#tris insurgent

[theblackhate]

MATERIALIST

-Eric Coulter

Knowledge: Prologue, pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11

-Four

[salstray]

No Vacancy

Eric Coulter x gn!reader fic

less then 1k words (951 if you want to be specific) WARNINGS: angst

No one is safe from progress. No one is safe from Erudite. No one is safe from the mindless Dauntless carrying out commands they can't even hear, but can only feel through the iron claws of the serum forcefully injected into their blood.

No one is safe.

Not even you, Eric's favorite.

--------------------------------------------------

Four was looking out the windows of the Prior home when he saw you.

Tris was upstairs, calling out to her mom and her dad, nothing but silence answering her, but you were out in the street. Dressed in black, a gun in your hand, your eyes blank and face slack. Enthralled by the simulation just like the rest of them.

He’d never admit to anyone how his heart sank at the sight.

Not even you were safe from this. You, Eric’s favorite. His poorly kept secret that all of the Dauntless knew about, but would never speak of. The one he’d sneak off to on lonely nights, the one he’d hunt down in the dark corners of the parties and the gatherings. You, who’d gone through initiation just a year after him and Four. Who’d stolen the black heart of their most ruthless leader yet with your strength, your fearlessness, and your bravery.

You. Injected and shipped off as a mindless puppet of war. Like you were nothing.

Four took a shaky breath, his jaw shifting and clenching at the anger that swelled within him. His head turned as Tris came back down the stairs, telling him her parents weren’t here. No one was. He cast one more glance out towards you just as you turned a corner and vanished from sight. Silently, he pitied you, but he didn’t have the time to show it. Nor did he ever think he’d get the chance to express it face to face.

God knows how you’d feel once you woke up. Once the simulation wore off or was shut down, if he and Tris did what he hoped they could.

------------------------------------------------

Eric rounded the corner, steps light, shoulders loose, only pausing once his eyes landed on you. His prize, his plaything.

His favorite.

You marched on, face empty, hands clenched around your weapon, eyes focused, but not on anything real. His hand came out as you approached and you stopped obediently in place, gaze fixed on something only you could see in the far distance. Behind him, Max stepped forward, sighing and shaking his head.

“No one’s safe, are they?” he asked, almost teasing.

“Not from progress,” Eric admitted. He reached forward, cupping your cheeks in his hands, brushing his thumbs under the circles of your eyes. If you were awake, you’d have smiled. All sweet and sugary. In a way that no one ever had when looking at Eric. He sighed softly when your eyes remained vacant. “You’ll understand though, won’t you?” he asked, now talking to you.

Max scoffed behind him, but Eric’s eyes stayed on yours, the only proof he heard his fellow leader being the slight tick of his jaw.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Max warned. Finally, Eric turned his sharp, gray eyes on the man behind him, frowning just far enough that Max knew his commentary wasn’t welcome. He scoffed again before shoulder passed both you and the man you called your lover in the past.

“I am sure,” Eric hissed, leaning in to press an uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead. “You’ll understand, won’t you, sweetheart?” His fingers curled across the nap of your neck, his pinkies absentmindedly toying with the collar of your jacket. “This is all for the betterment of the city. Of the factions. A necessary evil, hm? How many times have we talked about those? You always told me you understood why they were important. Doing something bad in the name of the greater good , right? That’s what this is… and you’ll see that once you wake up, babe, I’m sure of it.” He leaned in again, lips barely brushing your crown, his eyes closing just long enough so he could enjoy the warmth of your flesh. The heat under your skin. One that he craved more then water, more then his own breath.

He’d tried to let you be awake for it all. Tried to fight for you to be one of the ones left unstuck, but they hadn’t trusted you enough, the others. Jeanine said you’d be a liability. Max said your loyalty didn’t run as deep as Eric thought it did.

You wouldn’t be happy once you came out of it, but he’d be there. Eric would be there, he’d make sure of it, so he could explain. So he could hold you – just like he was now – and speak the way he did only for you about how necessary it all was. Even if you didn’t understand he would make you… because if you didn’t…

... you had to.

He leaned away, sighing heavily, a noise half trapped in his throat as he let his hands slide down your face, the column of your throat, then back to his sides.

