Well it finally happened I guess.
I looked at the bottle of Tylenol on my table and was bummed out that there were only three after remembering that five was enough to kill a man or at least incapacitate them.
literally my head is fucked asf why
My brain scares me every second of every day of my life like this was so random?? I've been struggling with this shit for years but like wtf haha nervously chuckles-
But I mean, that's the fucking point. Nothing's within my control anymore. It's all falling apart very slowly, very painfully- no one notices except for me- poor, sweet little me who was once a bright, happy, smart child beaming with happiness and sheer love to give to the world infinitely- the child that's slowly slipping away into oblivion because of a broken heart that's been let down over and over again by the mistakes I've made and the weight of it all on my shoulders- what is a pebble to others is a boulder to me.
Like hey past Starry even if you're slowly fucking crumbling and falling apart and dissociating every hour of every day to cope and letting your thoughts run fucking wild because you don't have the energy to control them and like-
even if you feel powerless and hopeless and scared af that everyone's gonna abandon you because you're too fucking much for everyone and everyone probably hates you and is growing tired of you, and you probably have intense chest dysphoria that triggered a stress response from the mental breakdown you had and made you sick asf-
and even if you feel like time is slowly ticking by and that you're a worthless waste of space and a failure and that it would be better to just die and you're just living life as an animated corpse with lows that are fucking traumatizing and highs that are noticeably less high than everyone else's...
even if your relationship with your irl friends and family are growing more distant and unstable by the day, even if the marriage between your parents is falling the fuck apart even if they don't notice it- even if NOBODY FUCKING NOTICES except for you and it's probably because of you you useless fucking child- even if you're pretending to be fine because it's all you know, even if you hate yourself SO FUCKING MUCH THAT IT HURTS SO FUCKING MUCH and regret EVERY WAKING SECOND of your life...
Maybe DON'T do that?? After all, you're gonna be leaving your dog behind- your precious little fur baby Bruno. And on top of that, your parents will think you're an ungrateful, stupid little privileged brat like they always have. You don't want that, do you?
k thx
But what can I say or do in the end?
"In the end, I am just the moon. The real sun is long gone- has long since burnt to ash in the wind. And mayhaps hope might be forever lost, for the sun can never be seen again. And the branches can never bear fruit nor flowers, nor can it cradle the singing doves as it once has.
Things can never go back to the way they were. Time is a cruel, cruel thing, and I have yet to witness it healing me instead of erasing what should be there- instead of warping me beyond recognition. How can it come to this, and where am I going to end up?
Only time can ever tell. And I despise that, I do."
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DPXDC Prompt #108 Part 2
The thought sounded ridiculous and yet Damian found himself unable to completely scoff at the idea. He himself had seen some strange things in his lifetime and it wouldn’t be fair to completely dismiss the idea outright.
“I’m unsure what your point is but I guess I suppose they exist.” Damian eventually said.
Danny chuckled at this, “I guess you're not from Amity Park huh?” he joked.
Damian scoffed, “I’ve never even heard of that place but I gather that’s where I am at the moment?” He mentally filed the name to search later.
“Yeah, born and raised. Anyways, we’re the most haunted city in America. Ghost’s are real, you’ll probably meet one at some point. They’re uh… kind of attracted to me? Kind of like… “ He trailed off for a moment, likely lost in thought trying to come up with an example. Damian was going to call him out for spacing, they were probably running out of time before one of his siblings or Pennyworth came to check on him. Luckily Danny continued, “Hey, what city am I in right now, maybe there’s a comparison I can use?” Danny asked.
“Tt, did you not even think to use GPS to find your location before calling me?” Damian scoffed, his supposed ‘soulmate’ was incompetent, “You're in Gotham.”
“Gotham? Well I guess you could compare them to Batman’s rogues then, however they tend to play a little rough. It’s kind of how ghost’s bond.” Danny’s explanation made it sound like he was the one roughhousing with these ghosts. He wasn’t quite sure where this was going but he let him continue, “so well… this next part’s kind of hard to explain especially without proof but well… I’m what the other ghost’s call a halfa. I’m half ghost half human.”
Damian opened his mouth to retort, the notion that you could be half dead was ridiculous really. But as soon as he opened his mouth a cold blue wisp wafted out of his mouth shocking him. An unfamiliar feeling washes over him and he looked down in terror as he started sinking into the bed.
