motionless what have you done to me

Please Don’t Bite >

Please Don’t Bite

Capt. Kirk / Reader

Reader Insert / Songfic

Warnings: Mentions of sex, a few f-bombs are dropped

Song: BITE // Troye Sivan

Kiss me on the mouth and set me free

Sing me like a choir

You opened your eyes, breathing in deeply. You had a headache and were in a room you didn’t recognize. The bed was firm but plush, the blankets were pooled above your chest. The night before was a blur.

I can be the subject of your dreams

Your sickening desire

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The Pulled Trigger: Chapter 1: The Turning of Events

A/N: I was planning on making this a one shot, but it turned out pretty long, so I’m planning on doing a part 2 if anybody is interested :)

Chapter 2: Off Course


Jughead x Reader

Summary: You went to Pop’s to annoy your enemy: Jughead Jones, but events took a sudden turn…

Warnings: none

Word Count: Je ne sais pas (I don’t know)


Forsythe Peddelton Jones iii

Also known as Jughead

To me, he is my enemy.

Jughead and I are very competitive, he might not show it but he is.

We will always compete who is a better writer in English class, who could sound more sarcastic, who could eat more food and the list goes on.

Y/N vs Jughead

It has always been just that, until he kissed me…


It’s spring. Which means it’s also rainy season. I starred at the ceiling of my room, being bored to my wits. Should I binge watch a new TV series? Bake? Nothing seemed to appeal to me, except for one thing get on Jughead’s nerves. I quickly got dress, not wanting to waste anymore time. I locked the door behind me, not grabbing an umbrella because it’s also windy. Wind and umbrellas are not a good combination.

I arrived at Pop’s soaking wet. I shook the raindrops off my raincoat and there he was Jughead Jones. He turned around and glared at me.

“Oh, great! Here we go again.” He mumbled.

I approached him with smirk, telling him it’s his turn.

“You look like a wet dog. Oh, wait sorry, you are one.” He tested. A waitress gave me a menu.

“Thank you.”

He scoffed.

“You have manners? Wow shocking.” He gazed back down at his laptop.

“Ya, I actually do. Unlike you, doesn’t your mom teach you about it? I guess not.” He stiffened at my remark, for some reason, this seemed to be working.

“You know listening to your parents is a wise decision. But, little Juggie doesn’t know any better, does he? Your setting such a bad example for your little sister, I feel bad for her almost. But, then I realize she’s probably just like you.”

“You don’t know what your talking about.” He said in a wavering voice. He shut his computer screen off and started packing.

“Oh, don’t tell me your upset. I know the truth hurts, but it has to be told.” I put my hand on over my heart and smirked.

He stormed out, I followed him. It had stopped raining outside, thank goodness. He turned around with a pissed off expression.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what?” Okay I’m slightly confused now.

“What fun do you get bullying me around and always trying to be better? Huh?”

“You started it.” I said stubbornly. As I said it a tear ran down his face. I stepped towards him, now im getting really nervous Jones, what are you doing?

“Why are we always at war?”

“I… Why do you always do it too?” I asked in a softer tone not wanting to make him cry even more. Jughead wasn’t big on showing emotions, so seeing him like this is something weird.

“Because… I don’t know…”

“You know why I do it? I always thought you were perfect, smart, handsome, even though your an introvert you have friends. And somehow jealousy started to bubble up inside me. I had see who was better, eventually i started to…”

“Like me?” He finished my sentence in a smile.

“Ya… so go ahead Jones, make funny remarks about-” He stepped towards me and closed the gap between us. He cupped my face and kissed me mid-rant. I stood there shocked. He pulled away, realizing what he has just done.

“Sorry…” He ran away from my motionless body.


It has been a week since then and I haven’t been able to think about anything else but him…


A/N: I hope you liked that. Please let me know if you want more and send feedbacks, it is needed!


“We are immortal.” 

I stood in the darkness of the hall, the bloody knife in my claw. Lying on the floor before me, once groaning and cringing in pain, now motionless and silent; a pony. The rush subsided, my mind became clear. 