“Go on,” he muttered, taking a single step to the side to let you pass.

You did. Steady as all the rest. Eric sighed again as he turned to catch up with Max, his jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

He hated seeing you like that, though he’d never admit that to anyone.

He would have hated it more to see how your eyes fluttered once he was out of sight. How your breath hitched in your chest, your heart racing, beating against your ribs like a war drum. It would have broke his heart to see the tears that lined your lashes as you turned another corner, pausing just long enough to lean your shoulder against it and press your hand to your mouth to stifle the sob that tried to crawl its way free from between your teeth.

He would have hated to know that the serum didn’t work.

That you were the very thing they were trying to eradicate.

That you were Divergent .

[disn3y-land]

i think the thing that made fourth wing so successful was the fact that it took everything good from divergent, gave it what I perceive to be higher stakes, added more fleshed out characters, a longer period to develop the story (five books not thee), an adult level of romance (nothing wrong with ya romance in a YA book ofc, I just prefer my romance with more detail if you know what I mean) and, of course, sassy dragons

I've been rewatching the divergent movies, and I can't help but find the two identical in many ways. Weak girl joins death quadrant and becomes the strongest. Her mysterious, broody leader helps her train and they fall for each other. They make an enemy who saves them later on. Such scary broody boyfriend interrupts an attack on fmc. Seriously, every scene reminds me of another scene in fourth wing

I remember loving divergent, but feeling as if there was something small missing. Fourth wing closed those gaps for me.

We already knew divergent, and that's what made fourth wing take off. Basically the same premise, but done better in my opinion.

[riotinyellow]

i would like to confess my sins.

As a young 10 year old, my parents bought me the divergent series before the Hunger Games, so needless to say, i was a divergent nerd first

Obviously, when I turned twelve and read the Hunger games and began to understand what good world building looks like, I denounced the divergent ways.

That doesn't mean I am not still embarrassed over the fact that at some point, I thought divergent was peak literature

[ellisaworld]

Rewatching divergent, insurgent and allegiant because why not. (He's so hot)

[zelcii]

love me anyway | peter hayes

peter leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he watched you from across the pit. you were laughing with the others, your smile wide and effortless, but something about the glint in your eyes always seemed bittersweet. it was as if the laughter was a mask, hiding the truth of your candor-born honesty that seeped through every gesture and expression. you could never quite hide the truth seeping behind the way you smiled, another layer of your candor-born honesty peeking out from under every facade you put on. not that it could be helped. the truth bled from the very way looked, very words you breathed. 

he loved it. how you were basically an intricate scrapbook, pieced together by every person who had ever touched your life, every place you had ever belonged to, and every passion that had ever stirred your heart. you were a patchwork of experiences, raw and honest, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to the way you carried all of it so transparently, even when you tried to hide.

he had always been a problem. for many people, but especially for you. you were no stranger to peter hayes, growing eerily familiar to his sharp edges and cruel humor as it had been a constant presence in your life. after all, you were born in the same faction, hung around the same groups of people, followed the same set of rules. even more, your mother had never liked him. since the two of you were young he'd seem to constantly be one second away from breaking whatever—or whoever—it was in front of him. you used to think you hated him for his arrogance. for how cruel he could be, his tendency to belittle the people that cared for him.

but then you chose dauntless. with one swift cut of the ordaining knife, it wasn’t just your tender, naive skin that was cut—it was every tie to the life you once knew. suddenly, peter hayes, the only person you’ve ever despised, became the only constant factor in your life. he was the one unchanging thread that connected you to both your past and present. you tried to forget your life from before, how things were. but it was hard to admit that the only person you could blame was yourself for wanting to leave.

"staring again," christina’s voice sliced through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present. you blinked, reluctantly tearing your gaze away from peter, who was leaning casually against a wall. he was like an island of calm amidst the chaos that spread across the dauntless pit, his posture relaxed and his expression unreadable.

"i wasn’t," you insisted, but the words felt hollow even as they left your lips. your candor was a relentless betrayer, with every twitch of your mouth or flicker in your eyes revealing the truth you tried so hard to conceal. christina’s gaze sharpened with amusement, catching the subtle giveaway in your demeanor.

