#a laser fires into my skull and scrambles my brain until i . stop thinking that

[gorvamp]

related to my previous posts. oooo you want to stop worrying about the aesthetics or shareability of your sketchbooks and just allow them to be a place where you can mindlessly doodle or brainstorm ideas or do whatever you want so bad

[justcallmefox89]

Truth or Dare Part 6 - Diavolo’s Ending

Arianthi’s choices have the potential to shake up the House of Lamentation and the Devildom, but is she ready to accept everything Diavolo is offering her?  After an unexpected altercation Mammon is offered something he never expected.

Written from the perspective of my female OC Arianthi.

NSFW - penetrative sex, unprotected sex, impact play, rough sex

TWs - physical violence.

Mood Playlist: (I don’t know what it is about writing Diavolo that brings out the dramatics and my inner theater kid lol)

Jonathan Young - Beauty and the Beast (cover) Jonathan Young - All I Ask of You (cover) LP - The One That You Love Jeremy Jordan - It’s All Coming Back to Me Now Yohiro - My Nocturnal Serenade 

Mammon’s kiss is rough and insistent, I can feel my lips bruising beneath his.  I shake my head and try to wiggle out of his grip.  

“Mammon?  Mammon, stop!  We have to talk -”

“Mammon!”

“LET HER GO!”

I hear two voices cry out in unison; Lucifer’s measured, controlled tones and Diavolo, his voice deep with pain and something I’ve never heard before......rage. 

Mammon lets me go and we take a few steps away from each other, both of us breathing heavily.  I barely manage a glance at Mammon before I’m bodily picked up and my view of him is obstructed by four huge black wings and a bare, broad back.  I see the familiar markings and realize with a shock that Diavolo has shifted to his demon form. 

Oh my god.  He’s going to kill Mammon.

I hear footsteps behind me and realize the the rest of the demon brothers have come running, skidding to a stop behind me.  

“Arianthi?”  Asmo gasps.  

“What’s.....going....on?”  Levi asks, hands on his knees, sucking in deep breaths of air.

Satan peers around me at the trio in the kitchen, brow furrowed.  “We heard shouting.  Why are you here?  And why is-?

“Guys......bigger problems right now!”  Belphie interrupts Satan, raising a finger to point at Diavolo, who is slowly advancing on Mammon.

“How dare you touch her?”  Diavolo’s voice is low, thick with menace.  

Mammon glares back at him defiantly, still in demon form, refusing to give an inch as Diavolo stalks towards him.  

“Lucifer!  Do something!”  Beel appeals to his older brother, pupils blown wide with fear.

Lucifer takes half a step forward, then relents, shaking his head silently.  He’s not going to interfere, even if it means his lord kills his younger brother.

Beel growls low in his throat and begins to shift, but Lucifer shoots him a look of warning.

“This is the last time you touch what isn’t yours Mammon.”  Diavolo has backed Mammon into a corner.  “Don’t resist and I’ll take you outside.  I won’t make your brothers watch this.”  

Mammon shoots a panicked look over Diavolo’s shoulder, blue eyes meeting mine. 

“Oh for the love of......!”  

It finally clicks in my brain that none of the brothers are going to step in.  I run towards Diavolo, feet slipping on the kitchen tiles.  I grab him around the waist, attempting to stop his forward trajectory.  He drags me right along with him, my efforts in vain.

“Diavolo stop!  Stop!  You’re going to hurt him!” I shout, trying to get his attention.

Diavolo looks down at me, head cocked to the side.  For the first time since I’ve met him, I’m afraid truly afraid.  His deep amber eyes flash gold in the room’s low light; he’s now a predator in search of prey.  “I know.”  

Fear trickles down my spine and I break out in goosebumps.  “You can’t!”

Those golden eyes narrow and laser in on me.  “You would tell me what to do?!  A human would attempt to give orders to me in my own kingdom?!”

“Arianthi get back here!”  Belphie hisses.  

I glance over my shoulder and see him clutching his cow pillow, eyes wide.  

Diavolo takes another step towards Mammon, reaching out to grab his throat.  He lifts Mammon with one hand and I hear Mammon struggling, clawing at Diavolo’s hand and kicking his feet, attempting to find purchase.  

He’s really going to kill him.

I squeeze Diavolo’s waist tight and dig in my heels, attempting to pull him back.  “My prince stop!  Please, Lord Diavolo!”  

Blood has started to trickle from Mammon’s nose and his eyes roll back in his head.  

I’m going to be sick.

I bury my face in Diavolo’s back, tears stinging my eyes.  

“Diavolo!  Stop Dia, please!  Please, for me..... please don’t hurt him!”  I beg one more time.  

I hear a sudden, sickening thud as Mammon’s body hits the ground and feel myself move as Diavolo takes a step back.  I duck beneath one of his wings and scramble towards Mammon on my hands and knees.

“Mammon!  Mammon, open your eyes!”  I pull him halfway into my lap, patting his cheeks and attempting to wipe the blood from his face with the hem of my shirt.  

“Lucifer!  Satan!”  I scream for their help, realizing I’m well on my way to being hysterical but refusing to give in to it until I know Mammon is alright.

I feel, rather than see, Satan and Lucifer drop to their knees next to me, both reaching out to take measure of their brother’s injuries. 

“Arianthi.  We’re leaving.”  Diavolo is still in his demon form, looking down at me, extending his hand to help me up.

I shake my head and cling tighter to Mammon.  “No!  Not until I know he’s ok.”

He scowls at me.  

“I said we’re leaving.”  He enunciates each syllable, voice low and threatening.  

“And I said no!”  I tearfully give Mammon a small shake, willing him to wake up.  “You almost killed him Dia!” 

That seems to snap Diavolo out of his haze, and fury slowly fades from his face as his body relaxes.

Mammon rolls to his side and coughs roughly, eyelids flickering.  “Human?”

“I’m here, I’m here,” I reassure him, rubbing his back soothingly.  “Beel’s going to take you to your room, alright?  And Satan is coming too, so he can check on your throat.”  

I look up at Satan to make sure that’s fine, and he nods his ok while motioning for Beel to come get Mammon.

Beel picks Mammon up like he weighs nothing and leaves the kitchen, the other brothers, with the exception of Lucifer, filing out after him.  

When it’s just the three of us left we all stand silently staring at each other.  I slump against the counter, filled with too many emotions.  I’ve gone from sad, to angry, to freaked out, to scared shitless, all in the span of about twenty minutes.  

As I look back and forth between the two demons in front of me, rage starts to creep in, buzzing in the back of my skull like a horde of flies.

“Lucifer, you should go check on Mammon.  We can see ourselves out.”  My voice sounds icy, calm despite the fury that’s threatening to set fire to the blood in my veins.  

He was really going to let Mammon die.  He wasn’t going to do a damn thing to save him.  

Lucifer looks to Diavolo for confirmation.

“I said, go check on Mammon.  We’ll be back in a few days.”  

Both demons stare down at me, wearing identical frowns.  

“With an apology.”  I fix a glare at Diavolo, daring him to argue.  

I wish a motherfucker would.  I.  Wish.  A.  Motherfucker.  Would.  

Diavolo opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it closed and gives Lucifer a curt nod.  

Despite his confusion at the shift in power dynamics Lucifer nods.  “I will speak to you soon my lord.  Arianthi.” 

As soon as he’s out of sight, I stalk to the front door and out of the House of Lamentation without waiting to see if Diavolo is following.  He catches up to me quickly, one of his steps making three or four of my own.  

Bastard.  

“Arianthi,” he says softly, reaching out for my hand.  “Please stop.”

“I swear to god if you lay one finger one me I will bite it off.”  I hiss, never breaking my stride.  

Diavolo flinches back, startled.  He stays a few paces behind me for the duration of our walk back to the castle.  I storm in, past a clearly flustered Barbatos, and make my way to our bedroom.  I try to slam the door in Diavolo’s face but he’s too quick.  

Bastard!

“You’re going to be sleeping somewhere else tonight,” I inform Diavolo with a bravado I don’t feel.  A hysterical laugh escapes through my lips, and I clap both hands over my mouth.  

I’m trying to order the prince of the Devildom out of his own bedroom.  After he almost killed another demon.  After he almost killed Mammon.  

Another laugh leaks out.  Along with a few tears.  

I collapse on the edge of the bed, my shaking knees finally giving out on me.  I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, attempting to fend off more tears.  I hear a rustle of fabric and bring my hands down.  Diavolo is back in human form, kneeling in front of me.  

The fragile dam holding in my emotions breaks.  

“How could you do that?  You almost killed him Dia!”  I wrap my arms around my stomach and hunch over, attempting to self soothe. 

He reaches out for me then pulls his hand back, thinking better of it.  He sighs.  “I am so sorry Princess.  I wish you hadn’t seen that.”

“I wish you hadn’t done that!”  I snap back.

“He shouldn’t have touched you!”  Diavolo growls at me, eyes flashing gold again.  

“So strangling him was the answer?!  I could have handled it!  What were you even doing there?”

Diavolo inhales deeply.  I’m aware I’m punching every button on his console but I really don’t care.  

“Could you have though?  Really?  How would you have handled it princess?”  He demands.  “ And I was there because you weren’t in bed when I came up.  The House of Lamentation was the only place where I thought you may be.”

“I would have talked to him!  He’s only like that because we left things a mess between us; we need to clear the air.”

“So now you’re excusing him?”  Diavolo is aghast.  

“No, I’m not excusing him, but I understand why he did what he did.  He’s hurt and he’s confused.”

“You’re excusing him.”  He repeats stubbornly.  “And you would have attempted to reason with him, while he was in his demon form?  He could have killed you with a flick of his wrist Arianthi!”

I shake my head, just as stubborn.  “Mammon would never hurt me on purpose.”

“Humans are fragile!  Especially here.  He could have killed you without meaning too!”  

“Oh for Christ’s sake Diavolo!”  I fall back onto the mattress, exasperated.  “I could be killed just as easily in the human realm.  A goose could take me out on a roller coaster for all we know.  So just fuck off with your “humans are so fragile” bullshit.”

“A goose on a roller coaster?”  Diavolo pauses for a minute, considering, then gets back on track.  “He still shouldn’t have put his hands on what’s mine.”

I sit up very slowly.  “I beg your pardon?”

His eyes widen.  “What?”

“What’s yours?”  I use my fingers to make air quotes.  “I’m a person, not a puppy Dia.”

“I know.  But you’re in a relationship with me.  Making you effectively mine.”  

I’m gobsmacked at the finality in his tone.  “No.  Not how things work.  Humans don’t belong to each other.”

“I’m not a human!”  He roars out, clearly frustrated by our conversation.  

His outburst shocks me into silence, and I fold my hands in my lap, unsure what to do.

“I’m sorry Arianthi, I shouldn’t have -”

“No,” I interrupt him.  “No, you’re right.  You’re not human.  I’ve let myself forget that.  You’ve spoiled me and you’ve been so loving and attentive.  You’re such an amazing boyfriend Dia.  But you’ve protected me from so much here....... I forgot that fundamentally we are very, very different.”  

Diavolo looks like I’ve slapped him.  I try to look anywhere but his hurt face, casting about for something to do.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” I say, standing up.

He nods mutely as I slip past him into the bathroom.  I click the lock, and turn on the shower, adjusting the water temperature to just under boiling.  My arm has a few bruises from where Mammon grabbed me - nothing serious.  I scrub at my skin harshly, trying to cleanse myself of my frustration and fear.  

I want to go home.  Do I really though?  

I sigh and thunk my head against the wall of the shower. 

No.  If I’m honest with myself I don’t want to.  And if I’m really honest with myself.......I’m in love with both......nope.  Not going there.  Nope.  No.  

I indulge myself in another deep sigh.  

I’m not built for this kind of introspection.  Between the two of them I forgot how dangerous the Devildom can be for a human.  And tonight they showed me how dangerous they both can be with the right provocation.  

I brush my wet hair out of my eyes and turn under the spray of hot water, rinsing the last of the soap from my body.  

Am I even really safe from them?  

I feel a hot rush of guilt and shame for the thought.  

I just hate this situation.  I hate feeling so weak and frustrated.  

I stifle a scream and turn off the water.  

Hopefully Dia is gone.  Or asleep, and I can sneak off to one of the guest rooms.  