“Vollmer!” a loud voice called out to me, “What have you done?” 

“I removed a disease, a blight on our society.” I said, steeling my nerves. 

I recalled what had happened. It was almost like a dream. I saw weakness in our city, those who didn’t belong. They cared only about themselves, the survival of their own species. Everything familiar and our own was being taken away, and everypony just stood around, watching. 

“How did it feel?” asked the voice. 

It felt good. Like I was doing right. That pony, he knew what I was doing; gathering other griffons like me, who saw the corruption the ponies brought to our society. He confronted me, telling me I had to stop. 

“He attacked you.” the voice said, “He tried to kill you. When the others hear of this, of how you stopped your assassin, the whole city will cry out for blood.” 

I will free my city. I will bring my city back to its former glory. 

And then he appeared, a little raccoon. 

I did not see where he came from, he seemed to have come out from the shadows in the corner of my eye. “How did you get in here?” I demanded, “Where did you come from?” 

He looked up at me with those little eyes, they were devoid of feeling, empty, yet were sharp like a knife. “Peter,” he began, looking over at the motionless pony on the floor, “You knew him, didn’t you?”

“No.” replied the voice. “He would never associate with such filth.” 

A dark mist arose from the shadows of the hall, coalescing into the form of a fellow griffon. Black smoke seemed to rise out from his body, as if he were slowly disintegrating before my very eyes. He wore a sandy brown coat and a bright red band around his left foreleg. 

For just a second, the raccoon glanced over at the spectre. Within that second, I saw something in his eyes, a festering hatred, an undying rage, and yet, defeat. 

“16 years ago.” the raccoon said, looking back to me. “That was the last time you spoke to him. Befor-” 

“Silence!” the spectre demanded, his steel voice echoed throughout the hall. “You cannot sway one with a will of iron. He is mine.” 

“I didn’t come here to stop him.” the raccoon said, refusing to look at the spectre. 

“Then why are you here?” the spectre inquired. But the raccoon remained silent. He walked to a door down one end of the hallway, pushing on the door bar. All was silent but the pitter-patter of his little feet. He stopped, holding open the door, and looked back to me. He didn’t say a word, but held up his paw, and snapped. 

There was a moan, a cry of pain, the pony on the ground seemed to come back to life before my very eyes. Suddenly, the door on the other end of the hall burst open, and two guards appeared, their weapons drawn. 

“I see.” observed the spectre as he stalked the raccoon. “You came to watch him die.” 

From the other room, the raccoon heard the telltale sounds of a brief scuffle; a loud blast of energy, the clanging of metal weapons, ending in a crescendo of cries and a blade ripping through flesh. 

“I know you, raccoon.” said the spectre, “You do not belong here. You knew Vollmer would die today. But why did you come here, just to watch him die?” 

But the raccoon remained silent, he continued to walk down the hall, his steel gaze fixated on the other side. But through his silence, the spectre saw the answer. 

“There are others like me. Like Vollmer.” he continued. 

The spectre let out an infernal laugh, he had won. “You came here to watch Vollmer die.” said the spectre, “Because you know, he will not be the last. You know you cannot kill an idea, a belief.” 

“Your kind will disappear!” yelled the raccoon, stopping in the middle of the hall to face the shadowy spectre. “Those who think like you, they will pay for the atrocities, the horrors, they have committed!” 

“But there will still be death.” said the ghost, “Isn’t that right? You know I cannot die as long as there are others like me. I will be there; watching, guiding. Maybe one day, I will lose the war, but I will win many more battles.” 

The raccoon bared his fangs, hissing at the wispy ghost before him. “They didn’t have to die.” he said, “All those souls, all those lives deprived of a future, because of you!” 

“You’re wrong, raccoon.” retorted the spectre. “They had to die.”

Without so much as a warning, the raccoon lunged forward, grabbing the spectre from his hazy form and pushing him into the wall. “Why?!” he yelled. “What twisted reason do you use to defend your actions?!”

