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littleeyesofpallas · 3 years

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Was chatting with a coworker the other day and two things crossed my mind...

that I've been at this weeb shit so long that I forget what I just sort of take for granted and what might not be commonly known little factoids, and

that VIZ's attempt at a monthly Shonen Jump magazine has been gone so long most people probably never saw them. (nevermind the old RAIJIN Graphic Novels that tried the same thing)

So, here's some fun little things you might not have known about manga if you've only ever read English publications and/or digital scans...

For one, there's the matter of print formatting... In general, Japan actually uses their own standards for print that tend to differ from those in the US; The JIS(Japanese Industrial Standards) series A and B. Magazines like the typical anthology format manga are printed in JIS B5, which is comparable to the US Letter standard, or the ISO A4.

This was the same format that RAIJIN Comics printed in as well, and although I don't have a copy of the old English Shonen Jump for reference, if memory serves they printed in the same format as well in an attempt to really sell that "authentic" manga feel. Sadly, I don't know that the effort or attention to detail was much appreciated. Neither published a volume comparable to a Japanese weekly or even monthly serial magazine, though --not by a long shot. But this might not be the most practical for comparrison, since there actually just isn't much of an English language equivalent format. (unless you count actual magazines that happen to include comic illustrations or miniscule comic strip segments)

Despite the mammoth size of a serial magazine, Japanese tankoban are actually smaller than the North American equivalent. But notably the Japanese small book format isn't just a matter of contending with nearest print standards... What I believe is the JIS B40(although I could be wrong) tends to be the standard print size of small books in general, not just manga, and it's a print size that is only marginally smaller than VIZ's standard size manga, but with the very particular benefit of being deliberately portable. The small difference in size is the difference between a Japanese manga fitting in my coat pocket where as the English equivalent can't.

(I realize I photographed a copy of Shonen ACE, and not Weekly JUMP, but I measured a copy of Weekly JUMP for the thickness and not the copy of ACE; the copy of JUMP was around 506pg, while the copy of ACE was 570pg. Those are both older though, and the most recent digital copy i have of Weekly JUMP actually had around 520pg)

And I don't think it's always addressed just what a difference there is, culturally, in how Japan approaches the print medium. It's kind of an old cliche by this point, and I don't know how accurate it's remained in the past decade or so, but the quintessential image passed around between comic nerds has always been the Japanese bullet train; A place packed with commuters all passing their transit time with isolated preoccupation with music and/or reading, with manga being the king of this time killing arena. And its not just about sheer popularity driven by interest, American comic vendors have long envied the sheer accessibility of manga in Japan.

Here in the U.S. we used to have a thriving newsstand retail scene for comic books, and a kind of similar ease of grab and go comic purchase, rather than the explicitly niche interest driven "direct market" model that has been slowly but surly strangling the comic market ever since. But in Japan serialized manga has remained in relatively quick, impulse friendly, arm's reach of readers on the go. And what lubricates that business model more than anything is price.

I still remember a time when VIZ dominated the English manga market by offering at $7.95(and am I crazy or am I remembering a time when it got down to $6.99?) but now'days it's settled on a low end of $9.99. You know how much the recent vol.29 of My Hero Academia goes for? ¥484. That's less than $4.50.

You know how much that big ass magazine with 500+ pages and 21 different series goes for? Do you think it's more or less than the little pocket-size tankoban? Did you guess something close to ¥290? That's less than $2.75. But how does something bigger in both page size and page count managed to sell for less???

There are a few secrets to that, but one is that the things are packed to the gills with ads. But that's the boring answer. The other feature contributing to keeping an accessible cost on weekly/monthly manga is something we don't think about much in the U.S.; it's the paper and print quality.

The nice little books are printed in what you might expect as far as starch white paper and clean black inks, but those big honkin' phone book(do people still know what phonebooks look like??) size magazines are printed on cheap recycled pulpy newpaper with typically rough print jobs. This is most noticeable in the quality of solid blacks, and when scanning the texture of "white" space.

(I tried to take individual photos of different series chapters to show off the fact that the paper is differently colored... but my phone's camera seems to be smart enough to auto balance that kind of thing when there's no other context to anchor it to. (It doesn't help that it's night and my lights have a harsh yellowing glow to them.) but on th left you can still kind of see the different paper colors; this particular issue alternated every 3 chapters between pink-ish, green/gray, a kind of off-white/gray, and sepia, but I've also seen blue-ish, oranges, and a different shade of yellow different from the sepia-ish one.)

Back in ye olden days when it came to fan scanlations, more slapdash teams and projects would often stumble over levels in photoshop (too much black and the pulpy paper texture shows up as grainy shadows, but too far white and the edges of lineart get crunchy and ugly) but those who had more robust readership and a regular streamlined flow of work, we'd actually go in and touch up the solid blacks and whites by hand. We'd also redraw art to erase overlaid text so the type setters could lay the new English in over top.

(Weekly Jump: Left, Bleach tankoban: Right)

They do however keep a few coveted color pages in better quality paper and ink. In contrast, the standard quality tankoban actually don't include color pages at all, and just print what had been color pages in grayscale. There are also all kind of irregularities between publishers and special editions and such, but on the most basic level this difference in quality both keeps serial prices down, while also incentivizing tankoban purchase.

In the U.S. we might still have the draw of an ad-free reading experience in our TPB, but the print quality between a biweekly issue and a TPB are basically the same. Incidentally, even though manga are generally drafted at a much larger scale than even the serial magazine proportions anyway, the scaled down size of the tankoban also serves to sharpen the image. When put side by side the nice clean tankoban print looks noticeably better than the serial.

Now'days the English scanlation scene seems to be conducted almost entirely through ripped digital releases (at least as far as I can tell with popular, regular weekly titles) which is great for quality, frankly, but it does kind of lack the charm and personal touch of a band of amateurs finding round about solutions to a convoluted bootlegging pipeline. But obviously I'm a little biased.