“Explain your power’s now, I appear to be sinking into your bed.” Damian demanded. The feeling was odd, it was almost as if the bed didn’t exist.
“Uh, right, Okay… so, it’s kind of emotion based? Take a few deep breaths and you’ll be able to ease yourself back out.”
Damian did just as Danny instructed and took a few deep breaths. Soon he was able to solidify and sit back up on the bed. Suddenly, a knocking sound was heard through the phone.
Shit, just like he thought, they took too long and one of his siblings came to check on him. He thought it was sweet that they cared, but he’d never voice this thought out loud to anyone.
“Danny, I need you to listen very carefully. I need you to open the door and hand the phone over to them. Don’t say anything, understand?”
“Uh Okay?” Damian could tell Danny was raising an eyebrow at this but he did as Damian told him anyway.
“Uh, Hello?” The voice on the phone said, Damian recognized it as Tim Drake-Waynes.
“Drake, Please step into the room and listen to my instructions,” Damian waited a moment as he heard the door shut. “Alright, meet my soulmate Danny, apparently his parents study soulmates and they did something and now we’re in each other’s bodies.”
He heard Danny sigh, “It was only supposed to strengthen the soulmate pull. It’s not my fault they don’t know about my weird biology.”
“Weird Biology?” Drake parroted, “do they not know you're a meta?”
There was a pause before Danny spoke, “No, I’m not a meta… but for the simplicity of things, and this conversation, sure, you can call me a meta.” There was a tiredness to his voice, as if he had this conversation with someone else before.
“The name’s Tim,” he told Danny, then Drake suddenly said in an excited voice, “hey, let’s let him in on the family secret and prank Bruce. Let’s tell everyone else about it and see how long it takes him to figure out it isn’t you… we’ll have to train Danny of course. If he really is your soulmate he’s going to find out eventually and it might be good to prepare him ahead of time” The idea sounded ridiculous to Damian but at the same time, he was recently having some doubts about his Father’s attention on him. Drake had a point, if Danny really was his soulmate, he’d find out eventually.
__________________________
Danny wasn’t sure what was going on, after he handed the phone off to Tim, they talked about some family secret. Soon Tim hung up the phone and turned to Danny, “Damian say’s Sam and Tucker are there and they’ll call back when he’s back up to speed which means that we need to get up to speed ourselves,” he glared at Danny. Danny, who was still wearing Pajamas stood there as Tim approached him. Once they were a yard apart Tim spoke again, “Listen, the secret I’m about to tell you must not be told to anyone outside of this house, got it?” He fixed a hard glare at Danny.
Danny shrunk back for a moment before a thought occurred to him, “why don’t I tell you my secret as well? Damian is already learning by now and since you're his brother you’ll probably be able to help out.” Secrets for secrets, that way they would both be afforded some leverage in the situation.
Tim seemed to think for a moment with a hand on his chin, he nodded for a moment before looking up at Danny, “Alright, but tell me yours first.”
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Or: Once upon a time, a man turned himself into a demon for the sake of his husband's soul.
It's been a long time since then.
-
Demons don't really need to sleep, but Roier likes to do it, anyway. It's relaxing, and it reminds him of better times back when he was human and his husband wasn't... well.
Well.
Jaiden doesn't get it, but that's because she's never known what dreams are. Because demons don't sleep and, unlike Roier, she was born a demon. Her and Bobby both were, leaving Roier as the odd one out.
...That's fine! Their loss! Because sleep? Great. Dreams? Even better.
Because, in Roier's dreams, he sees him.
-
(They're in bed, because that was Roier's favorite place to be. He's on his back with his husband laying next to him tracing patterns into his shirt with one finger. Rain patters on the ceiling, and some leaks through into the kitchen and lands in a pot placed conspicuously in the middle of the floor. Their blankets are warm, and so are their hearts.)
-
Roier has been married for almost 500 years. His husband has been dead for 499 of those years, give or take a few months.
They were never legally married; that just wasn't something you did back then. Didn't matter, though, because they wouldn't have been able to afford a wedding even if they could get married.