“Because in the end, raccoon.” the spectre said, melting away in the raccoon’s paws, becoming one with the darkness that surrounded them. “It was either us or them.” 


Characters: Dean x Reader

Warnings: SMUT. This is pure smut and I am so sorry.

A/N: Oh god what did I do? I don’t even know how this happened but all of the sudden I was writing about Dean and being naked and I wish I could say I’m surprised but I am not. Please try not to laugh as I don’t tend to write this detailed of smut. I’m going to go crawl under a rock now after writing this.

Also, not that it matters but the inspiration for this fic was a song called Powerful by Ellie Goulding. The lyrics don’t have much to do with it but the vibe is kind what set me in this direction. Happy reading!

Your heart was still pounding and you couldn’t seem to slow the adrenaline swimming in your veins even though you’d been sitting nearly motionless in the Impala for the last twenty minutes. You were still so on edge, your hands shaking with the memory of the hunt that went down barely an hour ago. You’d gotten the job done but it had come so close to going very, very wrong.

You could feel the tension inside the cab of the car, the feeling so thick and heavy that just looking over at Dean, his face scratched and his knuckles bruised, sent chills down your spine. You weren’t angry, not even close, just still so anxious from coming so close to losing someone you loved so much. You were desperate to get back to the motel, to hold him and feel his strong heartbeat thumping beneath your palm, a physical reminder letting you know he was okay.

You didn’t remember the ride back to the motel, the world outside your window nothing but a blur of darkness that was lit up by the occasional street lamp. The only thing you could process was the feel of Dean’s hand grabbing yours, no doubt to try to stop your shaking. You focused on that simple touch, the warmness of his palm against the back of your hand, the scratch of his calloused fingers squeezing around yours.

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Coast Guard Nessie Ficlet: Done!

“Really, officer,” Niall says, but he’s laughing, and Harry is laughing, hiding in the stern, and the coast guard officer looks like he’s about to start laughing, too.

“You know you can speed even in a boat, yeah?” the man says, oh, but he’s smiling. Niall squints at him, his sunglasses respectfully on his head.

“Can’t have been speeding that much, sir,” he says. “You caught me.”

Niall’s grinning like a particularly unsubtle lightbulb, and it’s a pretty big risk, but it pays off in gold when the man kicks his head back and laughs out loud, starting deep and ending in a really dopey-sounding snort.

“Chief,” he says, “the day you can beat me in that thing, I’m not giving you a ticket.”

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brain: Okay, body.  Time for us to go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.

body: Time to… uh… what now?

brain: Sleep.  Slumber.  Forty winks.  Y’know, that whole unconsciousness thing we do every night.

body: I… am… not sure what process you are referring to.

brain: Our metabolism slows down, you just kinda lie there motionless while I peace out for a bit, I maybe have some dreams, we meet back up again about eight hours later, we feel refreshed?

body: Not ringing any bells, no.

brain: We have literally done it almost every night we’ve been alive.  It is an essential thing that all mammals do.

body: You sure this is me you’re thinking of?  This isn’t something you saw on TV?  Some magical elf thing that elves do?

brain: Okay.  Okay.  Body.  Listen.  It’s late.  It’s two AM.  It’s dark, we’re lying down, the eyes are closed… what does that make you feel like doing?

body: Masturbating.

brain: We already did that, remember?  What else?

body: …Getting up, looking at a bunch of pornography and then masturbating some more?

brain: Y’know that tired feeling we’re feeling right now?

body: Ooh, yeah, I hate that.

brain: Yeah, me too.  You know what would make that feeling go away?

body: Sugary foods and K-pop?

brain: No.

body: Sugar is a nutrient and we need it to live.

brain: Technically true, yes, but we’re not eating right now.

body: Y’know what else is a nutrient?  Fat.  And carbs.  We should get donuts.

brain: Body, you need to shut the hell up and go to sleep.  Right now.

body: I still have no idea what you want me to-


body: Okay, okay!  Jeez!  Here, uh… how’s that?

brain: That’s farting.

body: Is… is that good?  Do you want me to keep doing it?