When I emerge from the bathroom, dry and wrapped in a large towel, I see that once again this evening luck is not on my side.  Diavolo is sitting in one of our bedroom’s large armchairs, idly flipping through the pages of a book.  

He gives me a cautious smile.  “Hey princess.”

“Hello.”  I walk to the closet and look for something to sleep in.  After a few minutes of searching I grumble in frustration.  Since I’ve moved into Diavolo’s bedroom I’ve been sleeping in his shirts; I can’t even locate any of my own pajamas.  

“Of for the love of Christ!”  I rub my hands over my face in frustration.

“Something wrong princess?”  

I jump, startled.  I turn around to see Diavolo standing behind me, looking concerned.  

“Don’t call me that!”  I snap at him.

His face falls.  “I apologize.  Is something wrong Arianthi?”

I turn back to the closet shelves to search again.  

“You almost killed one of the men I -” I grumble, before stopping myself with a squeak of surprise.  I stiffen momentarily, praying that Diavolo didn’t hear me.  

Does God still listen to prayers once you start sleeping with a demon?  

Diavolo takes a step closer and places his hands on my shoulders, turning me around to face him.  He winces at how I flinch at his touch.  He reaches up to cup my jaw with one large hand.  

“I am so sorry Arianthi.  Despite what has happened, I know that Mammon is important to you.  All the brothers are.  I shouldn’t have let my possessiveness of you get that out of control.  I promise you I will make this right with Mammon.  And with you.  Tell me what you need from me to make this right,” he pleads, his gentle eyes searching my face.

I chew on my lower lip.  “You need to apologize to Mammon.”

“Done.  As soon as possible.”

“And....”  I suck in a deep breath, suddenly lightheaded.  “I want you to let Lucifer out of his pledge to you.”

Diavolo’s eyes widen.  “I’m sorry?”

“I want you to let Lucifer out of his pledge to you,” I repeat again, with more confidence.

He narrows his eyes at me.  “Lucifer’s pledge is none of your concern.”

“Because this is your kingdom and I’m just a human?”  I challenge him, my voice bitter.

Diavolo’s face falls.  “No, princess.  I’m so sorry I said that.  That is in no way how I feel about you.”  

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to his chest.  I stiffen for a minute, then relax into his embrace.  

“But I really do fail to see how Lucifer’s pledge is of concern in this matter.”  

I place my hands on his chest and push back slightly, so I’m able to look up at him.  

“You’re almost killed his brother Dia.  And he didn’t step in because of his pledge to you.  He couldn’t even allow his other brothers help Mammon.”  I look into his eyes, willing him to understand what I’m saying.

“You feel that Lucifer’s pledge to me is too much?”  

“I really do.  I understand that he’s your second in command, so why can’t he just be that, without his pledge?  If this is something that has the potential to put his family at risk, or that means he places you above his family.........” I shake my head.  “That’s not fair Dia.  You can’t ask him to do that.”

“Princess...” Diavolo trails off, still not completely convinced.

Almost there.  Time to bring out the big guns.  

I look at him with my best puppy dog eyes.  “It’s been centuries since Lilith.  And Lucifer has served you faithfully every day since then.  He still will I’m sure, but he deserves the chance to make his own decisions Dia, not just be blindly loyal to you.”  

I pause for a few beats.  

“Please baby?”  I whisper.

When Diavolo lets out a low groan I know that I’ve won.  

“You are entirely too much princess.”  He drops a kiss onto my forehead.  “When we go speak with Mammon I will inform Lucifer he is free of his pledge to me.”

I hug him tightly.  “Thank you.  Thank you so much.” 

I let out a yelp as he suddenly picks me up and walks towards the bed.  “What are you doing?” 

He drops me on the mattress and shrugs.  “I’m tired of talking in the closet.”  

He strips off his jacket and sits down next to me.  “I am so sorry for what happened tonight.  For hurting Mammon, for scaring you.  For hurting you and making you question what you mean to me.”  

He pulls me into his lap, resting his forehead against mine.  “I will never stop trying to make this up to you.”

I loop my arms over his shoulders.  “I believe you.”

He nuzzles his face into my neck.  “I love you princess.”

“I love you too.”  I idly play with his hair, marveling for the hundredth time at how soft it is.

“Even though we’re so different?”  His question is whispered against my neck, so soft that I almost don’t hear it.  

“Oh Dia.....” I reach down and cup his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me.  

“Of course I do.  Us being different isn’t a deal breaker.  We still have a lot of things to learn about each other, but as long as we’re open and communicate honestly everything will be fine.”

Diavolo nods, then gives me a little smile.  “You’re right.”

I boop his nose.  “I often am.”

“And so modest.”  He chuckles and pulls me into a kiss.  

It starts out soft, a gentle teasing of lips and tongues, but quickly turns heated.  I card my hands through his hair and tug roughly, biting at his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.  

He pulls away from me, shocked, and touches his fingers to his lip.  When he pulls them away and sees a few drops of blood, his eyes darken with something I can quite place.  

“Still mad at me my princess?”

I feel my face flush. 

“I may still have some aggression to get out,” I mutter, refusing to look at him.

Diavolo grabs my chin and forces my head up.  He grins at me, looking feral in the low light of the bedroom.  “I can help with that.”

He yanks my towel off and I hear fabric ripping.  He carelessly tosses the scraps to the floor then grabs my hips, positioning me so that I’m straddling his thigh. One of his hands grips the back of my neck as the other slides up my stomach to cup my breast.  

“Kiss me,” he growls.

I hesitate for a moment and Diavolo roughly pinches my nipple, drawing a shocked gasp from my lips.  His hand leaves my neck long enough to deliver a stinging slap to my ass.  I jump at the impact and let out a whimper.  

“Do as you’re told princess,” he whispers in my ear, nipping at my earlobe.

I bring my lips close to his, barely touching.  “You’re playing rough tonight my prince,” I murmur.

“You started it.”  He lowers his head and his fangs close in on the delicate skin of my neck while his hand delivers another sharp smack to my ass.

I seal my mouth over his, licking along his lower lip and tasting blood.  His hands grip my hips, forcing me to grind down against his thigh.  I gasp at the intense friction against my clit, and his tongue flicks against mine.  I fist his shirt in my hands, trying to bring him closer.

When we finally break apart I kiss along his jaw and down his neck, my fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.  His hands keep working my hips in a delicious rhythm against his thigh while I yank open his shirt, dropping kisses across his chest.  

“Shirt.  Off,” I demand, moving back up to his mouth.

He chuckles against my lips.  “As you wish.”  

He shrugs his shirt off and my hands immediately begin exploring the smooth skin of his shoulders and chest.  I move in to kiss him again, but he winds some of my hair around his fist and yanks me back hard, so that my chest is arched towards him.

Diavolo’s mouth works feverishly against my skin, leaving warm, wet kisses and sharp bites over my breasts.  He sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue and scraping his fangs against it.  

“Dia,” I whine, moving my hips helplessly.  As good as the friction from his thigh feels, I want him to fuck me.  

A sharp slap rings out and I feel the sting of his palm against my ass once again.  I scream out and jerk forwards, pleasure and pain making it hard to think clearly.  

“No whining,” Diavolo commands.  He gives my shoulder a sharp bite, one hand coming between us to rub my clit.  

“You have made such a mess on these pants,” he mumbles against the skin of my neck.  

I gasp and dig my fingernails into his shoulders, tension gathering in my lower abdomen.  He continues to use one finger to lazily circle my clit and mouths at  my neck while I grind into him, chasing my orgasm.  I’m right at the edge when abruptly removes his finger.

“What the fuck?” I whimper.

He smiles at me before lowering his head to flick his tongue against my nipple.  “Tell me what you want Arianthi.”  

“I want you.”  I tug at his hair, holding his head in place while his mouth works against me.

He stops long enough to say, “You have me,”  before sucking forcefully on my nipple again, his hand palming and squeezing my other breast.  

I groan in frustration and pleasure.  “Fuck me.....I want you to fuck me.”  

He chuckles darkly.  “Not yet baby.  Cum on my thigh first.  Then I’ll fuck you.”

I reach between us, running my hand along the length of his erection, reveling in the moan that leaves his lips.  One of his hands is on my waist, fingers pressing deeply into my skin.  I clumsily undo his belt, then his button and zipper, before reaching into his pants and freeing his cock.  I tease the tip with my thumb, smearing pre-cum, before softly running my fingertips over the velvet soft skin of his hardness.

“Such a little cock tease.”  Diavolo brings his lips to mine, kissing me hungrily.  

I use one hand to stroke his cock, the other I place on his shoulder to steady myself as I slowly start rolling my hips.  The hard muscles of his thigh and the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against my clit make for an intense duality of sensations and I moan into his mouth.  

“That’s right baby.”  Diavolo takes my lower lip between his teeth and tugs.  “Just like that.”  

I tighten my grip on his cock and he hisses in pleasure, hips bucking.  My breath starts coming in short pants, pleasure building as Diavolo uses his mouth and hands on me.  One last roll of my hips has me seeing stars and crying out his name.  He holds me close to his chest, peppering my face with soft kisses as I come down from my high.  

My body is pleasantly loose, humming with satisfaction from my orgasm and the feel of Diavolo’s mouth.  I wind my arms around his neck and lazily return his kisses.

“Ready for more my princess?”  Diavolo asks, nuzzling my hair.  

I nod eagerly, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his throat.

“Good.”  He squeezes my ass, sore from his earlier slaps, and turns, sending me tumbling onto the mattress.  “On your hands and knees my love.  Ass up.”

I rush to obey his command, pressing my chest and face against the mattress and arching my back, wiggling my hips in excitement. 

Finally.

Diavolo stands, and I hear the rustle of his pants hitting the floor and the clinking of his belt buckle.  I turn my head to look at him and see that he’s folding his belt into a makeshift strop. 

Oh, so we’re playing like that tonight.

The mattress sinks beneath his weight and I feel bare skin brush mine as he settles behind me.  Cool leather traces the curve of my spine as one of his calloused fingers traces small patterns over my ass.

“As pretty as my hand prints look on your skin, I’d love to mark you up just a little more,” Diavolo says. He bring the belt between my legs, giving my pussy a few light smacks.  “Are you up for a little more, princess?”

“Yes my prince,” I reply breathily, trying to anticipate his next move.

Diavolo growls low in appreciation.   “Count for me then.  To ten.”

I barely have time to nod before supple leather cracks against my skin.  “Ah!”

“Count for me baby,” he orders, slowly slipping one finger into my pussy. 

I involuntarily react at the invasion, my slick walls tightly gripping his finger.

“Fuck,” he groans out, slowly pulling his finger out halfway then thrusting back in.

“O-o-one” I stutter out.  

Another crack and the sting of leather again my skin.  “Two.”

A second finger joins the first, gently preparing me for his cock, in tandem with another lash against my ass. The gentle rhythm of his fingers is at odds with the harshness of his breathing and the sting of the strop. 

“Count.”

“Three!”  I move my hips back against his hand, greedy for more of him, greedy to be filled.

“So needy tonight baby,” Diavolo mumbles, his fingers never breaking rhythm as his brings his belt down again.

“Four,” I cry out, a second orgasm quickly building.

At the seventh stroke of his belt I cum around his fingers, drawing a strangled sound from his throat.  

“Fuck, princess.”

I’ve barely recovered when he delivers the last three strikes in quick succession. I collapse onto the mattress, body sore and mind hazy.

“On your knees.  Your prince isn’t done with you yet.” 

Diavolo lifts my hips, adjusting me, and dusts kisses across my lower back.

“Oof!” 

The breath is pushed from my lungs as Diavolo wraps one hand around the back of my neck, pushing my upper body into the mattress and holding me there. His other hand guides his cock to my pussy, sliding it against my slit and gathering my wetness, rubbing against my swollen clit, before finally pressing into me.

Once he’s fully buried inside me, Diavolo uses his other hand to grab my wrist and pin it behind my back. Now gripping my neck and arm, completely controlling my position, he has me right where he wants me.

He slowly, tortuously, pulls out.  I whimper in protest, trying to move but his hold on me is ironclad.  He teases me, presses just the head of his cock into my pussy, thrusting in short, shallow strokes before roughly bucking his hips against mine.

“Diavolo!” 

