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heliads · 2 years

Note

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

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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wiz-writes · 1 year

Text

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

Genre: fantasy, adventure, romance

Rating: 16+ for some dark themes

Last update: 22 August 2024 (87k words)

Play as a man, woman or non-binary.

Customise your appearance and shape your personality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Magic comes with a price.

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

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

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

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

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

DEMO

COG || KO-FI

Main romances:

Valia Kainen (F, 28)

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

Lucenis Veldari (M, 32)

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

Tevshedi “Tev” Zanue (F/M, 36)

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

Cerin Melista (F/M, 25)

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

?? (non-binary, 30)

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

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

Mara (F, 31)

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

?? (M, ??)

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

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

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multifan2022 · 1 year

Text

Fearless 3

PART 1 PART 2 PART 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Was it something I said?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@coolestgirlhere

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

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months

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I've been dreaming of the Hunter of Love.

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

Worlds of infinite choices—he will glimpse them all.

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

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

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

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

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

In each, he is presented with a novelty.

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

An ethereal art gallery for his own amusement.

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

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

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

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

C'est la vie—such is life.

He stops.

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

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

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

But Rook Hunt is not the common man.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heartbreaking, but lovely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Curiosity thrums through him.

Hurry.

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

Hurry...!!

Rook runs.

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

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

They trill, they coo, they sing.

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

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

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

His spirit brims, burning with determination.

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

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bartyjrsevan · 2 months

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

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

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awesomenikie · 4 months

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Please look at the art under the dusk jacket on the hardcover edition of a darkness at the door. Look at my babies I love them. This is the prettiest book I own. ( Excuse the shitty camera quality).

#books #a darkness at the door #the theft of sunlight #the dauntless path series #intisar khanani #bren and rae #Bren x Rae #I really need more people to talk about this book with #i love them your honor

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bonezone44 · 3 months

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The Hollow, prologue (18+)

Dave York x afab!Reader

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

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

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

-masterlist- -story masterlist-

+++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you decided to show up.

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#dave york x reader #x reader #dave york

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