#Dauntless Path | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 2 years

Note

Heyy can I get Four x fem!reader, where four can see sher struggling and offers some private lessons, you can take it from there xo

as a fic writer, i love taking it from there (xo)

masterlist

Four is not particularly suited to kindness. He never has been. That’s part of why he never fit in with the other Abnegation, after all; his inability to carve away pieces of himself to give to others stuck out like a sore thumb. That, and the fact that he hated their two-faced duplicity with a passion so burning that it left him choking on the smoke.

He’s always figured that even if he was Divergent, even if he contained multitudes of other factions within him, he never once showed a shred of Amity, either. Kindness, generosity, none of these have ever described Four. He certainly shouldn’t be wishing for it now.

Yet, when he looks across the Dauntless training room, which is strewn with the fighting figures of initiation’s latest round of transfers, he doesn’t feel that usual call to apathy. Not now, at least. Four had supposed it would come later, when the initial interest of new faces had worn off and he was left with irritation prickling under his skin, that fidgety sort of feeling he gets when people refuse to do what’s good for them.

Four has never been the most patient, even if he is forced to play the long game of waiting and hiding due to his status as a Divergent. It makes him insufferable, or so he’s been told. Usually, Four just assumes he’s better off alone and not reaching out to anyone. Fewer secrets are shared when no one knows about them in the first place.

That doesn’t explain why he’s ignoring that favored precept of his in favor of staring at one of the initiates yet again. Four tells himself that he doesn’t do favorites, that he treats all of the trainees with the same blunt criticism and harsh words. It makes it easier that way. He once knew a few instructors who would place bets on their favorites, but they always ended up losing more than their money when their chosen trainees didn’t make the cut.

Dauntless may not be a place that encourages its pupils to choose safety over fun, but Four always betrayed that particular principle while leading initiation. He’s only been at it for a year or two, he can’t afford any screw ups now. That’s why he would do well to ignore that one initiate in the corner. It would be his best choice, but for some reason, it’s the one path he refuses to travel.

As if Four has ever been known for his rational thought. There’s a reason he’s not in Erudite, after all, why he scorned every faction one after another until he could only ever end up here in Dauntless. Dauntless, where at last he’s the one in power, where he’ll risk his life again and again because at least in this faction people wear their hatred firmly on their sleeves instead of hiding it behind some ambiguous political game.

Perhaps Four isn’t one for politicking, then, but that’s no surprise. He does what he pleases, he likes who he likes, and when Y/N L/N happens to glance up at him when she finishes a round in the fighting ring, she doesn’t look remotely shocked to see him looking at her again. No one is, but then again, no one notices Four’s attention except Y/N herself.

Y/N is a transfer. Y/N is an initiate. Y/N is the one person that Four really should be avoiding, but can’t seem to manage it. He doesn’t know what it is about her that keeps calling his interest back to her again and again like the snap of a hypnotist’s fingers, but his heart refuses to explain. His head has tried to make amends, but his heart keeps on traitorously beating, still seeking her out after every time Four promises himself he won’t trust that magnetic pull to her again.

She never follows up on his attention, which makes her better than him, at least. She knows the rules. She’s also a little bit afraid of him, Four thinks, which hurts him more than it should. Y/N seems to be frightened of nothing in this world but him, and that is why he can’t bear to look away. Should he glance over at her once and find her willing to stand near him, maybe he would be able to guide his breathing back to a normal state, his heartbeat to return to rest once more.

It has yet to happen, however, and Four thinks he knows why. See, he knows what he thinks when he encounters Y/N, the curious storm of emotions all centrally positive that linger around his heart, but she has absolutely no idea of that. She wouldn’t, because whenever Y/N looks at Four or any other Dauntless training instructor, she thinks not of them as people but as physical manifestations of her initiation rank. Her rank, which happens to be pretty damn close to failing.

In all his time in this world, all his experience with heroes and cowards, fighters and thinkers, Four has no idea why Y/N’s rank should be that low. He knows what his eyes see, of course; fights lost, punches not thrown, but it makes no sense to him. Four is accustomed to the dropouts of Dauntless initiation, the ones who would rather go live with the factionless than stick through training. They’re nothing like Y/N, not in the slightest.

Those kids, those unwanted former initiates, they’re afraid. All of them, they’re afraid. Terrified to throw a punch for fear of bruising their knuckles, hesitant to step in a ring lest they take more hits than they dole out. They lose before they even try, but that’s not Y/N.

Y/N is brave, like he said. Braver than Four, probably. He would love to see her fear landscape if she could manage to make it past the first round of initiation. It would probably be pretty close to empty, what from the way she stares down even the most dangerous threats without a blink of an eye. Four has a brief terror that he might open her fear landscape just for it to hold him and nothing else, but he forces that thought away just as quickly. He doesn’t know that. Nobody does.

Y/N is brave, and that’s what makes this so hard. If she had half the spirit that she does, if she flinched away from every blow like the others, Four could brush her off like the other trainees. She would blend into the crowds, and he would go throughout his life without this trial of conscience that he’s undergoing now.

That’s not the case, however. Instead, Four looks at her and he sees the strength of Dauntless, the bravery, the need to get ahead. Y/N should be at the top of the rankings, but she isn’t. Four has a theory for that, though. Despite the fact that Dauntless loves to pride itself as the equalizer, that its initiation lets anyone from any background succeed, that simply isn’t the case. At the end of the day, trainees with more experience will pick up skills far faster, and that means they’ll always win.

That’s why cruel Candor and Erudite manage to make the transition so well. Y/N lacks that experience, and so although she’s learning things at an excellent rate, she can’t beat the prior knowledge of the others. Four remembers one time in which she’s been struggling with knife throwing. He had given her one hint and just like that, she was hitting the bullseye every time.

If Four wants to keep Y/N around a while longer, that’s what it’s going to take. More of that advice, more of that help. Y/N has the ability to change this faction just like him. Four just has to make sure that she makes it through initiation long enough to make that work.

Four isn’t supposed to have favorites. He does, it’s her. That’s why, despite days of him telling himself that he won’t get involved, he finds himself making up his mind. Still facing torment in his own head, Four drops by the training room later that evening, hoping some time alone with a punching bag and his own bruised knuckles will clear up his mind.

When he opens the door and sees Y/N there still, practicing her hits, he knows then and there that he has no choice. Four walks briskly through the training hall until he’s by her side. He watches her form for a few moments more; she knows he’s there, he can tell by the stiffness of her shoulders, her guard is already up.

He speaks at last, words echoing around the spacious room. “Punch more from your own strength. You’re pushing the bag, you don’t want to do that. Snap your fist forward instead.”

Four demonstrates with one quick hit. Y/N nods, mirroring him. Four has to bite back a smile. The change is immediate. A voice in the back of his head tells him that if he just stayed a little longer, helped a little more, she’d become a better fighter overnight. It’s not hard to convince himself to linger by her side.

“Good,” he murmurs, “now, try hitting with more combinations. Four hits instead of two. You’ll disorient your opponent.”

Once again, Y/N does as he says, and once again, she does it perfectly. That’s another problem with initiation, Four thinks, it’s impossible to help every student as much as they need, what with the incoming class of transfers growing so rapidly every year.

Y/N practices a while longer, then relents, taking a step back and giving Four a quizzical look. “Why are you doing this? I mean, I appreciate the tips, but I don’t think you do this for every initiate.”

“I don’t,” Four confirms, “maybe I just want to see you win tomorrow. Is that such a surprise?”

Judging by the expression on her face, the answer would be yes. “Last time I checked, you were supposed to make sure everyone had an even playing field. I didn’t think private punching lessons were included in that.”