He sets a brutal pace, cock merciless pounding into my pussy, the skin of his lower stomach rubbing against the welts on my ass, his balls slapping against my clit.

“I can’t believe how well you’re taking me baby.  How wet you are for me, being such a good girl and letting me fuck you like this.” 

Praises fall from Diavolo’s lips even as he abuses my body, and my god, what wondrous abuse it is.  Being totally at his mercy is an aphrodisiac by itself, but coupled with his words and touches my body feels like it’s being consumed by my searing desire.

I feel his hips stutter and realize Diavolo is close to his own orgasm.  He releases my neck and wrist, before gently pressing my whole body down onto the mattress.  He slows his thrusts, leaning down against me, pressing kisses against my shoulders, hands roaming up and down my sides.

He slides one hand between my hips and the mattress, large fingers easily finding my clit.  

“I want you to cum with me baby.  Cum one more time for me princess.”

I mewl in response, eyes rolling back in my head.  A few quick motions of his fingers have me flying apart and crying out his name.  My pussy clenches down on his thick cock, squeezing hard, milking his orgasm from him as he shoots rope after rope of warm cum against my trembling walls.

He collapses against me completely, our bodies still joined, murmuring loving affirmations, running his fingers through my sweat dampened hair.  He gently disentangles himself from me after a few moments and I hear him pad into the bathroom.  

I stretch luxuriously, completely fucked out, and absentmindedly admire the new marks on my body.  Love bites and fingernail scratches paint my skin and I can feel the welts on my ass from Diavolo’s belt.  I touch my fingers to my lips; they feel puffy and swollen, and my scalp is sore from where he pulled my hair.  I sigh happily and squirm deeper into the mattress, a small smile on my lips.  

I feel Diavolo settle back next to me on the bed.  

“Feeling better princess?”  He asks, amusement in his voice.

“Much,” I sigh, opening my eyes to look at him.  

He reaches out with a warm, wet washcloth and gently begins cleaning sweat and cum from my body.  After he has dried me with a soft towel he applies a soothing balm to my welts and the deeper bite marks.  He helps me into one of his shirts then tucks me firmly into bed, dropping a kiss on my forehead.

“I’ll be right back baby.  I’m going to go grab you some water and a snack.”  

He flashes me a smile as he pulls on a pair of grey sweats and quietly slips out of the room.  

Surrounding by warmth and Diavolo’s familiar scent I slowly drift off, coming to only when I feel him slip under the blankets next to me and hear his low chuckle.  

“Come on princess,” he urges me lovingly.  “I need you to wake up and eat just a little bit for me before you go to bed.”

I blink drowsily at him.  “Feed me.”

He shakes his head and laughs.  “Open up then.”

I obey and suddenly taste something warm, flaky, and buttery.  “Mmmmmm.  I didn’t know Barbatos made bread today. “

Diavolo huffs out a small laugh.  “I think it’s for tomorrow, but I doubt he’ll mind if I steal some for a midnight snack.”  

He pops a piece of bread into his mouth and grins at me.  

Diavolo spends the next few minutes slowly feeding me some more bread, and helping me sip some water.  Once he’s satisfied he pulls me to him, cradling me against his chest, and curling his body around mine.  

“I love you so much Arianthi.  I will do anything in my power to make sure that you are happy,” he whispers into my hair.

“I love you too Diavolo,” I manage to reply, before I tumble off into the abyss of sleep.  

Two weeks later Diavolo and I are sitting on the couch in the library of the House of Lamentation, Mammon and Lucifer sitting in the two armchairs opposite us.  The air is thick with tension, and Mammon looks like he wants to jump out of his skin.  He keeps shooting anxious glances at me, and I try to smile back at him encouragingly.  

Diavolo starts us off.  “Lucifer and Mammon, I owe each of you an apology.  Mammon I shouldn’t have attacked you.  That was unforgivable of me and I don’t know if I will ever be able to make it up to you.  I offer you my sincerest apology.”

Mammon’s eyes shoot from me to Lucifer to Diavolo.  His mouth opens and closes a few times, but he’s unable to form a response.  

“Oh!”  I pop up from my seat and rush to hand him a large, wrapped package.  

“I got you something too.  I’m sorry for yelling at you that night Mammon.  And for everything that has happened between us.  I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I really am so sorry that I hurt you.  And I got you this.”  

I shove the package into his hands.

He eyes me for a minute before tearing into the wrapping paper.  His mouth twitches as he smooths his hands over the soft leather of the deep wine colored jacket I had picked out for him.

“I thought the color would look really good against your skin and your hair,” I explain in a rush.  “But if you don’t like it -”

“I love it ya dumb human.”  Mammon looks up at me with a small smile and softly brushes his fingers against mine.  “And I forgive ya.  I’m sorry too.  For everything.”  

I give his hand a quick squeeze before returning to my seat next to Diavolo.

“I also owe you an apology Lucifer.  I came into your home and attacked one of your brothers without provocation.  I hope you can forgive me.”

“Of course my lord.”  Lucifer seems shocked Diavolo would even apologize for that in the first place.  

Diavolo looks at me and takes a deep breath before continuing.  “It has been brought to my attention that I also owe you an apology for the terms of your pledge to me.”

Lucifer’s head snaps up, his eyes wide.  “I don’t understand my lord.”

“You should not be bound to me by an oath that prioritizes me over your family.  So I release you from your pledge to me.  You have served at my side faithfully for centuries, and I hope you will continue to do so.  But now you have the freedom to make your own choices, even to stand against me if you determine the situation calls for it.”

For the first time in our history together Lucifer is speechless.  

“Lucifer?  Are you ok?”  I ask him cautiously.

He shakes his head, breaking out of daze.  

“Of course Arianthi.”  He gives me a slight smile, before looking to Diavolo.  

“Thank you my lord.  I would be honored to continue in my service to you.  I can’t deny that being able to focus more on my brothers will be a welcome change.”

Diavolo grins at him.  “Perfect.  Now Lucifer, I would ask that you excuse us.  There is something I wish to speak to Arianthi and Mammon about in private.”

Lucifer, Mammon, and I share a look of panic. 

The fuck, Diavolo?

Lucifer recovers first and stands, giving Diavolo a short bow.  “As you wish Lord Diavolo.”  

He quickly exits the library, closing the door firmly behind him.  

“Mammon, if you would, come sit next to Arianthi.  I’ll take your seat.”  

Diavolo stands up and Mammon hesitantly sits down on the couch, careful to keep his distance from me.  Diavolo moves an armchair closer to the couch so he can sit directly across from us.

He smiles and waves a hand at Mammon and I.  “You may as well sit as close as you wish.  You two do love each other after all.”

I feel my spine straighten with shock and can see from the corner of my eye that Mammon has adopted a similar pose next to me.  

“Diavolo-”  Mammon begins to protest.

“You would deny that you love Arianthi?  After that little declaration you made in your kitchen?”  Diavolo cocks his head to the side in amusement.  “And you my princess, I know you love him.”

We both deflate a little, but are still on guard.  We stay silent.

“What are ya playin’ at Diavolo?”  Mammon finally asks.  

Diavolo leans forward, forearms braced on his thighs.  

“I’m not playing at anything.  I promised Arianthi I would do anything in my power to make her happy.  She loves me, and she loves you.  We both love her.  So I have a proposal.  Why not let her have us both Mammon?”

Mammon’s mouth goes slack with shock and I stare at Diavolo in confusion.

“Are you saying you want me to date both of you?”  I manage to croak out.

Diavolo takes my hand in his.  “I’m saying I want you to be happy.  I’m confident in the love we share.  But I would be a truly neglectful prince if I ignored my princess’s deepest wishes.”  

He kisses my knuckles.  “If you are accepting of this, I would offer you the chance to have us both.”

I turn to look at Mammon, who still hasn’t said anything.  

“I don’t....it’s not just me Diavolo.  Mammon....I don’t....”  I trail off, unable to form a coherent thought.

Mammon frowns.  “So what?  Ya want me to move into the castle with ya?  Share the bed?”

Diavolo shrugs, unconcerned.  “If that’s what you and Arianthi wish.”

Mammon’s blue eyes meet mine.  “I do love ya.  And bein’ with ya.........ya know I want that too.  But I can’t just be....”

“My dirty secret?”  I finish softly.  

He nods mournfully.

“I’m not asking Mammon to be kept a secret.”  Diavolo reassures us.  “If we decide to do this, then Mammon would be brought into this relationship as an equal.  He has the same protections and privileges as you do.  The same affections from me if he wishes them.  And with time maybe even my love as well, if he wants, and I feel the same way.” 

“Can you do that?  Publicly I mean?”  I ask, shocked.  

Mammon has been stunned into silence next to me.  

“You still struggle with the whole “Prince of the Devildom” concept don’t you, princess?”  Diavolo gives a small laugh.  

“Relationships like the one I’m proposing aren’t uncommon here.  I am the prince, the next ruler of the Devildom.  Who would stand against me?  And it’s not like I’m immune to Mammon’s many physical charms.  This wouldn’t exactly be a stretch for me, especially if it makes the woman I love happy.”

Mammon flushes red to the tips of his ears and mumbles something I don’t quite catch.  He stays silent for a while, considering.  He turns to me.  “Are ya goin’ back to the human realm?”

I blush and shake my head.  “I’m staying here after the exchange program is over.”

He nods.  

“So this would be a long term relationship?”  He aims his next question at Diavolo.

Diavolo smiles and reaches out to hold my hand.  “I would like to make it a permanent relationship someday soon, if Arianthi would have me.”  

I blush again at the implication Diavolo’s words.

“Ok.  So sayin’ ya do make Arianthi your princess.  Where would that leave me?”  Mammon asks.

“It wouldn’t leave you anywhere.  You would still be by our side.  By Arianthi’s side,” Diavolo responds.  

“And what about when it’s time for ya to have an heir?”

Mammon’s next question hits me like a bus.  I knew, in an abstract way, that Diavolo would eventually have to produce an heir to the Devildom.  

“What about it?”  Diavolo shrugs dismissively.  “There’s no rush for such a thing.  I think what you’re really trying to ask is if the heir must be borne of my seed.”

Mammon’s cheeks redden slightly, and grits his teeth.  “That’s what I’m askin’, yeah.”

“No, they don’t.”  Diavolo shakes his head.  “If Arianthi is the princess, and you are our partner, any child borne of our relationship will be a valid heir.  I have no need to know who’s blood it is, as we would all be equals in the relationship.  I would love the child regardless.”

Mammon and I lean into each other, overwhelmed and seeking each other’s warmth.  His hand grips mine, thumbs brushing over my knuckles absentmindedly as he thinks.  

Diavolo is mimicking the motion on my other hand, waiting for a response to his proposal.  As insane as his idea sounds......it feels right.  

I can’t be selfish.  Diavolo is ok with it.  I’m pretty sure I am too.  But Mammon has to be ok too.  I wouldn’t ever push him into something like this.  

“Mammon?”  I ask softly.

“Mmmm?”  He rests his head on my shoulder in an unusually bold gesture.

“What do you think about all this?  About what Dia is asking?”

“I never thought it would be an option.”  He sounds dazed.

“Would you be ok with...you know?”

“Sharing?”  He lets out a startled laugh.  “It would take some gettin’ used to.  But if it’s only him,” he gestures at Dia, “and everything is as equal as he says it gonna be then I think it might be alright.”  

Mammon smirks a little.  “I know a good lookin’ demon when I see one.  Bein’ in his bed wouldn’t be a hassle, especially if you're there too.  And I’m sure the castle has all sorts of treasure that could make up for him almost killin’ me.”  

“You would get a very generous allowance.” Diavolo smirks back at him.  “You would still be expected to carry out your duties as one of the seven ruling lords of the Devildom, as well as your R.A.D. studies.”

“I can do that easy,” Mammon answers, voice cocky.

Diavolo extends his free hand to Mammon.  “So what do you say Mammon?  Be with us?”

Mammon doesn’t hesitate.  “Yeah,” he says with a smile, slipping his free hand into Diavolo’s.  “I wanna be with both of ya.”  

[jinmukangwrites]

Graceful

The third and final instalment to the Grace Trilogy. We’ve come a long way bois.

