#Dauntless leader fan fiction

[dreams-got-dimmer]

The Roommate (Eric Coulter AU)

PROMPT: Dauntless makes a sudden change to there initiation housing thinking it would be better for the initiates to be paired with an actual member of dauntless in hopes that it will decrease the amount of fowl play and increase rankings that are actually well deserved.

It just so happens that the first year that this new housing is in place, is the year that Isabella is transferring from candor with her best friend John in tow who has also brought along the embarrassing nickname of calling her bean or beans.

It’s not a question to if she’ll survive initiation, but will she survive living with Eric?

In this AU Isabella will be 18 while Eric and others like Four are 22

Word Count: 1,382

Warnings: none

Note: Hey all! this is my first time ever writing a fan fiction let alone a story. If you would like me to continue with this please let me know!!! I hope you all enjoy the first chapter of this AU. And again if you want me to continue please show me some love or let me know what I can improve upon. (: enjoy

Chapter 1

Everything had been easy so far. My choice to transfer. The blood from my cut dripping over the coals of dauntless. Ignoring my parents surprised yelps and cries at my choice. Even the act of getting on the train and plummeting down to the net hadn’t been all that challenging either. I’m not sure whether it was because I was mentally prepared for this day or the fact that my best friend, John was along for the same ride that made it so easy.

Everyone had jumped and we were now awaiting instruction from Four, the groups trainer throughout initiation.

John leaned over to me his lips curling into a smile, “You excited Beans?”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” I whispered to him through gritted teeth. Normally I wouldn’t really mind the nickname he had adopted for me, but now that we transferred it would just be embarrassing if anyone were to overhear him calling me it.

“I can’t just stop, I’ve practically been calling you that since birth,” he shrugged “there’s nothing you can do to stop me from saying it either,”

I huffed not necessarily happy with his answer, but in no mood to start fighting with him. I was going to continue talking, but Four finally spoke up

“Consider this your lucky day initiates. We’ve decided to give you all a fair chance at proving yourself. A lot of foul play happens outside of the actual training and to combat that it seems the most logical way is to give you personal housing,” he pauses for a moment and all the initiates start murmuring excitedly. Four looked nothing but business. He was tall and lean with short brown hair. A permanent looking frown was etched into his face. And even with the frown he was in no way intimidating. He seemed like someone who knew how to command authority and lead others, which is maybe why he is a trainer.

The idea of not having to live in communal quarters was extremely appealing. We’d be the first group to have our own living space and not have to deal with the stress that someone may stab another in another in the eye with a butter knife.

“Don’t get too excited,” Four states. “It’s not as personal as you may think, you all have been assigned a roommate that is already a member of dauntless. You have no choice in who it is and they do not either. If you are not happy with who you are rooming with then that’s too bad. Be grateful that they won’t try to kill you,” he smirks “Hopefully,” the excitement was lost in all of us after that.

A woman by the name of Lauren began handing up our room assignment papers. She claimed to be the instructor for the dauntless born initiates, and I believe it. She looked for more intimidating than Four. Tattoos ran up her built arms. She had dark raven hair and one nasty resting bitch face. No one could control that, though. So even with that face that doesn’t correlate to the personality she may actually have, but besides I didn’t plan to get to know her anyway.

I get handed my paper and I nod my thanks and she just walks off not acknowledging it at all.

“Initiation will begin tomorrow. Take this time to eat and introduce yourself to your new roommate. I’ll bring you all to the dining hall” Four says while turning around not waiting for us to start following.

As we get deeper and deeper into dauntless the chill starts to creep up my back. I don’t know why I hadn’t given much thought to how cold it may be underground. Or how much sunlight I’ll miss touching my face. Unease washes over me. Did I make the right decision? It’s like John had read my mind.

“Hey, don’t worry, you know that you belong here right? We both do,” he wraps his arm around my shoulders as we walk. Easing a bit of that chill that was in my spine. “Besides, I won’t let you fail out. Don’t be worried you’re definitely more prepared than a few others here,” he snickers a bit as I survey the crowd of trainers realizing he’s right. There were way more boys than girls and even with the gender difference a lot of them looked shorter, scrawny and scared out of their wits. Like they didn’t mean to let their blood drop over the coals at the choosing ceremony.

I smiled up at him “thanks, J. You really know how to blow up this ego,” I chuckled. He was right, though. I know I had a slight upper hand over most of them. John and I worked out quite regularly together back in Candor and we knew the basics of fighting, but other than that I was probably just as clueless as the rest. I wasn’t going to let my one strength of being strong be seen, though. I want to keep others in the dark deciding on wearing baggier clothes until I really had to show my strength. I stood around 5’2” or 5’3”, but I was a lot stronger than anyone would imagine for how short I was. You could see it on my body with the thick thighs, defined arms and wide lats.

John didn’t say anything back to me as we finally made it to the dining hall. Every faction could eat together like this, but honestly, I would much rather eat in my own room. Knowing that I would be able to do that soon enough was a relief because you would be lying to yourself if you thought this D hall food was amazing.

After John and I grabbed your food it was surprising because all the initiates ended up sitting together. Maybe because it was all we knew so far. I don’t think any of us would dare trying to sit with Four or Lauren even though they most likely wouldn’t bite our head off for it.

A boy with short black hair spoke up “So, who did everyone get for their roommates?” There was curiosity in his eyes and the blue shirt he was wearing told me he was from Erudite. Everyone started going around the table saying their roommates. The names didn’t really mean anything to me because I didn’t know a single person here. It was getting close to me so finally decided to take a peek at my paper. Eric Coulter room 225 was typed on the paper showing the location within the compound and his number and email. There was no other information, but I knew he was a leader to Dauntless and that was it.

The boy with the black hair cleared his throat at me expectantly. I threw a displeased look at him annoyed with his urgency, but I answered anyway “uhh.. Eric Coulter,” I shrugged as I folded up the paper. Everyone went silent around me stopping their eating and side chatter to look up at me. “What?” I asked confused. Even John was gaping at me. I glared at him frustrated that I was apparently so out of the loop. “You know he’s the leader, right?” John narrowed his eyes at lack of fear. “Yeah, and?” I bark at him, “What’s the problem?” I look at him while everyone else looks at me. “The problem is he’s the biggest dickhead in this compound. He chews you up and spits you out,” John had a concerned look on his face for me, “there are so many stories of him almost killing the initiates, most of them being him hanging them over the chasm...” He trails off. I huff frustrated they he didn’t think I could handle myself with the so called ‘biggest dickhead in the compound’. Apparently, no one else thought I could handle him either and honestly I was up for the challenge.

“Well fuck it. I don’t give a shit if he’s the biggest dickhead here. I can handle it,” I stand up suddenly, “You know what, I’m gonna go find him now,” I stormed off mentally preparing myself to try and make it through this labyrinth that is Dauntless.

[carrotwine4captainhops]

Major Character Death as a creative writing tool

I’ve always been interested in the craft of writing. I’ve been mulling over the way Major Character Death is used as a tool in fiction for awhile, and after watching the extremely problematic death of Quentin Coldwater, (and the self-congratulatory responses of the show’s producers who apparently believe they invented the concept) I thought I’d give you the the high school level compare and contrast MCD essay you didn’t really need or want.

Before I start, I want to be clear that MCD as a tool is not a bad thing by itself. Many, many fiction authors use it in a very calculated way, and as long as it serves the story well, they’re doing their job. Many essays and books about the craft of writing discuss its use because it is just another tool in the creative writer’s tool box. When done well, it makes you cry in a good way; when done badly, the death feels like a cheap gimmick to force an emotion without doing much work as a story teller. The latter is definitely what happened with the season finale of The Magicians.

If season 4 of the magicians had been a novel, it would have been sent back for major revisions before publication.

The first MCD that came to mind while watching the season 4 finale of The Magicians, wasn’t technically an MCD, but may as well be: the ending of the Golden Compass trilogy. The two protagonists have recently fallen in love, and make the difficult decision to return to never see each other again as a way to save the multiverse from the damage caused by traveling between worlds. They won’t even be able to contact each other, and will have to live out their lives as if the other had died.

It was incredibly painful to read (it’s the first book I cried over), but it was beautifully written and a very logical conclusion that the author set up from book one. The books are about (among many other things) the failures of adults and authority when they make selfish decisions, and by choosing to put the health of the universe above their own happiness, they made the bravest, most adult decision they could. It’s a message about the hope that younger generations can fix the things that their predecessors broke if they’re brave enough. The Magicians almost had a similar message.

The second MCD I thought of was that of “Wash” from Firefly. Like a lot of other fans of the show, I got angry at this death in the movie Serenity (essentially the series finale of the TV show). Wash was the comedic relief and voice of optimism in a dark and dystopic show. While Quentin was clinically depressed, and, in the words of Margo Hanson, ”moderately socially maladjusted”, he also acted as the voice of hope to his peers. Both characters were the emotional core of their shows, which was a big reason why they were chosen by their perspective creators as the deaths that would be most felt by the audience. They both got a funeral scene, to really drive home how much the other characters (and by extension, the audience) would be impacted by their death.

In Wash’s case, having his death be accidental impalement during a crash didn’t feel entirely satisfying or necessary. It felt like a lazy way to make the audience sad and motivate the rest of the characters to Really Get That Baddie… BUT, this cheapness is balanced by the symbolism of an outlaw pilot literally dying at the helm of the ship he loved while trying to save the world. It also didn’t send any problematic messages to the audience. Wash was not the protagonist or a “self-insert” the way Quentin was; he wasn’t suicidal or part of an underserved minority group (and make no mistake, by making Quentin sexually fluid/bisexual, the producers signed themselves up for a more thoughtful treatment of his death, if it had to happen.)

The message from Wash’s death is one that is very familiar to readers of genre fiction MCDs: simply: “not everyone lives” and “people who put themselves in high-risk situations sometimes die”. Both of which are painful but fair messages to absorb.