"right. c’mon, candor," she quipped, her voice tinged with playful sarcasm as she nudged you gently with her elbow. "may the truth set you free," she mocked with a smirk, her tone light but knowing. “you’ve got it bad.”

you shook your head, trying to mount a defense. "i don’t," you said, but your protest lacked the firmness you’d hoped for. peter had been the object of your intrigue since you’d met him in summer camp, the boy that used to look at you with such passion. the boy you promised your mother that you’d never even think of talking to. that undeniable truth seeped through the cracks of your words, finding its way into the spaces you desperately tried to guard. still, from across the room, he stared with that familiar passion.

christina’s grin widened, clearly finding amusement in your discomfort. she followed your gaze back to peter, who remained fixed on you with a knowing smirk. it was as if he thrived on every flicker of attention you gave him, the curve of his lips revealing his awareness. he seemed to relish in the fact that you couldn’t tear your eyes away, savoring the way his presence bothered you.

"besides, he’s a total jerk," you said, your voice trailing off as you tried to mask your uncertainty. the effort to convince yourself sounded more like a feeble excuse than a genuine assertion. you fixed your gaze away from peter, forcing yourself to focus on his flaws—his arrogance, the cruel edge in his humor, the narcissism he wielded with such practiced ease. yet, despite your best intentions, all you could think about was his lingering touch and your stolen glances. you failed at every attempt to distance yourself. it was as if he was fully aware of the internal battle you were waging and took a twisted pleasure in it.

you remembered an instance from a few nights ago.

you’d been crying in the communal bathrooms, the cold tiles beneath you doing nothing to ease the burning sensation behind your eyes. it had been a bad day—training had pushed you to your limit, the weight of your decision to leave candor pressed down hard, and the overwhelming newness of dauntless was closing in from all sides.

the tears had come suddenly, without warning, and once they started, you couldn’t stop them. you didn’t want to cry—not here, not in a place where showing weakness was as good as painting a target on your back. but you were alone, or so you thought, and it had been too much to keep inside.

then you heard the door creak open. you immediately wiped your face, hurriedly trying to compose yourself, when you heard his voice.

"didn’t expect to find you here," peter’s voice was low, casual, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place. you assumed it was taunting.

your first instinct was defensiveness. after years of being taught to hate him, after years of believing he was nothing but cruel and self-serving, you bristled at his presence. you had no idea why he was here, and the last thing you needed was to deal with peter hayes right now.

“go away, peter,” you muttered, not even bothering to look up at him. your voice came out more bitter than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. it was habit. you’d spent years convincing yourself that he was the last person you could rely on. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. you expected him to leave—maybe with a sharp remark, something that would sting, something that would remind you exactly who he was and why you should stay far away from him. but he didn’t. instead, you felt him sit down beside you, close enough for his presence to be known but not close enough to make you uncomfortable.

he didn’t speak. he didn’t tease or push. he just sat there, quiet, waiting.

you didn’t want to give in. you didn’t want to let your guard down around him, of all people. but the longer he stayed, the harder it became to keep your defenses up. the weight of the day, the exhaustion, and the relentless pressure of everything finally caught up with you. you couldn’t hold back anymore.

before you even realized what was happening, you leaned against him. your body moved on instinct, and you pressed your face into his shoulder, the sobs breaking free as the tears fell hot and heavy.

to your surprise, peter didn’t pull away. he didn’t make a comment or a joke at your expense. instead, his arm came up, hesitating for just a second before wrapping around you. his grip was firm, and he pulled you in close—just enough for you to feel the warmth of his body against yours. he didn’t say anything, didn’t try to pry or ask questions. he just stayed there, silent and steady, letting you cry.

it wasn’t what you expected. peter was supposed to be cruel, detached, distant. but in that moment, none of that mattered. he was just there, holding you together when you felt like everything else was falling apart.

you didn’t know how long you stayed like that, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your body trembling from the release of everything you’d been holding inside. but eventually, the sobs began to subside, and you found yourself breathing a little easier, the storm inside you starting to calm.

you pulled away slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes still red and swollen from crying. “why do you do this?” you asked, your voice small and hoarse from the tears. you genuinely didn’t understand. “why do you… why are you here?”

peter’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something raw, something unguarded in his gaze. then, with a small, almost playful smirk, he shrugged. “don’t know what you mean,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “you know i love you.”

