One by the graves and the other with the wounded and those who went through the changing.
It was their reminder that every broken thing could get turned into something new and beautiful. But it also reminded them that death takes everyone and that the dead would need a light that guided them into piece.
His brows are furrowed in concentration while he fiddles in the dark with only the light of a small torch. A small click sound makes him grumble satisfied but there's shuffling to the right and he doesn't need distractions, he needs-
"Stephen? What the bloody hell are you doing?" Newts sleepy voice is obnoxiously loud in the silence of the night and Stephen shushes him angrily.
"Be quiet, mate. You'll wake 'em up."
"Wake who up, what are you even doing?"
He shushes him again and waves with the thing in his hand. Newt, now curious and awake, scoots closer and looks at the small metal thing that is in his friends lap. He blinks a few times confused before he recognizes it.
"Is that a beetle blade?!"
Stephen starts grinning and turns to him. "Yep. Built it myself."
"Built it yourself." Newt mumbles and touches the bridge of his nose. "We talked about that, remember? No experiments, not after-"
"I almost blew up the homestead, I know, I know." Stephen rolls his eyes as if it's not a big deal. This guy, seriously."But look, if i can figure out how-"
"No. No beetle blades, no experiments, no almost blowing up the glade."
"That was one time-!"
"Twice actually."
Stephen bites his lip from letting out a delighted laugh at the memory of how the gladers ran around in panic. It's not like he hadn't had it under control. As if he would blow his family up. Accidentally.
Newt must read that in his eyes because he throws his hands up.
"You're insane. I'm not taking any responsibilities for anything that happens tomorrow."
Stephen gives him a kiss on the cheek and let's him to back to sleep, still grinning and enjoying that he always gets his will. He has that kind of power over his friends and he'll use it.
-----------
The next morning is surprisingly calm. Newt keeps eyeing Stephen curiously, who only has a small smile on his lips and helps planting a few seeds.
It's the screams from the bathrooms that let Newt close his eyes for a few moments. He doesn't even need to look at Stephen to know that he laughs into the dirt and tries to hide his amusement that his little beetle shocked some of his friends half to death.
Stephen has to serve the injured for their whole recovery, not that it bothers him much. Even though everyone swears at him under their breath, they all keep the things that he built.
Because it's Stephen. No one can't really be mad at Stephen.
"Come on, mate. Cheer up. Let's have some fun in this shuck place, alright?"
Thomas stepped up, hesitantly, to the closest one and knelt down to get a look. The light was so dull now that he almost felt as if her were looking through black mist. Even the birds had quieted, like they'd gone to bed for the night, and the sound of insects was barely noticeable, or at least much less than normal. For the first time, Thomas realized how humid it was in the woods, the damp air already breading sweat on his forehead, the backs of his hands.
He leaned closer to the first cross. It looked fresh and bore the name Stephen--the n extra small and right at the edge because the carver hadn't estimated well how much room he'd need.
Stephen, Thomas though, feeling an unexpected but detached sorrow. What's your story? Chuck annoy you to death?