They were farmers- well, Roier was a farmer. His husband just liked sitting and watching Roier work shirtless in the fields. He'd sit with a pitcher of water waiting by his side should Roier need it, and he'd watch shamelessly for hours at a time, and he was horrible.
And now he's dead.
-
But, see, the first thing Roier asked when arriving in Hell was whether or not the Devil was cool with gay marriage.
"Uh," said Jaiden- and this was their first real conversation post-demoning, okay? So she obviously wasn't as cool as she is now. "Maybe? I don't know. I'd have to ask?"
"Could you?" Roier had asked, freshly deceased and still bleeding from the temples where his horns had just finished growing in. "I'm expecting my husband."
"Right," Jaiden tensely replied. "Your husband."
"Yeah," Roier said, and he tried saying his husband's name, but it just. Wouldn't... what was it again?
-
But that's fine, being a demon is a pretty sweet gig. All Roier has to do is go up to the Mortal Realm and do a few jobs for a few witches, corrupt a few souls. In return, he gets badass magical abilities and immortality.
More importantly, he gets his husband's soul. As soon as he reincarnates back in the Mortal Realm, and as soon as he dies again, he goes to Hell with all of the memories from his previous life with Roier intact, and they finally get their happily ever after.
It's what he would've wanted. Hell might sound terrible, but it's no worse than the Mortal Realm, and its public transportation is actually better, somehow. The busses all run on time, and the subway is free.
More importantly, Roier's husband was the one collecting all those books on summoning demons and making deals with demons and communing with the Devil. Roier just... completed his work for him.
It's the least he could've done, and it was his last chance at seeing him again.
-
Fuck, but what was his name?
-
(They're in the fields, because that was Roier's husband's favorite place to be. Roier is shirtless and bent over a row of seeds that are going to grow up to be corn in a few months, and his husband is on the ground under the apple tree watching him shamelessly. It's sunny out, and there's the smell of smoke in the air.)
-
It's been 500 years since Roier's husband died, and Roier has spent that time trying to remember the name of his husband's killer.
Because, once upon a time, there was a farmer, and there was a witch. Ah, but witches were illegal, you see. They communed with the Devil, and they brought chaos into a world of order.
All Roier remembers is that the person who tied his husband to that pole was in all-white. Not a priest, just someone boring.
That same person was the one who lit the straw at Roier's husband's feet on fire. And they smiled doing so even as Roier dove towards the flames as if he could put them out with his bare hands.
It didn't work. Big surprise there.
-
"So the Devil's fine with you two getting married," Jaiden said after a few days of dealing with demonic bureaucracy, "but I have some bad news for you."
Roier, for the first time since Jaiden slit his throat and converted him, felt fear.
"What is it?" he asked.
She let out a breath, slow, and said, eventually, "Your husband's soul isn't here. He isn't in Heaven, either. Or in any of the other gods' realms."
Roier blinked. "What."
It was not a question.
She threw up her hands. "I don't know! It's like he just... disappeared!"
"Is that why I can't remember his name?" Roier asked. "His soul is fucking gone?"
His hands shook. Jaiden reached out and took them.
"We'll find him," she promised, kind despite her whole 'Is A Demon' thing. "Even if it takes five hundred years."
"Yeah, well, it won't," he scoffed. "I'm going to find him. He promised me a wedding."
-
Souls don't just die. They go to someplace that Roier has only ever heard of: Purgatory.
Once in Purgatory, souls get judged by the Eye of Justice. He asks them questions about their life, and they have to answer truthfully, or he'll feed them to his children.
There are a few options for what comes next.
One: they pass the Eye of Justice's judgement and are allowed to move on to whatever afterlife they believe in.
Two: they pass the Eye of Justice's judgement and are allowed to reincarnate into another life.
Three: they fail the Eye of Justice's judgement and are forcibly sent to reincarnate into the life of a bug or a blade of grass or something else boring and tortuous.
Roier got to skip out on Purgatory entirely because he took the direct line to Hell. But maybe, just maybe, if he had died regularly, he could have seen his husband in Purgatory, and they could have reincarnated together.
...Ugh. Hindsight is a bitch.
-
(Roier is visiting his grandfather when the church bells ring.
"A witch!" he hears a woman scream, and his stomach fell right into his shoes.)
