#bleach bath by spirit box

[samanthasgone]

My 2022 YouTube music recap

[polyphages]

And I was foolish enough to think iwrestledabearonce was finished ..

[samwisethewitch]

Earth-Friendly Witchcraft

Whatever religious or spiritual tradition they identify with, most witches agree that there is something sacred about the natural world. We draw our power from the earth beneath our feet, the sky over our heads, and the air in our lungs.

And yet, many of us live in societies that are actively contributing to the destruction of the natural world. Most developed nations have a linear economy, which means resources are extracted and then sent on a one-way trip to consumers who will use them and then throw them away. This leads to overflowing landfills, air and water pollution, and quickly disappearing resources. The World Economic Forum predicts that, if our habits don’t change, there will be more plastic than fish in the ocean by 2050. And I dearly hope that by now we’re all familiar with the reality of climate change and its devastating impact on global ecosystems.

I’m not trying to scare you, but I do want to point out the hypocrisy of drawing power from the Earth in our magic while simultaneously contributing to her destruction. If we truly want to consider ourselves spiritual allies of the planet, we need to make an effort to live our lives — and practice our magic — in ways that are less harmful to her.

You don’t have to become an environmentalist or switch to a zero waste lifestyle, but we can all make little changes for a more sustainable life. There’s lots of information out there about how to live a more Earth-friendly lifestyle, so in this post I’ll be focusing on how to apply that same philosophy to your witchcraft.

Steps to a more Earth-Friendly Practice:

Limiting your consumption will automatically lower your negative impact on the planet. Follow my previous guidelines for avoiding consumerism to start shrinking your carbon footprint.

Avoid plastic as much as possible. According to the WEF, 70% of our plastic ends up in a landfill or in the world’s waterways, and according to Julia Watkins, author of Simply Living Well, only 9% of household plastics get recycled. Plastic (unlike glass and metal) cannot be recycled indefinitely — it can only be recycled a handful of times before it becomes too degraded to be repurposed any further. There really is no way to make plastic safer for the planet, so it’s best to just avoid it altogether. Look for tools made of metal, wood, or glass instead of plastics, and try to order things shipped in paper and cardboard when possible.

Create spells that won’t leave leftovers. One of the big contributing factors to our current environmental crisis is that we just produce too much waste. You can avoid this in your magical practice by crafting spells that won’t leave you throwing away a big ball of candle wax, herbs, and paper. Kitchen magic is a no-brainer for this, since kitchen spells are meant to be eaten. If you want to do a candle spell, use small candles that will burn up completely — I find larger candles are more likely to leave leftover wax. Making magical bath salts is another great option for leftover-free spells — just make sure everything you include is safe to go down the drain and won’t contribute to water pollution!

Forage for your own spell materials. One of the best ways to avoid plastic packaging and cut down on emissions from shipping is to use materials from your backyard! Learn about the plants, animals, and minerals native to your area, and take regular nature walks where you can gather what you need. Remember to only take as much as you need and to be careful never to damage the plants you harvest from. Make sure to carefully disinfect any animals bits you pick up — you can do this by burying them in salt for a full moon cycle and/or setting them in the sun/under a UV light for several days. If you find a dead animal and want to strip and clean its bones for use in ritual, this is a much more involved process and will require special research, equipment, and lots of time. And, of course, never eat anything you have foraged unless you happen to have an advanced degree in botany.

Keep a magical garden. Another great way to connect with the planet and shrink your carbon footprint is to grow your own herbs, vegetables, and fruits. You can, of course, grow food for your kitchen if you have space, but even if you live in a tiny apartment you can grow a handful of magical herbs in pots. For a list of common houseplants and their magical associations, check out this post.

Shop for spell materials at a local farmer’s market. Buying local is a great way to avoid the environmental impact of shipping produce, and it allows you to support small farms. Farmer’s markets also typically carry seasonal produce, which can help you align your magical practice with the cycles of nature. Farmer’s markets are a great way to find seasonal fruits and vegetables for kitchen magic, but you can use the produce you find there for other types of spells as well.