This same tactic was used again by Whedon with Agent Coulson in The Avengers. As an optimistic “plot-armor-free” side character who had become a fan favorite, he was given an entire arc in the movie that the audience wasn’t expecting, made to be even more loveable, and then killed off in a long emotional death scene which was then used in the third act turning point of the movie. Whedon made it clear in interviews that the whole death was coldly calculated to squeeze emotion from the audience, and up the stakes in a way that a large body count couldn’t. It upset a lot of fans, it wasn’t perfect, but it was well done and fitting for the narrative and made the movie stronger, and, again, he wasn’t a member of a minority group. (And as a side note, a different creative team knew how popular Coulson was and managed to resurrect him for his own TV show and managed to do it in a way that wasn’t flip-his resurrection had consequences that lasted at least until season 5, the current season).

There is no mitigating balance to Quentin’s death. He was suicidal  from day one of the series, and he left via (a purposefully plausible) suicide. His first question, once he realizes he’s dead, is not, “Did the plan work?” or “is Eliot OK?” (the friend he’d been working so hard all season to save) or even “is Julia/Alice/Josh/all my other friends ok?” These are questions that would be plausible and fitting in a character who’s journey has about helping friends and the world out of tough situations. But no, the first thing he asks is “did I finally kill myself?” 

With one sentence, his character returned to the self-centered, timid, low-confidence, suicidal mess he’d been established as within five minutes of the show’s pilot. He had no self-realization until after watching his own funeral, at which point he happily and peacefully goes to heaven. At best, that’s heavy-handed symbolism. At worst, it’s erasing all of his character growth and making his entire story pointless, while sending the very dangerous message to the audience. 

The writers stated in interviews that they made his death all about suicide on purpose, and now (as of this writing) they continue to refuse to grapple with how problematic that is.

Another MCD that seemed to do the same thing was Tris from the Divergent series. Like Quentin, she was the protagonist. Also similar to Quentin, her arc was almost too on the nose: she was born into a clan literally named “Abnegation” and indoctrinated from birth to sacrifice herself for her community. She wasn’t even allowed to look into mirrors in case she caught even a smidgen of self-regard. And how does her story end? By her sacrificing her life to get the “big baddie” and save her friends and family. 

Like Quentin’s death, a lot of her character growth appeared to be erased in the last few chapters of the book. Prior to Book 3, Tris had been learning to question her upbringing, to think for herself, that it’s ok to look for happiness for oneself, and that selfishness takes many forms, not all of them bad. When she makes the decision to kill herself in the end, it left a bad taste in my mouth. The plot didn’t require her death, (for example, there were other characters who could have gone in her place, and as a leader at that point, the more difficult decision probably would have been to send someone else on that mission and learn to live with the guilt). Her death and the manner of it, seemed to say, “just kidding, actually the only way to realize your self-worth is to is sacrifice your happiness and entire self for your community.”

Sound familiar?

Quentin Coldwater was just starting to learn (and because he had an audience, to teach) many of these same things. For three and a half seasons, we see him form strong friendships (when he thought he couldn’t); help people (when he thought he was useless), pursue romantic relationships (when he thought no one could love him); he lives an entire lifetime with Eliot during a quest on alternate timeline, where he’s shown having to make the difficult decision every day, to stay alive, to keep working on the tedious and almost hopeless task of completing the puzzle to finish a quest, and then it turns out that the answer to the puzzle all along WAS that daily struggle. Later, in season 4, he tells us that he hopes to be a dad (again) someday; he shows more and more confidence in his magical abilities every season. All of that was erased by the way his death was written.

Even with the uneven messaging of Tris’ death, there is at least lots of room for interpretation. I believe the author was trying to show her final sacrifice as a way of reclaiming part of her upbringing that wasn’t toxic. The character went through a rebellious phase during book one, during which she seems to reject all parts of her former life, even the good ones, right after leaving the Abnegation community for the hedonistic clan of Dauntless. It would definitely be good growth for her, as part of self-actualization, to accept the good parts of her upbringing. I don’t necessarily believe that’s the message we get at the end, but we at least have the possibility. Not everyone has reacted negatively to the way Quentin’s death was handled, so maybe there is more possibility of interpretation than what I see. I’m willing to be proven wrong, but nothing I’ve seen from critics or the showrunners statements has yet convinced me.

Another (highly speculative), parallel I couldn’t help but make over the last few days, is between the Magicians showrunners’s treatment of this MCD and Joss Whedon of a decade ago. His recent fall from grace has finally allowed more critical examination of his past works, but I remember how, at his peak, he could do no wrong. He was the voice of hollywood feminism. He was lauded by critics, peers, and fans. Any voice that questioned him was mocked, dismissed, and even harassed. Anyone else remember when critics call “Dollhouse” a feminist show? None of that has not aged well, has it?

The Magicians producers, riding high off of critical acclaim of Quentin’s homosexual romance in Season 3x05, had ample chance to make the braver choice: to allow a queer suicidal boy make the choice to keep fighting every day despite how hard it was; To break rank with 99% of other TV shows and allow his homosexual romance to be explored and given the same consideration as the hetersexual romances. Instead, they made him kill himself and be happy about it, literally saying in interviews that he had nothing left to live for. Without even addressing his feelings for Eliot. They buried yet another gay, all in the name of a shock-value gimmick, and they think they’re being “revolutionary” and that anyone critical of their choices is “just sad”.

There are about a thousand different ways season 4 could have gone that would have made the writers’ intended message less problematic, more impactful, and more satisfying, and none of them involve a MCD OR a trite “happily ever after”. Consider, for example, that Zelda could have completed her redemption arc in some kind of sacrifice similar to quentin’s. Everett was much more her “big baddie” than he was Quentin’s, it’s just strange that she never got to really confront her mentor-turned-enemy. Consider that, since Quentin’s main focus and motivation all season was to get Eliot back, that he actually succeeds, but, their reunion and relationship is strained. If we must push this idea that “magic comes from pain”, think how much more painful it would be to be to have Eliot finally confess his love to Quentin, but now Quentin is unable to pursue that relationship because of all the trauma he’s suffered at the hands of Eliot’s possessed body all season. Consider that he finally breaks under the strain and excuses himself from further questing, which would easily allow Julia, Kady, or Alice to get more screentime. (I mean, this is just stuff off the top of my head. For a hundred other ideas, check out Archive of Our Own).

They did just about everything wrong with this particular major character death, and I don’t think their choice is going to age well in the years to come.

[vitaevandal]

Brave New World

Category: Fan Fiction Fandom: Divergent Pairing: Eric/OFC Rating: PG-13 (language), eventually M Genres: Drama, romance, humor, angst, slow burn, some fluff Disclaimer: This a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line.

A/N: This is based on a request from and discussions with @frecklefaceb and @clublulu333. It was requested as a one-shot but I had an idea that a one-shot wouldn’t do justice, so this is shaping up to be a longer fic. Here goes.

Summary: When disaster strikes the City and leaves it in ruins, Eric, one of the few survivors, must evacuate Dauntless. He finds himself in the unknown world beyond the wall, which seems to have suffered the same fate. unsure of what has become of the City he called home. Everything Eric knows has been stripped away, and he is forced to forge surprising new relationships. Will Eric ever make it back home to Dauntless? Is there even a home to go back to?

Chapter 1 - Good Morning Sunshine

It had been two days, and Eric still wasn’t accustomed to being woken by harsh sunlight bleeding through his eyelids. He’d tried closing the blinds to darken the room, but he discovered that leaving the windows open to let in a breeze was the only way to alleviate the infernal morning heat. Beads of sweat had already formed on his face, as the temperature was drastically lower at night, requiring a layer of blankets that ended up suffocating him as the sun rose and began roasting him in the bedroom like a turkey in an oven. Not that he’d ever seen a turkey in person, Dauntless wasn’t exactly overrun by wildlife, but he’d learned about the absurd custom of Thanksgiving during his days in Erudite and seen enough pictures of the deformed birds to wonder why anyone would want to eat something that looked like it had a ballsack hanging off of its face. For the first time he realized how much he’d taken the climate-controlled caverns of Dauntless for granted.

But at least the walls of the still unfamiliar home provided some shade and insulation. When he first stepped out of the pod, he felt nearly blinded by what seemed like death rays from the sky. Following immediately was the dry, sweltering heat that literally took his breath away. Disorientation had taken hold of him as he had cracked his eyes open to slits, slowly adjusting to the brightness. The vast expanse of hard-packed, cracked earth and sparse dottings of queer plant life told him he had landed somewhere out west, according to his geography lessons. Everything looked...dead. As dead as he knew almost every living thing in his former home most likely was.

He turned slowly and was surprised to find himself facing a small collection of five closely set houses, all bland and identical save for their color. A subdivision, he believed this was called, though why anyone would choose this fucking wasteland as home baffled him. Every single one of them looked deserted, windows dark, vehicles absent from driveways, not a soul in sight. He supposed they could be holed up inside, but he thought it more likely that the occupants had had enough warning of the impending disaster to pack up their necessities and attempt to flee to safety. He wished Dauntless had had that much of a warning, though he wasn’t sure even that would’ve changed the outcome.

***

The blaring of the alarm was almost, but not quite, enough to drown out the panicked screams throughout the compound. He heard the distant thumps and crashes of various structures crumbling in the distance, getting closer by the second as he stood in the control room. The outer walls and ceilings, closest to the surface, were the first to go; everything else was falling like dominos in their wake. He was trying to assess the magnitude of the situation through the camera feeds, but they disappeared almost before he could catch a glimpse as they too fell victim to the destruction. Though he didn’t need to see to know it was pure chaos.