-
It's been 500 years, and Roier has gotten a bit of a reputation among modern witches for being one of the easier demons to work with. He'll help with their problems in exchange for information on a certain lost soul: if they hear from his husband's soul, they summon Roier. Or he'll help in exchange for some book recommendations for his son; Hell has many things, but it does not have a public library.
He isn't a particularly strong demon despite what his only angel friend, Etoiles, might say. Etoiles is just a silly little guy, don't listen to him!
-
(He never even got to say goodbye. They locked eyes as the flames rose, and Roier screamed his name one last time, and he hasn't been able to feel anything since.)
-
Jaiden was the first demon that Roier had ever met.
He was on the floor surrounded by the ashes that used to be his home. His husband's books were in charred tatters around him, but one managed to survive the fire. It was almost supernatural, but, like, yeah. Demon book, of course it was fireproof.
He was bleeding. He had offered his blood, and his soul, to the demon in exchange for his husband's life back.
She sat on the floor with him.
"I can't do that," she gently told him. "Demons can do a lot of things, but we can't perform miracles."
Roier's throat burned: smoke inhalation and grief.
"Oh," he said, small-sounding.
"But I can get his soul to Hell," she offered. "In exchange... you have to go to Hell."
His answer was immediate: "Yes."
She blinked. "I wasn't finished?"
"The answer is still 'Yes'. As long as I'm with him again, I don't care what happens to me."
"You'll have to turn your life over to Satan. You can't just go to Hell. That isn't how it works."
Roier shrugged. "That's fine."
Jaiden gawked for a moment before nodding and standing and extending her hand.
He took it.
And then he died.
-
But it's been 500 fucking years, and now Roier is being summoned by another witch for another deal. He'll probably have to help supply additional magic for some big important spell, that's basically all he's used for these days. He's more than a battery, thanks! He's a demon, he should be out, like, stealing souls and shit.
He goes, anyway, because he has to. If he doesn't, his contract is void, and he won't get to see his husband because he himself will be sent to Purgatory to be judged and, really, he does not want to deal with that. (The Eye of Judgement is fucking creepy, okay?)
There's the familiar pull at Roier's core, and the familiar blinding burst of light as he's yanked into the Mortal Realm, and the familiar smell of brimstone and evil that follows him wherever he goes outside of Hell.
The room is filled with blood red smoke as he appears- his trademark.
(The most important thing to a demon these days isn't evil, it's marketability.)
The witch in front of him, nothing more than a shadow hidden behind the smoke, coughs and wheezes and fans their hand in front of their face.
They're kneeled on the ground in front of a pentagram drawn in... what the fuck is this, strawberry jam?
Roier crouches and sticks a finger into one of the circle's markings. Careful not to break the circle, he pulls his finger out and licks the red stuff on it.
Shocked, he looks at the witch, and he asks, "Dude, what the fuck? Is this blood?"
What happened to chalk!?
The witch coughs at him indignantly. "I needed to make sure I got someone powerful."
Roier rolls his eyes and plops fully onto the ground, criss-cross applesauce. He wipes his blood-covered fingertip on his jeans. Newbies...
"Well, you got me," he says, humble to the core. (He may be a super evil demon now, but he isn't a dick.) "So... what's up? What do you need?"
The smoke in the room slowly starts dissipating, revealing the witch to be a man in what have to be the previous day's clothes. His head is still ducked, and his face is still hidden in his elbow as he coughs, but Roier could almost call him objectively handsome. Shame Roier's married, this guy would be fun to mess around with.
"I need to- fuck-"
The witch coughs one last time before finally managing to get a lungful of clean air. He raises his head, and Roier finally gets a look at his face, and-
"I need your help," the witch says, voice rough and rugged and absolutely heartbreaking. "I need to kill someone, and I need your help to do it."
"Okay," Roier agrees. He doesn't have a choice, being a summoned demon and all, but he doesn't think he could turn this witch down at all, because...
-
("Cellbit!" Roier screams.
He can see his face in his husband's glassy eyes, and then he sees nothing but the flames as they rise over Cellbit's head and drown him whole.)
-
The man with his husband's face frowns, suspicious.
"What," he asks, "just like that?"
Roier grins, fangs and all. "Just like that."
After all, he doesn't think he'll need any payment for this one.
He's finally found what he's been looking for.
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