brain: I literally do not care right now, but that is not what sleep is.  Try something else.

body: Okay, how about…. this?



brain: Fucking NO!  No fight or flight!  Calm down!




brain: FINE.  If I get up, limp to the kitchen, get a donut, and then eat it while masturbating to K-pop, will you stop stabbing me and go to sleep?

body: I don’t know, but it sounds like a great plan and it’s certainly worth a shot.

brain: You’re the worst, body.

body: Hey, don’t worry, pal, I’ll extract the maximum nutritional value from that donut and hold on to it for as long as I can.  We might need that energy to climb a mountain!

brain: Sure.  That’s a possible thing.

body: We are a great team.

brain: I swear to God, I am replacing you with a robot as soon as they become commercially available.


What Does Your Heart Say? - Ashton Fluff

“He’s not your boyfriend, is he?”

He wasn’t my boyfriend. But he was my friend, and i great one at that. The whole thing started out as a way to make me feel better, to hide my pain. He’d went along with it for months now, holding my, cuddling me close to him, even kissing me. Yet it wasn’t to show affection like the boys had thought, it was to numb the pain that one boy in particular was innocently causing to crash through my heart. He had held my hand for reassurance and cuddled me as comfort for the scene i had to see every day. Ashton and the one thing i wanted to be, his girlfriend.

The thought of her made my stomach twist, there was nothing wrong with her, in fact she was perfect for him but the beating in my heart for her boyfriend wouldn’t allow me to be happy for them. I had tried but it ached, i’d spent weekends in my bed pathetically letting my feelings out in the form of tears on my pillow. Drank myself into a state on the kitchen floor, and thats when my the boy i shared my flat with and soon to be life saver found me. His kindness letting me pour my soul into his chest as he sat rubbing at my back in the hope of taking away the pain. And i guess you could say thats when it started, the lie.

He owned my heart, it raced when he was around, butterflies swarmed my stomach, palms became sweaty all the physical and emotional reactions that i had no choice but to hide. I let myself fall, starting as childhood friends progressing into a something bigger, we were rarely separated but maybe thats when i dangerously began to feel something too deep for him and now it was too late, i was far to attached.

“Y/N..?…i don’t understand.” Ashton’s voice spoke again, at this stage kneeling down in front of me as i sat head in hands on my sofa praying it was all a bad dream. Peeling the hands from my face i jumped at the close contact, just his touch made me nervous. Letting go of my wrists he used a finger to push my chin up so we were now face to face.

“Sweetheart, i don’t understand.. I just seen who i thought was your boyfriend with another girl only to punch him and then be told that i’ve got it all wrong..? Talk to me.” I was only getting over the impact of being nicknamed as the water in my eyes let a tear fall. Strangely i felt calm and motionless as the reality set in, i was going to have to tell him the truth.

“No, hes not my boyfriend.” Blinking at me silently he was obviously confused.

“But you said he was…” Looking down i couldn’t bare to see his face.

“I lied, we both lied.” I felt the fear rush through my veins making my vision blurry as all i could concentrate on was my fingers in my lap.


“He was helping me…its my fault, he just wanted to make me feel better.” I barely spoke in a whisper ashamed at what i had done.

“But thats my job…I’m your best friend, your mine. Tell me whats wrong and i’ll make it better.” It only broke my heart more to know he was hurt i couldn’t tell him, but how could i have. He was happy and that was all i wanted for him, i couldn’t ruin it no matter how much it hurt. I found my coping strategy, it was less than mortally correct but in times of desperation it surprises you what you’ll do.

“I couldn’t tell you…beac…because, its about you and how…” My voice cracked in the moment, weak and unsteady.

“What have i done?” He cut me off as i sobbed, his hands cupping my face so i would look at him. His face was concerned, fore head frowning and eyes wide with worry.

“Im in love with you.” I gasped the words out in one breath. His face going soft and dropping, he opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Standing up i stood with him with hope. But there was no point, as i called his name watching painfully as he walked away. Out of my house and out of my life.