Summary: sometimes, things take a turn for the worse, and the world feels like it’s falling apart. Wild’s always jumped at the chance to save someone else, but what happens when the favor is returned?

Warinings: To avoid spoilers, they’re in the tags.

Note: I gotta dedicate this. Like. I absolutely have to. This whole series I want to dedicate to @spacemalarkey​ and @fox-moblin​. Linni, I cannot thank you enough for how much you do for me, for always thinking of me and including me and being my go to person for bouncing ideas off. You helped with with so much and I swear you have been here since the beginning and that’s something I will always be grateful for. Ort, gal, my pal, my favorite cryptid, I love you, you are such an inspiration and your creativity always inspires me to try to be better with my own works. I wouldn’t be where I am today if you hadn’t read Grace and deemed it good enough to reblog haha. Anyway, just wanted to say thanks to you two. It’s not like I’m not writing LU anymore lol, gonna keep writing for this amazing fandom. This fic just feels like a testament to how far I’ve come since Grace.

Anyway, who wants to cry?

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Twilight didn’t understand.

Before, he always questioned it. He would lie awake for hours into the night, tossing and turning on his sleeping mat, blankets tangling his legs and sweat dripping from his brow. Nightmare’s haunted him because of it, nightmares of a wild hearted boy jumping in front of a spear, in front of an invincible monster, in front of Twilight himself, to ultimately fall to the ground and never get back up, blood pooling besides the body.

Twilight never understood. He never understood why Wild was so ready and raring to put himself in the path of a killing blow, or any blow for that matter. He says it’s because he has the ability to come back and he may as well be the one to die and revive than Wind or Sky or Warrior or whoever that won’t come back.

Don’t get Twilight wrong. If someone else was in danger, he would gladly risk his life to save them. But that’s the game changer right there. Risk. Not willingly give away. Twilight believes in finding a way for everyone to survive. It was never about dying for his friends and country, it was about simply saving it.

Wild is hard wired about dying for it.

And Twilight didn’t understand.

He’s argued about it on multiple occasions. Ever since that first time where Wild took his own life to simply return stronger and finish the job, Twilight has found ways to argue about it. Thankfully, Wild eventually understood that letting himself die was heartbreaking for everyone there and a total abuse towards Mipha and her gift, but he’s still reckless. Reckless enough to get his neck snapped by a ball and chain. Reckless enough to push Sky out of the way of a charging bull and get hit himself. Reckless enough to take the arrow he saw heading towards Time’s head. Enough to get Four out of a booby trapped cavern first and ultimately get crushed by tons and tons of earth. Enough to pull Hyrule off from cracking ice and drown as a result, to eat an apple gifted to Warrior’s from a shady figure to prove it was poisoned, to charge unprepared into an enemy camp to save the newest hostage named Legend.

And he doesn’t do these things only for the group, but for innocent bystanders and travelers too.

Twilight would yell and yell Wild’s ear off whenever the little gremlin got himself hurt for others. He could have easily warned Sky or Time to get out of the way. Could have worked together with Four to get out quickly. Could of pulled Hyrule and himself off the ice. Could of could of could of. Wild never seemed to understand that risking your life is not always the first option. Still never understands it. He has this gift to come back from the dead and it’s gotten into his thick skull that if he can solve a particularly difficult problem by simply taking the blow and coming back, he’ll take it and there is nothing wrong with it.

Twilight never understood. It’s gotten Wild angry with him. Wild would try to make Twilight understand and Twilight would just get more and more agitated until finally they are separated via Time’s orders so they can calm down and call it a night.

Twilight would say how much he cares for Wild and he doesn’t want to see him dead. Wild would shoot back the same sentence with so much ferocity that Twilight is forced to let it go. At least he isn’t killing himself like he had done the first time, Twilight says to himself, at least he’s accepting health potions and fairies for his injuries even when they’re low in supply. At least Wild isn’t literally killing himself to save them.

But it isn’t stopping him from willingly and thoughtlessly putting himself in danger.

Twilight never understood.

He understands now.

There’s fire. And a lot of it.  Twilight has only heard about the beasts that they’re up against, only seen the dead carcasses littering the plains and forests of Wild’s world.

“They’re all dead,” Wild had said with a almost reverent certainty the first time they had stumbled upon a corpse of a Guardian, “they died when Zelda and I defeated Calamity Ganon. All they’re good for now is scraps.”

A lot of strange stuff has been going on lately with all their worlds. They should have guessed, or at least prepared, for the possibility of one waking up and attacking. But they didn’t prepare. None of them, not even Wild himself, were ready for when the first eye blinked open with a menacing red flash and pushed itself out from the rubble that has tried to bury it over the years. A blood colored laser blinked to life and trained itself within moment’s onto Wind, a steady heartbeat of beeping piercing into the air, and Twilight, everyone, was frozen in spot because of fear, terror, horror, all those fun emotions. Thankfully, Wild knocked himself out of it pretty quickly, muscle memory forcing his hands to his bow before his brain could catch up. He loaded an arrow and shot it at the mechanical monster’s eye and a zing echoed in the air as the Guardian stumbled backwards on its eight legs, startled, but not a scratch.

“Run!” Wild screamed.

And oh, they did. Or they really tried to. If the Hero of the Wild was screaming at you to haul ass out of a fight you better listen. They would have probably gotten away before the Guardian found its bearings, but they were stopped in their tracks as another metal beast crawled over a close by hill, dragging a single injured leg behind it with its five remaining ones, it’s laser trained on Time who was leading the retreat.

So the next, logical, thing to do would be to turn and run to the left or the right, but a third Guardian, barely scooting across the ground with two working limbs, crawled from the side and the first one was now recovered and they found themselves surrounded, fighting their way out quickly becoming the only option out of this. The laser pointing at Time fired and they all jumped out of the way but the explosion sent them flying into different directions and the flames lit the ground despite how the morning dew still coated the grass.

They scrambled, Time stumbling from a very nasty burn on his leg and Four clutching his arm to his chest towards a particularly large boulder on the other side of the Guardian that had just fired at them. The other two had their lasers trained, the one that had fired was beginning the process of loading up its weapon. It was the safest route.

They thankfully managed to dodge around the second guardian towards the boulder and get behind the makeshift shelter before any shots can hit them. The boulder shook from the pure force of the deadly projectile hitting it straight on and fire blasted around the corners, making Sky (who was closest to the edge) cry out in shock as the flames licked his sailcloth.

“What do we do?” Time demanded, already they can hear the heavy steps of the monsters figuring out where their prey had gotten to. They had minutes at most to make a plan before the Guardians realized that they didn’t disappear, but were hiding.

The tortured, panicked, wide-eyed look Wild gave Time almost broke Twilight’s heart. The kid was always so sure about himself. Always having some sort of plan no matter how reckless or crazy it was. Right now, Wild looked lost, scared.

“Take them out one at a time?!” Wild said, his voice an octave higher than it’s normal range. “I don’t know! I’ve never fought three at the same time! I- go for the legs, the Master Sword would be best but any strong weapon will do. If it aims at you, fire it’s eye. Get them immobile- I-”

Wild looked at the verge of a panic attack, his eyes glistened and a hand went up to his arm, his scarred arm, like he was trying to pull himself together.

Another explosion hits the boulder, and another right after. Twilight brought his hands to his head as the structure behind them shook and chunks of rock fell down on them. They’ve ran out of time. The Guardian’s know that they’re there, and they want a fight.

“Sky,” Time barked over the roaring sound of fire around them, “take the Master Sword and get the legs of the least injured one. Wild, go with him. You’ll shoot the eye. Twilight, Four, and Legend, you three get two legged one, work together to get it’s legs. Legend, you’re on eye duty. Wind, Hyrule, Warrior, you’re with me. Wind, you’re in charge of the eye.”

At that was it. A barely thought out plan that everyone hardly had any time to agree or disagree to before a final blast broke their boulder in two. Everyone ran into battle, crying out, splitting off to their assigned enemies without a second thought.

And that’s where they are now. Fighting for their life.

Legend is a master of the bow. Not as good as Wild, but good enough. Good enough to release an arrow mid run and hit their target head on. Four bolted forward, lifting his sword into the air and jamming it into the first leg of the monster. Gears screeched together as the Guardian stumbles, but Twilight doesn’t wait for it to recover before he too is beginning his attack.

For a second, it all goes good. There is only two working legs and Four and Twilight each, with the support of Legend released an arrow every few moments, manage to shatter both of them. The Guardian crumbles to the ground, leaving it open for them to attack it’s body and within minutes, the eye shatters and blinks pitifully, metal bits falling as if relaxing in death.

For a second, Twilight thinks that maybe everything will be okay.

That was his mistake.

Because right after that second, Wind is screaming in pain as the guardian they were fighting manages to make a blow before Wind could stun it. Twilight spins on heel and takes in the complete chaos across from him. Time is rolling on the ground violently because of a leg that hit him, Hyrule is just managing to dodge to frantic legs above him, and Wind is scrambling to his feet, clutching his side, blood dripping down his forehead and fire singing his tunic.

Then another explosion shakes the ground as a misfired laser from the Guardian Wild and Sky are tag teaming on just manages to miss the group but explodes the earth past them, fire and debris shooting into the air like an evil monster itself, spreading it’s tendrils to destroy everything it touches.

The Guardian Sky is working on is thankfully stunned and injured thanks to a particularly nasty arrow sticking out at an odd angle in its eye, but it’s now firing rapidly, its four remaining legs frantically trying to find purchase.

“Legend- Four-” Twilight starts.

“On it, Twi,” Four says, grabbing Legends hand and rushing towards Time and the others. Twilight swallows and sprints in the opposite direction, towards Wild who is dodging out of the way of a misfired laser that almost didn’t miss.

Twilight grabs the bow on his back and shoots the Guardian again, hitting right in the middle of its eye and shattering the glass just a bit more. The metal creature seems to groan as its head spins around desperately looking for its target, but it jolts to the side as the Master Sword takes out yet another leg.

Wild nods in thanks and loads his own bow, firing at the eye, and Twilight rushes forwards, re taking his sword and slamming it into one of the remaining legs. There’s a couple close calls, this Guardian is a lot more fidgety and trigger happy than the other one Twilight somehow managed to defeat, but eventually, the last leg shatters with a mighty swing from Sky’s sword and the thing comes crashing down to the earth with a thud, firing fearfully into the air.

Wild runs forward and slams his sword down into it’s eye, sinking his weapon down into the hilt. Glass shatters and the Guardian shutters, blinking sadly, and shutting off with a pitiful whir.

Okay, Twilight thinks, now it can all get better now. There’s one left and Wild said he can fight these things one on one. He turns, Sky walking next to him, Wild climbing down from the dead beast.

The other guardian is literally on its last leg with the combined efforts of the rest of the group, it’s laser is blinking on Legend, who’s standing in front of an injured Wind, but Legend has his bow trained and is at that second releasing his arrow. His aim is true, but Twilight knows right then that something is horribly wrong.

The last Guardian’s laser was too loaded, too powered up to be simply shut off. It is knocked backwards, and the last leg breaking courtesy of Hyrule made it so it was looking directly at Wild when it finally released that explosive energy.

Twilight didn’t think. But in that moment, he understood.

He finally understood.

It the heat of the moment, Twilight didn’t have time to think about the options. About the consequences. About the ways everyone will make it out alive. He just surged forward, grabbed Wild by the shoulders, and shoved the kid behind him.

And then heat. Fire.

Agony.

His ears are ringing. He can’t breath. His skin feels hot and cold at the same time for a second and then he can feel nothing at all. Numbness takes over, and he’s left choking for air, staring up at the sky blocked by smoke. Orange flames lick the corner of his vision and that’s all he’s aware of. The fire. The smoke. The knives stabbing into his lungs with every breath he tries to take, even as the blurry outline of hands grab onto his tunic and drags him away from the fire.

The edges of his sight blur, his chest shutters, and he blinks and blinks and blinks until he can’t no more.

The last thing he’s aware of is Wild kneeling over him, trails of wetness glistening red with the fire running down his cheeks. There’s a cut on his chin, hair a little singed, but otherwise okay.

He’s okay.

And Twilight understands.

And with that, all the pain and worry leaves Twilight, and he enters the blackness of unconsciousness without any resistance.

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Time didn’t know what… drew him towards Twilight.