the words were so simple, so casually said, that they took you by surprise. but there was no sarcasm in his tone, no bite to his words. he was sincere, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear as if the words were meant to be a secret shared only between the two of you. then, with a sudden rush of either reckless confidence or desperate longing, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss just behind your ear. the tenderness of it sent a shiver down your spine. “let me be here,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, though it carried a note of quiet vulnerability. he was trying to convey reassurance, but the raw emotion in his voice felt closer to a quiet, earnest plea. 

christina said that that was when you started staring. 

you’d seen a side of him you never thought to imagine and you craved for more. but he was peter hayes. he wasn’t supposed to feel anything. not for you, not for anyone. he tried to convince himself that as well as he savoured the feeling of your soft skin on his lips. yet, there he was, aching for something he couldn’t bring himself to ask for. something that made his heart race every time you was near, something that made him want to push you away and pull you closer all at once. your love.

he turned to you then, his hand brushing yours just barely, but it was enough to make his pulse quicken. you locked eyes, and for a second, and suddenly everything else that happened outside of the bathrooms faded away. he could feel your heartbeat in the air between you, the way your breath hitched, the way you wanted him to say something, anything. but he couldn’t. not yet. so he just sat there, his lips twitching into a smirk, masking everything he wasn’t ready to say.

christina’s expression shifted to one of knowing amusement, her eyebrow arching in a way that made it clear she wasn’t buying your story. "yeah, and yet here you are, still thinking about him. denial is just another form of obsession, you know."

"i am not obsessed," you snapped, a little too loudly. you tried to sound more forceful than you felt. but even to your own ears, the argument wore thin. the truth was, no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, peter had managed to engrave himself into your thoughts, lingering at the edge of your consciousness like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch.

christina’s hand landed on your shoulder, the gesture both comforting and teasing. her eyes held a mix of sympathy and amusement, as if she could see right through your carefully constructed facade. "sure, keep telling yourself that," she said, her tone light but tinged with a gentle sincerity. "but pretending isn’t the same as believing."

you didn’t respond, choosing instead to focus on your hands, which were twisting nervously in your lap. christina wasn’t wrong. the tension between you and peter was undeniable, a magnetic force that seemed to vibrate with an intensity everyone could feel when the two of you were near. 

glancing back at peter, you found him still observing you from across the pit. his gaze cut through the chaotic swirl of faces and noise, landing squarely on you with an intensity that felt almost tangible. it wasn’t just a casual glance; it was as if he was deeply engrossed, his eyes soft and thoughtful, carrying an unmistakable trace of what you dared call admiration. the smirk was gone now, replaced by an expression that seemed to reveal more than he usually let on—a look that made your heart flutter against your will. 

you shifted uncomfortably, unable to shake the feeling that his gaze was dissecting every fragment of your carefully guarded emotions. in that moment, the air between you felt charged, filled with something unspoken that neither of you were ready to confront. and even as you tried to look away, his eyes seemed to follow, holding a soft, thoughtful reverence that you found both disconcerting and oddly comforting.

you reminded yourself that, no matter how warm you felt under his gaze or how infatuated you were with him, peter was still peter—the same boy who had mocked your family’s dedication to order and laughed at others’ missteps under the guise of “honesty.” his usual sarcasm and cruelty were just parts of his carefully constructed facade, a shield designed to guard against any real vulnerability.

but the way he treated you was different now in dauntless. there was always a softness in his gaze, a subtle consideration that contrasted with his usual demeanor. it made you question if beneath his cold exterior, there was a part of him that genuinely cared, revealing a side of him that was far less indifferent than he let on. it made you wonder if he wasn’t as cold as he wanted everyone to believe.

regardless, you knew you would never, in every sense of the word, let yourself fall for peter hayes. he was supposed to be a horrible person.