Four has to try his utmost to smother a laugh. “They’re not. Still, I wanted to.”

“You wanted to,” Y/N repeats contemplatively, “what, you got tired of seeing me get my ass kicked all the time? I know you watch my rounds more than the others, that must be it.”

Four swats her gently on the shoulder. He’s just as surprised about it as she is; nothing they’ve done has brought them close enough for soft friendship. Still, it feels right. Maybe that means something.

“Self-pity doesn’t treat you right,” he says, “I like it better when you’re walking around like you own the place. Sometimes I think you do.”

Y/N laughs. “And melodrama has never been your strong suit. I think I like it, though.”

Four likes it too. He raises a brow, inviting her sarcastic remarks once more. “Does that mean you’ll allow the lessons to continue? You won’t keep pushing me away with your own disbelief?”

“I’m still debating,” Y/N retorts, but she’s grinning and that makes it much better.

Four leaves the punching bag, not her; he walks to the ring instead. Climbing easily up, he extends an arm for Y/N to join him. She takes his hand without a second’s hesitation, and Four has to fight all parts of himself to hide the swarm of warmth that cloaks his insides when he realizes her fear of him is gone, if it was ever truly there at all. Perhaps he was just looking for excuses to stay away, knowing nothing would work for long.

Y/N puts up her fists, interrupting his musing. “So? Are we fighting or not?”

“Of course we are,” Four says, getting into his own opening stance.

After that, he loses himself in the even rhythm of punches and kicks, blows and strikes. Sometimes he calls out tips and tricks, other times he lets Y/N learn from what works well and what doesn’t. Even after the night ends, when their strength gives out and they both walk away with new bruises and old grins, Four knows one thing for certain: this is not the end of Y/N’s time in Dauntless, nor her time with him. No, their story is just starting. It is one that he looks forward to with all his heart.

divergent tag list: @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @ilovexavierthrope

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wiz-writes · 1 year

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In Aesemyr: The Withering (previously named A Rhapsody in Blue) you play as a mage trying to rein in their erratic powers while embarking on a quest to discover a plot years in the making. Yet as dark clouds gather on the horizon, you quickly realise that the coming storm seems to bring with it something much worse.

Genre: fantasy, adventure, romance

Rating: 16+ for some dark themes

Last update: 22 August 2024 (87k words)

Play as a man, woman or non-binary.

Customise your appearance and shape your personality.

Follow the teachings of a specialised Way and gain access to different skill sets.

Find romance with one of the ROs; or choose to stay as friends.

Investigate the elven presence in the capital and discover how it relates to the accident that nearly cost you your life.

Unearth a secret that might shake the foundations of the kingdom you call home.

Protect yourself and those you care about, lest they suffer a bitter end.

Retain your hold on your magic; or let it corrupt you beyond repair.

Magic comes with a price.

That is an inevitability every mage has to face. But when you lose your powers in a freak accident, you are certain that the price has been paid in full.

You settle down in the peaceful countryside, far away from any conflicts or conspiracies, all the while focusing on your recovery. And for two years, your life is quiet.

However, when an untimely visit forces you on a path not of your own choosing and magic itself seems intent on corrupting you, you must once again rely on your training to keep yourself and those you care about safe.

The presence of elves in the capital brings nothing but ill tidings and as yet another storm brews in the distance, you set off on a journey to discover the truth of your accident and a plot that could bring the kingdom to its knees.

The Withering approaches, and with it, a reckoning for all the world.

DEMO

COG || KO-FI

Main romances:

Valia Kainen (F, 28)

Having met at the Academy, you've known Valia for more than a decade, so it's no surprise she now occupies the seat of the Academy's Headmistress - her rise through the ranks often attributed to both her exceptional skills and ruthlessness. Despite her cold exterior, she is mainly driven by love for her family and kingdom. While she’s no longer the girl you used to know, some things still remain the same; her dislike of you being one of them.

Lucenis Veldari (M, 32)

As the younger brother of the King, Lucenis tends to keep his distance from royal affairs. He is well-known to the general populace as a poet with a gentle soul and quiet disposition. Though there have been many rumours throughout the years about him and his mother, none have ever been proven true. He is a good friend of Valia and your twin brother.

Tevshedi “Tev” Zanue (F/M, 36)

Tev is a well-travelled mercenary and a seasoned warrior that has decided to leave their life of wandering the world behind and instead, work as Lucenis' personal bodyguard. Good humoured and loyal to a fault, their natural charisma has helped them establish various connections among both the common folk and nobility.

Cerin Melista (F/M, 25)

A part-time librarian and a soon-to-be university professor, Cerin is a person with an outgoing personality and boundless enthusiasm for the things they love, particularly history. Being a passionate collector of ancient relics, they possess a dauntless spirit, which often lands them in dangerous situations.

?? (non-binary, 30)

Several years ago, they came to study at the Academy, their affinity to psychic magic envied by many. Lyyra became their new home, the people they met their new family. They are quick to grin and joke, but their eyes always seem to be haunted by shadows both past and present.

Side romances (= you'll see them less often than the above characters):

Mara (F, 31)

A silver-masked miracle physician willing to help anyone in need in exchange for utmost secrecy. Nobody is certain of her true identity as she disappears without a trace each day.

?? (M, ??)

An elusive figure that seems to be fascinated with your magical powers.

#aesemyr: the withering #interactive fiction #interactive story #interactive novel #if #if wip #choice of games #choicescript #cog wip #dashingdon

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multifan2022 · 1 year

Text

Fearless 3

PART 1 PART 2 PART 4

Four pushes a set of double doors open, and we walk into the place he called "the Pit."

"Oh," you hear Christina whisper nervously. "I get it."

"Pit" is the best word for it. It is an underground cavern so huge you can't see the other end of it from the doors at the bottom. Uneven rock walls rise several stories. Built into the stone walls are places for food, clothing, supplies, leisure activities. Narrow paths and steps carved from rock connect them. There are no barriers to keep people from falling over the side.

A slant of orange light stretches across one of the rock walls. Forming the roof of the Pit are panes of glass and, above them, a building that lets in sunlight. It looked like just another city building when passed on the train. One of the reasons only the people here and the higher ups knew where the entrance was.

Blue lanterns dangle at random intervals above the stone paths, they grow brighter as the sunlight dies. People are everywhere, all dressed in black, all shouting and talking, expressive, gesturing. A group of children run down a narrow path with no railing and you can see the sweat rolling down Tris's face as she tries to not yell at them to be careful or stop.

You know it's shocking, as an Amity transfer you understood the shock but she had to keep quiet. You were praying she would stay quiet. "If you follow me," says Four, "I'll show you the chasm."

He waves us forward as we approach the railing, you hear the roar of water, fast-moving water, crashing against rocks. Sighing happily as Four shakes his head, the most dangerous place in the area is your favorite.

You watch everyone look over the side. The floor drops off at a sharp angle, and several stories below that is a river. Gushing water strikes the wall beneath you and sprays upward. To the left, the water is calmer, but to the right, it is white, battling with rock.

"The chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!" Four shouts. "A daredevil jump off this ledge will end your life. It has happened before and it will happen again. You've been warned."

"This is incredible," says Christina, as we all move away from the railing "Incredible is the word," you hear Tris whisper. You cant help but listen to their conversations, feeling the need to know everything about this girl who you are supposed to 'save'.

Four leads the group of initiates across the Pit toward a gaping hole in the wall. The room beyond is well-lit enough that you can see where we're going: a dining hall full of people and clattering silverware. When we walk in, the Dauntless inside stand. They applaud. They stamp their feet. They shout.