From the first moment Time laid his eyes on the kid, he knew he would do anything to protect him, even before he figured out Twilight is a descendant. There’s just something about him that makes Time go crazy with protective urges and… almost attempts at parental guidance.

Time cares for each of the heroes on their group. Each have something so incredibly special about them, and their youth didn’t help with Time’s slow descent into “Dad Friend” territory, but Twilight was something… different.

If it was the way the kid instantly worried about others before himself, or the way he fought with a feral viciousness, or the intelligence that was always present in his gaze… whatever the case, Time eventually found that he saw himself in Twilight. And instead of that being a comfort, it made him almost go insane with worry. He wanted nothing more than to teach the kid to be himself, to not worry so much, to take the moment as it came, but he could never find the moments to teach those. Plus, Twilight always looked at him with a gaze that screams: “Don’t even start with me, old man” before he can even work up the courage to talk to him about it.

It takes a lot of courage to scold Twilight.

More courage than what Time had.

He planned to maybe leave him for Malon to chew out the next time they ended up at the ranch. Perhaps corner him in a quiet forest. Possibly just spit it out on the trail. Get him to understand that he’s young, and he doesn’t need to worry about everything, all the time, all day. He doesn’t need to swing his sword so hard, doesn’t need to lose sleep over other’s problems, doesn’t need to remember he has his own issues he should work out until it’s too late.

What a load of good those plans turned out to be, especially since Twilight is practically on his deathbed.

Or the “on the road” equivalent to it.

It’s a race against the clock, a race that Time can’t help but feel like they are losing. They were not prepared for a battle like Wild’s Guardians, they were not prepared for wounds or cuts or third degree burns. With the world constantly fading and morphing around them, they sometimes don’t have enough red potions or fairies for a broken leg, let alone burns so horrid that the scarred, blistering tissue of Twilight’s body outnumbers the unblemished.

One red potion. Courtesy of Four. Enough to stop most of the bleeding, but the burns are still so bad that Twilight is stuck in a perpetual fever and it’s only getting worse.

They have to find civilization, and fast.

And it doesn’t help that the world is no longer Wild’s, and no one recognizes the forest around them. The most they can do is walk until somebody recognizes where they are, the constant worry of maybe a town is in the opposite direction nagging at each of their brains.

Maybe they are somewhere in Twilight’s time, and none of them would know until they either find civilization or Twilight wakes up.

Finding civilization seems more likely.

Time winces when Warrior stumbles a little, jostling the makeshift stretcher they made with blankets, branches, and rope to tie it all together. Everyone has injuries, and with the single health potion being used to buy Twilight more time, Warrior is forced to push through a sprained ankle. Wind is the worst off from them all, sporting painful burns on his side and chest and various other cuts. He has a fever and is now half delirious from pain and exhaustion, forced to be carried along on the back of Sky. He isn’t in… immediate danger. He still needs medical attention. The rest of them thankfully all just have minor scrapes and bruises, a burn here and there but not enough to do much more than sting persistently.

Besides Twilight and Wind, it’s the emotional wounds that Time is more worried about.

Especially Wild.

Who hasn’t said a word in over five hours.

And there isn’t much Time can do about it. All Time can do is reposition his grip on the stretcher, ask Warrior if he needs to switch with someone, and let Four quickly check over Twilight.

“How is he?” Time asks.

Four sighs and pulls his hand away from Twilight’s forehead. The answer is in his pinched eyebrows and red rimmed eyes. “He needs help, old man,” Four replies softly after a second.

Time nods. And they continue their walk, because there is nothing more that they can do.

Time tries not to think about Wild, a few paces behind, hugging his arms around his body like he will crumble.

The walk continued, and no signs of human life ever presented itself. Warrior eventually had to switch with Legend so he could lean on Hyrule and give his injured ankle a much needed break. The walking only got slower from there, the weight of the stretcher and the body placed upon it only seemed to get heavier.

The sun travels. The forest continues.

Twilight begins to vomit blood in his sleep.

And that’s when any hope in the group shattered.

They were forced to stop. Moving Twilight any more would just quicken the inevitable. A grim mood falls over the group and the realization that unless help found them, Twilight is not going to make it. The least they could do is… make sure it’s not too painful.

They made a nest for him and placed him a generous distance away from the fire to not overheat him but also not to let the bite of the cooling night creep in too much. The mood of the group is grim. Time puts it upon himself to keep everyone together despite him wanting to break down himself. He stopped Hyrule from stomping off into the forest, a sword at his hip. He made sure Wind wasn’t alone as he sulked by the campfire by sending Four over to talk to him, maybe encourage him to allow them to change his bandages. He broke apart the argument Legend was trying to start with Sky for no reason at all. Warrior has closed in on himself and has announced that he will continue walking into the forest to find help, but Time forced him to sit down so he could better look at his ankle, trying to will Warrior to understand that there is nothing in their power to do, no matter how it pains the both of them.

Wild is at Twilight’s bedside. A solid arms distance away. Curled up in himself and simply staring at the bandages and scarred flesh.

Time may have told himself that he will make sure everyone is together and okay this night, but for many reasons he just couldn’t bring himself to quite confront Wild yet. He didn’t see what happened, but he saw the aftermath, and Sky saw it so he was told the details in quiet whispers a little while after. Twilight shoved Wild out of the way so he could protect the younger from the misfired blast of a Guardian.

Wild blames himself. Time doesn’t have any doubts about it. Wild is so ready to risk his life for others, but the second someone does it for him he goes to a place so deep in his own mind that Time isn’t sure that he can pull him back out without a fight. This is why Time has been dreading the moment he’ll have to talk to the kid, but he also knows Wild will do nothing but damage himself if left to his own thoughts. It’s already beginning, the distance Wild has set between himself and Twilight is a clear indicator of that.

Warrior clears his throat and Time is brought out of his worries, looking up from the makeshift split he’s been setting on Warrior’s injury. Warrior has a look in his eyes that lets Time know that they’re thinking about the exact same thing.

“I can talk to him,” Warrior says, voice low so no one but Time hears.

Time almost wants to agree. Warrior is fully capable of this task. He doesn’t talk too much about his trials, but Time does know he has lead armies into battle, into war. It’s in his name. He’s seen stuff like this before. Time’s sure he’s witnessed soldiers collapse in the heat of a fight; good soldiers, soldiers with friends and family waiting for them. Time could put this on him and let Warrior deal with the fallout of telling the hard truth to a boy who does not want to listen, to a boy who will only blame himself.

But Time also knows that he cannot dump this on Warrior. Time is responsible for the group, and he’s probably one of the only ones to truly know and understand Twilight.

The most important person in the entire world to Twilight wasn’t Zelda. It wasn’t Midna. Or Colin. Or Ilia.

It was Wild.

And that fierce… love went both ways.

No, no Time can’t let Warrior take the fall. The man may be a captain, a seasoned hero of war, but, in this group, Time is the leader. It’s his responsibility. He’s the only one that can do it.

“See if Four needs any help making dinner,” Time says, trying to give Warrior both a grateful and determined expression. Warrior studies him for a second, glances at Wild, then sighs.

“I trust you, old man,” he consents, though his voice still sounds stern, his look giving away nothing as he stands up and limps towards Four whose smacking Hyrule’s hand away with the spoon.

Time sighs and glances back over at Wild and Twilight, his heart tightening in his chest with indescribable worry and fear.

Don’t be a coward, Time. Rip it off like a bandage. Get it done and over with. Worry about the fallout later.

Finally, Time stands up, and before he could even hesitate he begins to walk towards the kid that’s supposed to be cooking right now. Towards the young man that’s losing the battle for his life. Towards two heroes desperately hurting in very different ways.

Time sets himself down next to Wild, and Wild doesn’t react. He just stares at Twilight and somehow manages to press his knees even closer to his chest. He doesn’t even spare a sideways look.

Slowly, with much unsurety, Time lowers a hand down onto Wild’s shoulder. Wild stiffens slightly, and usually that stiffening would go away after a few moments… but this time it sticks around. Time doesn’t let that deter him. He can’t afford to let it.

“How are you holding up?” Time asks.

Wild doesn’t respond, just takes a deep breath and lets it out. For a moment, Time really thinks that there will be no getting through to Wild. He’s too deep in his grief. Too deep to be pulled out by a few words and touches.

But then, Wild responds right when Time was about to jot this down as a hopeless venture.

“He won’t last the night,” Wild says, his voice thick. Wobbly.

Time swallows and follows Wild’s gaze down to Twilight, and for the first time since the incident, Time really looks at his protege. The skin not inflamed and blistered is pale and sickly green. Sweat is glistening off every inch of skin, soaking the bandages hiding the tendril like burns embracing his body. He matches Wild in the worst way possible. Destroyed tissue on his face, ear gone, scabs and puss staining the white cloth woven around his chest. He looks horrible. Looks like death. He’s probably in unimaginable pain and Time can’t help but think that Twilight not lasting the night would be a mercy.

“No,” Time croaks, “he won’t.”

Wild’s stiff shoulder suddenly jolts as he tightens his hold around himself, a pitiful whimper escaping his throat as he presses his eyes against his knees. Time sits there as Wild breaks apart, as another sob physically wracks through his small frame.

“It’s my fault,” Wild whimpers. “It’s all my fault…”

“No, cub,” Time says, heat threatening to break through his tear ducts, “it isn’t your fault-”

Wild only cries harder and Time does the only thing he can think of doing. He grabs his shoulders and presses the boy into his chest, holding him as tight as he can as Wild fully lost control of himself, cries of anguish and pain shooting out into the night. It’s loud, not a single emotion holding back, but Time doesn’t attempt to hush him. No one turns a judgmental eye towards them, all of them perhaps thinking the same thing.

It’s about time someone broke.

Time whispers every comfort he knows into Wild’s hair as he glances up at the others. Legend is leaning against a tree, glaring at the fire with a suspicious glisten in his eyes. Sky has Hyrule pulled under his arm in a comforting one armed hug, Hyrule’s shoulders shaking slightly while Sky glances at Time with an alone tear trailing down his cheek. Four and Warrior has stopped cooking, and by the looks of the pot sitting just off the fire, they have given up at it; neither are crying but both look very ready to, especially Warrior as Wind climbs into his lap and grasps around his waist, a look of pure sadness screwing up his youthful features.

Liquid finally breaks through, and Time doesn’t wipe the army of tears trailing down his face for a very long time.

Twilight stops breathing twice in the night.

They weren’t able to save him the second time.

-o-o-o-o-

At first, Wild’s angry. Beyond angry.

The rage in his gut burnt with a fiery passion and the tree that came in front of him and his sword didn’t see it coming.

Neither did his now shattered sword.

But… that was weeks ago.

Now?

Now he’s just numb.

He doesn’t quite know how to… face it anymore. Anger, sadness, the whole process of grief didn’t work. It still hurts, It still clutches his heart and tear through his chest with every blink of his eyes, every flash of fire that came with each blink. It repeats, over and over and over and Wild’s pretty sure he’s tried everything to quench the guilt, the pain, and every time he ends up back at square one.

Alone.

He’s alone.

Alone and numb.

Numb because what’s the point of feeling anymore? All feeling does is hurt him, all feeling does is get the people he cares about killed.

It’s killed Mipha. Urbosa. Daruk. Ravio. It’s sentenced Zelda to 100 years of torture and solitude. It’s sent soldiers to die. It’s sent fields to burn. Mountains to fall. Dragons to become ill. Guardians to turn. So many people have died, gotten hurt, had their lives destroyed because of a boy named Link who decided to pull a sword out of stone, who thought he could be a hero.

All feeling is good for is causing a mess and leaving him to clean it up.

Twilight is just another name to add to the list.

So… he’s numb. The world passed easier that way. He made it through the funeral. The words they all said, that he stayed silent through. He made it through their group stumbling upon Ordon Village like some sick joke from the goddesses just a few hours later. Made it through Time telling the families there that their boy isn’t coming home. Made it through the crying children, the sobbing young woman beating against Time’s chest, the empty house filled with memories of a life snuffed out, the horse named Epona nipping at all their ears as if asking “Where is mine?”

He made it through all that without another temper tantrum. Without another break down, or panic attack, or any ugly crocodile tears. Made it through without saying a word even. He hardly remembers any of it, just the major details that his brain will naturally store away for him to remember in his nightmares. He has even avoided the temptations to grab his slate and hyper focus on every picture of Twilight that he has.