[edit]: Oops i posted this without really ending it in any sensible ro conclusive way... I feel like ive lost sight of the point since i first drafted this but I guess its mostly just me pining after if we could just get super cheap, disposable quality, bulk manga in that classic Japanese magazine model to work here in the states. I already tend to sell manga in big runs, even at $9.99+, and frequently I'll have customers put volumes back, or clearly want the next volume but just can't afford it and wait to come back. If I could sell these customers more volumes, and more importantly more titles, at the same price, I would love to. I would love to see these things fly off the shelves. I would love to see people keeping up with multiple series. I would love to see someone look at a 44vol long series and actually feel like that's a number of volumes they can afford.

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 4 years

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2. Mona Lisa

I stay in a two room double on campus which means that I share a bathroom, but the room is my own to do with as I please, within reason.

Typically, I'm milking this privacy for the money to fund my education while simultaneously releasing my sexual tension in the most taboo of ways.

Sighing, brush my teeth and reapply my lip gloss in the mirror. I can feel tremors in my poor peach, she's reminiscing on the good times when she was exhaulted like the queen she is. Men would spend literal hours worshiping her every crevice and pay me handsomely for it.

Four days down, ten to go, I tell myself.

Sex is my ideal outlet for stress relief. It's my interest, my hobby, my reprieve. As you can imagine, I have to change my sheets on a daily basis, but I don't mind that.

Yes, I have brought a number of guys over to participate in certain acts that I'm sure my bathroom mate has heard through the wall. She doesn't look me in the eye anymore though I always speak to her.. and she hasn't done so for the past month or so. I think she's traumatized.

Tickled, I re-apply my sunscreen and change into my grey PINK leggings with matching sports bra, pulling my 360 install into a curly high bun and stretching to prepare for my mid-day jog.

Everyday, I jog through the Main Quad and work up a sparkle, since princesses don't sweat.

I carry a pink hydro flask and I jog as far as I can push myself to go, often ending up at the Oval, a place where students play volleyball and walk dogs. I like to sit out from time to time and watch.

Then I head back to my room and assemble my hygiene kit to take into the bathroom. I shower, cleanse, exfoliate if necessary, moisturize, and redress for the evening.

Today's evening wear is a black graphic half shirt with a gold crown printed on and black high waisted shorts with black platform sneakers from Dolls Kill. I add my gold anklet for mood before turning on my music.

Pretty little bird, pretty little bird

You've hit the window a few times (the window a few times)

You're pretty little bird, pretty little bird

You still ain't scared of no heights

When the spiral down feels as good as the flight

When hating you feels good for the night

When the morning comes, I hope you're still mine

My cellphone rings and it's Natalie, one of the black girls in this dorm. The first day we met, we made a silent pack to stick together, us and a couple others, and months down the road we've stuck to it.

"Back from your jog, Gem?"

"Yes, and I'm looking at my notes so no you cannot borrow them."

"Jokes on you, I took them yesterday when you were jogging and made copies, I'm set."

"You bitch," I tease. "What's the move tonight?"

"Whaaat? You're not busy with one of your John's?"

"Bitch, my legs are closed, my books are bussed wide open," I smile highlighting a sentence in the textbook. I have four exams to take.

Checking a text from one of my subs, Keon, I send a short reply with a 💋. He was just checking on me, asking about my studies.

"Well we're thinking of hitting a party with a few of the black exchange students."

Party?

My book slams shut. I have been extremely well-behaved this week, I deserve a little magic in my life. It won't hurt.

"Who's we?"

"Me, Kayla, Letitia, Kevin, and Chris."

Damn, Chris' fine ass can get it. I want him.

Okay, it's decided. I can finish up here, meet Mr. Stevens at 7 in his office, meet up with Natalie and the crew around 8 and then we'll head out. I can handle a few drinks.

Jumping up, I feel alive again for the first time in four days. I snatch up my makeup trunk and set it on my desk pulling out my handheld mirror.

Light beat. Lashes. Dark liner, heavy gloss.

I release my loosened strawberry curls from the bun letting them wave and fall on my shoulders.

xoxo

Approaching the office suite, I walk through to find that the other offices are already empty. I can tell because of the quiet and closed doors. Mr. Stevens' door is open and yellow artificial light streams into the small hallway.

When I come upon the door, Mr. Stevens is at his desk staring intently at a spread of papers, his gold-rimmed glasses fallen at the end of his nose.

My peach is telling me this scenario could be a problem. Dr. Stevens is a steak and lobster meal and my peach? She's salivating. Crossing my legs on the spot where I stand I knock on the door drawing his eye.

"Ms. Miller. Come in, have a seat."

Quickly, I plop down into one of the two chairs in front of his desk and sling my bag down to the floor beside my chair.

He awakens his computer, typing before reading through whatever's displayed. Then he turns the screen to face me and I'm looking at a layout of of my grades for the class. It's looking pretty good.

"Could be better," I stare waiting for what I came for.

"You're right, it could be. You see, as it stands everything for you is riding on this exam. You could walk away from this class with a high C or a high A. It's really up to you."

I lean forward with my elbows on the desk to look him in his narrow-set eyes.

"Look at my face, Mr. Stevens," I glare for emphasis. "Does it look like I'm down to settle for a high C? What did we discuss in the classroom?"

Again, it's a chess match of stares.

After about ten seconds this time, he pulls his glasses off, folding them gently and sitting them off the the side near the computer. He turns the computer screen back to it's original position and pulls a paper packet from his desk, raising it vertical with the print side facing towards himself and away from me.

It's the exam, I know it. I maintain eye contact.

"This," he pauses holding it up near his head. "If anyone... and I mean anyone.. discovers that you have this... you're on your own. I'll turn ya ass in so fast your head will spin. You will be expelled."

I've never heard him curse before.

"No one will find out, I'll guard it with my life."

"There's one more thing." He lowers the packet setting it away from me on the desk near his glasses. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but I seem to recall you saying something along the lines of you not playing bout your grades or money.."