Of course there were disaster plans in place, but they encompassed things like earthquakes and attacks from the factionless; nothing like what was happening now. As drills had taught them, people scrambled to get inside doorways and to the armory, where the construction was more fortified, but even those were collapsing under the force of this unknown attack. Those that kept their cool and followed the action plan were ironically the first to go, having gathered in clusters to the supposedly more stable areas and subsequently buried en masse. Eric watched the rest of his faction scurry around in mindless terror like headless chickens, many of them flocking to the Pit seeking safety in numbers, and he had time to think, “So much for being brave and prepared.” He sneered in disgust, thinking that if these people were what his beloved faction were made up of, perhaps they deserved to die. He thought he chose only the best of the best for Dauntless, but clearly when the going really got tough, very few measured up.

Eric had the invaluable talent of keeping his cool in even the most calamitous of situations, an essential quality to being an effective Leader, so while he certainly didn’t lack the courage to run headlong into the melee and attempt to rescue his moronic faction members, logic always prevailed for him, and not only were there protocols in place he was trained to follow, he recognized immediately that any rescue attempts were futile. He had to put the faction at large first even if it cost lives. The sacrifice of the few for the survival of the many, unfortunately.

And so, the faction leaders and their lieutenants were the priority. If the City were to fall, the most qualified should be the ones to survive in order to rebuild. Therefore, these chosen few were the only ones aware of the outside world beyond the City walls, and provided the means to escape to it in the event of the annihilation of the City. He fled to the appointed evacuation point, knowing that despite its reinforcements even that would only hold for minutes, and stepped into his assigned pod. He didn’t know the science behind it, that was Erudite’s department - was it some kind of teleportation device, or form of air travel? - but he didn’t have time to question whether he would survive the journey. Nor would he have any way of knowing if the other faction leaders had escaped. There was no deliberation really - to remain here was certain death.

The moment he stepped inside, the steel door shut forcefully behind him. A female robotic voice intoned, “Evacuation initiated,” he felt a gentle lurch as the pod ascended through the pneumatic chamber, and the last Eric knew was total darkness.

***

Eric climbed out of bed and donned the same clothes he’d been wearing since his arrival in this hellhole: fitted black t-shirt, black cargo pants, and black combat boots. His nose immediately wrinkled at the distinct odor emanating from his unwashed clothes and sweat-grimed body, but thus far he had come across no clothes in the closets that would fit his large frame, so he was stuck with what he had. He trudged wearily downstairs, his desire for coffee so strong it was practically an ache, and began to consider his plan of action for the day.

He had spent the first day scouring the houses for any necessary supplies he could immediately think of: food, clothing, weapons, and, since he had quickly ascertained that the electricity and plumbing were no longer functioning, bottled water and batteries. He collected his findings in the center house he had chosen at random to take up residence in, knowing he would think of more potentially useful items but would make a list later; for the time being he was still slightly overwhelmed by shock. Today he thought he might try the remaining vehicles in the garages to see if any of them were running, hoping to further explore the surrounding terrain. But what if he couldn’t find the keys? Could he hotwire a car? The garage doors operated on electricity; could he figure out how to open them manually? There had always been generators in Dauntless. Eric was an intelligent guy, but it’s not like they taught Survival Skills for the Apocalypse in school. He took a deep breath and said to himself, “One step at a time.”

Eric jumped as he suddenly heard the sound of rustling coming from what he thought was the kitchen. He pulled his gun from his holster and descended the stairs carefully; bursting into the kitchen, he drew his gun, and yelled, “Don’t move!”

The sight of the girl standing in front of the open cabinet actually at first almost made him laugh. She wore an oversized, obnoxiously flowery sundress, floppy straw hat, and yellow galoshes, and a white stripe ran down the length of her nose. She looked like a drunken Amity refugee. “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.

For a moment she continued to rummage through the cabinet’s contents, seemingly unconcerned with the gun pointed at her head. Then she turned to face Eric and briefly eyed him up and down, taking in his attire and piercings. She snorted and said, “The end of the world hits and you decided to raid Hot Topic? Great, I’m sure you’ll be loads of help.”

Eric strode forward and grabbed her by the arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She had resumed her inventory of the cabinets, replying, “I’m checking the empty houses for supplies, what does it look like I’m doing?”

His mouth had fallen slightly open at her brazenness. “Well obviously this house isn’t fucking empty, so stop going through my shit!”

She turned to him again, hands on her hips, and retorted, “Technically this isn’t your shit, it belonged to the person that used to live here, so as far as I’m concerned it’s fair game.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart,” he snarled. “More like every man for himself. I don’t care where you go, just get the fuck out of this house.”

She sighed, wriggling out of his grasp. “I don’t know how long you’ve been around here, but I’ve been out here for almost a week, and near as I can tell, we’re the only two living people for miles. Hell, we’re the last two living people on the planet for all I know. So either we work together, or we die.”

She grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically. “I’m Madeline, but I go by Maddy. Welcome to the neighborhood.” She smiled brightly. “I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends!”

Eric groaned and began to wonder if he wouldn’t be better off dead after all.

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: MOVIE REVIEW: Da 5 Bloods

(Image courtesy of Netflix)

DA 5 BLOODS— 4 STARS

In the same way this website touts “every movie has a lesson,” every movie also has its politics. Academy Award winner (damn, that sounds great to read) Spike Lee is never shy about his level of challenging civics, nor should he be. His movies are his earned and rightful rostrums. Stitched with the electrified barbed wire of echoed history, Da 5 Bloods is infused with warranted politics that make it more than its retirement adventure and war movie ingredients. With stern strength in this Netflix release, the rants of old men give way to the treatises of ghosts.  

The diatribes and tirades in question come from four Vietnam veterans in their mid-60s. Eddie (Broadway star Norm Lewis), Melvin (Isiah Whitlock Jr.), Otis (The Wire’s Clarke Peters), and Paul (the top-billed Delroy Lindo) were among the “Soul Brothers” who served several tours in the First Infantry. These men return to a modernized Ho Chi Minh City in the Land of the Blue Dragon for a special sort of overdue pilgrimage. Their two determined objectives are to bring back the remains of their fallen squadron leader “Stormin’” Norman Holloway (Chadwick Boseman) and to abscond with millions of dollars of gold bars they buried in the jungle nearly 50 years ago.

Forever linked by surviving the same past, each are very different men. Eddie and Melvin are the easy-going ones while Otis leads as the sympathetic organizer of the international trade operation with rediscovered familial roots in Vietnam. The loudest and surliest of this team is Paul, a bitter and ignorant conservative who wears his politics on his sleeve and on his head with a turned-back MAGA hat. He is joined by his undesired adult son David (the rising Jonathan Majors of The Last Black Man in San Francisco). Everyone is forced to bend or deal with Paul’s mouthy dominance especially when the shit hits the fan.

LESSON #1: THE BLACK EXPERIENCE OF THE VIETNAM WAR— Here’s where the treatises emerge. Black soldiers comprised 32% of American forces in Vietnam as expendable muscle. They fought an immoral war for freedoms on foreign souls that did not often equal what they had back in their home country. The reward for their service was an eternal struggle with trauma and the frowned-upon release of any perceived weakness from their experiences. In fifty years, their war never ended, in the mind or otherwise.

If you ever pondered what a filmmaker like Spike Lee could achieve in this genre, wonder no longer. Da 5 Bloods is boosted by a screenwriting assist from video game specialists Danny Bilson and Paul De Meo adding lively action pieces. Lee’s pulp has punch thanks to dynamic editing from Roma’s Adam Gough and slick shifts in filters and aspect ratios (from 2.39:1 to 1:33:1) between the time periods by Bohemian Rhapsody cinematographer Newton Thomas Sigel. Beneath all that, Lee still infuses his favorite flourishes including a soundscape combining stirring Marvin Gaye tracks with a gripping score from his trusted trumpeter extraordinaire Terence Blanchard. Needless to say, Spike can hang. 

LESSON #2: SECURING OR CHANGING A LEGACY— Embarking “in country” on this quest back into the tropical terrain of their formative and macho memories, each of these men face this quest with different fears and goals. What the money means to them versus what the journey means to them defines desires and actions. Some see this with proper closure and betterment in mind. Others are selfish with greed or aim to grab their own sense of reparations. Allowing this to happen within their tight-knit camaraderie, they threaten to become their own villains.

LESSON #3: “DO RIGHT JUST TO GET RIGHT”— Through all the arguments, tail chases, and betrayals peppered with gunfire in the movie, if there is one element of Da 5 Bloods that is flattened more than its flaunted it is the spectre of Stormin’ Norman. Chadwick Boseman embodies a flashy and fearless lionheart who, when removed from the violence, orates the importance of loving one another with mantras like this lesson title or “God is Love, Love is God.” The evidence of these instilled values is present but the full swell of them is untapped in heightening this drama.

Each member of this choice ensemble glints with talent. Casting four seniors near was a coup for Da 5 Bloods. Each of the central four play their ages and personalities with natural peaks and limitations. During the war scene flashbacks, Lee chose not to recast them (or Scorsese-style de-age them) with younger actors over their venerable guises. That keen move creates the sense these characters and men, like Lesson #1, never really left the rigors and horrors they shared alongside Boseman’s animated idol. Two of the cast stand out above the rest. 

Delroy Lindo is unreservedly ferocious. Blustering with belligerence and shoving his superiority around with every drop of truth and sweat, this may very well be the best performance of his career. Parallel to Lindo and pushing right back, Clarke Peters is the sage salve that becomes the heart and soul of Da 5 Bloods. His gravely delivery and patience is remarkable. Even in this unknown and meager year, give these men proper Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor frontrunner statuses for future awards.

Re-teaming with his fellow Oscar-winning BlacKkKlansman writer Kevin Wilmott, Spike Lee puts his pungent poetry into a war film setting with dauntless theatrical results. Beyond the fictionalized exploits of hallowed brotherhood, Da 5 Bloods dispenses a parade of extra archival nuggets chronicling where and when the lightning rods of the past spoke out against atrocity and the racial plight during the Vietnam War era. While this layer elongates the running time, it is a vast history lesson of poignancy and topicality. Those goals have become two of many personified signatures of Spike Lee, and they are worth every effort.