Trade paraffin wax candles for beeswax or soy wax. Paraffin, the material used for most cheap candles, is a by-product of crude oil, which is not only highly unsustainable but contains carcinogens (chemicals that may cause cancer). Beeswax is a sustainable alternative, and beeswax candles produce a “clean” burn, meaning it does not negatively affect air quality. Soy wax is a slightly pricier, vegan-friendly sustainable option that also produces a clean burn.

Use undyed, unbleached paper for your written spells. The bleaches and dyes used in most commercially available paper have a toxic effect on the environment. Colored paper cannot be recycled or composted because it will contaminate everything it touches. Use plain, unbleached paper for your written spells, especially if you plan to bury them in the ground or dispose of them outside.

Make sure your essential oils are ethically harvested. Essential oils are tricky — although they are marketed as natural, many of them are produced through unsustainable methods. Because essential oils are concentrated, it may take thousands of pounds of plants to produce a single pound of oil. This can have a devastating impact, especially for endangered plants like white sage or palo santo. Look for ethically-sourced, wild-harvested essential oils — these are oils that are gathered from the wild in ways that don’t hurt the local ecosystem. Mountain Rose Herbs and Eden’s Garden are two brands that are committed to sustainable essential oil production.

Instead of burying a spell in a jar, bury it in a hollowed-out fruit or vegetable. Many traditions call for spells to be buried in the ground. Items like jar spells and witch bottles are traditionally buried on the witch’s property. The problem with this is that plastic and glass bottles do not biodegrade, and will remain in the ground for years. Instead of putting these materials in the ground, bury your spells in a hollowed-out fruit or vegetable. As a bonus, you can choose this item to support your intention. For example, you might use an apple for a love spell or a spicy pepper for protection. Just make sure everything inside the spell is also biodegradable!

Keep a compost pile as an offering to your local land spirits. Compost is an easy way to reduce food waste, and it gives your garden a boost! Even if you don’t have your own garden, you can give your compost to a fiend who does or look into donating it to a community garden. When composting, it’s important to maintain a balance between carbon-rich “brown” ingredients (leaves, undyed paper, cardboard, etc.) and nitrogen-rich “greens” (fruit and veggie scraps, coffee grounds, egg shells, etc.) — you want about four times as much brown as green in your compost. Start your compost with a layer of brown — preferably twigs or straw to allow good airflow. Alternate layers of green and brown materials as you add to the pile. Every time you add to your compost, verbally express your gratitude to the land spirits. Your compost should be moist, but not soggy — you’ll know it’s ready when it’s dark and crumbly and smells like soil.

Make your own tea blends with loose herbs and a reusable tea strainer instead of buying teabags. Witches and tea go together like peanut butter and chocolate, but the individual wrappers on teabags create a lot of waste. On top of that, since many of these wrappers are dyed, they may not even be recyclable. Keep your teas earth-friendly by buying dried herbs in bulk and blending your own teas. Making your own blends is not only better for the planet, but also allows you to choose each ingredient for a specific magical intention.

Find ways to use your trash in your craft. This one is pretty self-explanatory. Instead of throwing things away, find ways to use them in your magic! Use food scraps from cooking, like carrot greens and potato peels, in spells. Turn an old shoe box into a travel altar. Add your coffee grounds to spells to ground them and manifest results in the physical world. You get the idea. Be creative!

Research different models for Earth-friendly living, like the zero waste/low waste lifestyle, sustainability, and the solarpunk movement. This will give you more ideas for a sustainable lifestyle, as well as a sustainable magical practice.

The funny thing about Earth-friendly living is that, the more time you spend taking care of the planet, the more connected you feel to it. I encourage you to try some of the ideas on this list — you’ll be amazed by how quickly you develop a deeper relationship with the Earth and all her creatures.

Resources:

Of Blood and Bones by Kate Freuler

Simply Living Well by Julia Watkins

“By 2050, there will be more plastic than fish in the world’s oceans, study says” from The Washington Post

A Sustainable Mind podcast

Practical(ly) Zero Waste podcast

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: You sound like a remarkable woman out of her time. Your posts suggest you are modern and feminine yet your cultured intelligence and cleverness seems from an earlier lost time. Would you prefer to be living in 18th Century Georgian England? One imagines you would fit right in as a heroine in Jane Austen’s Regency world of aristocratic manners and clever barbs over tea in the drawing room.