"Yeah?"

Licking his lips, he leans forward and I sit bolt straight.

"How far you willing to go for both?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

I blink in shock. Not good ol' Mr. Stevens! This has gotta be a joke. Mr. Hottie would never sleep with a student, he's far too strict.

"Gemini," he whispers, the name lingering on his tongue in a way that gives me full body chills. How did he know my stage name?

"Mr. Stevens, I think you're mistaken. My name is Phoebe, remember?" I tilt my head to jog his memory. "Phoebe Miller?"

He scoffs, loosening his tie and I'm aware of myself breathing harder.. loudly.

He tosses his tie on the desk between us.

Unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt, I can see his sharp clavicle and a tease of the muscle beneath. My mouth is watering and he leans forward again.

"Let's skip the part where you play dumb and get straight to negotiations. You're a smart girl...Sexy," he whispers.

My eyes widen hearing that word come from his lips. My thighs press together. This isn't a body that can hold back once started up. He's treading dangerous ground.

I lean forward slightly and the corner of his lips lifts in a dark smirk.

I've never seen this man like this.

"I've been to Mickey's. You know, there's this move you do... on that pole... I've seen you do a few times now and I've been wondering every time I see your lil conceited ass in my class... how it would work if you tried it on a dick."

Shit.

He said the magic word! I'm wet. I'm wet! I cross my leg over my thigh and he sits back, standing tall as I look up at him, ready to do anything.

He walks over to the door, closing it gently and locking it. Panting, I watch him do it and then he walks back to his seat, reclining with his hands clasped loosely in front of him.

"I have the power to give you an A," he announces. "Right here, right now."

"Oh really."

Oh my fucking god, I'm so wet right now. I can feel it.

"Mhm... I can also ensure that you pass your other classes, no problem," he brushes his shoulder. "BUT."

"But," I breathe.

"I need something from you."

Blinking at his boldness, I can't help the lust that comes to my eyes. This is a fantasy. Shit like this does not happen.

"Yes?" I'm licking my lips, biting them in anticipation. Say it, I beg with my eyes. Say it!

"I want you.."

Yesss?

"..to be.."

I lean in closer.

"So eager," he laughs. "You know, the way you look at me, you remind me of the Mona Lisa. There's a secret behind your eyes and every time I see you... that's what the fuck I see. It's like you wanna fuck me..."

Sitting up again to lean forward, his face is now inches from mine.

"You're going to be my slave, Ms. Miller. My personal.. little slut. Just until the exams are over," he nods.

I have to think about that, but not for long.

"And you can ensure all A's," I confirm.

Smiling, he nods. It's the perfect scenario, I want to cry.

"Deal."

"You can't tell a soul," he whispers coming in closer. His breath smells like spearmint. His lips are centimeters away now and I can't hold myself back any longer, I close the distance meeting his soft lips with mine.

Getting as far as a peck, he pulls back looking away like a man who's just made a deal on something as trivial as a lawn gnome or a piece of patio furniture. There's an unrushed boredom that only serves to intrigue me as he goes through the buttons on his shirt, letting the white fabric fall open to reveal the built muscles I kind of knew were there... but never to this extent.

His skin looks like smooth rum and I want a taste, but he has a deliberate pattern of raised bumps all over his chest and abs. It's not a turn off. In fact, I can think of a few things to do with that.

He smirks as if reading my mind.

Leaning further forward, I'm out of my seat and leaning over the desk.

With my right hand I reach up to touch his right pectoral but snatch my hand back when he smacks it away. I feel the sting. He's heavy handed.

"Did I say you could touch me?" His eyes hold venom.

He sounds like me when I'm disciplining a sub.

"No sir."

"Don't smile."

"But my smile is so cute," I grin watching his wheels spin.

"That's true," he admits with a nod. "But you know what's even cuter?"

"There's cuter?" I tilt my head innocently and he smiles.

"Hm," he chuckles. "...Don't move."

Holding my position over his desk, I remain still as he stands up again, slowly circling out of my view. Behind me, he stands and I can feel his presence. I feel a spanking coming on. I can feel him-

"MM," I squeak feeling the first hit. It's firm, but not too rough.

"Shut up, you've taken worse," he comments and I wonder how he knows because it's true. This is nothing.

Hit number two comes and it's a little bit harder than the first.

"Be gentle," I whisper looking back.

The third hit is double the strength of the last, I feel it and breath out.

The fourth is much harder and I make a sound to let him know I feel it. He hears me because the next swat feels like he really reeled back and it stings. It has me anxious for the next hit.

"I once saw you take a flogger," he breathes and I hear it in his voice, he's getting excited. I wonder if his dick is hard. How big is it? "Who you think requested it," he huffs and the swat he takes makes me hit the desk.. for real this time.

"You're a sub-SSSS," I hiss throwing my head back. "Damnit, okay now," I warn."

"Move your hands."

I don't know.

"Get back down... and move your hands," he repeats firmly.

Hesitantly, I drop them and brace myself on the desk.

"Uh!" I close my mouth and gather myself. It really stings. He keeps hitting the same damn spot, but in the way that tying a rubber band around your finger feels good, it also feels good.

"Take those shorts off..," he mutters. I can hear him breathing and when I look back, he's taking the button up completely off and unbuckling his black leather belt. "Hurry up.. take it off."