Because that hurts.

Numbness is better.

Yes, numbness is so much better, he thinks as he sits alone in a small clearing leading to a beautiful spring occupying a rather majestic stream of knee high waterfalls. He has just managed to avoid Time once again—the old man has been giving him a lot of looks lately and Wild is getting rather frustrated with them—and took off into the paths leading outside of the village he can’t wait to leave. He walked without purpose, only wanting to get away and not have the constant inkling at the back of his mind that tells him to tell them what really happened. Tell them all that Twilight didn’t die heroically, he died protecting a kid who can come back from the dead easily. He died trying to be a hero, only got himself killed in the process. If Twilight was thinking, he would have known that Wild might die from that blast, but he would have quickly came back. Twilight should have left it alone. He should have stepped aside and let the beam kill Wild for the second time in his life.

Instead, he got himself dead for a useless purpose. It’s Wild’s fault, he should have been paying attention so Twilight didn’t even feel the need to shove him back.

His fault…

No, no be numb.

He sighs and looks at the clearing and spring around him. It’s gorgeous here, and for a second he wonders if Twilight ever spent time here, if he ever played in that spring water or sat in this very spot watching the fish. He rubs a hand over his face, hoping to maybe banish those thoughts as well because they hurt and he really doesn’t want to hurt any more. He really doesn’t want to think about how even if Twilight used to spend time at this spring that his presence will never grace this place again.

Being alone is a bad idea, he realizes as he glares at the waters, thinking is a bad idea too, but thinking comes when one’s alone and he was never good at meditation.

But he also thinks being back at that village with his comrades and the kind strangers is a bad idea too. Wild can feel himself be wound tight light a string tied between two wild boars trying to run in the opposite directions. He’s succeeded for so long at ignoring the aching in his chest, but it isn’t like this is the first time he’s done this to avoid the hurting and churning. He’ll snap soon. He knows he will. It’s only a matter of time, and he’d rather do it silently and alone than loudly and with company.

A lung full of air. Out. The ripples in the water reflect the golden sunset. In. Breath wobbles. Out. Tears sting. In… his heart clenches. Out… the first unwanted whimper escapes.

In. A tear falls.

Out. His head sinks to his knees.

In.

He wants to scream.

Out.

He’s too busy biting his lips.

In…

Out… It’s his fault.

In… He didn’t get to say goodbye.

His breath catches.

He cant breath out. He’s sobbing now, his ears ringing. His brain is screaming at him to pull himself together, that he should just suck it up and ignore it like he’s done for so long—but then his heart clenches and he knows that he just let the dam burst. There’s no hope to stop the waters, they come out with every gasp, every whimper, every cry, every action to curl tighter and tighter within himself, and they’ll keep flowing until there’s no more water to flow, until he can work up the strength to build up the walls again.

It hurts. He hates it so much. Everything hurts.

It’s his fault. It’s all his fault.

Zelda. Mipha. Daruk. Revali. Urbosa. Zelda. Mipha. Daruk. Revali. Urbosa. Zelda…

Twilight.

He cries harder. Faces. Names. Voices. It’s all too loud, and now instead of trying to ignore it he’s trying to drown it out with his own cries, his own pain. Maybe, if he shows how much he hurts, how much agony he’s in, the faces and blame will leave him alone for a little while longer. If he screams loud enough into his legs and arms, the voices will dim. If he-

Something brushes against his fingertips, and he’s startled out of his own misery, head shooting up to find that his fingers are resting in the golden, rippling water of the spring. His shoes are drowned up to his ankles, and his butt is soaked. Somehow, the water has risen, and now he’s sitting in it.

He blinks, wiping the tears from his cheeks and taking a gasping breath of air, and he looks at the waterfalls, trying to figure out how the water even rose in the first place. Oceans have tides, springs don’t. Or at least he doesn’t think they do. Not that it matters, he’s just… thankful that it managed to bring him out of his agony so it didn’t have to take it’s own time fading.

Something flashes at the top of the spring, at the third and highest waterfall section, and he blinks when the form of a silver creature catches his eye.

His breath catches in his throat when the figure comes a bit closer.

A wolf.

Thousand’s of emotions flicker through his head like a slideshow and he holds his breath as the wolf jumps down the first section of waterfall. It’s fur is a beautiful, glittering silver color that glitters like there’s a bucket of stars connected into each strand. He doesn’t even think to run or grab his sword, he’s too transfixed as the creature jumps down the next section and there’s not a single splash. Down the last and there’s white, familiar patterns on the muzzle and forehead of the creature.

He doesn’t dare breathe. If he breathes, whatever he’s seeing could turn out to be a sick joke.

The wolf pads towards him, head tilted slightly and those blue, blue eyes flashing with sadness and worry.

And then, the silver fur ripples like the pond it’s walking on. Flashing a pure gold and morphing to a taller, more human figure colored in grays and glowing whites like the moon. If Wild had blinked, one second a wolf would be tilting its head at him and the next he would be smiling down.

But he didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe. He’s terrified to.

“Hey, cub,” Twilight says, smiling.

And curse it, the dam breaks again, though, not in the same way as before.

He scrambles to his feet, golden water dripping from his clothes and splashing upwards with every desperate, running step he takes further into the spring. The smile on his face widens as Wild gets closer, but Wild can hardly even see through his tears as he launches himself forward in one last, desperate burst.

For a second, terror clutches his heart that he’s going to close his arms but they will only go through, but it’s too late to stop his arms, too late to stop his body, and the pure joy that fills his entire soul when he physically crashes into Twilight is intoxicating. If he’s dreaming, he will make the most of it and hold Twilight as tight as he can.

Twilight laughs and encloses his own arms around Wild’s body as they both stumble. Twilight sinks into the water and they fall together into the spring, drops splashing upwards and soaking both of them.

They hold each other. Wild has no plans on stopping as the tears fall again, as his chest lurches with his cries. Twilight doesn’t seem to mind a whole lot, in fact he helps position them both so they’re more cuddling compared to the mess of limbs they were before. The coolness of the running water ripples against their clothes and skin like a heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” Wild chokes out after what must have been half an hour of just sitting there, hugging, and crying. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, cub,” Twilight soothes, “I don’t blame you. No one blames you. It was me, I made the decision.”

That makes Wild cry harder. His throat, stomach, and chest hurts so much.

“It’s alright, I’m here, it’s all okay, cub. I’m so sorry it took me so long to find you again, I should have found you sooner.”

Wild shakes his head, because Twilight is trying to push the blame onto himself and nothing is okay, but he can’t work up the strength to argue anymore. He lets Twilight hold him as his shutters and gasping stops, lets Twilight continue to hush him and whisper comforts until there’s nothing but the spring water to pierce the silence of the evening forest.

It’s peaceful. Somehow, Wild feels more at peace than what he has felt in months. He doesn’t want to break it.

Twilight breaks it.

“I can’t stay much longer, cub,” he whispers and Wild bites his lip.

He knows how this works. Spirits can never stay long.

“I needed to see you,” Twilight continues, his voice sad, “and I needed to give you something.”

Wild lets Twilight grab his hands and help him to his feet. They’re both soaking, but the chilly breeze and the low sun doesn’t seem to affect either of them. He forces himself to look up at Twilight who is now standing just a arms distance away. His smile is sad, eyes glistening.

He opens his mouth, and cuts himself off with a nervous chuckle. It’s so Twilight. It’s so him. The guy is like a child doing a bad impression of an adult in an actual adults body. He’s trying to be serious, to the point, factual, but Twilight is just as an emotional mess as Wild is, and he can never keep a straight face long even in the most serious of topics.

Wild feels like he can breathe for the first time in a long time.

“Look, I… I did what I did and I don’t want you to blame yourself, kid,” Twilight says and Wild’s lips thin, already preparing himself for the inevitable lecture. Trust Twilight to come back as a spirit and “give” him a lecture. Twilight must catch sight of Wild’s nonplussed expression because his face suddenly breaks out in to a splitting smile accompanied this time by a genuine laugh.

“Okay, okay, how about we leave that to the old man, huh?” He jokes.

“Why… are you here?” Wild asks, and man does his voice sound unused. Raw.

Twilight licks his lips and brings his hand to the back of his neck. “I… I can’t just leave you. Alone. I can’t. I’ll never be able to rest if I don’t know you’re safe.”

He sucks in a deep breath and Wild watches with wide eyes as Twilight reaches towards his chest and there’s a bright flash of golden light that has Wild blinking spots from his eyes. Within a second, Twilight is standing before him with an orb cradled in his hands, a blood red color.

Twilight isn’t looking at Wild, but down at the orb like he himself is fascinated by it. The corners of his lips tilt slightly upwards and he sighs. “Go, and do not falter, my child,” he says softly, as if to himself, but Wild doesn’t get to question it because Wild looks up at with with a set jaw and determined eyes. “Take it.”

“I-”

“Cub. Please. I love you so much. The gods gifted me this form in life… I want you to take it, and be safe. I have no need for it anymore.”

He holds out his hands and Wild cups the orb in his hands, waterworks starting up again, but he quickly wipes them away with his shoulder as the warmth of the orb dissolves in his palms, spreading over his fingers like a liquid and trailing up his arms to the center of his chest, where there’s a burst of golden light and the familiar feeling of something greater than himself entering his being. He feels warm. He feels safe.

Suddenly, he’s pulled back into a fierce hug and Wild grasps onto Twilight’s clothes because he knows, he knows it’s almost over. It’s almost time to part. To say goodbye.

“Promise me, cub” Twilight whispers into his hair, “promise me you will be safe.”

“I… I promise.”

-o-o-o-o-

At first, he was afraid.

Now, he’s loved.

He’s running, faster than what he’s ever ran before. The world is at his heels, branches and leaves whip past his snout as he pushes harder, faster, breathing hard and going going going-

Going where? Not sure yet.

All he knows is that… he’s free. The world is nothing but a blur zipping past his gaze, streaking past his pumping legs, left behind his tail.

He never wanted Revali’s Gale, or Urbosa’s Fury, or Daruk’s Protection.

He never wanted Mipha’s Grace.

The thought of owning the powers of his dead comrades, dead friends, set his stomach in a knot, but they were always useful. He learned to get used to it. Learned to appreciate the gifts he was given and use them in the best way he knew how.

He never wanted this gift either. Goddess, if you were to tell him that someday the Hero of Twilight would pass away, would sacrifice himself to save him, and then give him a very special ability that was such a huge part of who Twilight was… he probably would have thrown hands.

But… it’s been a few months since that meeting, since the funeral, since the death. Wild has learned to… appreciate it. Twilight is right, this gift definitely made him feel less alone. Every time he uses it (at first reluctantly, now whenever he gets the chance), he can feel Twilight watching over him from some unknown plane of existence. He can feel the warmth, and it’s not the dirty blond fur on his body radiating that heat. It’s a different kind of heat.

“I know you’ll find this gift useful,” Twilight had said, before he finally faded away, “I certainly did. Whenever you use it, I want you to remember how many people are there for you, how many people would fight for you. There are so many of them. Take it. Use it. Twilight’s Love is now yours… well, it always has been.”

Wild howls, feeling strong, feeling free, feeling loved, as he pushes himself faster up the hill, tongue lolling out of his panting jaws. Someone calls out his name and he sprints harder, barreling through the grass and jumping into the open arms of none other than Wind. Wind laughs from the bottom of his stomach, small fingers climbing up and latching themselves into Wild’s fur. Time stands off a small distance, the others not far behind, all smiling.

A broken family, all doing their best to remain strong.

And there’s something graceful about that, isn’t there?

[damijon-supersons]

hey! i love your fanfictions they bring me to life. anyways can i request one where they are on a dangerous mission and jon doesn't want damian to proceed cause its to dangerous cause hes fully human and not bullet proof then a argument breaks out and Jon say sorry in a very romantic way *wink* if u know what i mean *gay wink* im sorry. ill leave it at that.

Sorry this took a while. It generally takes me a while to think of prompts, but this one in particular, I knew I had to make it cool :p So yeah, I hope you enjoy it. Also, I’m sorry if I got a little lazy and made it a Jon POV. I switch to first person when I get lazy cuz third person is too much work >

Something exploded above us.