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[badassdauntlessgirl-blog]

Part 2

Story Title: It’s Our Paradise, It’s Our War Zone Chapter: 2 Previous Chapters: 1 Genre: Fan Fiction, Divergent Fandom Warnings: Strong Language, Adult Content Rating: NSFW Disclaimer: I own nothing, just writing to express myself.

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“That’s it up ahead.” Riley said pointing at a small building in the distance. “Doubt that, it’s tiny.” Nikki butted in. “It’s underground.” Riley replied sure of herself.  “We’re checking it out, on foot from here, grab your gear.” Eric ordered bringing the truck to a halt.  “You’re gonna listen to the rookie? Ha, Eric I really don’t think.” Nikki started. “You don’t think anything, I’m your commanding officer, that’s the orders.” Eric demanded. Riley secured her bulletproof vest and checked her gun was fully loaded then leaped out of the armored truck, quite a leap for her being only 5 feet, instantly she raised her arms and aimed her gun towards the building, the team moved in single file creeping through the tall grass on the lookout for any rebels. Eric ordered the twins and Nikki to go around the back and secure it; he, Hunter and Riley would take and secure the front of the building. Eric approached the closed door, kicked it in then he fell back allowing Riley to go in low while Hunter went in high with their guns at the ready, the room was completely empty, Eric motioned his index and middle finger on his right hand forward, Riley took lead through the doorway checked right and left and then continued forward, her brother and Eric watched her six as she continued.  “Sarge anything?” Josh’s voice crackled over the radio.  “Negative.” Eric informed his team members. The 3 soldiers moved silently and carefully through the unused building just as they’d been trained, up ahead a light illuminated a room, Eric tapped Riley on the shoulder, he pointed towards the door and nodded his head, Riley nodded back and faced the doorway once again her gun drawn. Eric squeezed her shoulder and she advanced, she kicked the door, it creaked open and immediately there was a flash of light and a pop. Eric, Hunter and Riley fell back and dropped low, Eric pulled his trigger and they heard a body crumble to the floor, it suddenly went silent and then there was another pop, Hunter spotted a rebel from his crouching position and fired his handgun, hitting him square in the head, he went down. Eric held up his fist and inched forward, he slowly went into the lighted room and said loud enough for Hunter and Riley to hear ‘clear’ they entered with their guns raised just as they were taught. Adrenaline buzzed through Riley, she had goosebumps, all she could hear was her heart beating in her chest and then she spotted a rebel raising his rifle pointing it in Eric’s direction, she double tapped and the meaningless soldier fell to the ground.  “Now we’re clear.” Riley pointed to the corner of the room “Trap door.” Eric pointed his weapon at the floor as Riley leaned down and pulled open the hatch, with her flashlight and gun raised she looked into the black hole a staircase barely visible “Clear.” Eric gave the order to continue on, Riley climbed down the wonky stairs first, once at the bottom she spun around doing a full sweep of her surroundings, it was dark and musty but clear. Eric and Hunter jumped down and joined her, they searched the dark room, maps and papers lined the walls and tables, they rummaged through the paperwork. “What have you got?” Eric asked from across the room.  “Building blueprints, run down unused piles of shit.” Riley replied fumbling with the papers on the table in front of her. A door at the back of the small dark room opened, Eric, Hunter and Riley kneeled down guns drawn, Nikki walked through the door. “Bloody hell Nikki.” Hunter sighed. “I almost blew your head off.”  “Button it up soldier.” Eric barked aggressively towards her. Nikki rolled her eyes the moment Eric turned away. “Did you run into anyone?”  “No, it’s all clear from our end.” Jack informed the team.  “Even so, this place could have laser censors, we could be compromised, hurry it up, grab what’s necessary and let’s get going.” Riley quickly sifted through some papers, spotting a map of Dauntless she grabbed that along with a few other documents. “Let’s wrap it up.” Eric ordered. The group exited through the back entrance, the twins took the lead since they came in that way, everyone was on high alert but the place seemed to be deserted, there was not a sound to hear besides Alpha teams footsteps crunching the broken glass on the ground beneath their feet. Once clear of the building and back at the truck Alpha team took off their bulletproof vests and put their rifles away, Riley slipped into the front passengers seat beside Eric who was driving and her brother, the twins and Nikki hopped in the back, Eric took off immediately, pedal to the metal, that was Eric’s style of driving; drive like you’re being chased.

Riley being the rookie it was her job to clean the truck, or at least that was the unspoken rules; rookies always did the shit jobs. Riley spent her time carefully and methodically cleaning the truck when she handed the keys over to Mikey he was impressed by her attention to detail. Riley walked through the tunnels of Dauntless, instead of heading home she went straight to the pit to her favorite bar, she took her usual seat, the hot black haired female bartender smiled at Riley. “Your usual?”  “Of course.” Riley smiled back. The thin nosed skinny chick poured a double vodka with red bull, Riley swallowed the liquid immediately and asked for another. As the bartender poured another a tall dark haired handsome man sat on the stool next to Riley, he ordered a rum and coke.  “You’re Riley right, the rookie?” Riley raised her brow unsure of the gentleman. “I’m Nick, I eh, I’m Delta, news travels fast around here.”  “Sure does.” Riley replied still unsure of the stranger. His sea blue eyes caught Riley’s gaze, his hair was perfectly sculpted and his face was covered in few days old stubble.  “Heard you saved Eric’s ass?” Nick chuckled. “Yeah you did, where’d you hear that?” Riley asked intrigued.  “Well your brother’s been boasting about you.”  “Awh fuck, Hunter.” Riley whined then downed the last of her drink.  “Can I get you one?”  “Yeah, sure.” Riley shrugged. “So you know Hunter?”  “Trained with him.” Riley sat with Nick at the bar for 2 hours, when she stood up she swayed and reached out to steady herself, Nick gently put his arm around her waist and held her left arm, a smile broke across Riley’s face, Nick had been nothing but charming, she moved away from him but took hold of his hand and gently pulled him along with her. She stumbled around the Dauntless compound and found a empty unused room, she pulled Nick in with her and backed up against the wall, she hooked his belt loop and pulled closer, both eager to taste each other they instantly opened their mouths and tangled tongues. 

“Riley, Riley! Open this bloody door right now!” Lisa pounded on the twins’ apartment door. “Riley!” Riley fell out of bed and stumbled through her apartment to the door, as soon as she opened it her mother stormed in carrying her little brother on her hip. “Here, you take him, I’m busy.”  “What? I can’t just, I’ve got work.” Riley raised her voice but remained calm.  “And I don’t? It’s not my problem, or at least it shouldn’t be. Deal with it.” Lisa snapped back. “I’ve just been promoted, I can’t look after Finn today.” Riley pleaded. “Tough, I’ve got a life too Riley, one that you came along and ruined so don’t you dare tell me that this isn’t fair, this is your problem, sort it out.” Lisa dumped the diaper bag on the sofa and bolted out of the apartment before Riley could say another word.  “What the hell is going on?” Ryder called from his upstairs bedroom. Riley scooped up her little brother and cuddled him. “Finlay?” “Mom just dropped him off, said she was busy.” Riley put the little boy back onto his feet and urged him to go play. “What the fuck am I gonna do Ryder? I’ve got work.”  “Take him with you.” Ryder suggested.  “Yeah cause Murph would be sound with that.” Riley snorted. She had to come up with a plan fast, ugh why did she drink so much last night, her head pounded as much as her mom hit the door moments earlier. “I don’t think Murphy will be your problem, Eric is.” “Keep an eye on him just now, I need to get ready.” Riley dashed to her bedroom and threw off her oversized t-shirt, without caring she grabbed black skinny pants and a white vest top off her floor from the day before, something she never done unless she was drunk. Riley reentered her living room and found Ryder bouncing Finlay on his legs, the little boy giggled. Riley walked over to her brothers, she took Finlay into her arms and grabbed the diaper bag. “Where are you gonna take him?” Ryder asked. “I dunno yet.” Riley said honestly and shrugged her shoulders.  “Maybe you should speak to Murphy first.”  “Ryder, I’m not going to my XO because I have a baby to look after, I’ll deal with it, I’ll figure something out.” Riley half smiled at her brother and left the apartment. She wandered around the compound trying to think, there had to be someone who could help her out.  “You’re a nanny now?” A familiar and husky voice said behind her, she spun around and saw Eric with a smug smile spread across his face. “And here I thought you’d just been promoted to Alpha squad.”  “It’s one thing killing a man Eric, it’s another caring for a child.” “Just don’t let a child make you late.” Eric ordered. “I’m never late. “ Riley smirked back to her new team leader. Eric scowled and walked away. Riley adjusted little Finlay on her hip and carried on walking through Dauntless then it hit her.. Ashley. Riley turned on her heels and dashed to Hunter’s apartment, when she reached the door she wrapped on it and waited, Ashley opened the door in surprise. “Riley?” “Morning Ashley. I’m so sorry to do this but I was wondering if you could possibly babysit Finn for me.” “Yeah sure, I can do that.” Ashley smiled. “Hey Finlay, you gonna spend the day with me?” Finlay looked at his big sister with worry in his eyes. “It’s okay baby, I’ve gotta go to work, I’ll be back for you, until then you can play with Ashley all day.” Riley assured her brother. “Hey Finlay how about we go to the park? Would you like that?” Immediately Finlay opened up his arms towards Ashley, she took the toddler. Riley placed the diaper bag on the floor just inside the apartment. “Thanks Ash, I owe you.” “Not a problem, we’re practically family.” Ashley replied with a smile. Riley waved bye to her brother and looked at her watch, 5 minutes, she bolted along the corridors, finally she made it to the squad room with a minute to spare. “Told you.” Riley smirked at Eric as she sauntered in, Eric eyeballed her fiercely, took note of her perky breasts and rounded ass in her tight vest top and skinny pants, her blond wavy hair covered most of her back, dangling to almost her hips. “Morning guys.” Hunter welcomed the team. “So today’s task is a simple one; go over the documents we found.” The twins huffed in response. Sure paperwork wasn’t exciting but it’s part of the job, Riley picked up a pile of papers, sat down at the table and started reading everyone else didn’t seem to be so eager and took their time collecting a pile of their own. “Managed to get rid of the brat then” Eric said leaning over Riley’s right shoulder. “Ashley.” Riley replied. “It’ll be good practice for her.” “How come you had him anyway?” Hunter asked looking up from the papers in front of him. “Mom appeared this morning and dumped him on me.” “Why couldn’t she take him?” Hunter asked. “I don’t know, she didn’t stick around to talk. Just to give me a telling off then leave.” Riley sighed. “Good morning.” Murphy said entering the squad room, everyone stood immediately. “Carry on.” Murphy paused and looked around the room. “Where’s Lieutenant Nikki?” “Don’t know sir, she hasn’t showed.” Hunter informed their boss. “Well when she does, send her to my office.” “Yes sir.” Hunter complied. “Well, looks like Nikki’s in shit.” Hunter continued when Murphy left the room. “She’s so hot but she’s such a bitch.” Jack said to no one in particular. “I’d tap that.” Josh laughed. “Wait I already have.” “Snap.” Jack said and high fived his brother Josh.