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik killmonger smut #killmonger smut #erik x oc #erik killmonger x oc #tales of a masochist

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

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Chloé & Buster

Chloé: McKenna Buster: What do you want? Chloé: I have some bad news Chloé: well not news, but a reminder, unwelcome, I'm sure Buster: I don't wanna hear anything you've got to say Chloé: Naturally Chloé: Did you not have any qualms about letting your sister 'date' James? Buster: The fact that my little sister was able to take your man from you is nobody's problem but yours, babe Chloé: Good to see you're as dense as ever Chloé: Cast your thick skull back and remember the last conversation we had, yeah Buster: No thank you Chloé: The reason you should've given more of a shit Chloé: because you see, that really brought back some old pain for me, made me remember some things I tried desperately to forget Chloé: like the fact we slept together, almost exactly to the day by the way, exactly nine months before Jay was born Buster: I ain't taking responsibility for your kid 'cause you fucked up your marriage Buster: Your husband finally growing a set of balls was a surprise to all of us, like Chloé: Hmm, his lack of really highlights his inability to be the father, no Chloé: not to mention he was a good three weeks too late but that can be glossed over easily enough at the time Buster: Fuck off, Chlo Buster: The entrapment didn't work all those years ago and it ain't gonna now Chloé: What entrapment? Chloé: I'm already engaged, divorce pending Chloé: and I've given up the kids Chloé: that ones yours, you should know Chloé: James does, I've already told him Buster: You already told me she was and wasn't Chloé: When I had to raise her, I was not going to do that with you Buster: When I had to know you, I never believed a single word that came out of your mouth Buster: Guess what ain't changed Chloé: Don't do the right thing then Chloé: I have Chloé: he should be getting a DNA right about now Buster: You've done the right thing for yourself, yeah Buster: That ain't news to me either, babe Chloé: I've told you the truth Chloé: if you don't want to fight for your daughter, you don't have to Chloé: he wants to keep her regardless Buster: She ain't mine, regardless of how many times you say it now Chloé: Whatever, McKenna, I can't be bothered with this back and forth Chloé: I know she is, James will have proof she's not his Chloé: could even use his girlfriend's DNA to prove she's yours if he fancies Chloé: you've been given the information, do or don't Buster: Shut up and leave my sister out of your sick games Chloé: She involved herself in this, it has nothing to do with me Buster: She ain't involved herself with you, I mean it, leave her alone Chloé: I've got better things to do with my time Chloé: though you've apparently not grown up in the last six years, the rest of us have Buster: Like planning wedding number 2, yeah? Buster: You actually gonna bother to raise any kids you have that time around or what? Buster: Give it a few years and you can come back around to convince James they're his Chloé: That's truly not your business Chloé: worry about your own Chloé: there's an idea Buster: I can't wait to take you to court for wasting my time with this bullshit Buster: Hopefully whoever her actual father is will be more receptive once you've copied and pasted this convo to him Chloé: N'awh Chloé: here's hoping you don't get dumped this time Chloé: must make family meals so awkward Buster: I forgot how hilarious you were Chloé: I can assure you your wife/cousin won't have forgotten Chloé: good luck, truly, you're going to need it Chloé: James is a good dad, despite his other faults Chloé: and just fucking your sister, not his own Buster: Get over the fact that Nance didn't wanna fuck you please, it's been years Chloé: Not exactly how I remember it Chloé: though I see why you two would want to rewrite your history Chloé: didn't exactly go how you planned, did it McKenna? Chloé: Poor boy Buster: Well, nobody knows better than me how selective your memory can be Chloé: It was convenient for you to believe me the 2nd time, not the 1st Chloé: you have no one to blame but yourself, likewise, should Jay ever meet you, she'll have no one to blame but you, for abandoning her Buster: It was convenient for you to fucking assault me, except it wasn't really, was it? Buster: None of that went how you planned, did it, Chlo Chloé: Assault you? Now who's funny Chloé: you couldn't wait to fuck your sister by fucking me Buster: You, still so gutted we ain't celebrating our wedding anniversary, hilarious that is Buster: And the fact you reckon I couldn't wait to do anything with you other than fuck off far away from you, ain't even that, it's just tragic Chloé: I'm afraid I don't have time for your delusions Chloé: though the fact you still fantasize about me after all these years- oh wait, no, that turns my stomach Chloé: you should know a thing or two about restraining orders by now, yeah? Chloé: Get me one against you and have a nice life Buster: So little time, so many lives to try and ruin Buster: And yeah, 'course, but so do you after that one Nance got against you, which you're bound to have had framed, like Buster: It didn't really work too well, and neither would any you tried against me if you also try and fuck with my life again Chloé: I didn't even hear about it Chloé: What extraordinarily sad, close little lives you do all lead Chloé: Your life, and how fucked it is, has nothing to do with me Chloé: you best hope James never decides he doesn't want her Chloé: that child is a nightmare Buster: She's yours, what else could she ever have a hope in hell of being? Chloé: Mutual Buster: Don't Chloé: I've said it, no amount of denial fronted as bravado changes the fact I have and you know it's true Chloé: and now you have to deal with everything you did and didn't do Buster: Nothing's true until the DNA proves it Chloé: I'm under no illusion he's going to report his findings back to me, McKenna Chloé: and I'm certainly not acting as your go-between Chloé: no doubt your sister is already well aware and all over that situation like a rash Buster: Cry about the breakdown in communication between you and your whipping boy on your own time Chloé: Yes, I'm heartbroken Buster: The only person that's surprised a 17 year old kid has more to offer him than you, is you Buster: You never really got past the mental age you were when I first moved to Chelsea, did you, babe? Chloé: We're all aware what she's offering him, I'm not surprised, I was left when he HAD to go to rehab before his daddy cut him off for how expensive the coke habit got Chloé: you were all much of a muchness to me Buster: Poor you Buster: It won't be long before your 2nd husband is driven to drink and drugs either, I'm sure, so it's a good thing you're used to that particular martyrdom, like Chloé: It's a good thing he's got more about him than any of you ever did Chloé: he can handle and take responsibility Buster: You better hope and pray he ain't or he won't stick around for the vows Buster: He'll definitely wanna hold his hands up to what a mistake it was regardless though, yeah Chloé: As I said, your jealousy and obsession is truly disturbing Buster: Says you & it's so rich that I could afford another house Chloé: Mhmm Chloé: you can go now Buster: It's richer still that you reckon you can tell me what I can and can't do Buster: You'll be hearing from my lawyer one way or another, even if all I can fuck over your new life with is maintenance payments for a kid you don't want Chloé: Of course I will Chloé: Goodbye Buster: Always a pleasure, Chlo Chloé: Not mutual Buster: Let's leave it longer than the 6 years next time, yeah? Chloé: Try never again Buster: Suits me

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beautifulramblingbrains · 7 years

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Crush - Chapter 15. Now You Don’t

Pairing: Eric/OC *Abbey* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M

A memory from Eric’s past plays tricks on him. And it’s all about the girl, Abbey Ainsworth.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!