I couldn’t tell what it was anymore with everything that was going on. The buzzing thrusters of robotic drones whizzed past us. Sounds of gunfire peppered the warzone. Energy beams sizzled through the air around us, their bright colored flashes defiantly lighting up the darkened sky. A red haze settled on the ground, making every outcropping of ruined concrete look like roaring flames that were frozen in place.

To my left, I was vaguely aware of Starfire and Firestorm spinning in the air together, blasting apart a dozen drones that had surrounded them so that they looked like a colorful and deadly light-up pinwheel. Somewhere ahead, I saw Raven dissolve into a mass of black and purple shadows that engulfed ten drones at once. Behind us, Aquaman levitated a gigantic bubble of seawater while Aqualad and Tempest channeled bits of it into watery javelins that rained down and skewered another army of drones.

Suddenly, Damian grabbed my hand and yanked me down into a crater on the ruined pavement. We fell in a heap at the bottom just as a red blur streaked across the sky almost faster than the eye could see, followed by an explosion of wind—a sonic boom. That was definitely my dad. Drones fell from the sky, and those that remained were swiftly gunned down by a sleek black jet shaped like a bat. It was tailed by an enormous 1940’s B17 bomber made entirely of green light, all of its ball and mounted turrets blazing with a Green lantern manning each of them.

Ever since Brainiac’s invasion started twelve hours ago, every hero in the world scrambled to earth’s defense, even the youngest heroes—even us. We looked as war-torn as you’d expect after fighting an endless wave of robot drones. Only half of Damian’s visor still stuck to his face. And his exposed right eye was bloodshot. His normally well-groomed hair had lost its sheen and stiffness, and his bangs settled on his forehead. His costume was torn and slashed in dozens of places, and a portion of his cape had been torn off.

I didn’t look any better. My face was caked with mud, dust and dried blood. My vest was riddled with a hundred burn marks, and the “S” in the middle had a gaping hole whose edges were singed black. The skin of the exposed part of my chest was a shade of pink lighter than the rest of my body. My jeans were so ragged and torn that I was surprised they haven’t disintegrated yet, although my left pants leg was already sheared off just above the knee. The torn strip of Damian’s cape was wrapped around my knee like a tourniquet, the closest thing to a splint that we could manage.

“That dome in front of us is their forward operating base,” Damian said, pointing to a metal structure ahead of us. “I’ve scanned the inside. It’s only a hallway connected to the main command module, guarded by a platoon of drones. If that base falls, the drones will lose communications, giving our fathers and the rest of the league the advantage they need to assault Brainiac’s command ship.”

“Okay,” I nodded with a grimace.

Above us, Lex Luthor and Blue Beetle were shot down by drones larger than the ones before, and they streaked back down to the ground with a wailing screech that sounded like a crashing airplane.

“We can take them,” I continued. I stood up and winced as my hand gripped my thigh on reflex. I hobbled toward Damian’s side, but then he stopped to face me and gripped both of my shoulders.

“No, Kent,” he said firmly. “You’re staying here. You’re in no shape to battle with that broken leg. I’m going alone.” He turned to leave, but I grabbed his hand.

“Idiot!” I shouted angrily. “You can’t possibly take that base alone! You’ll be overwhelmed—!”

“I’ve won against overwhelming odds before,” Damian snapped, cutting me off.

“You’re also injured!” I insisted, the frustration clear in my voice. “You don’t even have powers!”

“I’ve never needed powers to be a hero!” Damian spat.

I bit my lip, I didn’t want to make Damian angry. He must have seen the look on my face because his scowl melted.

“Damian,” I urged more softly, “You’re going to die.”

Damian sighed and looked me in the eyes. He steadied his voice, although his expression was grim.

“Jon, our fathers gave us this mission—they’re counting on us. If we fail, the whole world falls. As we speak, the Teen Titans are risking their lives to clear the path for us, and Grayson and the rest are fighting a losing battle to give us more time! With your leg broken, you’ll slow me down! I have to do this alone!”

“Stop being stubborn!” I argued. If I could let him feel my frustration and determination by punching him, I really would have. “I’m going with you whether you want it or—“

“I CAN’T PROTECT YOU!” Damian bellowed. The pain and desperation in his voice shook me to my core. Then in a softer, voice, he repeated, “I can’t protect you.”

“Damian…” The look on his face scared me more than anything I’ve seen during the invasion. For the first time ever, Damian looked afraid.

“I can’t lose you, Jon.” Damian’s chest heaved. “If we go in there, there’s no guarantee we’ll get out alive. At least if I go alone, I know you’ll be safe…” Damian’s face fell and his shoulders sagged.  

“Dami,” I said as gently as I could. I cupped his cheeks with both of my hands. “I’m sorry, but you’re a big idiot.”

“What…?”

“I can’t lose you either, you big jerk,” I continued, I felt my lips curl into a resigned smile. “You’ll need a better excuse than my broken leg to get rid of me. We promised, remember? We promised that we’d be with each other whatever happens.”

Despite himself, Damian smirked. “You have the absolute worst timing when it comes to declarations of love, Kent.”

“When is it ever a good time?” I grinned. “We’ll go together. We’ll win together. And if we don’t…”

“We’ll still be together,” Damian finished, his voice clear and determined.

I stood up. Pain shot up my broken leg and through my spine. I gritted my teeth and summoned all my willpower to resist the pain. Damian supported me on his shoulder and we began to walk. We walked until our pace got faster. We walked faster until we broke into a run, straight into the enemy gates.

Time blurred as we rushed the base. Every passing moment was filled with the smell of ozone as I fired my laser vision at everything that moved, and I flailed my fists at everything that it missed. Damian was a whirlwind of deadly metal with his twin katanas, reducing robots to scrap with calculated strikes. We stood back-to-back, destroying drones as we made our way to the control room. We covered each other’s blind spots and complemented each other’s moves. While he recovered from a broad slash, I blew a gust of freezing breath. When my heat vision stopped, his explosive batarangs took its place.

Finally, we were at the command center’s door. I threw out one big punch and the door crumpled and flew off its frame in a fraction of a second. In front of us stood a huge humanoid robot over twenty feet tall. The top of its head had exposed circuits shaped like a brain, and it had glowing red eyes. Its face resembled a human skull with a missing lower jaw. Three other smaller robots flanked it, and all of them faced us, guns at the ready.

“That reminds me, tomorrow’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Damian asked as he crossed his swords in front of him.

“Oh, right!” I admitted. “With the end of the world and all, I kinda forgot.”

“Well,” Damian began, “since you’ll be a proper teenager tomorrow, I might actually—maybe—consider you a real member of the Teen Titans,” he teased.

I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re such a jerk.” I’d meant what I’d said, but I was still smiling when I said it. “I don’t know why I ever liked you.”

“I may be a jerk,” Damian agreed playfully. “But I’m your jerk.”

“You better have a present for me tomorrow, jerk.” I chuckled.

And with that, we charged straight ahead, staring death right in its ugly robotic face.

[wastelandpizzas]

Brotherhood Asunder pt. 1

Here we are for another peek into the life of Shaun Park Sr. We find him and six others this fateful February night in the Bunker Hill marketplace. But peace this night is in short supply, in more ways than one.

Warning: the following contains coarse language and descriptions that may not be suitable for younger readers. Reader’s discretion is advised.

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I looked around the corner of the monument as I cleared the way for our group, the south entrance was our easiest way out of the Hill. We had made it out of the kill box under the market. More than what could have been said for those that the senseless fighting between the Institute and the rest of the Commonwealth had claimed. I immediately heard the distinctive hiss of power armor hydraulics. We didn’t have time, if those knights discovered us those four fugitive Synths would be dead within seconds. Pressed up against the wall, I hurriedly gestured for them to come into the obelisk. “Mother-fucker, Deacon, Preston, ideas?” I hissed. “Two options, boss, guns blazing, which at the moment, looks like it would go in favor of the Tech junkies, or we pop a couple stealth boys and take care of business.” Deacon was the first off with a couple ideas. If we could force them to scuttle their personal tanks then we’d have a hell of a better chance in getting out. I saw Preston wrestling his radio out of its clip on his bandolier. “Any Minutemen in the area, this is Colonel Garvey, we need sharpshooters up here now, we’ve got Brotherhood up our ass. Send to south end, Bunker Hill.” “Uh, Excuse me, Mr. Settlement-needs-our-help, what the hell?! Do you want those Ironclad bastards up our ass?” Preston wasn’t exactly subtle about radioing the Castle for reinforcements. So, Deacon had a point. “Both of you, can it!” I hissed at both of them. Something was buzzing around the skies of Boston, and it wasn’t a swarm of bloodbugs. My worst fears were confirmed, just after they quieted down. It was the immutable drone of a vertibird, and although the Gunners had a few- it was most likely Brotherhood this far north. If more troops were landing, that boded ill for us. “Son of a bitch, we’re never getting out of here. Sorry Deeks, stealth is no longer an option.” I unclipped the two spare Laser Muskets I had on my bag and tossed them to two of the Synths. I got out the .44 pistol Kellogg had used. Fitting that it would kill those trying to rob the Commonwealth of its independence, the Knights and the Gen 2 hunters. There was a reason Maxson had held back when I suggested a joint operation to build the molecular relay; He knew where I stood on the subject of the creations of the Institute. He couldn’t stomach the fact that these synths deserved every right that the people of the Commonwealth held, the right to a fair shot at life regardless of the hypocrisy of their creation. The Codex, something Maxson loved to quote, deemed that robots created 220 years ago weren’t abominations, but Maxson could deem that organic, programmable robots modeled after human beings were. Funny how a gun made to serve the Institute would kill a knight or two if it had to, to win the freedom of these synths “You Guys need to be able to pull your weight, here!” They scrambled after the five fusion cells I rolled to each of them. I took a pack of .44 rounds and tossed them at the last one of the synths. B3-13 picked it up, pocketed the box, and readied the gun. “We’re at the point where you can’t run anymore, we’ve got to fight our way out of here, or you will be killed. That’s the long and short of it. Once were done we head to Goodneighbour and lay low for a few days.” B3-13 ran back to the market and put on the dead synth’s armor. She hesitated while picking up the full helmet then tossed it aside. “Well then, let’s do it.” She stood defiantly and sprinted back in to the monument. Deacon pulled me aside up the stairs. When we were up a ways he began to almost hiss at me. “Des is not going to be happy about this, boss. We’re not supposed to use the packages.” “Deek, if I had any choice I wouldn’t. But if they want to help us fight our way out, then I won’t tell them they can’t. I’m taking charge of these packages and getting them to Mercer. Des and Harrington’s rules be damned, I’m not– “You two, in the monument. Come out with your hands up.” I looked out over the collapsed corner and saw two Armored Paladin’s with their automatic laser rifles rifles trained right on me. We were compromised. I pulled Deacon behind me and gestured for Preston and the synths to stay quiet. The Paladins walked up to the corner of the scaffolding around the base of the monument. Their rifles were still raised at both myself and Deacon. It was time for some serious ass kissing to keep me and those synths alive. A familiar face emerged from the helmet as the higher ranked Paladin removed it. “High Paladin Marcus, thank God it’s you, sir, the marketplace is secure, the synths that were harbored by the Railroad agents were already dead.” I was relieved at the dying drone of the vertibird leaving the sky’s over Bunker Hill, most likely headed back to the Prydwen. “Knight Park we unaware of your intervention here in the compound, did you discover the fate of Paladin Stefan’s assault team?” “When I entered the basement of the marketplace, I discovered several Railroad heavies and Institute Coursers fighting, the Paladin and his team were dead at the Coursers’ feet.” That much was true. I handed the four holotags over to the Paladin Commander at his right. Deacon had until then remained quiet. When I saw him I silently thanked god that he had grabbed one of the initiate’s uniforms. “And where was this initiate from?” “I was a local, mister paladin, sir, that was persuaded by this Knight to support your ranks, even if just in the field. I’m from the farm at County Crossing south of the old National Guard base.” Deacon must have had that story waiting for some time. When Marcus glanced at me, I simply nodded in agreement. The man had a talent that I lacked, story crafting. He could weave a yarn two miles long with the straightest face and think nothing of it. The bold faced lies that he spun most times, however, usually got us out of some sketchy situations; and most times when crossing the paths of some raiders who decided to try to ambush a trio of otherwise unassuming wastelanders. Luckily, our Paladins took just enough time to consider this field initiate’s story for two Minutemen Rangers to catch my eye, I had to stall for just a minute more. I racked my brain for anything that could keep the Paladins where they were. With their T-60 Power Armor and 9:2 odds they might have been able to outgun us and moreover with myself and Deacon at the front, the firefight would end quickly, and not in our favor. Deacon caught sight of the sharpshooters as well and began for me. He began to speak to how I gunned down the Synths from the Institute and the Railroad agents and proceeded to paint their blood across the underneath of the old Museum with him hanging behind to toss me an occasional clip when I ran dry. Paladin Marcus was about to move around the obelisk when a sharpshooter’s laser sight crossed my chest. Marcus turned, helmet off, to face the one of the snipers, who promptly put a bullet through his skull. He fell backward both a massive thud as the other sniper’s gift rang out and struck the other Paladin’s chest and blew a hole through even the power armor frame itself. He grasped at the wound as if to try to stop the inevitable he fell to his knees. As Preston and the synths came out from the market his grin marked the success of the distraction and subsequent attack. They were dirty tactics, but when we were outmatched in that fashion, I was happy for any result that saved as many lives as possible. I fished the two Paladins’ tags, laid their guns in a respectful position across their chests and draped their tags over them. Usually we’d strip the corpses, not today. Too many had died today. Regardless of their allegiance, too many lives, whether synth, human, or ghoul had been lost. A part of me truly wished it had been some nameless scribes or initiates who had taken the bullets. No matter who, their faces would haunt me. Though, not knowing them would have been better. Laser fire interrupted my homage to these fallen Paladins. Three knights had come to the escape door on the east end of Bunker hill and saw the synths and opened fire. B3-13 fell as Preston turned and ended one poor Brotherhood soldier with a shot from his laser musket. I scrambled over the power armor as I pulled out my laser pistol and finished one of the others, while Deacon filled the last one with 308 rounds from his pipe revolver. After ensuring the outside was at least momentarily clear of Brotherhood soldiers, I hurried to the fallen synth and looked in her eyes to find them glazed over. I looked around the group. The terror that had befell those three upon seeing their friend gunned down had faded, but the mourning of their fallen friend took most of their emotional strength to bear. No more. No more innocents dead. Not if I could do a damn thing about it. I plugged my Pip-boy into the transceiver I had stuffed into a pocket in my backpack. I spoke into the mic to our two Ranger friends who were doubtlessly still listening in. “Boys, get back to County Crossing and radio Castle base. On order of General Park ready artillery at Nordhagen Beach, Taffington Outpost, County Crossing, and The Castle for imminent fire upon the Brotherhood Airship: Prydwen, I want a full salvo ready to down that ship by week’s end.“ One had the care to radio back. “Confirmed, General. Pass on our condolences to those three friends of yours.” “Preston, I’m trusting you and Deacon know the way to Goodneighbor. Get these three to Amari, we’re rushing things ahead of schedule, but I need words with Maxson, preferably before we send his precious airship to the ground.”