A smile fills your face as you watch the transfers, the shock slowly falls off their faces and smiles replace them. You all move towards an empty table, Four and you sitting across from each other. With Tris on one of his sides, Christina next to her. A quick scan of the rooms tells you that Tori is still at the shop.

You quickly pile food on your plate, more than you will eat but you know the tank across from you will finish it. You watch as Tris grabs a burger following your lead, but pinches the meat between her fingers, unsure what to make of it.

Four looks up at you before grabbing the ketchup and setting it in front of her. "It's beef," he says. "Put this on it." "You've never had a hamburger before?" asks Christina, her eyes wide. Taking an unladylike bite you roll your eyes as Tris looks down at her lap "Stiffs eat plain food."

Christina's eyebrows pull together, "Why?" She asks as Tris looks up, smearing the sauce on her burger while answering. "Extravagance is considered self-indulgent and unnecessary." Tris answers in a monotone voice. You look up at Four remembering how many times he said the same thing to you.

Christina smirks "No wonder you left." You sigh, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure it was just because of the food." The corner of Four's mouth twitches as he tries to not smile at your attitude. Tris looks at you thankfully, before slowly eating her food.

Only a few more bites in Christina is talking again, testing the little patience you have. "So Y/n, where are you from?" Before you can answer you feel Fours leg brush against yours, when you look up you can see what hes trying to say. 'You don't have to answer them.'

You smile and turn to look at the recruits who are all staring at you. "Amity" you say smoothly picking up whatever drink it is Four poured you. You try not to laugh when all of their jaws hit the table. Stuttering over their words as they try to comprehend how you came from the gentle loving community. Four speaks putting all their questions to bed before they can start.

"Theres a reason shes here. Unless you want to experience it first hand I wouldn't ask."

The doors to the cafeteria open, and a hush falls over the room. Without looking you know who it is, you can tell by the way the recruits act. By the way Fours entire body tenses, his eyes falling from your face to the table. You know what the newbies see in the man standing in the doorway.

"Who's that?" hisses Christina, staring across the room at his as he marches his way over. "His name is Eric," says Four. "He's a Dauntless leader." She gasps turning back towards us "Seriously? But he's so young." Four gives her a grave look as if asking if shes stupid before waving over to you "Age doesn't matter here."

You feel him sit down next too you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder before leaning over to whisper in your ear. "Ive been looking for you." It sends chills down your spine, he is the only person you truly hate besides your brother. You take every chance to fight him that comes your way, even if its just verbally.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" he asks, nodding to the recruits. Four says, "This is Tris and Christina." You point your fork down at Peter "Thats Peter, we haven't been properly introduced to the other yet."

"Ooh, a Stiff," says Eric, smirking at Tris. His smile pulls at the piercings in his lips, making the holes they occupy wider. "We'll see how long you last." You see Tris wince but turn her eyes towards you and you roll your eyes and shake your head a little. Trying to tell her to ignore him.

He taps his fingers against the table. His knuckles are scabbed over, right where they would split if he punched something too hard. Which he did, two days before you had gotten into an argument in the control room over how much involvement he would have in training. Like a teenage boy he punched one of the walls.

"What have you been doing lately, Four?" he asks, his arm still around you even though you had pushed it off twice. Fours eyes land on it glaring before looking at Eric "Nothing really."

"Max tells me he keeps trying to meet with you, and you don't show up," Eric says. "He requested that I find out what's going on with you." Four looks at Eric for a few seconds before shrugging and saying, "Tell him that I am satisfied with the position I currently hold."

"So he wants to give you a job." The rings in Eric's eyebrows catch the light as they lift. You smile down at your plate, knowing exactly which job Max wants to give him. He knows Four is a threat to his job, he also knows he wont take it until forced too. "So it would seem," Four says looking back at you trying to read how uncomfortable you are. You scrunch your nose at him and chuckle a little at his protectiveness.

"And you aren't interested." Eric says finally moving his arm from your body and leaning across the table a little. You see Tris lean away from him, Christina's eyes still locked on him 'God please dont develop a crush' You think.

"I haven't been interested for two years." Four answers

"Well," says Eric. "Let's hope he gets the point, then." He claps Four on the shoulder, a little too hard, and gets up. When he walks away, when hes far enough away you groan and dramatically throw your head back. Thanking whoever was watching that he finally left, but also cursing them that he came over in the first place.

"Are you three...friends?" Tris asks quietly, its like shes afraid to speak you dont know if your grateful for that or not. "We were in the same initiate class," Four says. "He transferred from Erudite." You finish sliding your plate with mashed potatoes and a half portion of green beans left towards him.

"Were you a transfer too?" Tris says a little louder this time, causing the others to look back our way. You know he wont answer, and can almost see his walls slamming up. "I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions," he says coldly. "Now I've got Stiffs, too?"

"It must be because you're so approachable," She say flatly. "You know. Like a bed of nails."

He stares at her, but she doesn't look away. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. Its yet another moment that shows her divergence. Another moment that shows how hard this is all going to be for you. "Four" You say lowly breaking his attention away from her, he looks back at you and nods when you flick your head to the side. Dismissing him without undermining his authority.

But just before he walks away he says "Careful, Tris" in a tone that conveys he isn't done with whatever that was that was happening. Your eyes stay on him as he makes his way over to another table, the one with Zeke and Shauna. Both who wave at you before putting there attention on him.

As you're watching him you're listening to Christina "I have a theory.. and that is... That you have a death wish." The two girls laugh and continue their conversation, but to you it isn't a joke. She doesn't understand the danger shes not only putting herself in, but all of you in. You don't even want to think about what would happen if they found out about her.

Because if they found out about her, it wouldn't be a far leap to you. And if they found out about you, they would find out about everyone.. Anyone who was even slightly divergent would be in danger all because of one stupid girl.

Anger rose in you quicker than you could get a handle on it. You stood briskly from the table grabbing both your and Fours plates and cups. Walking stiffly from the table, your breathing was getting heavier. You knew you needed to get out of the room, either to the gym or the parlor.

You didn't meet Zeke, Shauna or Fours eyes as you practically storm from the room. The last thing you heard before the doors slammed behind you was Christina.

"Was it something I said?"

You knew you only had an hour before you had to meet the group back down in the dorms. So instead of going to the gym where you would spend hours, or the parlor where Tori would ask too many questions, you went to your room. You didn't lock your door, knowing that one of your three best friends would be following.

Most likely Shauna, and about five minutes later as you were changing into leggings from your jeans she walked in. Zeke was the only one of them who ever knocked. Shauna said it was because she had all the same lady parts, Four said it was because he had seen it all. Which wasn't the point, but whatever.

"Ok Girl.. What was that? Did Four piss you off? Want me to sick Zekey on him?" She said quickly after shutting the door and throwing herself across your bed. You sigh, moving towards the bathroom to brush your hair up into a pony tail. You had to be careful on how you answered, you always did. It was yet another thing that was exhausting about your life here.

"Those girls were just driving me nuts, after the stress of being in the city today I was just done." You say rubbing your eyes before leaning your hands on the counter. 'Arent you tired of lying to all your friends? ' That voice called doubt.. or depression asks silently in your head.

Shauna is one of the easier ones to fool, Zeke a little harder but Four could read you like a child's book. You were grateful she was the one who came up, it allowed some of the weight to fall off your shoulders. Pulling your shirt off you stood adjusting your sports bra, then splashing cool water on your neck.

"Want to hang out after you put the kiddies to bed?" She asks looking your way, even if she cant read you she can see the tension in your shoulders.

You shake your head "Im gonna go for a run before I go to sleep, try to work out some of this energy. Gotta be on point tomorrow, I want to be the one to break that Peter fucker."