Tags: @iammarylastar @badassbaker @pathybo@mimigemrose@frecklefaceb @beltz2016 @ariwolff14 @lauraaan182 @kenzieam @tigpooh67@elaacreditava@equalstrashflavoredtrash@murmelinchen @feminamortem

There's a scrap on the stairs.

Mark leers from his desk patiently waiting, clutching his hands that now tremble almost constantly.

When two of his men, and Matt, who is hooked and dragged in their arms comes into view, he smiles at them. "Hello, Matt."

Matt forces the two away from him when they release him, shoving them violently to the side. "You wanna tell me what this is about?" He readjusts his collar and jacket as if he was trying to regain some of his ego and confidence back from being man-handled. He looks at Mark like he was shit on his shoe, but the fearful sweat produced on his forehead speaks differently.

"I'm going to get straight to the point, yes." Mark stands rounding the desk and taking casual steps towards him. "I have something I need of you."

"I'm not doing anything for you. They say you are the resistance, you're scum!" Matt spits. He's feisty, he'll give him that.

"You don't have much choice really, mate." Mark stands directly before him, his eloquent grin still plastered on his face. "I'm sending you to Dauntless with a group. You'll be captured on the roads outside Amity and Dauntless will take you inside their walls." He motions for Matt to sit, "Drink?"

"Fuck you!" For his defiance, a fist is slammed into his gut and he's pushed to the floor, coughing and spluttering.

Leaning down close next to him and grabbing his head, Mark whispers the next words slowly for him to hear very specifically, "You won't remember a thing, and you'll have your chance to get back at Eric." Nodding to his men, a needle is stuck into his neck and Matt becomes heavy, gracelessly dropping to the floor and out of his hand.

"Notify the volunteers, you're leaving tonight."

However, Mark does notice one of his guard's peer down to the shears on his desk, a spark of curiosity igniting before they are quickly caught. His guard doesn't say anything and falls in step with the other.

Eric can hear her laugh from just down the corridor. For a minute he wonders who she's with, but hearing the other soft Amity voices it wasn't hard to guess.

Outside their apartment, he hesitates, leaning up against the doorframe, listening in, mainly to her familiar voice with a half-smile on his face.

"…that was not me. Clem, you stepped on my foot and when I yelled that got me in trouble and they thought we weren't paying attention and playing around. I stood outside the class for the rest of the day and was deducted a point!"

"Yeah, sorry about that…" he hears Clem's nasally response.

"I still remember every move though…"

"Even I still remember every move!" Sandra laughs.

"Madam, would you like to dance?" Abbey puts on a posh accent and he scoffs. But they're not fucking dancing in his apartment, so he forces his way in to intrude.

He's smiling when he finds Abbey bent over, one hand out to Clem and the other behind her back curtly in the position he exactly imagined in his head when he heard her speak. She looks at him and instantly stands straighter. "Oh."

"What are you doing?" He roams over her frilly black skirt and vest, instantly liking what he sees and notices the way she blushes.

The other two women are frozen, staring at him. He still feels a little bit of fear radiating off them when he saw them, mainly Sandra then Clem.

"Just reminiscing about our initiation dance." She skips over and straight under his arm. "Would you like to try it? I think you'd be really good."

"Get lost." He feels like telling the other two to get lost too, but for once holds his tongue. "Clem. Sandra." He nods to them.

"Hello," they say at the same time.

Abbey peers up at him hopefully. "You don't mind that they're here, right?"

He shrugs off his jacket, just to make them that little bit more uncomfortable. "What's mine is yours." All the while he's smirking.

He walks to the couch, grabbing his electronic pad from the counter as he passes, and throws himself down into it, kicking his feet up onto the table. "Don't mind me," he says to Sandra, who can't not touch his arm against hers in their cramped, close proximity.

"So anyway…" Eric watches slightly over his pad. He doesn't want to seem interested, but he couldn't help himself in his curiosity. He listens as she speaks. "That time I was standing outside, I missed the steps."

"It was boring and repetitive, a small child could do it," says Clem.

"I know, but that was the last bit I needed. And do you remember we all lined up and he was practically scowling at me the entire time, waiting to see me fail? Little did he know I just copied his command outside. That guy always disliked me."

"He said you were too 'full of life' to be in his class. Translated out of Amity to a 'pain in the behind'" Clem snorts.

Abbey spins on her heel. "It's because I told him his dancing sucked."

Eric laughs and they look at him. "You can't do any better."

"I have a great spin," she tells him.

"Is that all you had to do in your initiation, dance and sing songs?"

Clem shakes her head, almost insulted, "No, we had labor, then horticulture also. We had to swear over the Amity manuscript to always thrive on life and keep the peace."

"What happened to you then, Ab's?" he sneers.

"Simple, I don't put up with bullshit," she says, scowling at him. Afterward, she floats into the kitchen and flicks the kettle on, hopping up onto the side and kicking her legs.

"Not for me, I'm going to head back," states Sandra and Clem nods. "We'll see you at dinner. Thanks for having us, Eric."

"Always a pleasure." He watches as they hug Abbey from her spot on the counter and drift towards the door. He waits till they leave to stand, watching closely as green eyes follow his every movement.

He's like a lion waiting to pounce, his eyes don't waver, and the thought makes Abbey swallow thickly. "What're you doing?"

Eric reaches her, fingering the frills of the skirt. "Pretty, but it would look better on the floor." He pulls it rather roughly and she bats him away. The movement makes him drop the amusement on his face and sigh, trying to grasp at words to tell her exactly what his plans are. There was no easy way around it, so he goes for blunt. "Listen, Ab's, I'm going back out tonight."