I waked back to B3-13’s body and retrieved the .44 revolver. I had more than words for him. That much was clear

[fernandeznicholas]

The Magistrate’s Scepter Ch. 1

(This is a chapter by chapter series created by Nicholas A. Fernandez. All attempts to recreate this intellectual property without express permission from the author is prohibited. Enjoy!)

The young man leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head in a position of comfort, and crossed one leg over the other, obscuring the view of a chessboard in front of him. This only made the six men pointing rifles at him more nervous, obvious by the stiffening of bodies and the trigger fingers that pushed a little deeper on the weapons. He DID have a reputation after all. The tense silence was polluted by the chatter on the radio of one of the men, and the muffled explosions, gunfire that rang out around them at random intervals, and the clip clop of a pair of hard-soled shoes marching across the marble in the hallway outside the room. The sound grew louder, signifying an approach, until the door opened, and a blonde woman in full body armor strode through it. 

Her eyes widened in a mixture of emotions. The man reclining thought he detected hate, triumph, worry, and concern before she steeled her face and pulled a pistol out of it’s holster on her hip. 

“What’s the play, Nolan?” 

He chuckled a bit before shifting in his seat. Her face darkening in anger, she brought the pistol to bear on his face, turning on a laser sight that fired up with a barely audible whine. 

“I know you,” she said with a jagged undertone to her voice. “You wouldn’t let yourself get caught.” 

Still unruffled, the young man slowly leaned forward, carefully keeping his body motions in sight of the soldiers. He jabbed a long, slender finger at the chair opposite him across the small table the chessboard rested upon. 

“I suppose it would be too much to ask you to have a seat and chat with me?”

 Keeping her gun trained on him she gave him a smirk. 

‘You’re right, it would be. Especially since you could have any number of traps rigged in here.” 

His cool demeanor unchanged, he suddenly stood up from his chair, unfolding his legs as he did so. A warning shot struck the ground at his feet as one of the overeager young men squeezed off a round in panic. After a lot of shouted orders to hold fire from both the commander of the squad and the blonde woman, three of the men, including the nervous younger soldier, were sent to mind the door of the room from the outside. As they did so, the young man named Nolan unceremoniously plunked himself down in the chair he had invited the woman into. 

“Really Althea, if I wanted to kill you I have had so many opportunities. A booby trapped chair bomb?” 

Laughing, he kicked a leg up again, seeming to not care at all about the fact that he had just turned his back to the remaining four guns trained on him. 

“Or perhaps a pressure-plated crossbow hidden in the wall somewhere?” 

Gesturing at the seat across from him, he looked over his shoulder as he pulled off his glasses. 

“Please?” 

He asked in a polite tone. She looked at the chair across from him as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and resettled the glasses on his face. Keeping the gun trained on him, she sat in the chair, knowing as she did so that she was playing his game. She had him dead to rights, and they both knew it. She stayed focused on his movements as she wracked her brain for anything he might try to pull. There were no windows in this room, and thermal scans had revealed no hidden passages. 

When she sat, he breathed a sigh of relief. Reached forward he pulled a leather bound booklet from under the chess board. It was bound with a leather strap spun around a clasp on the front. Almost petting the cover with one hand, he stopped, and handed it across to her. Taking one hand off her weapon, she grabbed the book from him. 

“When this is all done you’ll need to see what lies within those pages,” Nolan stated as he grabbed the white king off the table and started what appeared to be an intense study of it.

“What do mean when this is all done?” She bristled angrily as she tucked the book into her lap, keeping her weapon trained on him as she did so.

“You actually think you’re going to win this fight? We both know you’ve lost the war,” she continued, her voice tight with the stress of her agitation.

“Heavens no!” He exclaimed, stopping his study of the king to look at her incredulously.

Seeing confusion on her face, he gave her a soft smile.

“This was never about winning or losing a war my friend,” he explained, looking around at the three men pointing their rifles at him.

“This was about getting at the individuals responsible for putting us in that cesspool that they called survival training, this was about radically changing the government that had such a death grip on our world. This was about revolution, my dear Althea.”

Scoffing at his reply, she put the gun in it’s holster, and reached for the leather cord on the book.

“Well you didn’t get to do anything you set out to do, all you did was up the number of people like you and I that had to go into Survival Education, pissed off the government, put me in a difficult position where I was sent after you, and nothing has changed except you’ve managed to kill a lot more people that didn’t have to die, and-”

“Wait,” he said, interrupting her tirade. He gestured at the book she was trying to undo.

“That is for... after,” the young man finished bleakly.

Setting the book down in her lap she crossed her arms almost in disbelief.

“So this is it then,” she said in an almost shocked voice.

“Yes,” he replied with a look she could have sworn was tired amusement.

“No tricks?” she asked.

“None,” he confirmed, setting the king down. “My tricks are already played out.” 

Nodding to the soldier behind him, she looked at the seated man as the soldier pressed his weapon into his lower back. 

“What trick?” she demanded.

“What are you going to do, shoot me?” he asked as he shrugged, placing his hands behind his head once again.

“You know i’ll be put to death anyways. The people will demand it.”

“What did you do?” she demanded again as she looked over his shoulder to the soldier and nodded again.

As he started to pull back, Nolan threw himself backwards into the man, pulling out a knife from under his collar as he did so, and cutting the man’s throat with one savage motion. As the other two men swung their weapons to bear, the young man whipped a pair of knives that had been up each sleeve into the heart of one, and the eye of the other. The man with the knife in his eye collapsed shrieking, while the other sprayed his weapon’s fire into the air as his hand convulsed on the trigger. The whisper of a gun leaving it’s holster made Nolan jerk the falling body of the man at the blonde in a surprising show of strength, causing the pair of shots she got off to swing wide, though both still connected in the meat of the young man’s shoulder. 

He grunted in pain as he lurched forward with the blows, reaching quickly for a rifle as the door burst open and the three men in the hall brought weapons to bear. Scooping the rifle up, he quickly rolled behind Althea as she struggled to push the body of the man off of her. The soldiers hesitated, not having a line of fire. Nolan didn’t, and he squeezed off three shots in rapid succession, and all three men fell with fatal wounds. He quickly clubbed the body armor clad young woman on the head with the butt of the rifle, then started firing the weapon down the hallway at incoming soldiers as her body slumped unconscious, half under the dead man. 

The soldiers stopped rushing and took cover behind doorways and pillars outside the door frame. Not missing a beat as the soldiers took cover, the young man deftly plucked a pair of grenades from the belt of the anxious soldier who’d shot at his feet earlier, and pulled the pins on both. One he lobbed into the air to the left, the other he rolled to the right. As he did so, they had started to return fire. Swinging the very heavy doors shut cost him as one of the soldiers shot him in the leg. 

Groaning, he pulled out cleverly hidden catches on the inside of the door as an explosion sounded outside, followed by screams of pain. Grabbing the cushions off a nearby couch, he pulled them off and grabbed another hidden object, a long, thick, metal bar that he slid through the catches on the door. Turning back around, he looked at the young woman and sighed as she started to come to.

Althea awoke with an explosion of pain immigrating from the base of her skull, causing her to moan and try to roll over, to escape the firefight until she could see straight. As she tried, she felt her pistol twist from her hand, and the body pulled from on top of her. Nolan, bleeding heavily, was slumped in one of the chairs, having just pulled the dead man off of her. Her pistol was in his hand, pointed at her. She met his eyes defiantly, knowing that he had her, that he’d won. He shocked her by laughing.

“Bang,” he said dryly, then he tossed the gun to her. 

“Don’t worry about bandaging me up. You’re going to kill me soon anyways.”

She scrambled for the gun and swung it on him. Then she realized he wasn’t in any condition to run anyways and lowered it to her side.

”Sentimentality will kill you, you should have finished me off.”

“Well call me an idealist then. And I do believe my sentimentality already has killed me.” he retorted, scooping up the chess pieces. Setting them on the board as she walked across the room to check on her men, he continued.

“As for finishing you off, that would defeat everything i am trying to do.” Looking up at her checking the men, he quickly supplied an answer to her query. 

“They’re all dead. Except for the guy with a knife in his eye. He’ll live if you bandage the wound.”

She moved to the soldier in question and began to bandage his head.

“Also, please don’t unbar the door yet.” the young man gasped, growing more pale as he finished putting the pieces on the board. 

“I am going to do whatever the hell I want you psychopath,” she yelled at him as she continued to bandage the head.

His cool demeanor drained away like his life, for the first time she could ever remember, he looked desperate.

“I am trying to save your life,” he said quietly in a strange manner that made her look up at him. 

He held the book up in one trembling hand and the white king, now smeared with blood, in the other.

“That door is made to resist missiles. So we have some time before they get in, unless you don’t want to hear what i’ve been up to. In which case...” he left it unfinished as he gestured at her gun.

“Your choice, Althea. It always has been”

Pursing her lips, and looking at the condition of the man on the ground, Althea took a deep breath, and moved towards the chair.

CHAPTER ONE END

(Thank you so much for reading this first chapter. This is my first attempt to put writing into a short chapter by chapter format on my Tumblr page, and any constructive criticism or helpful tips would be greatly appreciated. I will be putting a new post up on a weekly basis until the completion of the storyline. So stay tuned!)