… but on one particularly exhausting night, after another grueling day of training, you tossed and turned in bed, unable to find any solace in sleep. the unfamiliarity of dauntless gnawed at you, and the weight of leaving candor behind seemed to grow heavier with each passing hour. not that you’d ever blatantly admit it, but the new environment was overwhelming. despite your best efforts to adapt, the relentless pressure was starting to crack your composure.

in the dead of night, you awoke with a start, your heart pounding and a deep sense of unease settling over you. you stumbled out of bed, the darkness amplifying your anxiety as you wandered through the dimly lit corridors of dauntless. just as the silence seemed to stretch endlessly, a soft knock broke the stillness, echoing against the cold concrete walls. there, at the end of the hall, stood peter. he stood as tall as ever, but his touch was unexpectedly gentle. his hand brushed lightly against the small of your back, pulling you a bit closer, and the warmth of his skin contrasted sharply with the chill of the night air. 

though your eyes were still heavy with sleep, you could see the rare softness in his gaze, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. “hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and raspy, but surprisingly soothing. “you okay?”

“just can’t sleep,” you mumbled, rubbing your tired eyes. you could’ve been meaner, you could’ve tried harder to push him away but you convinced yourself you were too tired to. 

even you knew you were lying. 

without a word, he guided you back to the rooms, his hand resting steady and reassuring on your waist. the warmth of his calloused skin against your arm was comforting, sending a shiver through you. your heart ached to lean more of your weight against him, to feel the full press of his body against yours. each touch felt intensely intimate, grounding you in a way that made your heart race. his calm presence was a soothing contrast to the cold, impersonal walls of dauntless.

as he guided you back to the room, his touch so comforting and warm, memories from your younger years resurfaced.

you recalled how, even then, there was a strange tenderness in the way he interacted with you, though he never showed the same kindness towards others. peter was always rough with the other kids, his teasing and taunting often crossing the line into childish cruelty. 

your mother had noticed, warning you to stay away from him, claiming he was a bad influence. she saw the way he bullied others and feared that his harshness would rub off on you. so, you had learned to hate him, to see only his rough edges and disregard his rare moments of gentleness. now, feeling his warmth and seeing the softness in his eyes, those old judgments felt shaky and uncertain. It must’ve been a trick—a game he was playing. but in that moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care, revelling in the way his skin brushed against yours.

as he helped you settle back under the covers, his touch was deliberate and achingly tender, causing a warm flush to spread through you. you wondered how you managed to muster enough hate to stay far enough away from him. the brush of his fingers against your skin, as he tucked the blankets around you, felt both intimate and possessive, sending a shiver of through your body. each contact, from his fingertips grazing your arm to his palm pressing gently on your shoulder, was charged with a longing intensity.

“you need to rest,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, nearly a whisper. his gaze lingered on you with a softness that was rare for him. before he turned to leave, he gently swept a few stray strands of hair from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “it’s okay to be overwhelmed, sweetheart. we all are.”

you looked up at him, the tenderness of his touch and the care in his eyes sending a rush of warmth through you that made you slightly breathless. his eyes, usually so sharp, were softened by a rare, gentle affection that made your heart flutter. “thanks, peter. you didn’t have to.”

“yeah? well, i did,” he said, a crooked smile playing at his lips, his eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief. he held your hand in his and refused to let go, like he wasn’t ready to leave. you didn't want him to leave. “deal with it.” his voice was smooth, his tone almost too casual, as if the closeness was natural. as if he wasn’t acting completely out of character. his hand remained lingering by your jaw a moment longer than necessary, his touch longing like a secret between you.

you remembered early in high school, when peter had asked you out to the dance and confessed his feelings, saying he loved you. without hesitation, you’d turned him down, following your mother’s wishes. even then, he didn’t seem upset. instead, he simply promised that you’d end up loving him one day.

at the time, you didn't believe him, dismissing his words as just another piece of the game he constantly played. now, as you felt the warmth of his touch and the gentle care he’d shown, you couldn’t ignore the echoes of that past moment. you were falling for him. despite everything, you were falling for him. 

and after all that time, he was right.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice tired, and raspy, but caring. it summoned butterflies to your stomach. he said it like you were the only girl in the world. suddenly, you felt like you were in middle school again, getting flustered over a boy. your mother would be so disappointed.