“This is all just shit, nothing important.” Josh moaned. “Just because it’s not important to you doesn’t mean it’s not at all, it must mean something otherwise why would they have it.” Riley said not lifting her eyes off the paper she was holding. “Agreed, keep going.” Eric said, Josh sighed and continued reading. “Wait.” Jack said. “I think I might have found something but I’m not sure what it means.” “Spill Lieutenant.” Eric ordered. Jack raised to his feet and walked to the front of the room, he placed the sheet of paper on the projector and turned it on, Hunter switched off the lights and they all stared up at the wall. “What the fuck.” Riley said. There was her family’s names, dates of birth, height, weight, eye color and a whole lot more information. “I’m not 80 pounds, I’m bloody 90!” All the guys turned to face her. “What, it took me ages to gain those 10 pounds.” “Is all this information correct?” Eric asked looking at Hunter and Riley, the siblings nodded. “The names at the bottom, are they familiar?” “No, I don’t know anyone by those names.” Riley said. “Me neither.” Hunter confirmed. “Wait.” Riley said moving closer to the wall. “Desmond.” “You know him?” Eric asked. “Yes. Well no.” “Spit it out Lieutenant.” Eric said. “Desmond, that’s the name of the guy that tried to hijack the truck the other day.” “Hunter get down to the holding cells.” Eric ordered. “No, I met the guy, I’ll go.” Riley said exiting the room before anyone could stop her. Riley was on a mission, she marched to the cells, reaching the desk she pushed in front of a younger Dauntless member and tapped her finger to get the attention of the young guy behind the desk. “You’ve got a guy called Desmond in lock up, I need him, Eric’s orders.” “Ah, we don’t any more.” The guy shrugged. “What do you mean?” Riley asked forcefully. “He was released about 20 minutes ago.” Riley inhaled deeply, the guy retreated back a bit expecting her to scream at him. Riley stormed back to the squad room. “They’ve let him go, they fucking let him go, 20 minutes ago.” Riley complained loudly as she reentered the squad room. The team turned to face her. “Grab your gear.” Eric commanded, everyone grabbed their bags and followed Eric to the staircase, each soldier took the stairs two at a time, when they reached the garage Mikey greeted them with a big smile. “We need a vehicle.” Eric said assertively. “That one.” Mikey said shyly pointing to an armored truck. “Get in, let’s go.” Eric demanded. The team leaped into the truck, as usual Eric wanting – or maybe that should be needing – control, he drove, once in the truck Alpha squad loaded and readied their weapons, Jack stood up and popped out the top of the roof, Josh and Hunter leaned out the back windows and Riley stared ahead and to the left searching for the fractionless mess Desmond, surely he couldn’t have gone too far. Riley slipped a loaded handgun into her leg holster on her right thigh and a knife onto her left ankle, she sat with her rifle at the ready.

They drove around and searched for hours, there was no sign of Desmond at all. Eric turned the truck around and started heading back to the compound. “What are you doing?” Riley gasped. “We would have found him by now, my guess is he’s went underground again.” Eric replied. When they reached the garage Riley leaped out of the truck before Eric even put it into park. “Lee.” Hunter said jogging to her side. “Wait.” “No Hunter, I’ve got to find this guy. He knows something.” Riley demanded. “What do you mean? What does he know?” Hunter quizzed her. “Nothing, I don’t know.” Riley sighed, she started to walk away, Hunter lightly grabbed her arm and she spun around to face him. “Leave me alone Hunter.” He understood she needed some time alone, so he let her go. Riley went straight to the liquor store then to her secret rooftop paradise, she cracked open the booze and drank straight from the bottle, how could they just let Desmond go, especially when he attacked her and Ryder, why would anyone want their hands on the twins? It wasn’t as if they were special. Riley snorted to herself then she heard the door to the rooftop open, she spun around and saw Eric appearing out of the shadows. “Eric, what the fuck are you doing here?” Riley said brutally, annoyed that her secret place had been discovered and by Eric of all people, oh my god, had Hunter said something.. no, he wouldn’t. “Looking for you.” Eric replied smugly. “Why?” “I know a place underground to get info.” Eric smirked. Riley rose to her feet and slowly stepped towards Eric. “Do you wanna come or not?” Riley silently nodded then she followed Eric through the Dauntless compound. “Hey Lee.” Ryder said jogging beside her. “Ryder, I’ve gotta go.” “What do you mean? I need to talk to you.” Ryder pushed. “Can’t right now Ryder, I’m working.” “5 minutes.” He begged his twin. “She’s busy.” Eric imposed. Ryder huffed, took one last look at his sister then left. Riley and Eric once again ended up in the garage, Riley followed Eric through the messy and loud garage with terrible lighting, Eric finally stopped at a black Shelby Mustang with white stripes, Riley stopped and stared. “Don’t just stare, get in.” Riley did as she was told, the inside was incredibly luxurious, black leather seats, flashy dash, Riley liked it. “She’s a beauty huh?” Eric said. “Mmhmm.” Riley mumbled clipping in her seatbelt, when Eric started the muscle car it roared to life, it’s all that Riley could hear, Eric pressed on the accelerator gently, he maneuvered out of the busy garage and once they were clear of bodies and objects Eric pressed further on the pedal, the Mustang launched forward pushing Riley into her seat, her stomach clenched as adrenaline burst through her body. Eric sped along the deserted mud road, the only light coming from the headlights of the Mustang, he kept quiet, Riley liked that, she wasn’t being forced to talk or asked a million questions, something she was used to with her Ryder, they were twins but sometimes Riley felt they were too attached, she was growing up and Ryder, well, he clung to her side like glue, Riley needed space, her brothers were amazing but she was the only girl and they smothered her, did they forget she was Dauntless too and she was tough just like them, she wasn’t a Barbie girl needing bailed out by family, hell she was on Alpha team with Hunter and yet she still gets treated like a baby or worse, a girl, maybe life would have been better if she was a boy, Riley sniggered to herself, ha, yes if she was a boy, so much would be different, for one her mother probably wouldn’t hate her. “What’s funny?” Eric finally spoke, he turned to face Riley. “Uh.” Riley froze, she forgot she was not alone, Eric was so quiet it was like being alone, Riley couldn’t break eye contact with Eric as he continued to drive and not look at the road. “Go on Lieutenant.” Eric pushed, still not looking at the road. Riley decided she better say something so that he’d look where he was going. “My brothers treating me like a kid.” She finally replied. “You mean a girl?” Eric said turning his gaze back to the windshield. How the fuck? Did he just read my mind? It once again become extremely quiet in the car besides the sound of the humming engine.

Ryder stormed to Hunter’s house and barged in without knocking. “Hey what the fuck Ryder.” Hunter complained leaping off the sofa. Ryder slammed the door behind him and paced in the living room. “What’s going on?” “Lee.” Ryder huffed. “She wouldn’t speak to me, she just left.” “What do you mean Ryder?” Hunter pressed. “She left with Eric, I tried speaking to her but she just said she was busy and walked away.” “Where?” Hunter rose to his feet. Ryder raised his eyebrow, curious to his brothers reaction at Eric’s name. “Ryder, where were they?” “In the garage.” Hunter went to the kitchen immediately and retrieved his cell, he went to Riley’s name and pressed call, the cell rang out, he tried Eric but the same thing happened. “I’ve gotta go for bit, I won’t be long.” Hunter said before grabbing his jacket and kissing Ashley on the forehead. “Hunter, where are you going? It’s late.” Ashley complained. “I promise I won’t be long, I love you.” Hunter reassured her. Hunter left his apartment with Ryder, they went straight to the garage. “Okay now I think it’s time you tell me what’s going on?” Ryder asked. “Nothing.” “Ha, don’t do that with me. There’s obviously something, comon share.” Ryder begged. “Eric’s my best mate but he’s not someone I want my sister sleeping with.” “What?” Ryder burst out laughing. “She’s not sleeping with him.” “Every girl that goes in his car gets fucked, trust me, I know.” Hunter dashed around the garage, he found Mikey still working and approached him. “Mikey, where did Eric go?” “I dunno.” Mikey said standing. “He left with Riley, they were in a bit of a rush.” “You call me as soon as they get back okay?” Hunter ordered, Mikey nodded his head. “Ryder, go home.” “What about Riley?” “I’ll speak to her in the morning.” Hunter patted his younger brother on the shoulder and walked back home to his pregnant – and probably pissed off – girlfriend. Ryder walked alone to his shared apartment with his missing sister, he walked in to darkness and silence.