I had to smile to myself a little because the last thing I ever saw myself was a Jane Austen character. I certainly don’t see myself as heroine of Austen’s world. After all don’t most if not all of Austen’s literary heroines spend their time pathetically pining away for the socially aloof and yet heroically vulnerable gentlemen they profess to love, men who are usually too dense to know that these whining women have childish schoolgirl crushes on them? I know I’m going to angry mails now from pouting Austen fans but I have to speak my mind.

Like most people I do profess to liking a nice, cosy Jane Austen adaptation on television. The fabulous frocks, fans, feathers and finery soothe us with images of a gentler, well-mannered time when gentlemen in cravats and breeches wooed perfumed ladies across ballrooms and well-manicured lawns.

However the reality was not quite so lovely. It’s not that women - like Austen’s literary women - were caught up in the social constraints of their time but also I would get restless just sitting down all day to tea and gossip. I would sooner catch the first ship bound for India and have adventures in the Orient along the way. Tea with Mr Darcy in well stuffed breeches might not be enough for me but then again a well stocked library as most landed gentry homes had would make me reconsider.

I’m fortunate that within my family we have a wealth of diaries, correspondence, private papers, and other family heirlooms that go back a few centuries which we have scrupulously stored to hopefully pass onto future generations.

So when I can decipher some letters of my ancestors it gives me some insight into what life was like for them as men and women of their time. It’s not always easy to read as they loved to scribble in ink (now faded) in the margins on nearly every page of the books they read. And so the penmanship is stylish but minuscule and therefore sometimes hard to make out. The letters are somewhat more legible but it requires patience and perseverance to make sense of what they were writing about. It’s a wonderful way to flesh out the genealogical tree with titbits of personal anecdotes that could be perfunctory, mundane, scandalous, salacious, romantic, and even political.

I’ve read Jane Austen like every other girl at boarding school I imagine. I like her writings but I wouldn’t say my heart is in it to actually live through that time.

Life for Georgian women, even of high birth, was harsh enough in a time when men still held all the power and husbands could beat and even rape their wives. Noblewomen caught diseases passed on from their husband's prostitutes and were still subjected to confinement and the barbaric medical practice of bleeding when pregnant. Even their fashions and frippery provided cold comfort when their make-up poisoned them, unwashed dresses and undergarments stank and their fancy foods made their teeth rot and fall out.

The fact that women did survive and even thrive is a testament to their strength and fortitude which I find admirable. 

I’m used to mud and sweat and even living rough because as ex-army officer I was trained to suck it up but it’s also in my nature because I love going rough when I hike or climb mountains or trek to other places off the beaten track. So I’m not squeamish so long as at the end of the day I can bathe or shower my aches away and I can put on a fresh change of clothing. However even I recoil in some horror when I consider that despite their elegant appearance, Georgian women carried a world of stench. While hands and faces would be washed daily, immersive bathing was considered bad for the health and was only indulged in occasionally.

The heavy gowns of the period would have caused the wearer to sweat profusely, with only perfumes such as rose water and orange blossom to mask the smell. The clothes themselves would also be pungent. Due to the huge amount of work involved in laundering, most households would have a maximum of one wash-day a month. Linen undergarments were changed as often as possible, but their "clean" smell would still be unappealing to us. Linen was often bleached in chamber lye, a kind of soap made from ashes and urine.

As if bodily odour was not bad enough, there was also the whiff of rotting teeth. A sugar-rich diet led to frequent tooth-decay in the upper classes. Cleansing tooth-powders had started to emerge but most of these featured "spirit of vitriol", known to us as sulphuric acid, and stripped teeth of their enamel. Often the best remedy for smelling teeth and bad breath was to chew herbs such as parsley. Where a tooth was past hope of redemption, it would be pulled with pliers or a tooth key, a claw that would fix to the teeth so it could be loosened in the jaw. To avoid a gummy smile, ladies of fashion sought false teeth made from ivory or porcelain but, where possible, they preferred to have "live" teeth in their dentures. Poor people were encouraged to sell healthy teeth for this purpose. While such a practice was unethical, it was better than the other method of sourcing human teeth: pillaging them battlefields and graveyards.