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it,” you said, though your eyes betrayed you as they stayed locked with him. out of a force of habit you continued, “don’t wanna talk to you.” you didn’t mean it, of course.

he let out a tired, amused laugh before bringing your hand up to press a gentle kiss in the palm of your hand. you melted. “i love you anyway.”

threw 3.5k words on a tumblr post and called it a fanfic </3

[viavolterra]

DIVERGENT FIC

Forever in my Theo James era so i couldnt help myself, writing a divergent fic on wattpad (user ViaVolterra) called

Icarus Falls

"𝘉𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘋𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴, 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘱, 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳"

[sweetreveriee]

absolutely OBSESSING over divergent and fourtris i finished all the books and im on the third movid in the course of two days...

the only change i didnt like in the movies is the lack of fourtris affection because in the books theyre literally always somehow touching or kissing yk?

[atac-agent]

Curse me, pretty pls-

so currently i am reading insurgent (2nd book of divergent trilogy)... AND GUESS WHAT!! I GODAMN FUCKING GOOGLED WHETHER THE ENDING IS SATISFACTORY OR NOT AND FOUND OUT THAT TRIS DIED AND CHRISTINA GOESS OFF WITH TOBIAS!!

now i need to vent about it!!

(ok i am going to write a poem on the ending like i imagine)

But, like c'mmon!! Can y'all tell me? Is the ending worth it? WITHOUT ACTUALLY GIVING AWAY ANYMORE SPOILERS-

Edit: I actually like the ending... especially the epilogue

[jeaninesfavouriteserum]

Do you have any sexuality headcanons for divergent?

EEE YES I DO!!! this isn't a comprehensive list, so do request more characters <3

Tris Prior: Asexual, she/her

Caleb Prior: Gay, he/him (I have no idea what's going on with his gender, but something is.)

Tobias Eaton: Asexual, he/him

Jeanine Matthews <3: RAGING lesbian, she/her

Uriah Pedrad: Pansexual, he/they

Marlene: She/they (I headcanon that prior to her death, she was having a bit of a secuality crisis.)

Lynn: Lesbian, she/they

Cara: Asexual + biromantic, she/her

Christina: Polysexual, she/her

Zeke Pedrad: Omnisexual, he/they (He never particularly liked labels, and Dauntless was always fairly relaxed about them, so he mostly just liked who he liked.)

Shauna: I genuinely have no idea, but she Definitely Isn't Straight.

Tori Wu: Lesbian, they/she

Evelyn Johnson-Eaton: Bisexual, she/her

[sagaofa-dying-star]

Hear me out (Divergent edition)

Divergent

Insurgent

Allegiant

[mimirae2001]

ISO DIVERGENT FAN FICTION

DOES ANYONE WRITE DIVERGENT FAN FICTION ANYMORE? I'M STRESSING AND NEED COMFORT IN OLD COPING METHODS.

[not-someone-you-adore]

Tris dies. She dies. She's no more.

WHAT? WHY? WHYYYYYYYY? WHY DID SHE HAVE TO DIE? and four's reaction to her death? im heartbroken.

then, four starts dating christina afterwards??? like wasnt the bombshell of tris's death enough?

like why do you have to do this? who gave four the right to date christina out of all people? geez, now i wish christina had died in insurgent during that ledge situation

[saralou23]

"I wanted to leave, but I fell in love with Tris Prior. I couldn't leave her."

[mikhayhu]

"I have something I need to tell you," he says. I run my fingers along the tendons in his hands and look back at him.

"I might be in love with you." He smiles a little.

"I'm waiting until I'm sure to tell you, though."

"That's sensible of you," I say, smiling too. "We should find some paper so you can make a list or a chart or something." I feel his laughter against my side, his nose sliding along my jaw, his lips pressing my ear.

"Maybe I'm already sure," he says, "and I just don't want to frighten you." I laugh a little.

"Then you should know better." "Fine," he says. "Then I love you."

I'll be your family now," he says.

"I love you," I say....

He stares at me. I wait with my hands clutching his arms for stability as he considers his response.

He frowns at me. "Say it again."

"Tobias," I say, "I love you.

"You die, I die too"

"I fell in love with him. But I don't just stay with him by default as if there's no one else available to me. I stay with him because I choose to, every day that I wake up, every day that we fight or lie to each other or disappoint each other. I choose him over and over again, and he chooses me."

[ilikefictionstuff]

Am I about to start this knowing it's incomplete and hasn't been updated for like 5 years? Yes.

But am I also severely deprived of content for this Fandom? YES