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"Didn't you say you called off the invasion?" I raise an eyebrow at my husband, who scratches the back of his helmet in embarrassment. It's an entirely human mannerism that I'm pretty sure he's picked up from watching too much human television. It's not like he itches.

Which, to be clear, is extremely unfair.

I had a lot of backup plans, he mumbled. You can't expect me to remember all of them.

"You keep a literal calendar marked with every single anniversary we have that you could think of," I remind him. "You had a day marked 'first time we sat in comfortable silence', and three different days for the times we went swimming and had to fight off lake spirits. Different day for every different method we used."

I didn't want to forget them! the Dark Lord protested. Besides, what's the point of all the blank spaces on calendars if you don't use them?

I sigh, but I can't help but smile a little. It's sweet, really; it's been almost a decade of being together, and he's still fascinated by the smallest little things. He painstakingly catalogues every butterfly he encounters, captures beetles to release them back into the wild, and cultivates our garden with the smallest touch of magic, encouraging new, hybrid flowers to grow.

His joy every time he sees something new is infectious.

"Is this guy bothering you, my Lord?" one of the demons asks. Presumably the leader. He stands up straight and puffs out his chest, his horns scraping against the ceiling; I wince at the dust and plaster that action brings down on his head. Half of it ignites on contact, not that the demon seems to care.

What? No! You're the ones bothering me, my husband says. Didn't you get the notice? I called off the invasion years ago. We're not doing this anymore.

"What?" the demon frowns. It's an ugly kind of frown, and the rest of the invading force shifts and murmurs, in a way that I do not like. There's a restless kind of energy permeating the air, the kind that comes from sadism unfulfilled.

"They're not going to leave peacefully," I mutter, the words half to myself. My husband hears me anyway, and he steps halfway in front of me, protective. He doesn't need to, but I appreciate the gesture.

"You signed a contract," the demon hissed. His body seemed to grow, and he took a thundering step forward, bringing another rain of debris down on the floor.

I wonder, in an abstract sort of way, if the demon understands that he looks ridiculous. There's a giant chunk of ceiling on his head, for crying out loud.

And I dissolved it, Nathei says. He draws himself up to his full height - almost but not quite enough to reach the ceiling; we'd built the house like this for a reason - and steps forward as well. You are no longer contractually obligated to stay on this plane, and if you don't leave, I'm going to make you.

"I am also here," I add cheerfully, waving. I look tiny next to Nathei. I should really get him to haunt a less massive suit of armor, but I'm kind of partial to this one, I have to admit.

"You?" The demon snorts, turning to my husband. "I have a thousand troops ready for you to unleash on the world. If you do not unleash us, that force will be undirected, and I guarantee you will not like who it strikes first."

His gaze slides to me. The threat is obvious, and I feel Nathei stiffen; he doesn't like it when anyone threatens me.

I'm a little more concerned about something else, because I've realized that if they have a thousand troops, there's no way they're all standing in our lawn without trampling on the garden...

...aaand there it is. Yup. Just a horde of them out there, standing on Nathei's flowers.

I sigh.

"Okay," I say. Nathei hasn't responded to the demon, and I make my way up in front of him, crossing my arms. "Y'all need to get out. You're not welcome here. Go back to your home plane or whatever."

"And who do you think you are, human?"

"I'm the fucking Chosen One, dipshit."

The banishing spell strikes, and all one thousand of the would-be invaders cease to exist.

In this plane, anyway.

"Nathei..."

My voice is soft. The Dark Lord kneels in front of the crushed bed of flowers, staring at them rather despondently; I sigh. I know how important they are to him, and it kills me that I didn't think to install some sort of protective ward over them.

Though to be fair, I hadn't exactly expected an entire invading force to land on our doorstep.

It's fine, he tells me. We'll just grow a new one.

"This one was important to you, though." I take a flower from the bed - the one that seems healthiest and least crushed. The stem is a little broken, but the petals are nearly entirely intact; they're a wonderful mixed shade of blue and pink and white. It's one of his favorites, if I remember correctly, because they remind him of me.

A small application of healing magic heals the broken stem. "We'll keep this one for the next flowerbed," I say. "And install some wards next time."

Thank you. Nathei composed himself. Some would say I care too much.

"Yeah, well, fuck 'em." I shrug. "They didn't spend thirty years under a perception curse that prevented them from seeing anything positive about the world."

Nathei is silent for a moment. Do you have any leads yet on that?

I don't look at him when I respond.

"Yeah," I say. "I think... I think it might be one of the gods."

“What’s going on?” I proclaim, confused. My body violently shook at the beasts before me. “This is none of your concern, please go upstairs” my wife tried to push me away. I see. So the heretics weren’t lying, such a shame. It truly hurts to see us as enemies; not allies. My heart aches at the idea of what I’m about to do, but my beliefs cry out for justice. “My mother was killed by a monster just like these. A tall, bulky orc” I muttered. “What are you talking about? I though your mother left when you were younger” “Ahh yes. A lie” I unsheathed my blade. “Princess of devils, my love, I will make this painless” a single tear rushed down my cheek. Hastily, I drove my black blade through the foul beasts of hell as inched towards the love of my life. Violently, my body shook, throwing me off tempo, yet the show had to continue. This tragic end was written in blood, engraved into fate. I know there is nothing after this, no heaven nor hell, those worlds are simply fractions of ours, living and breathing parts of it. “My love” I whispered into her ear and I drove the blade of the church through her tainted body. I felt a sharp pain in my stomache as I caressed her cheek. As I peered down, I saw an orc’s tooth piercing my abdomen, held in my lover’s hand. “My…dear” I whispered, “Such pain. I haven’t even the time to process this” I received no reply, “my…dear?” I looked up to see a lifeless face of beauty. Slowly, I rested her body on the cold, wooden ground. Outside, masses of monsters surrounded our home. “It seems I haven’t much longer left” I muttered to myself, “I will see you soon my love”. Slowly, I moved my hand into my pocket, retrieving a syringe filled with an orange liquid; I moved it up to my arm, forcing the need deep into a vein, then pushing the liquid in. Instantly, I felt my genetic code alter, I was about to lose my humanity. The last hurrah of a dying man; I will kill them as the very thing I hate; a monster.

Any tips for writing romantic moments,guy?Cuz this is pretty good

To quote Douglas Adams:

"But, thought Dirk, what god? And why?"

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Oh, I’m loving this! I would definitely read more.

Cool.

Ngl I would read the hell out of a book like this. I am genuinely in love with the chemistry you've created in such a short time.

>"Yeah, well, fuck 'em." I shrug. "They didn't spend thirty years under a perception curse that prevented them from seeing anything positive about the world."

POV: you have depression and you didn't expect to be called out at r/WritingPrompts of all places