Prompt 10 (Hostile Garlands) : Festive garland has been hung all around the city. Destiny City has never skimped on their decor, and this year is no different. What is different is the way some of the garland seems to slither around the poles and arches it's hung on. Maybe it looks like an optical illusion at first, or maybe it’s just so strange that it doesn’t seem like it can be real, but it doesn’t take long to figure out that that’s not any ordinary garland–it has eyes, and teeth, and it’s the strangest looking snake you’ve ever seen but that doesn’t really matter when it’s attacking you. It is fast, and aggressive, and it blends in perfectly. Sometimes it seems like it’s five feet long, sometimes twenty; it doesn’t seem to have any venom, but its fangs are long and if it wraps around you it can be very constricting. There’s no telling what it wants, but it sure does seem to like to fight. Note: The snake is not a youma but can be used as a battle requirement for a character. It can only be used as a battle if there are two powered characters involved; you cannot write a solo and count this as a battle, and your character must be powered to count this for a battle. If you repeat the prompt with the same character, only one will count for a battle requirement. The snake will always disappear before it can be caught.
It had already been a lengthy night for draining every drop he could around the city, and Faustite was exhausted from it when he returned. Having teleported himself just beyond the door of their timeless, perpetually in-progress Sunken City home, Faustite stumbled beyond Albite's cheeky welcome mat with the wave of dizziness that struck him. It'd be fine. He'd be fine, he reminded himself. He could sleep early, just as soon as he cleaned out one of the upstairs closets.
It only took a week of asking and reminding him for the task to make it onto Faustite's perpetually cluttered internal radar, and while he was always pressed for time, he knew he had better make some now or face a wrathful spouse. Much as he adored his husband, he couldn't expect Albite to have the patience of a saint.
So Faustite, with his leaden legs, trudged up the stairs. A few of them creaked and groaned as if they might give out just for the hell of it, and he thought he heard a squeak like one of the youma rats, but he dismissed it on his way up to the landing. Then he was down another hallway, half-thinking about knocking out the expansive floor shared between the bedrooms and making a balcony of a u-shaped hallway, and he was through another door before he even finished the thought.
This was the room. This barren, dusty, crumbling piece of s**t room was the one that Albite wanted to work on next. It was supposed to be a cat room for the two furry little shitbags who were on the team. Or maybe that was the other room, and this one was supposed to be for Jada? Faustite couldn't remember anymore. The only thing that stuck was that the rooms had to be cleaned out before they could do anything with them, because that was the only thing that made sense. Anything else that fell out of Albite's face was pure nonsense, easily ignored until Faustite could put the boy's mouth to more useful tasks.
Faustite sauntered over to the closet — a built-in with double doors similar to the ones framing the rest of the rooms. "Whatever, just do it," he told himself as he threw open the set, then was promptly knocked up his feet and buried under a veritable waterfall of detritus, broken trinkets, and tchotchkes from a bygone era.
Only his left arm was exposed, stuck up out of the mountain of the physical equivalent to Albite's words. A muffled yell came loose from the garbage heap: "Albite!!"
shiningamsigirl
Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2022 4:07 am
Hark the herald hellions sing, glory to a newborn something — and he was humming a massacre of Christmas songs because it‘twas the ******** season! The third all up in his head, clogged tight and peppermint fresh thoughts. A whole Turkish delights worth of rose sugar and powdered snow plums and — Albite blinked at the sound that was definitely not the cry of a rat meeting an unfortunate end at the end of one of Cerbs talons claws. He checked his phone, his earbuds, his — oh — the muffled scream was real; he was so used to auras coming and going at this point, more importantly he was used to Faustites own signature —
Waru knew it like the rolling swells of lines that made up the thumbprints burned stark white and pink edged into his flesh, felt it easy as a ghosted kiss and soft-seared flame of a touch on his senses. He didn’t question its presence anymore than he turned his head to look at the ebb and swell of it in his home — their homes — Faustites, their teams; the feel of his husband belonged there the same as the Rift dust n catfur flyaways —- poor itty bitty hayball got all puffed up n put out this time of year (growing a winter coat was a right b***h of a thing.)
So hearing the cry? Knowing it was strange enough to get him taking the squeaky rat ridden stairs at pace, but not yet frantic enough that he was going to teleport straight to it….
The u-bend hall tucked into the room, and it took him a moment go find the source. He let that moment stretch as his eyes adjusted, and his smile grew.
“Yanno, Firebrand?”
The whole moment was too ******** cute for words!
“Love of my heart, light of my soul…” heel-toe steps deeper in, a timely saunter that spared seconds while he assessed the direness of the situation, “if you really didn’t want to have to clean out the closet all on your own? All you had to do was ask for help.”