@coolestgirlhere

#four x reader #tobias eaton x reader #tobias eaton #divergent #divergent fanfiction

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months

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I've been dreaming of the Hunter of Love.

Every decision made or not made branches off and creates new realities. There are a countless number of those realities.

Worlds of infinite choices—he will glimpse them all.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Rook dances through the darkness, unburdened and dauntless. Not a single step produces a sound—though if it had, the sound would no doubt be absorbed into the abyss. He glides effortlessly, a swan upon still water.

There is no road for his feet to follow, only a plane of darkness. Heels strike it, eliciting a clear clack-clack-clack, as if the floor is marble.

The walls—if they can be called that; there's nothing solid when he sticks his arms out to test the environment—are laden with full-body mirrors. They're mounted up upon nothing, floating in place, their reflective faces clean, clear, and free of cracks.

He is drawn to them, tugged along as if compelled by the red string of fate.

In each, he is presented with a novelty.

Familiar places and people, refracted and twisted into something new. Something beautiful.

An ethereal art gallery for his own amusement.

He turns his head, taps fingers along the frames of each realm in turn.

A Night Raven College with as many as fourteen dorms. A Night Raven College set upon a stage, scripts in the hands of every student. A Night Raven College of young women, not young men.

Jade with his hair styled up in a mohawk, a plethora of piercings studding his face. Kalim with a monkey upon his shoulder, sharing a platter of fruit. Young Epel in a pair of glasses, mouthing the lines to a play. Idia, smaller than even his younger brother, in an oversized sweater, playing on a mobile gaming console.

Rook imagines a great tree, its roots ever-growing, expanding deep, deep, deep into the soil and continuing still. Endless choices, endless possibilities.

C'est la vie—such is life.

He stops.

His hand now hovers over the glass casing of a tragedy.

Rook stares at a version of himself, collapsed beside a bottle of apple juice. Its caustic contents ooze out onto the ground, bubbling as it eats away at the floor.

The common man would be repulsed. Chilled to the bone. Frightened.

But Rook Hunt is not the common man.

"Comme c'est magnifique," he marvels. “Willingly consuming poison, wishing so desperately to believe that his queen was free of sin… Here lies a foolish dreamer in the aftermath, still having faith in his dear friend's integrity.”

Rook lingers, drinking in the details of the morbid work of art.

He does not move, does not breathe. Ignoring the bottle, it is as though he had been laid into a peaceful sleep. Lips arranged in a soft smile, long lashes cast over his cheeks.

A beautiful queen weeps for him, tears colored black as the night. His clothes are tattered, his crown tarnished. He is a flower of evil, stripped of his petals.

The next mirror, the mirror after—all horrific ends, varying shades of gruesome. Visions twisting, distorting.

A king dressed in roses slaying their victims, peasants who dares to defy their rule. A hyena dissolving into sand. Students trapped in constrictive tentacles, stripped of their talents.

Mindless drones lumbering around a seized castle. A reality dyed in ink, ruled by blue flames and Phantoms. And… a tangle of briar knitting over the world.

To him, they are just as lovely as the rest.

Heartbreaking, but lovely.

As that thought strikes him, the area ahead brightens. He spots color dotting the darkness.

They start as scribbles, clumsy trails of crayon left by a child's hand. Further along, the crayon gains dimension, turning into yarn threads. Eventually, they weave together to form a coherent path marked by cobblestones made of newspaper clippings.

It leads to a thicket unlike any he has ever seen.

Every glade of grass, every leaf and stem, is painted in a glistening coat of silver. The flowers are crystal, the fruit, plump jewels. The sky, a watercolor masterpiece of brilliant blues, white clouds dabbled on with an artist's sponge.

A tower rises in the distance, fine and thin like a needle. Its pointed roof pierces the heavens, and there is but one solitary window embedded in the structure.

Rook gasps, and a thousand or more reflected Rooks gasp too.

The leaves tinkle, a melody of wind chimes and bells. He feels as though they are beckoning to him, drawing him deeper and deeper into the forest.

His feet have a mind of their own; they start moving, as if bewitched by the majesty of the enchanted wood, by the mystery of the tower. Beads of dew upon the grass are left untouched as he swiftly passes.

A call reaches out from a place far, far away. It's not quite speech, but vocalizations resembling speech--someone grasping for the right words, the right feeling.

There is a haunting hollowness to the siren song. A longing so immense it makes tears spring to his eyes.

It must be seeking its other half, Rook realizes. A harmony for its melody, to form a duet.

But the longer he tries to focus on the sound, the more he tries to parse out its parts, the more confused he becomes. The voice is contradictory: familiar and yet unfamiliar, happy and yet sad.

His pace quickens, as does his heartbeat. It's an anomaly for him, for whom calmness comes easily.

I must go to them, he thinks, unsure of why. I must.

Is there a yet-to-be-discovered wonder on the other side? His queen, whom he has sworn his undying loyalty to, in danger? Is it from the strange tower? A stranger requesting his aid?

Curiosity thrums through him.

Hurry.

The tower seems to drift farther and farther away with each step. The voice, fainter.

Hurry...!!

Rook runs.

The building accelerates. The trees expand as if to fill in the space where the tower had fled.

Wildlife carved of glass watch, some racing with him. A deerling on limber, elegant legs, a rabbit bouncing as high as it can. Even the fish skip atop the river that runs concurrent with the forest trail, and a flock of birds soar upon their crystalline wings.

They trill, they coo, they sing.

His run becomes a sprint, and the sprint becomes a gallop. The call to adventure, loud and clear in his ears.

He is one with nature, and nature is one with him.

I must see for myself what lies at the ends of this world--and beyond it.

His spirit brims, burning with determination.

Chasing something he doesn’t know the true nature, the true face, of. For that... is the thrill of the hunt.

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bartyjrsevan · 2 months

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Divergent Marauders au? Sirius is obviously the divergent, strays from his path or whatever, not like his family. Rosekiller are the ‘dauntless’, because of course they are.. and maybe, Remus as a factionless or as one of the people who are in the honesty segment

#marauders #harry potter #dead gay wizards #regulus black #sirius black #barty crouch jr #james potter #remus lupin #wolfstar #divergent #evan rosier

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bonezone44 · 2 months

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The Hollow, prologue (18+)

Dave York x afab!Reader

tags for the upcoming story: stalking, manipulation, panic attacks, anti-american military sentiments, pacifism vs. violence debates, the "assassin life", control issues, smut.

Reader Immersivity: No skin tone or hair is mentioned. Reader is able-bodied, can sit in Dave's lap, and has a big butt. Reader is recovering from narcissistic abuse.

A/N: Due to the current political climate, I thought 'why the hell not?' and decided to get this first little bit published.

-masterlist- -story masterlist-

+++++

“One day, you’re an asset. The next, you’re a fucking afterthought.”

Dave used to love his time in the Marines. It was birthed from naivety and camaraderie. Driven by hormones and hopeful ideals about what the troops were doing to rescue the world from self-annihilation. As if the United States was the father of the globe and all the other countries were his children. And the American armed forces were his right hand–beating the ungrateful ignorants into reverent compliance.

Dave had been honored to follow in the footsteps of the star-spangled patriarchy. He had been taught that war and discipline were his duties as an American and as a man. That all those who could, absolutely should. And the country’s naysayers and protestors were a nagging thorn in his side. ‘How can they be so ungrateful?’ He had wondered. ‘How can they spit in our faces when we’re out there sacrificing our lives so that they can live in peace?’