[imawritinginprogress]

The Feminist Princess and the Unexpected Warrior

June 12, 2089, Ithuriel

Princess Cleo: I’ve lived all my life being trained as an independent and courageous princess. Since my father died, I don’t believe I need a man to tell me how to lead the kingdom of Ithuriel after what mortality did to what the people call Philippines. I studied the history and government of that country for years and I’ve learned that when a woman rule a country, she is usually claimed to be a devil advocate, a puppet, or worse, people might advice you to “just leave it to the men,” like most men rule the country. I did not say that the leadership of men was wrong, I admire few men leaders who weren’t selfish on their good intentions to lead, but most of men were corrupted by the influence of money as well as the recognition of the people, notably the poor and the commoners.

That was long time ago, since angels came and conquer this beautiful country to correct history and to improve humanity on Earth. My parents led the revolution since most of the corrupt politicians died of our powers since the battle of angels and humans happened on what was now known as Ithuriel.

Their government was what the people call a utopian, ideal, you could say. Religions were now unified, yet people were given a free choice to express their diversity, be they wanted to be a Catholic, Christian or whatever you wanted to believe in, even in being a part of the rainbow community too. Everyone is given equal rights to study their level of expertise; of course there were schools for each profession. I could mention more about how beautiful Ithuriel is, but according to the people my parents talked to, it was like heaven on Earth.

Until, I witnessed my father being slain by someone he considered to be his ally, his best friend. Since then, I furiously become determined to be a worthy leader for the people of Ithuriel and to take revenge of those behind the assassination of my father.

Since then, I won’t let anyone tell me I’m just a girl, that I’m just another pretty face but considered worthless in history, especially by men who tried to revolt against my mom because she is just a woman. My study on international culture and leadership has been helping me to be what fate wanted me to be. I’m now more than ready to be the next leader of Ithuriel, father. So help me God.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

“So Ms. Jemima, how do you write this compelling story?” a reporter from The Manila Bulletin named Christian interviewed in her first ever press conference promoting the book.

“About the story of Princess Cleo, which many women wanted to emulate like the famous heroine too. What are your reactions that your book has been worshipped by your fans not only on Philippines but also worldwide too?” said another from Philippine Star.

“Will you consider the rumor that Shine Network will televise your book into a primetime series,” commented another from Inquirer.

Me and my classmates in Creative Writing under Sir Carlou’s class were watching the live simulcast of Palanca awardee and best-selling author behind “The Feminist Princess”.

“Personally, I like Ms. Jemima Angeli. She’s been known and well loved not only on the present times, but also on social media too. She’s been responding to her growing number of ladies whom she encouraged to be true to themselves and also been reaching out to men to be not afraid of what society dictates us to be. Yet she did not consider herself wise, she is also cracking jokes via her official Twitter ever now and then when she’s not in writing mode.

She’s my inspiration. That’s why I wanted to be a writer like her one day. I will write as dauntless like her,” gushing Cristine, who is a big fan of her writings. As expected, I had to get myself be overwhelmed by her idolizing such a writer like Ms. Jemima Angeli.

Truth is, I cannot blame Cristine. She’s also an aspiring writer too, she needs someone to ignite her writing skills but sadly, I’m an Engineer. I don’t usually involve in things such as literature and arts, unlike my girl classmates and I don’t even care.

“Feminists suck”, says my mind while enduring the live press conference. “She claims she reaches out to men, but that is still women superiority complex disguised as women empowerment”, that is what I believe in. Sorry Emma Watson, I would rather prefer her acting rather than her advocacies, I even commented to stop her fangirling obsession.

Man that kills me. Girls, when will you learn that you still needed men too?

To which Cristine replied, “You know what, you’re just being insulted because she achieves way better than you did. I hate this to tell you, but if you don’t have something nice to say, you better shut your mouth okay?”

“There you go, Cristine. You won. I am worth nothing, and you go ahead with your shitty writing if you wish,” I sighed in my defeat when suddenly her book opened without a second, and since Sir Carlou shut the lights dark, the blaring light shocks everyone. Later I didn’t realized I was devoured literally into a book.

I screamed with all my might but even my classmates and Sir Carlou were almost paralyzed into inaction, unable to help me.

“This is crazy. I just saw these on anime, but well, welcome to an adventure, Arthur”, as in minutes I am now surrounded by people attending the congregation of Queen Esther and her daughter Princess Cleo. I looked at my shabby university uniform and felt alienated by the outfit of the people around the city.

A big white arrow, with a sign labeled in all big capitals, “Ithuriel” was seen before my very eyes dusted by sand.

“Ouch”, I exclaimed, “This isn’t real”

“Hey, “a knight-clad warrior approached me and tied both my arms, about to arrest me without even knowing me. “What the hell are you wearing? Are you one of the revolutionist Magicians who even dared time travel to Ithuriel?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I almost shouted in pain before I gazed at the knight who even dared to even argue with me. “Oh what a nice welcoming”, I sarcastically sighed to myself when he pulled me towards the prison cell.

“You better come with me, no objections, Mister, if you wanted me to keep you alive, you” as the knight led me to the prison cell with everyone staring at me.

A few minutes later, I was in the prison cell, just like what he wanted of me.  I’m still thinking of escaping from this fictitious place when a beautiful woman approaches me.

She was wearing a gown just like the typical princess on the fairy tales; her straight shiny black hair caught my eye. Maybe she was Princess Cleo, the way Ms. Jemima writes her to look like, but I never thought that novels could be this real. Just like her beauty.

I never fall in love with a fictional character written in the book. Nah, that’s insane.

“Are you even hungry?” she even asked.

And she has a lovely voice. Oh dear me, am I in love?

Days passed and I began befriending the knights who appeared to be amazed at my smartness to construct the castle of Ithuriel using my knowledge at Engineering. So I learn how to narrate tales of what the Philippines look like during my time, since I already told them I’m a student at one of the prestigious university in Manila and they look very interested in where do I grew up and if word was true that men were treated fairly during my time.

Cool. I was now here in the future of the Philippines. Well, if only I memorized by heart the history, I would even give up my Engineering degree to pursue politics and governance and study in Ithuriel. No, I don’t mean that. Engineering was cool, yet one must be patient if you wanted to be like me. Just kidding again; please laugh.

Heck, I would even ask if I could study something related to Engineering, or whatever they might call right now. Even with all the knowledge I study at heart, all I cared at this moment to get to know this beautiful woman. I don’t care if Cristine spoiled me that she’ll soon die at the end of this story, I just wanted to.

If Cristine were here and she saw my face gushing, she’ll surely be laughing at me to no end.

But I don’t even bother, except for my feelings every time Princess Cleo visited the prison cell to feed me and talk to me, if she is not in a bad mood. Even if all I received sarcastic humiliation and countless rejections from her, I just wanted to hear her voice, daydream I would touch her angelic face, and.. just her presence made my day.

I waited and waited and hoped for her, to no avail. Has she never seen a man like me before, I don’t know. Even I showed her my wisdom, I cracked jokes with her, I tell my stories to amuse her; damn this woman’s heart is as cold as stone!

I never felt so miserable in my whole existence. Maybe my charming appeals do not work in my favor, nor has she ever fallen in love before with a man and later left her too?

These questions haunted my mind every night whenever the knights stayed behind me in bars to watch me. I’m in this prison cell, staring at my cell phone, missing my college professors, Cristine, Ivan, Abby, Laven, Denver, and everyone until I immediately fell asleep in my immeasurable grief.

* * * * * * * * 

The next morning, a knight whom I mostly befriended named Joseph invited me to free me from my miserable days on the prison cell, in exchange for my training to be expert in swords just like I’ve seen in the movies.

Less than weeks passed since I’ve been given this freedom I owed to Joseph, and in no time, finally I mastered sword fighting. Joseph taught me how to ride a horse and everything I need to learn in combat.

I never felt like a hero in my whole life, aside from my classmates knew me as a Math wizard. Finally, you’ll see what you lost, Princess Cleo.

Joseph lent me his favorite horse named Viceral. At first, I laughed for his quick sense of humor in nicknaming horse names, but he told me that it’s his lucky horse and wishes me well in the battle I’m going to face in. “You’ve already mastered quickly what I’ve learned in knighthood for years. I’m so proud of you, Arthur. Go and save the Princess, the world needs her existence!” as I left with Viceral on the way to what was previously called Mt. Apo.  

I am more than ready to rewrite your history. Sorry, Ms. Angeli, but your story is long gone. You need quick revisions, or whatever editing you might proofread after all, for I am to prove Princess Cleo that she doesn’t need to face leadership alone, she needed me.

Which is to no avail because she won’t let me either after the night I saved her from the angel-slaying dragon who is about to imprison her. I cut the dragon split in two, and Princess Cleo did not even acknowledge me for saving her life.

Why did she every time she sees me, her eyes looked at me sweetly too? I don’t understand that night when I saved her, she hugged me in her fright, as if she needed my help? And yet every time I do care, which is I never did for my past loves, she even won’t give me some slacks?

I stood with my hand-me-down night armor Joseph borrowed me on the night I helped her, helplessly and exhausted in my battle, my eyes swollen in heartbreakingly pangs of rejection as she commanded me to stay away from her. I turned my back, gazing one second towards this ice princess who claimed she was a feminist. Or maybe she is.

“My love, can’t you see how much I’ve changed me since I met you. Why you’re making me crazy thinking about such wasted beauty like you? I wasn’t like this before, but why? Is there someone before me who hurts you? I will protect you from the boys who will do things I wanted to do with you, please hear my heart” I desperately screamed at the top of my lungs, damn my almost victory no one ever knows.

Except that my pleas were finally heard at the author itself.

Jemima Angeli.