He wasn’t going to laugh, he wasn’t going to laugh, he wasn’t —- and they were married so technically he had a legal right to laugh at his partners dilemma. Quietly. To laugh quietly at his partners scree of anguish from beneath the mounting pile and holy ******** how long had some of this been there?!
“C—heh-cause you don’t have to pretend to die to get outta it. I’ll totally help,” that was what a husband was supposed to do, wasn't it? And if Waru took a quick picture before, just the hand rising from the cloy of debris and disused junk piled on and on and over into a mound — well — he’d ensure that only himself and a trusted few saw it. A nice firm reminder that their boy was only ever human and could be brought hilariously low by simple things, it’d make Waru feel that much better the next time he got stuck talking n chewing gum - some tasks were damned hard to manage at once! Or an under-appreciated talent, so far as he was concerned.
“See —- here’s me helping,” and he did find his center balance in a low crouch, reaching out to take his beloveds hand and pull. Till he could see a wrist, an elbow, an — his grip slipped when something tugged the ******** back — but no, it was just his boy ******** around with him. It was fun. It was fine. Waru snickered for the game and reached in with both hands - to give Faustite an anchor and edge, and maybe to grope just a little bit at the cloth that kept his husband so latched n leathered away, because hey, why not for once take advantage of a situation that benefited him?
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Posted: Tue Dec 20, 2022 8:06 am
Faustite spat out some of the dust that made its way into his mouth when the closet opened up into a torrential downpour of Things Forgotten to Time. "Wasn't ******** expecting that, dear," he choked out between mouthfuls. "Pull me out already." Faustite beckoned with a claw.
He couldn't even see Albite, but he felt the smugness in the boy's voice. Like he'd just happened upon the greatest show on earth, all because Faustite walked into a boobytrapped bedroom closet expecting it to be as empty and dusty as the rest of the room. All because whoever lived here last was a ******** hoarder but forgot to unpack their closet hoard before they left. Or maybe whatever interdimensional mayhem brought the damned house here had neglected to clean it out more thoroughly before dumping it in their region of the hellpit that was the Dark Kingdom.
Whatever. Didn't matter. Didn't undo what was done.
"Ugh," he spat, "You're going to help, then I'm going to throw all these ******** youma back into the ******** Rift because they're not doing their ******** jobs! Freeloading bastards think they can get energy for leaving this damned mess in a closet for me to find…" In all honesty, he'd expect that if the youma had anything to do with this mountain of trash, they'd have set it up for Albite to be the one to get buried.
Finally his oaf of a husband got a grip on his hand and started pulling him out of the mess. Got a little too into it, too, but Faustite bit back his irritation. Albite was just playing around, the way Albite was always playing around. Until Faustite felt something tug him back toward the pile of garbage and much more firmly into Albite's hand, and he squeaked out something terribly humbling.
He would deny that to everyone. Even in the face of evidence.
They both heard a hiss that grew in pitch. Then part of the mound of crap shifted, and emerging from under the shell of a broken plate was a snake youma that was likewise wrapped in sage green tinsel. It wore a tree-topper star in a lopsided fashion, and its gaze was fixed on the senshi pulling at its General. "Mine," it hissed, and gave another tug on Faustite's foot for emphasis.
shiningamisgirl
Posted: Wed Feb 15, 2023 12:17 pm
He would never tell a soul that Faustite was too ******** cute. Even more so when he was suffering in a way Waru was sure could do no harm; his precious husband wielding all his sharpest tones just so. All pissy n playful-like with the pet-names. He loved it, for the rare domestic moment it was. For the way Faustite looked a rare sort of dainty buried under all that mess...
Smother-able. Maybe later in kisses instead of now in the debris of the long dead and ghostly.
Waru couldn't help but be doe eyed and slow about it, all teasing tugs and a lackadaisical application of strength that could've been a stronger pull if he'd let it. There was just something about Faustite hurrying him on at the end of a claw with all sorts of hidden stiletto sweetness that just -- well -- it made him more eager to play than be of any true help in the matter. Even elbow deep, with both hands, humming little noises that were the equivalate of 'yes dears' to his own ears while Faustite vented on the failings of their (and they had become a bit like over-fattened pigeons of late) steadily growing youma menagerie.
He might legitimately help his beloved with that one, just to make a point of dominance. Though he thought he might also pull up with Cerbs and watch the fire-show that he knew'd ensue from the tower windows---
Then the pile legit pulled back hard enough that he felt his grip slip -- and followed Faustites (frankly adorable) squeak with his own snarl as the pile spoke, grew, hissed out 'mine'! <******** me?"