Two months went past, the worst two months of my life. I’d started by spending over a week inside, never leaving the house. Letting my phone run out of battery, ignoring telephone calls. I lost all contact with the world as life seemed unliveable without him. Apologising to my friend, he was only sympathetic to me but my broken heart was shown on his face in the form of a broken nose quite ironically caused by Ashton. It did however work in his favour as the girl who had witnessed the ‘misunderstanding’ took pity on him for a second date. Whilst he moved on quite happily i spent my days bathing in my own misery. Not really living at all, just surviving.

It led me here, to another day where i watched another round of rom coms torturing myself because if i didn’t feel pain i felt nothing at all. My body curled up on the sofa, head snuggled into a pillow as rain drizzled outside. A shiver running down my spine, rubbing my arms under the oversized sweater i had stole from Michael, he’d asked for it back many time but it was always conveniently in the wash. It made me smile for a second, thinking of the boys and all our times together.

I would have mistaken the nock at the door for a gust of wind before the sound became louder and more desperate. Rolling my eyes i contemplated ignoring it for the fear of one of the boys checking that i was okay. I didn’t want to see anybody, i just wanted to hide forever but i seemed to have no choice as the sound continued and i shuffled on my feet towards the front door. Tucking my hair behind my ears, i straightened the sweater, unlocking the key and let the door swing open.

“Ashton?!” My heart dropped at the sight of him. Hair flattened by the rain with longer curls sticking to his neck. His eyes were slanted in cowers from the cold wet day. Hands in pockets he stared at me before his face dropped into a devastated look, i had to admit i looked terrible and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Standing back and for an unknown reason i let him in.

“Do you want a dri..” I began to ask before i was cut short again.

“Kiss me.” My eyes widened in shock and i had to hold back from jumping on him at the request. He wasn’t mine and although i loved him, it wasn’t right.

“No.” Sighing he moved towards me.

“Please, i need to know. I need to know if my heart is breaking because our friendship has been ruined or because i cant see the girl i love anymore. Either way i miss you so fucking much and i cant live without having you there. So please, kiss me..” Whispering the last words i was pushed gently against the hallway wall, his hands cupping my face once more. I could feel his breath on my cheeks as his head lowered. Taking my hands in his own he pressed his lips firmly against mine.

My heart swelled, thumping loudly as we went deeper, loosing what seemed like hours in a kiss so full of love. I put all i had into it, needing him to know how much he meant to me. And when his mouth curved upwards i fell the his love hit me hard.

“So thats what it feels like.” Pecking softly, i tangled my hands in his hair. Resting his forehead against mine he looked at me like id never seen before.

“I let her go, when you told me the truth…things weren’t the same anymore. It was like something snapped inside me, like my head was now able to see what my heart was saying.” With one last grain of hope i asked.

“And what is your heart saying?” Nudging my nose with his he smiled warmly.

“That I’m in love with you too.”

Hey if you don’t mind writing some smut, can you please do a Jack Barakat imagine where one of your kinks is cologne and one night he sprays too much on himself and it really turns you on. I know it sounds really weird but I like the smell of cologne, haha. Thank you I really love your writing and I knew if I asked you it will turn out great! Thank you so much love!

AN Aww asks like these make me so emotional, I love you guys <333 So it’s five in the morning on New Years Day, I passed out around three or so, and now it’s five, and I’m too awake to go back to sleep, so the first posts to my blog will be these imagines I’ve written for you. I really hope you guys like them, and whether or not 2015 was kind to you, at least you made it through. So let’s hope 2016 is all and well, and here’s to the memories they will bring <3 Happy New Year my lovelies xx

Warning: kinky smut lol

Your POV

I was getting ready for my blind date with this guy named Jack. My friend Alex had set it up, and after weeks of me complaining that I wasn’t in a relationship, he shut me up by forcing me to go on this thing. He showed me a picture of this guy, and yeah, he was attractive, but was that something I wanted to get invested in?

And what was I supposed to wear? How was I supposed to dress? Alex didn’t even tell me where we were going. All he said was “dress comfy.” Thanks Mr. Blueberry, that helps my situation a lot.