"What? Why?"

"We can't leave Mark in Amity. It's not safe. We'll always be looking over our shoulders." Tenderly pushing back a piece of her hair, her eyes close for the briefest of moments. "And I really wanna fucking marry you."

Her eyes spring open, "I don't want you to go. Something bad always happens when we're apart." She puts her arms around his neck and into his hair, gently scratching against his scalp. He shifts closer to her, settling between her legs.

"And it always will until the threat is gone. That's why I need to do this, to keep you safe. Do you understand?" She nods. "I wouldn't go unless I have to."

"Yeah, I know," Abbey says sulkily, her eyes dropping to the floor. "Will it always be like this? … You going away?"

"I want to promise you it won't, but I can't… Not yet."

Pulling him closer, she lets her lips press faintly against his. "I won't say goodbye because I'll know you'll be coming back."

"I'll always come back. I found you again after all these years, didn't I?"

"Just don't make it that long."

His hand cups her cheek, the thumb caressing the side of her face as he leans in again, working his tongue to part her lips and she lets him. When their breath becomes heavy the calmness between them suddenly erupts, their kiss becomes more frantic.

Abbey begins lifting her skirt and when he notices, his hands glide up the sensitive skin of her thighs, pushing her underwear to the side and delving fingers deep inside of her – just the way she liked it.

The gasp is caught in her throat and she pushes her body against his to hold onto him while he works, reveling in the way his lips would brush against the skin of her neck and shoulder. When he begins trying to pull her from the counter, she manages to gasp out, "No, here," and tingles at the way his eyes dilate with lust along with the sound of his belt buckle unclasping.

Eric can't get it in quick enough, and takes her there on the counter, pushing all the way to the hilt. There was something scandalous by having sex partly clothed, the thought flashing through his brain as just 'a quickie', but not as shameful because it was with the person he loved.

He grabs at her ass and scoots her more to the edge, tilting her back till she has to slam her palms down beside her to keep upright. In between, he realizes he's getting close, so manages to pant some form of a coherent sentence. "Get off the counter." She drops down and he roughly turns her around, yanking her underwear down. "Hands on the counter until I say otherwise."

Under his dominance, she reacts quickly, bending forward for him and she moans deeply when he enters her again. Any louder and the whole of Dauntless would know exactly what they were doing.

Smacking her thigh and pulling her hair, he feels her tightening, her cries becoming louder, and then suddenly, she orgasms. Whether she was calling his name or swearing he would never know, as through it all he quickly reaches his own relief.

When they are sated and he puts his dick back in his pants, he smirks to himself, helping her readjust her underwear. "You didn't rectify at what time I should pull out?" he jokes.

She turns towards him, kissing him quickly. "I'll be right back."

He watches her scamper to the bathroom, chuckling to himself while she walks like a fucking duck, and again thinks about how overly lucky he is.

Eric notices the kettle after a minute and remembers she wanted coffee, flicking it back on. "Ab's!" he shouts. "Did you want coffee?" She doesn't hear him as the tap is running so he goes over and bangs on the door, unthinking.

She screams out, a shrill of utter terror, and he takes a step back. "It's me," he says softly. "Ab's open the door. It's me."

"Just… give me a minute."

He can hear her crying from where he stands and he sighs while leaning against the frame. "You should've told me you're still frightened."

"I'm not frightened of you!" she blabs out, panicked. The door unlocks and she stands in front of him, rubbing her eyes. "I'm frightened that it will happen again. I've never thought about taking my own life before, and it… it reminded me-"

"You fucking what?"

"When you were bashing the door in, I thought I'd rather do that than let you… I was about to… I didn't know I had it in me. Then Max shouted out and I stopped," she stutters.

Instead of his normal reaction, which would be to literally scream in her face, he tugs her to him, wrapping his arms around her. "Don't you ever… think like that." He makes sure to grab her cheek gently so she can't look away, "Ever… you hear me?"

He can't yell at her over this, she told him in confidence, she trusted him. He wanted her to tell him everything and never keep anything hidden. He'd guessed there would be some type of lingering feelings from the attack, and at some point, one would become known. But he never expected her reply.

Eric couldn't say that Abbey didn't love him. And he briefly ponders over the scenario of if she went through with it, but he blocks it quickly, something he was good at. It was not worth a spare thought and what-ifs weren't in his mantra.

Heading out tonight will now only be one hundred times worse.

Abbey bites her lip, wiping sweaty hands on her leggings. The control room sits in front of her and she can hear the monitors whirling from here.

There was a specific heat that accompanied this room. It must've leaked off of all the equipment along with a weird dusty smell she couldn't quite think of a word for, but it now settled with a type of familiarity, one that scared her.

The only chicken shit seemed to be her as of late.

She pushes the door and a few people look at her, obviously busy with set tasks while they seem to keep mumbling. For a minute she thinks they'll just throw her out, that they'll say she doesn't belong here, but they don't.

It's the pair of soft brown eyes she's looking for in particular, and they are already onto her before she realizes. With a little smile, she approaches Four.

"Hello, Abbey. What are you doing here?"

"Can I sit with you tonight?" She takes the spare seat next to him. "I don't want to be alone."

He seems to think about it for a minute before nodding, "It's fine. As long as you don't start shouting at me like last time."

"I'm sorry about that. It was just-"

"You were worried, I know." He sits forward quickly, checking between screens before looking back to her. "Has Eric left yet?" Four almost seems hesitant, like he wasn't sure of what to say almost. She finds him pleasantly selfless in that regard, he had a notion for second-guessing how people felt.

"He has." She leans her elbow on the desk next to her and balances on it. "Is Eric going to be okay? I mean, really okay?"

"He does this all the time if that's what you're asking."

"Why him?"

Four shrugs, "He's good at it."