Even then, Dave knew his years in the Marines were temporary–he knew it was only a stepping stone towards something greater for himself. He climbed the ranks quickly and it wasn’t long before he was recruited for more specialized operations.

Dave had eventually found a home in the Defense Clandestine Service. He had found purpose. He had found a family alongside his partner, Robert, and his teammates, Kovak, Ari, and Resnik. Their missions were dauntless and dangerous–and just as crucial to achieve. Every success gave Dave an invincible, god-like high and every failure, though rare, had his mind and body plummeting into anguish and disrepair. (High risk, high results and all that.) McCall had been there for all the good days and all the bad weeks and months. He had been a guiding hand for Dave. A trusted companion. A friend.

McCall's death had cleaved a cavern inside of Dave’s chest–something hollow, tender, and exposed. And three months later, when his team was disbanded, he blamed himself and split in two. A schism dividing him into what he was before and what he would become.

He wanted to start from scratch. He wanted to reset his existence back to day one and leave his mother’s birth canal with wiser, shrewder eyes. But there was no ‘scratch’. There was no way to blank his slate. He had spent too much of his childhood idolizing soldiers. He had had too many experiences in the military to completely rewrite his path. And once he was able to find perspective on his choices, he realized that some of those naysayers and protestors had been right all along. The thorn in his side had been a seed and instead of plucking it out, he watered it and let it grow.

For better or worse, Dave had acquired a particular set of skills. And without nationalistic ideology coloring his point-of-view, he created a personal philosophy to ease the ambivalence he suffered.

‘There is no sin. There is no virtue. There are only actions and consequences.’

Dave left the world of government and went private. He earned his license and began working as an investigator at a prominent law firm in New York City. His life had lost much of its intensity, but he was determined to adapt to a softer existence. He was determined to experience this so-called ‘peace’ he had spent the first third of his life fighting to preserve. And he was finding it, in bits and pieces over time. And the taste was euphoric enough to keep him wanting more. He was no longer working towards some hypothetical greater good. He was simply out for himself and whatever satisfaction he could find.

Then you decided to show up.

----

#dave york x reader #x reader #dave york

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theblackhate · 6 months

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Omg i need capther 4😭😭😭

you ask and you receive!

Knowledge pt.4

check the other parts here!

Summary:

The story begins the same for everyone, on the day of the ceremony, one of the most important for all the kids who take part in it every year, and Michelle will not miss the opportunity to leave behind a faction that she did not feel belonged to her.

On her journey, however, she will encounter someone who will make her initiation feel like hell.

Ppairing: Eric Coulter x Reader

Word count: 6k

"You've got quite a nasty bruise," remarked Sunny as she sat down beside her on the bed, later that evening after their first training session. "You're lucky it's not broken."

"It hurts," Michelle said, still holding the ice pack against her cheekbone. The icy sensation kept her awake. She had just woken up from a long nap after returning from training.

"Did you go to the infirmary?"

"No, Four checked it," Michelle recalled Four; he had stayed back to assess the damage, having seen the hard hit she took. He commended her agility and speed in dodging blows, encouraging her to continue improving those aspects of her technique.

But she lacked strength. If she had attacked Eric, she would have lost immediately.

"Hmm..." Sunny got up to climb onto her own bed, bidding her goodnight.

Michelle lay awake in bed, staring at the cot above hers, listening to the snores of some of her comrades. She wasn't sleepy at all.

She remained lying in bed for what felt like an eternity, waiting for her comrades to fall completely asleep. She didn't want any of them to rat her out for leaving the dormitory at night.

When she felt like everyone was asleep, she waited another five minutes to be sure; then, from under her pillow, she took out the photo of her and Anne, tracing her best friend's face with her fingertip.

It had only been a day since they parted ways, yet it felt like an eternity.

She quickly got up and grabbed her boots, not putting them on right away to avoid making noise. She opened the metal door very slowly and slipped out, donning her boots and covering herself against the cold with a leather jacket.

The corridors were completely empty that night, like the days to come. It had become Michelle's routine to sleep after training and then spend the entire night training on her own.

She found it easier to train when no one was there to bother her, and she was lucky not to find anyone else training at night, or she would have gotten into trouble in no time.

And she didn't want to be face to face with Eric again, who, after their sparring on the first day of initiation, had finally left her alone. It was as if she didn't exist anymore, and she was grateful for that. His attention was the last thing she wanted.

She didn't know why Eric had decided to stop tormenting her, making snide remarks about her incapability and weakness, and maybe it was better that way. Eric himself wasn't pleased with such an order, received from higher-ups.

He had to leave her alone, let her follow her path.

During that first week, Michelle found herself spending more and more time with Sunny, a ray of sunshine in that cold, dark place. Having a friend had helped her a lot, especially with her little aiming problem.

She had improved at shooting, finally managing to make critical hits on the target. Nothing extraordinary, but it was better than how she had started a week earlier.

However, that night someone joined her in the gym, scaring her to death when they spoke.

"Isn't it a bit late?" Lauren's voice made her jump, causing the Dauntless leader to chuckle. "You're always so lost in thought that you never notice me."

"You're quiet, it's different," Michelle replied, watching her approach, dressed in heavier clothes.

She didn't know whether to go back to training or grab her things and leave; she was just waiting for Lauren's reaction to know what to do. But when the woman started taking off the extra clothes, she was almost surprised.

Lauren approached her, now wearing only leggings and a long-sleeved shirt. "You're weak."

Michelle rolled her eyes, returning to hitting the punching bag. "I hadn't figured that out," she replied sarcastically, annoyed at how obvious it was.

She trained every afternoon and every night, yet she couldn't put on muscle; all her comrades were starting to get stronger, more defined, while she remained stagnant.

Lauren smiled before moving closer to the punching bag to look her in the face. "The fact is, you don't eat enough. For breakfast, you just have a cup of coffee, for lunch, you stay light because you're afraid of feeling sick in the afternoon, and often you skip dinner in the evening."

She kept hitting the bag, her knuckles and arms throbbing with pain, but she gritted her teeth and kept going. She thought about Lauren's words and had to admit she was right.

She slowed down her punches, eventually stopping to look at her, expecting some advice or something of the sort. Lauren immediately realized she had her full attention and smiled.

"You need to eat more, have more substantial meals, otherwise you burn more than you eat. You should gorge on meat, in short, eat as much as you can, and for breakfast, go for eggs maybe."

Michelle was used to eating little even when she was in her old faction; she and Anne preferred to grab food and move to a less crowded place, so they could carry less food with them.

She nodded, turning back to look at the punching bag and then at her knuckles, bleeding. The only reason the bag wasn't stained with blood was because of its black color.

"Come on, I'll show you how to wrap them properly," Lauren took her by the arm, dragging her towards one of the benches scattered around the gym.

As the woman got up to fetch the wraps, Michelle turned her head to gaze at the sky outside the windows, still as black as pitch. It must have been around four in the morning.

Lauren returned shortly after with a small white box and knelt in front of her; she took out a white bottle, cotton, and the wraps from it.

"It's going to sting," she warned before dipping the cotton into the bottle and dabbing it on Michelle's knuckles. Michelle gritted her teeth and closed her eyes; she felt her hands catch fire, but fortunately, the sensation didn't last long.

With great care, Lauren cleaned her knuckles with the disinfectant before taking the wraps and, showing her the most effective way to do it, wrapped them around her knuckles. As she handled the wraps, she glanced at her stealthily, wondering why they wanted her to be kept under observation.

She would never disobey orders, but she wondered why she, of all people, was important. Unlike her, Eric was anything but pleased with the orders, annoyed by the obligation to leave her alone.

She couldn't understand Eric's behavior; he hadn't always been like this, yet now his greatest pleasure was to make people around him miserable, showing off his superiority at every opportunity.