Eyes-wide, the words were barked free as he lashed himself to his boy, and the snake was right there for dusting like some muppet sock of Christmas's past, but Albites magic, as always, betrayed him. Chose to cling to the nearest thing that was Faustite in a bout of Binding Retribution.
Suddenly Albite had good reason to pull.
"The hell he is! He's my general-husband. Go get your own!"
Like hell some sentient, dustable, tinsle-b***h of a wreath was laying claim on what was very clearly *his*!
Waru decided they were going to have to start having open and honest conversations about who --- or what -- Faustite chose to bring home. Especially when Waru knew he was part of that youma-friend-hoarding problem. Like every time he ran into the reservoir creature heretofore unnamed (thomas, it's name was thomas), or pinkie-pie the ceiling squinge, or -- and apparently there'd been some business with a centipede? A whip-tailed scorpion? Whatever!
Conversations were going to be happening -- just once he got his boy free!
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Posted: Wed Feb 15, 2023 1:07 pm
Albite sort of obeyed, in the way that Albite only ever sort of obeyed. He followed orders as if they were suggestions, in this case, the suggestion being that he pull Faustite out of a pile of closet garbage. He followed it by halfassedly pantomiming pulling Faustite out of the heap, which only pulled a profusion of what the ******** and hurry ups and come ons from the fiery boy helplessly buried in s**t.
Until that youma rose from the other end. This time, the suggestion was followed with palpable force.
The strength by which Albite's magic wrenched him from the mess had crushed the breath out of him in a tone-tinted wheeze, his fires flickering for a moment as if starved of oxygen. With him came the wreath-snake, its tree topper decoration long since fallen off, yet it still clung steadfast to the General's foot. Unable to speak at the moment, Faustite managed a few tepid kicks.
They did nothing to remove the snake youma from his foot. Neither did Albite's yelling, or the magic that constrained Faustite. They were both caught in awkward, and Faustite had to think about what was to come.
Then he had an idea. The boy shifted to pure fire, from which the snake dropped off with a hurt hiss. "Piss off," he commanded the creature. "Shoo, back to the ******** Rift!" With a somewhat constrained wave of his hand, the youma was sent back to the place it should be calling ******** me," the flamebound thing sighed with an audible crackle and wick. "Thanks for that." Kissing the boy was out of the question when he was made of pure flame, but the sentiment lingered nonetheless.
Though there was still the ******** mess to clean up afterward. Faustite's attention fell on it with disinterest, for much of it were rotten knickknacks and broken-open storage containers that were just more filth to remove. Lying out next to the snake youma's discarded Christmas ornament, however, looked like an ancient, if ornate, holder for something. Faustite remembered seeing something like it in an art store, once; maybe he could use that as a new pen sometime.
"Think I'll keep the pen thing and burn the rest. Thoughts?"
shiningamisgirl
Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2023 3:39 am
<********>
The yelp of surprise for the suddenness of events unfolding; like the sound one made when finding the stove too hot to the touch. Albite nearly kicked over onto his own a**. Eventually levered himself up into a crouched position -- staring -- amazed and bemused as he always was (as he always would be) by the fact that his husband was living, breathing, crackling fire incarnate. The seconds he got lost in it made up for as he heard the snake leave pissily.
"Yeah! ******** you snake b***h!! Get gone!" because if he didn't get his two cents in, the last word. A firm nod and championed grin for having done the thing and done it right! The pile of s**t that lived in hoarders nightmares got given the middle finger, no, two middle fingers, double birds far as the eye could see -- just in case the snake made a return and had something pithily hissy to say. Youma could be snarky ******** when they wanted to be....
And not just the youma who was his husband.
"Awwh, anytime Firebrand. Next time I'll be quicker on the draw with that. I seriously didn't think anything could be alive in there..the actual hell..." and he pantomimed blowing Faustite a kiss as he leaned close, moth to a flame, dodging far enough around the shiver-worthy scorch of his boys form enough to get a good look at the pile. All the things incorporated in it's heaping, overflowing, heft.
How had anyone on any plane of existence fit so much s**t in one little closet?
"I wonder -- is this like where our stuff in subspace goes? Like, an ancient trash room instead of a pocket dimension...Ooh, yeah! It's pretty. It could hold all your nibs real nice, or little things...paperclips...catnip..." the bottle was actually really pretty, and Waru was listening, watching, answering even as he began to tilt open lids with a grimace and shove debris over. Looking for more diamonds at the bottom of a donkey heap, just in case.
"We just gotta make sure to rinse it out beforehand. Don't want any ghost cooties stayin stuck in it..." he made a disgusted face as he touched something decidedly too fuzzy and yet not fuzzy enough to be either a clothing article or a dead animal, that got tossed back against the closet wall with a stale crack of sound following it.