Georgian women were renowned for their snowy faces and dark eyebrows but achieving the fashionable skin tone could be extremely dangerous. White face powders were lead-based and some also featured vinegar and horse manure. Years of coating the entire face, shoulders and neck with such a mixture could lead to catastrophic consequences. Society beauty Maria Gunning died at the age of just 27, having spent her life addicted to cosmetics. Lead-poisoning could cause hair loss and tooth decay but ingeniously, these problems were elegantly adapted into the fashion and it became desirable to have a high forehead and pencil-thin eyebrows. If your own eyebrows failed you completely, you could always trap a mouse in the kitchen and use its fur to make a new artificial pair.

I usually wear my hair straight or tied up in a bun so I don’t fuss too much over my hair. This would certainly be out of place if I lived in Georgian times. Georgian ladies were the mistresses of big hair. They piled their frizzed and curled locks over pads or wires to create show pieces for the drawing room. Often their own hair was not sufficient and had to be supplemented by horse hair and false pieces. Styles from the 1760s were domed or egg-shaped, elongating into the pouf in the 1780s. But Georgiana, the infamous Duchess of Devonshire, had to take things a step further. She introduced the three-foot hair tower, ornamented with stuffed birds, waxed fruit and model ships. Following her example, women competed with one another to make the tallest headdress. Since these styles were costly and took hours to arrange, they were worn for several weeks. Ladies had to sleep sitting up and travel on the carriage floor to avoid spoiling their creations. With no combing possible, lice were inevitable so a special scratching rod was invented for irritated ladies to poke into their piled up hair.

It wasn’t any real fun being a woman and I often think Jane Austen is selling a false bill of goods in her books. You never see women in her novels deal with their menstrual problems. No one has proved for certain what they did, if anything, for sanitary hygiene. With no knickers to hold in strips of linen or rag, they were left to Mother Nature’s mercy. I can imagine that being a conversation stopper in the drawing room over tea with the vicar and his prissy wife. Their toilet habits were a little more civilised. When ladies at the royal court were caught short, they resorted to porcelain jugs much like a modern-day gravy boat. This contraption, called a bourdaloue, was stuffed up beneath the skirts and clenched beneath the thighs. Apparently it was quite normal for a lady to continue her conversation while urinating into the device! I think Jane Austen missed a trick by not having at least one scene with Elizabeth Bennet urinating under her skirts whilst trading clever barbs with Mr Darcy.

Speaking of which marriage was not a box of chocolates in the early 18th Century or indeed later in Austen’s day. Upon marriage, a lady and all her worldly goods would become property of her husband. It was therefore essential to guard a well-to-do bride’s interests with a legal marriage settlement before the ceremony took place. I read somewhere that Henrietta Hobart, later mistress to George II, had reason to be thankful for the settlement drawn up before her marriage to Charles Howard in 1706. It stipulated that two thirds of her dowry should be invested, with the interest at her sole disposal. Should Henrietta die, the funds were to pass to her children. This arrangement was to prove life-saving when her husband became an abusive gambling-addict and alcoholic.

Lower class women were known to take extreme measures to protect their future husbands from their own debts. "Smock weddings" were intended to show that the bride brought no clothes or property to the union, thus exempting each spouse from the other’s financial liabilities. The woman would be married wearing only her undergarment or smock – or sometimes nothing at all. Of course no marriage settlement, however generous, could save a woman from a violent husband and it remained legal for a man to rape or kidnap his wife. While excessive beating was frowned upon, whipping was considered a reasonable measure to discipline a wife.  Even so, it would appear many men pushed their rights beyond the limit, for laws were later amended to say a man could only beat his wife with a stick "no thicker than his thumb".

Escaping an abusive marriage then was well-nigh impossible. Divorces were so expensive that they remained the privilege of the very rich. Even if a lady did have the money to appeal for divorce, she was by no means certain of success. She would have to prove both adultery and "life-threatening cruelty". And if she won her freedom, it would come with more than just a social cost - any children from the marriage would remain property of the husband. Certainly in my family - on my father’s English side of the family - they had their fair share of scandalous behaviour that didn’t reflect well to our 21st Century minds.