"There, all done," she whispered when she secured the wraps to ensure they wouldn't come loose during the day. Lauren stood up, dusting off her knees, and took a seat beside the girl, giving her a light shove. "Listen to my advice, eat more."

Michelle nodded again without taking her eyes off her wrapped knuckles.

She was grateful that the fights hadn't started yet; she wouldn't stand a chance against anyone. She was fast, able to avoid getting hit, but that wouldn't earn her any points.

Remembering something Lauren had said to her one of the first times they spoke, she turned to her, catching the woman a bit off guard with her ice-blue eyes. She had never noticed it before.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, I'm here for that."

"Will you help me become stronger?" Lauren was confused by that question, and Michelle clarified, "I can't win if I'm just on the defensive."

The woman smiled at her more than before and got up from the bench, heading towards the mat. "Come?"

Michelle followed her onto the mat, standing in front of her, waiting for instructions, but Lauren had something else in mind.

"Let's pretend we're fighting. I won't hit you. I just want to see what tactics you have and how you move." Lauren took a fighting stance, and Michelle immediately copied, bringing her hands up in front of her face.

They started circling the mat just as she had done with Eric, waiting for an attack, and soon after, Lauren lunged at her. Michelle noticed the slight lunge she made before actually throwing herself at her and dodged it.

They went on like this for a good ten minutes, with Lauren attacking and Michelle staying on the defensive until the leader called off the fight.

This time, Michelle didn't feel out of breath. Sure, she had gone easier than with Eric, but she was pleased to notice that at least her stamina had increased.

"You're good, but you're right. If you only stay on the defense, you won't win." Lauren observed her for a moment before creating a plan in her head. "Try this: you're quick, use it to your advantage to hit critical points like the throat or temple."

Lauren approached her. "Now I'll show you how to do it, and you have to try it on me, okay?"

Michelle nodded and watched Lauren's movements, trying to copy them immediately afterward. Unsuccessfully, however.

They continued to train, but she began to get frustrated finding herself on the ground over and over again. She huffed, getting up for the hundredth time and getting into position.

"Think of something that pisses you off or someone you want to smash in the face," the leader tried to encourage her.

Michelle closed her eyes and thought of something that annoyed her, so much so that she hated it. It didn't take long for Eric's image to appear in her mind, telling her she couldn't do it, that she was a liability and a waste of resources.

She opened her eyes and nodded to Lauren to start, the woman in front of her glad to see something different in her eyes.

Lauren lunged at her, and with speed, Michelle dodged the blow, attempting to strike back at her temple, almost succeeding. "Better, keep it up!" Lauren encouraged her.

This time, Michelle took the initiative, attacking Lauren's defense, trying to hit her throat, but only managed to strike her stomach, causing her to step back.

They circled on the mat for a bit before Lauren returned to the attack, landing blow after blow and only managing to hit Michelle's shoulder once. However, Michelle didn't give up and countered, hitting her abdomen and blocking her blows.

In a moment of distraction, though, Lauren managed to sweep her feet out from under her, tripping her.

Michelle stood there, tired and sweaty, trying to catch her breath.

"That's better. Once you eat more and build muscle, you could really become one of the best among the transfers," Lauren said, sitting down on the mat, exhausted from the workout.

It had been a while since she sparred with someone so fast. It was hard to block her blows, let alone land one unless she was distracted.

"Pay attention to your feet too, otherwise you'll end up on your ass," both girls laughed.

“Why could I be one of the best?” It was a legitimate question that had come to mind as soon as Lauren mentioned it, and Michelle straightened up to look her in the face, her muscles sore.

Lauren sighed, pushing her hair away from her face. “The guys I train with assume that just because they're Dauntless-born, they have a guaranteed spot here. But you have good technique, you're a natural force.”

Michelle blushed at the compliment and looked down, fiddling with her fingers.

“How are you doing in the rankings?” Lauren asked her.

"Tenth," Michelle said, turning to look at the board on the wall. Thankfully, her name wasn't below the red line; for now, they were only based on results from pistol training.

But it made her anxious to be so close to the red line, it was the last safety net, and one mistake would be enough to drop her below.

"Not bad, especially considering you started from scratch," Michelle shot her a glare; she knew those weren't good results, she didn't want to hear nonsense. Lauren raised her eyebrows.

They remained silent for a while, and when Michelle turned her head, she noticed the sky beginning to lighten. She got up from the mat to grab her things and head back to the dormitory for a well-deserved shower.

"It's been a pleasure. If you ever need to train again, you know who to ask," Lauren grabbed her belongings too and left before Michelle, closing the doors behind her. Michelle wondered what she was doing out at that hour dressed like that.

It wasn't her business, and as she had come to understand during that week, it was better not to pry into other people's affairs. She decided to take all the time in the world to return to the dormitory, not wanting to face everyone else just yet.

She decided to take a different route and found herself in one of the corridors overlooking the Pit. The shops were all still closed, naturally, but she noticed the tattoo parlor was already open, its lights on.

Deciding to pass by, she walked past the staircase that would lead her down to the Pit and then back to the dormitory. She stopped in front of it and saw movement inside, the same man who had helped her find the gym on the first day of initiation.

Michelle paused to look at the designs on display. She didn't realize the man was approaching the entrance until she saw him standing beside her out of the corner of her eye.

They silently observed the drawings for a while. "Do you like them?" he asked without shifting his gaze from the window.

"They're not my style, but they're nice," Michelle replied.

"Do you want to take a look inside?" the man moved towards the entrance, glancing back to see if she would follow. He smiled when she joined him after a second of hesitation. "I'm Tyson, by the way. We never properly introduced ourselves."

"Michelle."

"I know, I've heard about you," his tone was amused as he glanced at her, but Michelle seemed not to appreciate it. "Don't worry, only good things. Except for the punch you took from Eric on the first day."

Tyson laughed, and Michelle ignored him, moving away to approach one of the many columns where several designs were hung. They were beautiful; she got lost in observing them one by one, but only a few were to her liking.

She wasn't particularly fond of the designs themselves; she preferred geometric shapes, interweaving lines, or similar things.

Tyson joined her. "Do you want one? It's early, but I could make an exception for you."

Michelle looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Lauren and Tori weren't kidding; you're not much of a talker, huh?"

He started to walk away, somewhat disappointed that he couldn't seem to have a conversation with the girl, but her voice stopped him. "If I draw something for you, would you tattoo it?"

Her question was unusual; he had never had anyone want to tattoo something they had drawn before, but he nodded. "Do you have something in mind?"

It was her turn to nod. "I'll be back in a few days."

When she reached the dormitory, it was probably around seven in the morning. Most of her companions were already up and having breakfast, but when she went to take a shower, she encountered Tina trying to dry her tears in front of the mirror.

Michelle hesitated, contemplating if sneaking away before Tina noticed her would be a good idea, but the girl turned towards her, looking at her.

Tina had red and swollen eyes, her face twisted in a sad expression, and she sniffled occasionally. Saying that Michelle felt uncomfortable would be an understatement.

It was embarrassing, and she decided to move towards the showers, hoping to avoid the impending conversation, but she didn't have time to undress and turn on the water before Tina's voice distracted her.

"What am I doing wrong?" her voice was interrupted by sobs and crying. Michelle leaned her head against the shower door before turning towards her, trying to figure out what she wanted her to do.

"I do, I do everything for him! And he treats me like this!" she started crying again, and feeling guilty, Michelle approached. Tina quickly hugged her and cried on her shoulder.