She stood at me quickly, asking me of my intentions to save the princess. I quickly replied that “I may not be a fan of your works, but I loved her since the day I saw her when I was wrongfully imprisoned those weeks, but she never do care about me, even on the day I risked myself to save her from her tragic fate.”

“So you already read my book,” replied Jemima. To my surprise, it took me seconds to notice of her maroon coat she’s wearing to.

“So you’re one of the revolutionists who killed her father?” I blurted out my damn hypothesis, which I’m afraid she might have said it worse.

She replied politely to my surprise, “Yes, I did. But thank you for doing great in my story, which I heard you screaming at the mountains just earlier in my dreams.” She took a step forward, “Already looking for revenge towards her indifference?” which she brought up someone I did not see coming.

Princess Cleo was stunned to be back after she proved her victory that her feminist theory could be won, but in the end, whatever good it might seems, if done in bad intentions, it would fail anyway.

“Why are you bringing me to this man; you murderer!” Princess Cleo screamed horror as Jemima Angeli is not your usual writer; she has the gifts of time travelling, precognition and clairvoyance, which is declared illegal magic by her present government.

In instant, the author in her pity shared her tragic story, “I once become like you, I lost my dad before which is why I become a feminist. But I never tried hurting any man of good intentions like Arthur to feel what grief your father left of your soul. It’s a waste to continue you becoming an unworthy heroine to thousands of ladies who knew your story very well, even they know your life would be tragic anyway”, the Palanca awardee I just watched long time ago muttered in her breath.

Life is one big adventure of mishaps and learned lessons. Believe me or not, the next few words she says gives me sense of justice over my recent heartbreak.

“From now on, you’ll been recognized not your title of being a Princess but live your life being this guy” she commanded, her powers drew towards the ice princess.

“Until you finally learned how to appreciate what this guy did for you, for love, “as Princess Cleo was swallowed into the book, her angelic face was being transformed like Arthur’s resemblance as a punishment.

 * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

PRESENT-DAY at the UNIVERSITY, TWO DAYS AFTER ARTHUR IS BEING SWALLOWED BY THE BOOK..

“Waaaaaaaaaaah!” as the princess woke up and find herself in the mirror as soon as she got up. Espedillion’s abode, to her surprise!

From now on, the princess was forced to look like the man she crushed his hopes for romance. Her tears started to fell down too as she stared back at her handsome reflection.

“Arthur”, she sighed. “I’m sorry I broke you. But this is my fault. You always said that you love me, but I’m so scared because I’m so heartbroken, I used to hate men and preach the wrong meaning of feminism but I was wrong. I should get to know you instead, oh please.”

“Hey, Arthur, why you’re crying” Cristine approaches him, giving her handkerchief at him.

“Sorry”, I apologized to the girl, “Were you a friend of Arthur?”

“Of course, you’re Arthur right? My god, friend, you’ve been absent since 2 days! You have missed so much time. Laven, Abby, Walker, Angel, and everyone misses you so much, we never stopped contacting you via Messenger but seems that you shut your mobile phone not to make us feel worried. Where have you been all these days?” as I noticed the book she’s holding to, besides her black bag.

She owns the book I’m been looking for, so I would know if I would be in damn tragedy like what she said she originally written as my death. I asked Cristine if she could lend me her book so I could study what my life would be as well as my future, to avoid my fate, if proven I would die, as being written.

“How come, I thought you’ll never be interested in Jemima Angeli’s writings because you only cared for your Engineering degree? On one condition, I’ll accompany you at the gazebo. Looks like we have so much time to talk to, “

I hesitantly agreed as she pulled me playfully to the gazebo. It was peaceful outside the University, as the cool breeze swept as us. We were sitting on a bench nearby, and she told me things that like me, despite of his amazing intelligence, lies a man longing for someone who could he be himself around, and things Arthur never shared things with me about. I then admitted that I wasn’t Arthur and pleaded Cristine not to tell her classmates about the curse, and everything Arthur did for me, which she laughed to no end.

“I’m just his friend, c’mon, I never liked him,“ Cristine admitted. “If you really love him, let me help you. Feel free to contact me just in case you wanted someone to talk to,” as she waved herself goodbye for her next class.

Days passed and I was adjusted to the university life Arthur is experiencing through. Cristine helped me cope with whatever weird nuisances my Engineering classmates were slowly noticing, so thank God I wasn’t caught.

The Espedilion family has been my second home to me. Abby and Wesley were good friends, they’re nice college buddies even they did not recognize I wasn’t Arthur after all. Sorry guys.

The day of submission of Prof. Carlou’s assignment regarding Jemima Angeli’s interview has been drawing near. And we have to read our reactions in front of my class.

God, I hate oral recitations.

“Mr. Espedillion?” Prof. Carlou called me after Cristine and Wesley has finally done reading their pieces.

Cristine tapped my shoulder, wishing me good luck. “It’s time.”

I read the paper I’ve been thinking about Arthur the whole time. I realized writing could make you powerless, but above knowledge, love is the strongest power in my whole existence.

I forgive her for killing my dad. I finally learned to love Arthur, the man I lived within days of discovering the life he’s accustomed to.

I stared at everyone who’s been waiting for me to even open my mouth. My train of thoughts snapped back to reality as Prof. Carlou repeated his instructions, “Mr. Espedillion, are you with us?”

“Yes,” I immediately replied and nodded to read my essay again. I just make sure the night before the presentation not to reveal my true identity in my essays as well as my growing feelings for Arthur.

“What I’ve learned from Jemima Angeli and her heroine Princess Cleo Maxine were adventures I’ve never travelled to, but from an Engineer’s perspective, I’ve learned a girl can be hurt and insensitive because she thought love can be restrained not taught not to feel it. I’ve tried, believe me, I realized you can be the most knowledgeable and the most successful Engineer, or writer, or an author, or even be anything you wish, but if you’re doing it out of vengeance, it wouldn’t only resolve anything, it would make things worse. I realized these past few days reading her novel and realized Jemima Angeli is not your typical feminist but Princess Cleo is, blinded by her anger and hatred towards the people responsible for her father’s death, if someone might call her heartless and insensitive. News: Princess Cleo is in love. Jemima might not mention to you guys yet, but she is in love with the unexpected knight she met in the prison cell. That stranger she thought he was a time traveler who’s threatening her safety, but heck, he doesn’t know whatever I denied, I smiled. I blushed, but I never dared to utter, for I don’t believe in such nonsense. That she’s a feminist and I won’t fall in love with the man that might betray my trust later on, just like what happened to her dad. Sorry, but, I do love---

Meanwhile in Ithuriel, Jemima and the real Arthur watched behind her speech using the water in the well to witness such change of heart for the once called ice princess so she let Arthur return back to his true form and live his normal life.

“She has loved you back, Arthur. Go back to your life and I’m sorry for bothering you” Jemima started to apologize me.

Oh no, I did not even wanted her to apologize the one responsible for why we met.

I smiled at the author slash magician I would never forget, the kingdom of Ithuriel, Joseph, and his knightly comrades as I was swallowed by the book.

Love takes you to places you’ve never been of, feels of the things Engineering never taught me, but I learned that anyone can be a hero for someone you’ve consider to grow and marry for the lifetime, should I?

I reached the University in no time, in a woman’s dress. I remember.

I do look like Princess Cleo, so keep calm, my darling. I’ll rewrite our love and your fate, I sighed as the book take me to where Cleo admitted her feelings to me. She was surprised as our eyes met, and I can say she missed me too, even if she doesn’t admit it.

“My Cleo,” I kissed her with all my might the moment I saw her. I don’t care if my classmates saw us, for all I care as her existence makes me feel alive. Her confession was enough for me to taste her love, and what she deserves for a simple college geek like me.

Our bodies start to exchange in front of the whole class, and finally I hugged her tight, with the essay paper she wrote for me. Professor Carlou and the whole class clapped for us out of their shock a few minutes later. They must have felt like they’re watching a televised love story. Or maybe it is.

She finally grew feelings for me, as I cupped her angelic face. Damn, I could stare at her face for a lifetime. I’m not at my dying years, but am I already in heaven with her. Wish I would rather die right now and marry her right away, but I guess this is me happy. I really did, and I’m sure of it myself.

Jemima nowadays must have been playing Cupid now, I’m honored.

Years past since I’ve gotten myself a degree in Mechanical Engineering and I’m now a professor in my alma mater. Even it took me years since that day Princess Cleo kissed me; she never died in my heart. And even they never believed in me except Cristine who is now a famous spoken word artist, Ithuriel still holds a special place in my heart.

Even if the story no longer became the trend unlike way before did, I’m still holding on fate that we’ll soon meet, if we’re really destined to be with each other. Only time could tell, I just need to trust her to forget her fears.

Just kidding though, I hate tragic endings. Oh, did I forget to tell you, we’ve been married in Ithuriel days after I got my licensure in Mechanical Engineering?

--END--

[vitaevandal]

Illuminated

Genre: Fan Fiction (Divergent) Pairing: Eric x OFC Warnings: Adult themes Rating: Mature Disclaimer: This a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line.

A/N: This is based on a request I received from @murmelinchen on my old blog @feminamortem that I can’t repost since I deleted it like a douche. The prompt was a one-shot of Eric and reader/OFC going on a moonlit walk. Here you go.

(I also apologize for not remembering who asked to be tagged in this besides @thihaf. Don’t let me do anything stupid like delete a blog again.)

Eric blindly paced back and forth through his living room, his fingers alternating between pinching the bridge of his nose and raking his usually impeccably styled hair into manic spikes. The relentless buzzing of the usual gathering of Dauntless in the Pit was pummeling his ears like a bass drum, making it impossible to think, so he’d fled to his apartment to clear his head, where the oppressive silence seemed to convolute his thoughts even further.