There was one particular question in her mind and whether now was a good time to ask she didn't really know. "What does Eric do to Divergents?" It throws him off a little and he spins in his chair towards her. His lips purse while he thinks and she holds her hand out to him, "It's fine. If you don't want to tell me I get it."

"Have you asked him?" His eyebrows raise, so she guessed he wanted to know how much information Eric had spilled to her.

"He told me he 'blows their fucking brains out'" she quotations her fingers, peering at anything but him for a minute. "I never thought of him that way."

"I believe every one of his words that he does - but it's under orders. Many of the Divergents are in with the factionless and we know how he feels about them." Four smiles at her wrinkled nose. "I wouldn't worry though, his hunting Divergent days are now limited, he has bigger problems and the other factions are setting forth Dauntless to control any dealings with factionless, keeping well away. Which I suppose keeps Jeanine at bay."

"Is she the one who he takes orders from?"

He looks back to the screen before meeting her eyes again. "Suggestions or orders… Dauntless doesn't have to take orders from anyone. I guess that's why he gets so much hate from the factionless. He's the main usurper when it comes to foiling their plans and potential people. But I can't fault him, he's good at what he does – the answer to your original question."

She chuckles lightly, "Yeah, sorry. Went a little off topic there."

"No prob-" He's cut short as a small Dauntless woman leans on his shoulder whispering something. His face is immediately burrowed into the screens and he uses a device to zoom into one of the cameras. Four men stand at the Dauntless check-point, hands cuffed, heads sunk to the floor. The Dauntless around hold their guns to them, and one gets pushed to their knees.

Abbey inches closer, realization sweeping her brain and she pushes Four's arm out of the way. "Wait a second! I know him!" she points to the one of the farthest right. Four zooms the camera more on his face and Abbey suddenly feels sick. "Matt?"

Eric feels lumbered with equipment, his jacket heavy, the rifle slung over his arm, and every now again his knife would bounce on his thigh. He throws himself into some brambles, shouldering the rifle and stares down to the lights of Amity. He's joined by three others, the young boy Caden, Noah and Luka.

They look at him expectantly and he motions two to the side and Caden with him. "No time for fuck-ups," he whispers to Caden. "You stay low. Follow my lead, you got it?" The young boy nods.

Eric makes light work of the west field of Amity, but his thighs burn from the crouching position which instantly causes a thick sweat and his shirt to stick to his skin underneath his outer clothing. He lets the sweat drip into his eyes, if he got distracted even for a second the mission could be compromised.

A foot-patrol is idly chatting among themselves, walking close to where they are situated and Eric waits patiently until they pass, barely taking a breath. One strip of light from a nearby building beams on his face through the foliage and his gray eyes shimmer as they mark his next trail of passage. As soon as the foot-patrol disappears, he pelts across the dirt path, shimmying up against the barn.

"Foot-up," he hisses at Caden, pointing to an adjoining roof and guttering leading to the small window.

Caden's a small guy, and for a minute he shakes under his bulky weight, but once his grip is secure, he pulls himself up easily, quietly, and full of intent.

There's lighting in the office, dull lighting, dull enough it won't cast his shadow. And he leans his back against the wall taking a minute. Caden's stood back on the path, looking up at him and Eric gives him the go-ahead.

Caden sprints up the path, shouts, and fires his gun erratically. Further in the distance Noah and Luka react and begin their own similar assault. At the same time, Eric smashes the window and jumps through, holding his gun up to the back of Mark's head.

"Hello, Mark…"

"Matt's a good guy," Abbey says to Max in his office. Four had brought her here after she recognized him. "He would never be involved with the factionless. He liked his faction. He had plans-"

"You can't really trust anyone these days," Max bluntly says from behind his desk with an exhale.

"They've done something to him!" She finally relents to her frustrated anger, throwing a hand into her hair.

"The matter is, he is only asking for you. I will not permit you to see him; it's too risky and if Eric finds out-"

"Four can come with me."

"He wants you alone. He thinks we're fucking stupid," Max waves her off.

Four is busy rubbing his face when he asks, "Who are the others?"

"Unknown, randomers. They say they managed to escape Amity and want refuge." He laughs, "They must think we're fucking Abnegation."

"Matt knows me; I know him really well. He's probably fearing for my safety right now," Abbey says quietly. "Surely if I speak to him we can find out more. How they escaped and why?"

"I'm sure you could but you won't." With Max's words final, she looks at Four, then storms from the room.

Max must dismiss Four as after a few seconds he comes running up behind her. "Where are you going?"

"To the guards. To see Matt."

He shakes his head. "They won't let you in."

"But they will you," and she grips his arm and drags him with her.

Eric doesn't give Mark time to turn or say anything, and with craved delight, he squeezes the trigger.

The sound echoes throughout the room and into the streets. Mark's body slams forwards from the force.

The rippling wave of karma floods Eric almost instantly. He lowers his gun, admiring the hole in the back of the guy's head before approaching. It was a relief, but a dissatisfied relief. He thought maybe Mark would've seen this coming or at least had a few guards to throw into the mix… that in itself seemed strange.

He nudges him with the nozzle of his gun and the body slips to the side floppily and hits the floor.

Eric's half-mast smirk vanishes from his face as the certainty of the situation becomes known.

The man isn't Mark.

An indescribable feeling takes a hold of him, a knowing one, one that tells him he should get back to Dauntless, and now. His radio crackles, throwing him back into real-time. It's Luka, "The guards are Amity, not factionless. Something weird's going on here, man."

He pelts from the room through the window. Dropping to the ground, his ankle twinges from the fall, but he ignores it, and thunders across the field and towards the wall where the truck is, disregarding the men he's left behind.

Through the whipping of the foliage and vegetation, he grabs at his radio, directly contacting through to security.

He has to get back to Dauntless.

Abbey still drags Four a little, but he's more willing than the first time she mentioned it. The guards at the door look at them and Abbey pushes Four forward, motioning him to tell them.

"We need to see the young one, Matt."

"Under who's orders?"