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Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2023 4:00 am
Faustite couldn't stifle a laugh at Albite's insistence that he show his dominance. It would've been a good try if youma ever took senshi seriously, as anything other than threats to their existence. Either the snake pretended not to hear him, or it slipped into its passage to the Rift fast enough to make it look like it didn't. Whatever the case, the closet was theirs now, and all of the s**t on the floor, too.
Faustite reformed into Boy from Fire, then bent down to pick up the stick-holder-pen. It looked more like half a pen, with all manner of gilding and ornate carving. The damask pattern was a touch reminiscent of his own uniform. Faustite dismissed that particular piece of interest to subspace, then nearly choked when Albite made his next comment.
"If all my s**t went into a room in a house? Then it best be someone's ******** pantry." Or it would be afterward — all the food he'd packed into that b*****d of a space would last a whole yet, like a bomb shelter worth of food to feed a family of four. Not that he was going to admit to that. Or even inform Albite that he would share his stash of beef jerky, canned soup, and MREs with the boy if they'd managed the apocalypse together. He was certain Albite could intuit that much, anyway.
Faustite stepped up behind his boy, then tapped him lightly on the shoulder with a bent claw. "Out," he instructed. "Lest you want to be burnt to a crisp." Wouldn't be surprised, though, if he did.
Faustite would eat that crisp.
shiningamisgirl
Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2023 9:48 am
"Yeahhh--a pantry'd be about right considering it's you. Remind me to get us a deep freezer when he chance comes around, kay?" grimacing as he stood, paced his thoughts from the mess on the floor to what people'd done in the past to keep their s**t cold. They had the cooler -- how it was holding up -- but basement freezers n blocks of ice had been a thing of times long since, and there had to be a way to make it work here more efficiently than he was. Maybe if he got something large enough to keep a whole entire cow in? No, wait, the pieces of a cow. Maybe pig? Maybe....and just like that, the pile was as forgotten as the sparkly bit of pen holder his beloved pocketed away for tomorrow. Dusting of what clung to his hands from all the touching unceremoniously against one of his many sashes.
It was magical bullshit n mind glitter that made up an outfit, he'd long since learned, so if it got dirty? He could just poof himself in n out n in n-- he tilted into the gentle bend of a claw, looking from fire made into flesh into those deep ember eyes. It took Waru far too long of blinking before Faustites instructions penetrated the tank-thick armor of his thoughts.
"Wh--oh! Oh, yeah, ********, m'gone!" knowledge swelling like a slow song as he turned heel and -- would the first wall be far enough? Should he teleport downstairs? Should he get the fire-extinguisher now, just in case?
"Okay! I'm good!", first wall was close enough outta the room for his liking, that way if things went wrong he'd be close enough to hear it n do something more than gawk at his freshly on fire home from the front lawn.
And if he got a little singed?
That thought drove him to move a bit further out than the first wall -- by just a smidge -- not that Albite doubted how delicious a bit he would've been at the bottom of a fryer, but the smell of burnt hair got to him sometimes. That n he had s**t to do today that didn't involve bathing in an oversized tub cool water n a healthy slathering of burn-be-gone-goo.
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Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2023 3:30 pm
Was Waru looking to store a butcher shop in their house? What did he need a deep freezer for? Was he going to pack Faustite in there?
Those thoughts were abandoned to vague curiosity as the boy finally understood what Faustite had meant and scurried out of the room. Faustite watched fondly; the boy was so adorable and endearing by his mannerisms, from his slow-on-the-uptake responses to how he grew so animated about the damndest things, like the snake youma. The fiery boy had no reason to complain about watching him leave, either. Once that boy was out of sight, it was time to cremate everything in the room.
The house was ancient — built of brick and stone and mortar. Faustite doubted the place would burn down if he introduced a little fire, so he drew on what energy he had to fill the area with torrents of fire. Once flame burst out of him, it licked over the walls and devoured the detritus covering the floor, leaving only scattered ash in its wake. Faustite waited, expending more seconds of his energy, to ensure there would be nothing left of the mess. And once he felt the exhaustion of having burnt out half his core creep into his bones, Faustite halted the immolation. Breathing a heavy sigh, he looked at what was left.
Mostly ash had been swirled about the room, looking like a pain to sweep. Apart from that, however, there was very little — a couple broken metal boxes, some old carved stones. Someone's ancient metal hair stick.
Faustiet walked out to where Albite had been cowering under the cover of the wall. "Your turn. Bring a broom. Meet you in the bedroom after." He wanted to lay down for a while, maybe see what there was to see about that half of a pen that they'd found among the garbage. Maybe they could make it into something useful, like Albite had been saying, but Faustite's goals were loftier than a catnip holder.