Typically on Thursdays she’d meet him at his apartment after her shift at one of Dauntless’s many tattoo parlors for their semi-weekly fuck; they were in mutual agreement that neither was looking for anything resembling a relationship, and the arrangement was uncomplicated and comfortable. They rarely wavered from this routine, and if one or the other couldn’t make it, they’d gotten to the point in their ‘liaison’ where they would at least do the other the courtesy of letting them know. So when she hadn’t shown up at the usual designated time without so much as a text, he knew something was amiss and headed straight for the parlor. Lucas, the one who handled piercings, was there alone, breaking down her station. His visage turned into one of dread as Eric, visibly upset, demanded, “Where is she?”

Lucas shrugged his shoulders, continuing when Eric’s glare intensified, “I really don’t know. She seemed kind of off all night, like real agitated, and when I asked her what was wrong she said she wasn’t feeling well. So I said I’d clean up here when we were done and as soon as she finished up her last client about an hour ago she practically bolted out of here. Maybe try the infirmary?”

Eric was surprised to find his annoyance had become tinged with worry. As he made the trek towards the infirmary, he became even more unsettled by the foreignness of such a feeling as concern for another person’s well-being. As he neared the hallway leading to the clinic he caught the sound of two voices speaking in hushed but frantic tones, one of which he recognized as hers, holding a conversation that was most likely not intended to be overheard. He halted abruptly before he rounded the corner and held back out of sight, holding his breath and listening intently.

“How could I have been so stupid?” She spoke lowly, but the alarm and anger in her voice was still evident. “Thinking it’s nothing but a touch of the flu. This honestly never even crossed my mind, not once. I thought we were being careful, I really did. But obviously not enough!” Eric chanced a peek around the corner and saw her slumped against the wall, one hand clutching a small paper bag, the other pressed against her forehead, before retreating back into the shadows. “I can’t even process this, Gina. What in the fuck am I going to do? Do I even tell him? How do you tell Eric of all people something like this?”

He heard the other girl exhale loudly and pause before replying, “Don’t panic. It won’t do you any good, what’s done is done. And maybe you don’t have to tell him, at least not yet.”

“Are you kidding me? This isn’t exactly something I’ll be able to hide! He’s going to find out eventually. And no matter how this plays out, he should know, he needs to take responsibility! I...Gina,” she whispered, as her voice began to break, “my entire life has literally just been ruined. This changes everything.”

Eric felt paralyzed as he attempted to digest this exchange. He was overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of suffocation, of being trapped inside a bubble where the oxygen was growing short in supply and his surroundings were muted and distorted. His brain moved in hitches and spurts as he pieced their mutterings together.

“...a touch of the flu…thought we were being careful…what’s done is done…has to take responsibility…”

She was pregnant. And it was his.

A cold sweat sprang up through his pores as this fact clicked into place, and Eric went into panic mode. He had to get out of there. He needed time to think before she confronted him, and he was in no way fit to feign ignorance for her.

So here he was, making a blind trek through the landscape of his apartment, replaying the illicit dialogue over and over in his mind, attempting to catalogue his many reactions. Eric did hail from Erudite, and his position as a leader was not entirely ill-gotten; so despite a rather conflagrant temper, the union of his natural intelligence and militaristic conditioning had produced an ability to maintain logic, composure, and clarity in the most disastrous situations. Without actual conscious, choreographed thought, his brain began to disentangle the threads of the situation with the detached yet swiftly calculating adroitness of a born strategist. He’d knocked her up. While he could cling desperately to the hope that it wasn’t his, he had little reason to doubt that it was, so he wasted no time in entertaining that romantic notion and instead simply accepted it as an unassailable fact. One that needed immediate damage control, the top priority of which was unquestionably self-preservation.

While they had never discussed such a hypothetical, he believed he knew her well enough by now to confidently predict that she would not have an abortion, and besides, he operated by the creed of, “Hope for the best, but plan for the worst.” His first concern: how would the berth of fatherhood affect his leadership position? There were no rules in place regarding marital or dependent status, so there was no immediate threat to his career per se, but the burden that having a family would place on his time would undoubtedly skyrocket his already considerable stress level. Eric prided himself on prevailing over adversity, so while this was not exactly a challenge he would have sought out, he had no fear of this thwarting his ambitions. But on the personal level? A family would end life as he knew it. He’d never had to be accountable to anyone, never been in a committed relationship so never had any qualms about sleeping around. Never anyone besides Number One to look out for, never anyone for Eric to take care of besides Eric. A family would mean a practical and emotional onus unprecedented for him, and the question wasn’t whether he could be ready for such a thing, because there was no question about it - this was happening, he had to be. The question was just how miserable the rest of his entire fucking life was going to be. And that’s when it hit him.

Or rather, didn’t hit him, because the waves of anger and petulance and despair he expected to flood him never came. There was no outrage over the end of his old life. There was apprehension, there was fear, but could that really just be how his ingrained personality was translating...excitement? Optimism? At what he realized he was beginning to see as the onset of his new life?

True to his nature, resoluteness took hold quickly as he vowed to, at the very least, give this whole thing a shot. He was, after all, brave; he was Dauntless.

***

“Take a walk with me.”

“A walk? Where?” A bemused expression crossed her features before turning to one of trepidation.

“Navy Pier. For once it’s not hot as fuck in August, I think we should get out.” Eric looked at her almost beseechingly, which only made her warier. While his proposition was, as always, a command rather than a request, the uncertain and hopeful expression that accompanied it was altogether alien for him.

She paused briefly as she considered the opportunity this might afford her. He seemed to be in a pleasant mood, which could lend her an advantage in this situation. This nighttime excursion out of the compound also lent them the privacy she hoped for when she broke the news. She quickly changed her countenance to one of eagerness.

“Alright. Ready whenever you are.”

It was a rare evening on which Eric was not burdened with any extraneous leadership duties, so they set off immediately without him having to clear his schedule with any of his fellow leaders or his own assistant. They exited the compound unbothered through the seldom-used maintenance doors at the east end, leading to a path too narrow to accommodate vehicles, therefore of little use to anyone coming or going from the premises, Dauntless or otherwise.

Eric was right; the typical late summer humidity was absent from the night air, and a gentle breeze whispered against their skin like silk. Eric felt his conviction oddly fortified by the balmy weather as they started side by side down the pathway, a restive electricity seeming to pass between them. The moon was full that evening, a coin of iridescent silver that illuminated the unobstructed trail before them but whose light stopped short at the trees on either side of them, creating an atmosphere that was intimate rather than grim. The walk to the pier was short, but he didn’t want to wait until they reached their destination to broach the subject of their relationship; he would be fooling himself if he said he was entirely undaunted by the prospect of voicing and therefore solidifying his new receptiveness to the idea of commitment, but knew that every second he waited was cowardice on his part. He cast a sidelong glance at her and took a deep breath.

“Look, I know we’ve called what’s between us casual these past few months, but I think we’ve lied to ourselves long enough, don’t you?”

She turned to him with a look of genuine shock over what he assumed was his defiance of her assumption that she was a temporary toy to him.

“What are you saying, Eric?”

He tentatively took her hand in his, his gaze on her this time remaining steady. “I’m saying, we both know there’s something more there. Something worth pursuing. I’m saying I want us to be exclusive. I want there to be a future for us.”

Now she seemed positively aghast. A silence hung between them as they reached the ferris wheel, and he pulled her toward the steel supports that formed a rudimentary ladder along its sides. The moonlight glinted softly off of the metal, but their surroundings were mostly dark, throwing the nearby lights of Erudite into a relief that looked almost like stars, blazing brightly before they extinguished for all time. “Come to the top with me. The view will be worth it.”

He didn’t see the whirlwind of emotions that flitted across her face as he guided her to begin the climb before him, too intent on ensuring he was prepared to catch her if she slipped. They reached the top car without incident and she was again caught off-guard by his tenderness as he delicately gripped her waist when she swung first one leg and then the other into the gently swaying car. As she sat down and waited for him to join her she shook her head almost imperceptibly, attempting to clear away the momentary fog that this new Eric was perpetuating. She silently pledged to remain unflinching in her confrontation.

Instead of sitting beside her he slid sideways to the edge of the car and remained standing, looking out contemplatively at the ruins of Chicago. Bathed in the incandescent lunar glow, its eeriness, in that moment, transformed into a melancholy beauty.

“I heard you talking to Gina after you left the infirmary. I know you’re pregnant,” he whispered. “I have a responsibility now, to you and our baby. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I can promise that I’ll try. I think you want this as - “

She cut him short as she shrieked, “You what?”, causing him to start and turn to face her. Her features were twisted with what could only be described as unadulterated rage. “You brought me here to tell me that you accept that you fucked up by knocking me up, that you’ve resigned yourself to being a ‘family man,’ like you’re doing me some kind of fucking favor by staying with me? You ruined my life, Eric! No man will ever touch me again thanks to you. You don’t have a fucking clue what you did to me, do you? DO YOU?”

It happened so quickly, he didn’t even have time to scream. Her arms pistoned out and connected with his chest, and as he toppled over the edge of the swinging car, he could just make out the last words anyone would ever speak to him before he struck the pavement some 200 feet below.

“You gave me herpes, you asshole!”

***

She was numb as she clambered down the rungs of the ferris wheel, only sentient enough to wonder if her volatile emotional state that persisted throughout the day had just caused her to hallucinate what she’d just done. She then caught sight of Eric’s inert form, his limbs bent at impossible angles, a growing pool of blood matting his flawless hair. She drifted over to it, noting his grotesquely misshapen skull, but nonetheless crouched next to him and searched for a pulse. Feeling only stillness beneath her own clammy fingertips, she breathed a sigh of relief and her lips curved into a grim smile. It stayed upon her face until she reached the maintenance door they had exited from earlier unnoticed.

Those damn factionless, she would utter later that night to Gina as the whole of Dauntless raised their glasses in tribute to their fallen leader. Eric should’ve known it wasn’t safe to go wandering out into the city alone at night. Arrogant bastard.