Chapter Text
He really did it now.
The once chance he had of a proper redo, to start back off with a clean state and he completely fucking ruined it.
It was just a simple miss click.
How ironic.
The very thing Mariana used to justify the murdering of their child; Slime now uses to justify his own murder of Tilin. He knew from the moment that he couldn’t revive the small egg that it was all over. He was too caught up in the moment, too caught up in protecting the eggs that instead he ended up killing one of them.
And worse, it was by his own sword.
All it took was single hit and Tilin was down.
It was all too much. Juanaflippa’s sign bearing the words ‘you killed my cousin!’, Roier’s fury and Bobby’s taser whipped out and ready. They all hated him, and he didn’t blame them, he wasn’t fit to look after anyone let alone his own child. He knew what had to be done; he had to let go of his family once and for all. The universe couldn’t have been clearer in their message, couldn’t have been more cruel in their deliverance. Only he with his shit luck could’ve possibly killed another child after just getting his own one back.
A life for a life except it wasn’t with him or wife, but rather with Tilin’s.
Quackity would fucking kill him once he found out.
And he doesn’t blame him in the slightest, in fact he gladly welcomes it if the winged parent would kill him right now. He deserved to rot in hell and be punished for everything that he’s ever done, to be held accountable for his inexcusable actions. Not even Mariana would take him back after this, after all their efforts to fix things, Slime still fucks it all up.
Everything was ruined.
And it was all his fault.
But he promised his daughter he would correct things and fuck it all he would!
Throughout his exile in the desert, Slime gathered all the ingredients he would need for this particular ritual. It was simple, all he needed to do was trade his soul for Tilin’s and everything could be perfect again. Nothing else mattered.
He placed the torches around him, previously clearing out the sand around him so that the ground was even. He had waited till nightfall and the moon was full, hoping to increase his chances of a successful ritual. Closing his eyes, the slime began chanting the words loudly across the desert plains, echoing through the silent night. He could feel the torches start to burn brighter, increasing in size as the flames reached towards the stars almost as if they were grabbing them. The warmth surrounded him, suffocating him and taking all the breath from out his lungs; he was almost there, he could feel the otherworldly presence around him.
“Hmph, calling so soon? Was my present not good enough for Juanaflippa, she is alive again, right?”
Oh, how he fucking hated this guy.
There he floated proudly above him, clasping his hands behind his back mockingly, in all his red burning glory with his sharp grin that promised pain and black soulless eyes that knew all the sins of the world.
Slime didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to, Satan always knew what a person desired, it was his ‘power’. Glaring up at the horned creature, Charlie could feel himself slowly losing grasp over his own body, could feel himself start to slowly drip into the sand, could feel himself turning less into a human and more into a slime.
His original form.
“Ah I see now, you are not here as the ‘Slimecicle’, but as the ‘Dios del Limo’ correct?”
God of Slime.
An old name that meant nothing to him.
He was only Mother Nature’s favourite child, her favourite creation and as such was granted the gifts of a God. He didn’t earn it, he didn’t win any battles or create kingdoms under his name, he only had a small village that cherished him like a king, but they were all long dead now. No one ever referred to him as a god of anything anymore. It was an empty name to match an empty being.
“You know what I want.”
“Unfortunate what happened to them, Tilin, I thought you didn’t like child sacrifices?”
“Shut the fuck up! Just fucking bring her back, it was my mistake, and I can deal with the consequences.”
“Mother Nature must be so disappointed in you.”
“Shut up!”
“I didn’t even ask you to kill this one.”
The slimy God clenched his fists tightly watching as his once human hands melted into each other, joining the rest of his body. Every passing moment was becoming harder and harder for the new God to maintain his form, he was only seconds away from just letting go. Though he doesn’t know why he even tries in the first place, there’s no one else around for him to worry about anyway. Slime just needed to feel in control of something, everything was slipping from his grasp. So lost in agony the pour soul didn’t realise how close the Satanic God was getting towards him, not until he felt his hot breath across the back of his neck.
“Tu agonía huele delicioso.”
Charlie stiffened up, it was times like these that reminded the slime of this powerful being in front of him and how easily the man could kill him. Satan’s flames were a definite weakness for the Slime God and they both knew it. Already, he could feel the fire from the torches start to affect his liquid body; he was suddenly filled with the thought that Satan could just kill him right now. But he knew that he wouldn’t, the God of Hell liked to play with his prey and right now Slimecicle was his.
A clawed hand quickly reached out and grasped Slime’s chin, forcing him back to make eye contact with the flamed prince, who’s eyes revealed the pits of hell itself.
This was it.
“I want to bring Tilin back alive in exchange for my life.”
“Gods do not die.”
“Then I will no longer be one.”
“¿Ya no serás qué?”
Charlie swore to his daughter that he would do anything to make things right, he promised at Tilin’s grave that he would help him, he promised he wouldn’t even backflip until he undid everything. He would give up anything for his nephew and everything for his daughter. Nothing else mattered to him anymore.
He’s lived long enough.
“I will no longer be a God.”
“Trato.”
It all happened too quickly for Slimecicle to comprehend, with Satan still gripping his chin, his other hand reached out towards Slime’s chest.
Agony.
It was all agony.
The flames coated his body from the inside and out, burning away his immortality and taking away all the lives he’s lived. He tried to pry himself away from the demon, tugging at the arm inside his chest but there was no hope, no escape. He could feel himself spasming, jolting from the pain, scream after scream was ripped from his throat. His own body couldn’t decide on his human form or his slime one, shifting between the two rapidly.
His lives were flashing before his eyes, all his countless deaths slamming into him, forcing him to relive everything once again. Impalement, burning, shot wounds, poison, falling, the pain swirled inside his body, clouding him in unbearable pain.
It went on throughout the night and the next day and the next, three straight days of back-to-back torture that only seemed to stop once Slime finally blacked out.
The last thing he remembers was the sound of Satan’s voice.
“Fuiste un buen padre.”
He sounded almost regretful.