Michelle stood still for several minutes before someone else entered the bathroom, luckily, it was Chloe. The girl always had the need to show off and help anyone in trouble to improve her image, and things hadn't changed at all.

When she saw Tina in tears, she reached her, forcefully pushing Michelle aside. "What did you do?" she accused, turning towards her and stroking Tina's hair.

"It's not her fault," Tina managed to say through tears.

Michelle didn't stay to watch the scene unfold and immediately stepped under the hot water jet, cursing as she remembered the wraps. She removed them and winced as the sensation of the water droplets hit the open wounds. It wasn't pleasant.

Fortunately, Michelle heard Tina's complaints fade away from the bathroom, indicating she would have the chance to get ready in peace.

She wished she could stay under the hot water jet for hours, but she remembered Lauren's advice to have a good breakfast, so she forced herself to step out and get ready. She put on simple black sweatpants, comfortable shoes, and a hoodie, knowing that today they would start hand-to-hand combat.

She braided her hair into two loose braids and hurried out of the dormitory, reaching the cafeteria in a few minutes. Every muscle in her body was on fire as she tried not to bump into anyone while wrapping her knuckles in motion. They were still bleeding, and she didn't want to mess around, especially not while eating with the smell of blood in the air.

When she arrived at the cafeteria, she scanned the room for Sunny and soon spotted her, sitting with Four, Max, and another initiate she had never talked to before. She joined them and took a seat next to her friend, who greeted her with a big hug.

"There you are! I was wondering where you were; you weren't anywhere when I woke up," her cheerful tone made Michelle smile as she grabbed scrambled eggs and, of course, her usual cup of coffee.

Four looked up upon hearing Sunny and glanced at her friend next to her, confused, wondering where she was, and especially why she was out of the dormitory when it wasn't allowed. He shrugged it off, maybe he had misunderstood.

He didn't stay long to listen to the guys' conversation and grabbed his things to head to the training quarters, finding Eric already there. He was standing in front of the whiteboard, engrossed in something.

Eric slightly turned his head upon earing Four entering, then returned his gaze to the whiteboard. "They're odd, one won't be fighting today," Eric said simply when Four joined him, maintaining a certain distance.

That made Eric smile.

Four glanced over the pairs Eric had created, and when he reached the end, he saw Michelle's name alone. He furrowed his brows and turned to Eric. "Why Michelle? There are initiates worse than her."

"Because she's not capable, she lacks strength, and the sooner she fights, the sooner she'll end up below the red line, which the higher-ups don't want, and you know that well, Four," his tone was serious as he spoke without looking at him, standing straight, still irritated by the orders that had been strictly given to the two of them, Lauren, and Max.

"No, I don't know. I've seen less capable people than her, and we both have seen how capable she is," he insisted.

Eric turned towards him, a displeased smirk on his face as he took a step closer. He was slightly taller, just enough to assert dominance. "Because I've decided so, don't contradict me, Four."

When Michelle and Sunny reached the quarters, they were surprised to see some of their companions already there, positioned in front of the blackboard near the mats.

"They must be the pairs, come on!" Sunny grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her in front of the blackboard, and indeed, she was right; there were the pairs for the day.

Arlo - Connor Patrick - Thomas Bowie - Andy Chloe - Max Tina - Sunny Michelle -

Michelle?

Furrowing her brows, Michelle turned to find Four, ignoring Tina's arrival; she walked away from the group to join him on one of the benches, but before he even looked up, he responded.

"It wasn't my choice," he said.

"It was mine," Eric's icy voice sent shivers down Michelle's spine, and she immediately stiffened. "Consider it a favor. Now, join the other initiates."

Turning to look at him, she clenched her fists, imagining punching him in the nose. Still tense, she nodded and walked towards her companions, trying to ignore the anger his presence alone stirred within her.

He was insolent, arrogant, and above all, he was a jerk.

She was relieved to know it wasn't just her perception; Tyson had told her some stories about the young leader when he was an initiate as she spent the morning in his shop. Tyson's company was one she was starting to appreciate more and more as the days passed.

"So? You're not fighting?" Max asked when she took a seat among them, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face.

She shook her head.

"How come?" Max smiled, and Michelle wished she could wipe that smirk off his face; his inability to be serious for five minutes straight was exhausting.

"I fight tomorrow, we're odd," Michelle simply replied, taking a seat on the floor, ready to endure hours of combat without being able to participate.

On one hand, she was grateful; she had the opportunity to study the fighting style of all her companions, which would help her a lot when it was her turn. But the fact that she, of all people, had been chosen to sit out among them gnawed at her.

It hadn't been Four's decision, but Eric's.

Was it another way of telling her she was incapable? Did she really suck that much? Didn't she deserve to be there with them? Was she not up to their standards?

The more she thought about it, the more she felt tears welling up at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. But she couldn't wallow in self-pity, not with Chloe staring at her from across the mat with an air of superiority.

She would prove to everyone that that was her place. Not theirs.

"Arlo and Connor! On the mat!" Eric shouted, grabbing the attention of the two boys.

They took their places on the mat facing each other, and Arlo seemed much more prepared than Connor; he had a confident air and a stance ready to attack. Although his muscles weren't well-defined, Michelle could see them as he brought his hands up to his face.

Connor, on the other hand, seemed almost awkward in front of him, his cocky and impertinent demeanor from when he was with his little group of friends nowhere to be seen. Michelle smiled at seeing him struggle.

"Begin!" Four signaled the start of the match, and the two boys began circling the mat, waiting for one of them to strike first.

They went on for a good five minutes, and Eric's expression became increasingly bored and frustrated, playing with the piercing on his lip as if to entertain himself somehow.

Michelle had to admit that small action was quite attractive.

When she refocused her attention on her companions after Sunny nudge her with her elbow, she saw Arlo take the first step, closing the distance between them. This caused Connor to retreat and go on the defensive.

"We're not at the playground, let's go!" Eric huffed, and the two boys glanced at him for a split second before turning their attention back to each other.

Arlo closed his eyes for a fraction of a second before reopening them and landing a blow to Connor's face, which he barely parried by bringing his arms up to shield himself. They began grappling, with Arlo on the offensive and Connor on the defensive.

Arlo lunged at him, trying to bring him down, but Connor managed to grab him around the waist and, despite being shorter, he managed to hurl him across the mat.

"Go, Connor!" Chloe cheered, clapping her hands.

"Keep it up!" Patrik chimed in.

Michelle watched them, still somewhat envious that she had never been able to be friends with them when they were kids. But that didn't matter now; she would prove herself to be better than them.

"You'll regret this," Arlo gritted his teeth, getting back up and charging at Connor.

They resumed exchanging punches, occasionally attempting to take each other down without success. Arlo was stronger and taller, but Connor seemed to have better balance and was thinking more with his head than with his fists.

They remained on the mat for half an hour, and just when everyone thought the match would go on indefinitely, Arlo began ruthlessly attacking his opponent after taking a nasty right hook to the face.

He grabbed Connor's head from behind his neck, forcefully bringing it down to bash against his knee. Connor's nose immediately started bleeding, and he brought his hands to his face to try to stem the flow of blood, but Arlo showed no mercy.

He continued to strike wherever he could, targeting the protected face, stomach, and sides. Anywhere he could land a blow.

"Enough! I surrender!" Connor exclaimed, falling awkwardly to the ground after a vicious punch to his left temple.

Michelle observed his fragile figure curled up on the mat, staining it with blood from his undoubtedly broken nose; then, she shifted her gaze to Arlo, standing next to him, looking down at Connor with empty eyes. He was panting, his face flushed as he watched drops of sweat fall onto the mat.

"What a mess," Michelle whispered, and Sunny turned to look at her, tearing her eyes away from the battered boy in front of her.