I was searching through my wardrobe thinking of absolutely anything to wear, and by this time I was getting frantic. What kind of perfume did he like, how much make up should I wear, how tall is he? Should I wear heels or flats? How fancy should I go? With millions of questions racing through my head, I heard my phone let out a ringtone telling me I had a text message.

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This scene is placed the night before they head outside of the fence, where all the remaining dauntless have been called to a meeting to create something that binds them together, forever. By tattooing their arms with the amount of fears they have.


Tori, who is carrying a small cardboard box, sets it down and climbs onto one of the tables. Then she holds up a hand for silence. It comes in bits and pieces.

“I called this meeting partly to stick it to Evelyn Johnson—”


“—and partly for another reason.”

She reaches into the box at her feet and takes out a tattoo needle.

“To create something that binds us all together.” She holds the needle in both hands, as gently as she would hold a child.


The Dauntless cycle through the lines quickly. Time wears on, and as it does, I become more and more aware of what we are going to do tonight. Leave the city. Break the law. Maybe never return. Find the world outside. Hear the answers to all our questions.

Are we really just an experiment? How long have you been out there? Have you been watching us? What do you want from us?

And for me, the most important one: Who is Edith Prior?

Christina returns from the tattoo line with a number 13 on her arm. I notice a few tiny shapes floating over the 3, and she gives me a wicked smile.

“Moths,” she explains. “Tough as cotton balls, right?”

I laugh, and then I wonder if it’s all right to laugh, because that’s what Will said to her when he found out she was afraid of moths. But I guess that, after someone dies, what’s all right to feel is whatever you do feel. And Christina is still smiling.

“Feels good to think about it,” she says as she sits on my other side. “You know?”

I nod, and even thought I’m a Stiff and I don’t do this sort of thing, I grab her hand and squeeze it.

Tobias and I stand in Bud’s line, and Shauna maneuvers her wheelchair to Tori’s line, ahead of Zeke. I check my watch. We only have a few hours until we set our escape plan in motion—I didn’t intend to spend those hours waiting for a tattoo, but maybe that’s just the way it’s going to be.

“I’m really going to miss this place,” I say.

“Really?” He shrugs. “My thoughts are more like, ‘Good riddance.”

“There’s nothing you’ll miss? No good memories?” I elbow him.

“Fine. There are a few.” He smiles.

“Any that don’t involve me?” I say. “That sounds really self-centered. You know what I mean.”

“Sure. I guess.” Tobias shrugs. “I mean, I got to have a different life here, a different name, even. Here I was always Four, thanks to my initiate instructor. He came up with the nickname.”

“The legendary Four,” I say with a flourish of my hand.

“Indeed.” He spreads his arms wide. “And how fortunate you are to bask in my presence.”

I jab him in the ribs with my elbow.

“Why haven’t I met this initiation instructor?”

“Because he’s dead.” Tobias says “dead” like it’s just another word, but his eyes find mine and I can tell this is anything but a casual topic. “Amar was Divergent.”

I touch his arm, lightly, but there isn’t much to say. He shifts like he’s uncomfortable.

“See?” he says. “Too many bad memories here. I’m ready to leave.”

We are quiet for a while, and it feels comfortable, which is a strange thing for me. Usually silence is charged with all the words a person isn’t saying, or can’t find a way to say, but with him, I feel like my presence is enough, like his presence is enough.

We move closer and closer to the tattoo needles, and when we’re a few feet away, Tori says without lifting her head, “You two, get in my line instead.”

I feel nervous, but I don’t want her to know that I’m afraid of her, so I do what she says.

I go before Tobias, and when Tori finishes up with the Dauntless woman in front of me, she curls her fingers at me. “You’re up.”

She is switching out the old needle for a new one and preparing a new batch of ink. Her hands are bare and small, steadier than any hands I’ve ever seen. They almost seems to rest on top of the air like it’s a table, motionless.

I sit in front of her.

“You can come closer, you know,” she says. “I won’t bite.” She tilts her head. “Oh, wait. I have done that, haven’t I?”