Four looks at Abbey and she pleads him. "Eric's," he lies, the words tasting like grit in his mouth as he spoke them. "Now let us through." He suddenly plucks up his tone of voice and barges past the two guards, Abbey trailing behind him.

When they turn a corner, he grabs her shoulder. "This is the last time I ever do something like that."

"I know, I'm sorry, but I know this guy."

Four sighs and begins marching the corridor. "How do you know him?"

"He's my ex."

Four stops again. "You made me lie… over an order… of Eric's… because of an Ex?" he says disbelievingly. "Eric's going to kick my ass…" he rumbles off and begins walking again, laughing incredulously to himself.

"If it makes you feel any better, he'll probably kick mine too."

"You're not funny," he throws out over his shoulder, but he doesn't stop her passing him and running to the room where Matt is sat with his head between his legs.

"Matt! Matt, it's me!" She slams against the glass of the contained room, then looks for the control panel. "Four, open it!"

Matt moves to the reinforced glass and touches his hand where hers is on the other side. "Thank god you're safe."

"I'm fine. Four, open it!"

"No, you can talk here," Four folds his arms.

"What happened to you?" She gestures to Matt's face. There are marks and dirt patterned across it.

"Casualty of the escape," he smiles. "Had to get out of there."

"Four, open the damn door!" she shouts. And after a minute of him contemplating, he keys in a code quickly.

But everything happens so fast.

Matt grabs Abbey the moment the glass disappears and drags her into the room with him, her back against his chest and hands to her already sore throat. Four pulls his gun but he won't shoot, and the whole room is still.

"Quite the predicament," another voice sounds from one of the many containment cells behind Four. "And much easier than I thought."

Abbey glances towards the voice. "Four! It's Mark!" But Matt's hands tighten on her throat, making her gargle out his name.

"Open the door or Matt will snap her neck. Shoot at Matt and you risk shooting Abbey." Matt moves forwards on Mark's words making Four back-up to the control panel of Mark's cell. Matt's hands are set a particular way now against Abbey's head and neck that he couldn't doubt him. "So what's it going to be?"

"Fuck…" hisses Four. Then as Mark slams his body against the cell glass to cause a distraction, Matt moves forwards and grabs his gun, pointing it at Abbey. The movements were not that of an Amity but something that only a trained professional could counter with.

"Now open the cell door."

Eric arrives at Dauntless in a hurry, almost ramming the checkpoint, and he leaves the truck directly outside the entrance and still running as he jogs inside.

He hits the control room first and that's when he learns of the commotion down in the containment area.

It takes him five minutes to join the guards at the door of the holding area. They all stare inside and he can hear Max talking. He barges past a group on standby and nudges until he gets to the front, almost falling in his desperation. He spots Mark instantly, free from his cell and next to Matt who holds Abbey. For some reason, Mark's head is shaved and he frowns.

"Let her go," he says calmly. "Matt, I don't know if you're under simulation or not, but you don't want to do this. I promise you, you won't live beyond tomorrow if you don't let her go," he growls the last part. "If you want to hurt someone, hurt me, not Abbey."

"Write down the codes to Dauntless and allow us free passage and we'll let her go," says Mark.

Eric realizes now that this is a desperate move. Why surrender? Why be in the basement of Dauntless? He drifts to Max and talks quietly to him, "His men are nowhere to be seen from Amity to here, keep watch…"

"Why get yourself caught?" Max asks Mark with a raised eyebrow. "Why get yourself back into Dauntless with nothing but idle threats?" Eric recognizes this tone, this a mocking, playing tone he's used a hundred times over in the past.

Eric looks between them, then to Abbey who is clutching at Matt's hands and wonders if this was how he looked when he had attacked her. Her eyes are shimmering, her cheeks wet, and when she notices him watching, her mouth trembles. "I'm sorry, Eric. It was my fault. I forced Four to let me see him."

"Shut up!" Mark spits to her.

"Just shoot him!" she wails and Mark lashes out, slapping her on the cheek.

Eric lunges forwards and Max stops him. "Easy…" Max whispers coolly, gripping his shoulder, only releasing him when he limbers.

"Nothing but idle threats? What makes you think they're idle and that I'm alone?"

"Because you're a little bitch, Mark," Eric says through his grinding teeth.

"Did you check the back of your truck, Eric? Did you really think we wouldn't see you coming? … And what the fuck gave you the idea I was Mark?" He begins laughing, laughing so much he grips his stomach. Then from behind them, more people begin joining in. The Dauntless guards draw their guns, equal parts conflicted on what way was best to turn.

Eric pulls the hand-held on his thigh, aiming it at Matt, checking whether he could get a clean shot. Then he moves towards the new acquaintances behind him and lands on – with surprise - another Mark. It makes Eric chuckle to himself. How could he be so stupid? "Twins?" Eric says, still highly amused. "There's more of you welps?"

"Give us the code and perhaps this won't end in a bloodbath," Mark, the one in his gun-line, pointing his own weapon directly at him, speaks. Eric now knows that this is the Mark he's encountered before, just by the slight glint in his eye. His head is shaved too, probably to keep him unrecognizable and similar to his twin. It only makes him appear that much more desperate. And Eric knows desperation does stupid things to people.

"You won't be able to kill us all before we get to you," Eric sneers.

"No, but you wouldn't want an innocent getting caught up in the cross-fire," he motions his head towards Abbey. "Now, the codes… I'm beginning to run out of patience."

Eric looks at Abbey, and everything slows down. She nods at him… nods… and he can't decipher her intentions until she chomps down onto Matt's arm causing him to yell out.

Mark's twin, by the cells, points his gun at Abbey as her arms only just throw themselves into the sprint to get away.

Max moves forwards, faster than Eric can comprehend.

And Eric aims his gun at one of the Mark's on instinct.

Two shots ring out.

#crush #chapter 15 #now you don't #eric and abbey #eric coulter #eric divergent fanfiction #fanfiction #beautifulramblingbrains #jai courtney #divergent #insurgent

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