"Yeah, I didn't think they'd make us fight to this extent."

"No, I mean the mat," Michelle emphasized, realizing that her friend had interpreted her statement differently.

"Do we have to fight like that too?" Tina, who had sat down next to Michelle, leaned forward to look at Sunny, waiting for an answer. The brunette shrugged.

Michelle thought about how stupid Tina had been to fill herself with earrings and get two piercings at that stage, the only physical one among the three. She would find herself receiving punches from Sunny in a couple of hours, and the girl wasn't stupid; it was obvious that she would target those sensitive areas.

Two Dauntless boys carried Connor to the infirmary. He hadn't lost consciousness, but the blow to his temple had been strong enough to rob him of his balance for a while.

The next two fighters got on the mat without waiting for someone to call them, and only now did Michelle realize what her friend was talking about. Patrik was really big.

In that short week, he had managed to put on an impressive amount of muscle, and Thomas swallowed nervously. Despite this, he showed confidence.

"Begin!" Eric exclaimed, starting to walk around the mat.

Michelle thought that this fight would also last half an hour like the previous one, but Patrik wasted no time and attacked Thomas without giving him a chance to react. He was fast and strong.

Thomas took blows to the throat, making him gasp for breath and stagger. Patrik grabbed him by the arm to pull him closer, elbowing him in the nose, causing more blood to drip onto the mat.

With his left foot, he made him fall and got on top of him, blocking every attempt at defense. Patrik started hitting him in the face, punch after punch, until Thomas stopped trying to defend himself, leaving everyone with a lump in their throats.

"Why doesn't he stop it?" Tina whispered, and Michelle turned to look for Four, but when she didn't see him, she looked for Eric.

What she saw didn't sit well with her at all. Eric was enjoying himself.

"Now that's enough," his voice was almost cheerful, light, very different from before when Connor had withdrawn from the fight.

Four arrived from behind them and bent down to help Thomas, his face disfigured due to swelling and blood, but surprisingly the boy refused assistance and, staggering a bit, got up and headed towards the infirmary on his own.

"Try not to fall into the abyss!" Eric teased, observing Thomas's unstable figure as he moved away from the scene.

"What a jerk," someone whispered in her ear.

"Indeed," Michelle replied to the unfamiliar voice and saw the boy who had sat with them at breakfast. She couldn't remember his name, it was something like Brownie though.

The aforementioned boy got up and got on the mat, soon joined by another boy whom she had never spoken to.

"Who's that?" Michelle asked Sunny.

Sunny turned to her friend, then back to the two boys. "Oh, I think it's Andy? If I'm not mistaken, he was an Erudite with me."

"You don't remember if he was with you?" Tina chimed in.

Sunny shrugged. "I think so, but he was always with the Dauntless. He always hung out with them at school, and if you notice, during meals he's always sitting with them."

"Hmm."

"When you're ready," Four initiated yet another fight, and this time Andy wasted no time. They were both lean but with some muscle, the only physical difference being that Bowie perhaps had about twenty centimeters more than his opponent.

Andy was skilled, but one thing Michelle noticed was that he looked at the point he wanted to hit before striking. However, Bowie seemed unable to grasp his strategy and showed great clumsiness in trying to block the attacks.

She noticed the difference between the first two fights, especially the second one, and this one; here, they seemed like two boys training, fighting against each other without exaggeration, whereas before it seemed like if Eric hadn't ended the fight, one of them would have ended up dead.

Bowie managed to block some blows and even land one himself, but with a quick move, Andy managed to make him lose balance, and when he fell, he hit his head hard on the ground.

"Ow," the boys standing still watching the fight exclaimed.

Bowie grabbed his head with his hands, rolling onto his side. He cursed in pain, and Andy, still standing, turned to look at Eric behind him; the blond nodded at him.

Andy turned back and with a kick to the temple, he knocked out his opponent, celebrating his victory as some of his Erudite friends applauded for him.

Two more Dauntless carried away his limp body. Michelle watched the boy's body being taken away, realizing only now that she would end up below the red line by force, probably becoming the twenty-second with zero points.

Her hands began to tremble at the thought of having to really give her all to make it to the top; initially, she didn't think it would be too difficult, she could easily win by following Lauren and Four's advice, but her fellow initiates were brutal.

She feared the moment when she would have to face Patrik or Arlo, who seemed the most brutal.

She was fast, but their strength was too much to ignore.

"Max, Chloe, on the mat!"

Chloe arrived confident, chest out and head held high, and Michelle hoped with all her might that she would get her ass kicked, and so it was. She managed to put up a good fight against Max, knowing where to strike while the boy acted on instinct, blindly.

But when Max managed to grab her, it was her end.

Chloe got up unsteadily, covering her face, crying. Max's punches had been strong, too strong against her delicate face, and Michelle couldn't hide a satisfied smirk seeing the girl's disfigured face.

It was time for the final showdown, almost three hours after the training began, and it was Sunny's turn to take her place on the mat.

"Good luck," Michelle said, watching her friend rise, who turned to smile at her.

Tina's smile, however, vanished when she realized she would actually have to fight against a friend. "Ready?" she asked.

Sunny didn't answer, waiting for the start of the match. Eric ordered them to begin, and Sunny started circling.

Tina looked worried, her movements uncertain. With each move Sunny made, Tina went on the defensive, ready to block any blow. Sunny struck first, and her opponent covered her face, leaving her abdomen exposed.

And Sunny struck right there.

Tina doubled over, screaming, and soon the gray shirt she was wearing began to darken around the belly button area; she lifted the shirt, exposing the belly button piercing, which was bleeding.

She looked at Sunny with a hurt expression. "What the hell!"

"Stop playing around!" Eric grumbled, annoyed, watching the two girls. Sunny briefly turned to look at the young leader, and Tina took the opportunity to throw a punch.

Sunny recoiled immediately and began hitting Tina, who was too weak to defend herself. She had no defense technique, just raising her hands in front of her face, leaving all other areas exposed, and Sunny repeatedly hit her left ear.

The girl fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Sunny stepped back, continuing to hop around to stay ready in case the girl got back up, but Tina seemed to show no signs of getting up.

Sunny relaxed, lowering her fists and looking at Four, who had moved to her side. "What should I do?" she asked him.

Four sighed and indicated to Max, who was watching the scene angrily, to help him lift Tina up.

"The fight isn't over," Eric said, remaining where he was, his arms as usual crossed over his chest.

Michelle hated to agree with him, but what had just happened couldn't be considered a fight; a couple of punches, and it was over?

"Don't you think it's time to end it?" Four said through clenched teeth as he gently lifted the girl.

"If she can't get up on her own, she can consider herself out of the initiation."

"It's not fair!" Max exclaimed loudly, receiving a deadly glare from Eric, who laughed in his face.

"Not fair?" he laughed. "Your little friend can't make sensible choices, and you think it's fair to let her win?"

"No, but-"

"No buts!" When Eric shouted, everyone fell silent, even the other initiates on the other side stopped to watch the scene from afar. "Either she gets up, or she's out. Her choice."

Eric remained impassive.

Four let go of Tina's arm, making sure she didn't fall to the ground badly, and walked away from the scene. Even Max, with much reluctance, stepped away from the mat.

Tina, still on the ground, sobbed. She tried to pull herself up, very slowly, and Sunny watched, waiting to see what to do.

When she got back on her feet, she wiped away her tears with her sleeve and got back into an attacking position. She lunged at Sunny, but Sunny blocked her, hitting her again on the ear where she had already made her earrings bleed.

Tina fell onto the mat, bringing an end to the fight.

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