I scoot closer.

“I know your upper arm is already taken, so you can choose a different place,” she says, and her voice is unexpectedly soft. Her eyes, which curve gently down at the edges, find mine.

“Okay,” I say.

“You number?” she says. “Or your best approximation of it?”

My fear number, when I went though my fear landscape during initiation, was seven. But am I afraid f the same things now that I was when I was an initiate? Am I still afraid of being responsible for my family’s deaths when they’re already gone? Am I still afraid of being with Tobias, in that way?

“If you’re having trouble, think of the tattoo as a memory of your fears as a Dauntless initiate,” Tori says. “The number can change, but the memory will always be the same, and that’s what you’re recording, not your fear count.

That makes it easier. “My number was seven.”

I offer my arm to her, and she cleans my forearm with antiseptic, then touches the needle to my skin. I am used to the prick of the needle and the stinging pain that makes my eyes water. I don’t even have to look away this time. I just watch the needle move, and her hand wiping the excess ink, and my skin turning red around it. I still don’t like the buzzing sound it makes—it’s like a swarm of bees.

"Apparently you didn’t need Jeanine to be alive after all,” Tori says quietly. “You didn’t need her to be alive in order to get that video shown.”

“I didn’t know that at the time.”

“Or a part of you didn’t want to know. Wanted to keep her alive.”

“I’m glad she’s dead.”


“Hey,” I say harshly, so she pauses, lifts the needle. “I hated her. I’m glad she’s dead. You’re not the only one she stole people from, so stop acting like it.”

She doesn’t answer. Instead she goes back to the tattoo, tracing each line, filling in the space between them. When she finishes, the skin around the number 7 is bright red, but it doesn’t hurt that much. She bandages it, and I realize that the room has gone quiet. Bud is putting away his supplies, and Tobias, standing behind me, is the last one in line. The silence is for him.


“We all know your number, Tobias Eaton, “Tori says.

I still feel a prickle of fear whenever someone says my name out loud, like it’s a forbidden word. for a long time it belonged to only me, until I gave it to tris,but then the candor wrenched it from me with their truth serum, and now it belongs to everyone.

My shirt has long sleeves that are tight around the wrist, so I pull one up as far as it will go—to my elbow—and sit, offering my blank skin for her to mark. I am already warm with embarrassment, standing in this room that shouldn’t be silent but is. She raises an eyebrow at me.

“I don’t remember putting a tattoo on your arm“she says, slapping my upper arm lightly. “Come on, let them see all the fine work I did on your back“

She asked me,once,why I got so many tattoos if I was always going to keep them covered, even in the heat of summer when most dauntless wear as little clothing as Possible. I didn’t give her a reason, but I still remember it—I wanted the tattoos to cover all the places he hurt me, the back that bore the belt and the side that bore the fist.

A lot of people hate scars, but before I joined dauntless, I had always wished that I had some. I wanted to have some kind of reminder that while wounds heal, they don’t disappear forever—we carry them everywhere, always, and that is the way of things, the Way of scars. So I got the tattoos instead.

And I hid them, because I didn’t want these people to see those wounds, even if they wouldn’t know what they were looking at .

I curl my fingers around the hem of my t-shirt and pull it over my head. I sit up straight ,my back to the room, the flames on my side expanding and contracting with my hurried breaths .Tori cleans the skin on my arm, and I feel like their stares are the flames, and my skin heats up more for every second they spend looking at me.

They are silent while she draws the number, and at first I feel like their silence is cruel, like it scrutinizes me. But as she draws the last lines on me, I realize that the dauntless Shout when they feel camaraderie, and they are silent when they are respectful. To them I am still the man with only four fears.

I stare down at the 4 as she covers it with a bandage, and I realize that this, unlike the other tattoos, is something I am proud to carry everywhere, proud even to carry outside the fence, to whatever will come next.

Motionless In White Challenge: Day Four.

Day Four: What is your favorite song?



She Never Made It To The Emergency Room.

Mostly Apocolips.