Certainly the Georgians were not sexless and they enjoyed their carnal pleasures but of course being aristocratic they never did things that would publicly expose them to scandal. I was reading one such letter of an ancestor who was writing to her older sister about how hard it was for her to conceive her first child - a son naturally - that her rakish husband first took to prostitutes in an era when such things were common and the risk of infection from sexually transmitted diseases was rife. And then later settled on one mistress whom he seriously gave thought to impregnate her. However the mistress was an actress and thus such a union was frowned upon in landed gentry circles and so he was shamed back to his high born wife and to ‘try harder by God’s Providence’. The duty of any aristocratic wife was to produce a healthy son and heir but if nature did not take its course, they could seek help and so these ancestors of mine did.

Like many other aristocratic couples with trouble conceiving children they sought out quacks who made promises to cure infertility. One such person was a Dr James Graham who had invented what he called ‘The Celestial Bed’ that guaranteed conception and unearthly sexual pleasure. The bed itself was electrified and stood on insulating glass legs. The mattress was stuffed with stallion hair to increase potency. Mirrored floors and music from a glass harmonica heightened the experience, while the air swirled with exotic perfumes. Having made love on this bizarre contraption, the couple were encouraged to take ice baths and have a firm massage. The lady would also be advised to douse her genitals with champagne.

It must have worked because the family line did not die out but flourished. It proves to me that champagne is the answer to almost every question in life. A woman’s travails were not over just because she was successfully pregnant. More hazards lay in her path. Despite advances in medicine, a shocking number of medieval practices remained in the Georgian birthing chamber. The long period of rest or "confinement" leading up to the birth was still enforced for wealthy women. The rooms would be kept dark and sweltering with the expectant mother wrapped up in fustian waistcoats and petticoats. As soon as she had given birth, the room was made even hotter, with the curtains round the bed pinned and even the keyhole in the door stopped to prevent a draft. When I lived in China I discovered this is what Chinese mothers did and still do to this day. So I wasn’t so surprised when I read such a practice happened in other cultures like my own.

Those more fortunate might find themselves in a birthing chair. This had a sloped back and a semi-circle cut from the seat, designed to let gravity aid nature. It was certainly a better option than staining expensive bedding and linen. With only female relatives and an unofficially trained midwife to help, many women and their babies died in childbed, as it was known. Even when male surgeons became involved in obstetrics toward the end of the century, treatments were woefully inadequate. I read in the correspondence of one of my female ancestors that she was frequently ‘bled’ during her pregnancy. Somehow she survived any risk of post-partum haemorrhage.

Even when a birth was successful without complication the wife/mother was not out of the woods just yet. In keeping with custom in landed gentry circles of the times, the new mother would not suckle their own babies. In keeping its custom this taks was given over to a wet nurse. In the case of one of my ancestors whose correspondence I read she got a village girl from the family estates to breast feed the baby. The reason for doing so was brutally simple. Firstly, it was to ensure that the lady could conceive again as soon as possible. And secondly, Wealthier women often had difficulty breastfeeding due to their tight corsets or stays. It was also believed that a child would grow up stronger and hardier with a country-woman’s milk.

But even when the baby sprog was weaned, it was common practice for it to be handed to foster-parents until it was old enough to run about and talk. Interestingly enough Jane Austen and her siblings were fostered by a cottager in Deane village, two miles from their family home.

So overall I’m no so sure I would be thrilled to be living in the Georgian and Regency era even if it meant challenging that scoundrel Mr Wickham to a sword duel (and kicking his arse), match making with Emma, or even missing out on the pleasure of taking tea with Mr Darcy.

Sorry Mr Darcy.

Of course I’m fascinated with history and one sometimes wonder what it might be like to live in a particular time. However it’s just a flight of the imagination because to paraphrase Sir Roger Scruton I prefer to live in “the pastness of the present” rather than the past itself. This is the difference between being an historically illiterate reactionary and being a true conservative.

Thanks for your question

[yamithediaperdork]

Baby cuck (Bleach, warning, it gets VERY smutty and dirty!!!)

Ichigo might of been known to the spirit world as a hero without a match, and he might of been known as the loving husband of Reniji, and the owner of a successful noddles shop,But one thing that almost no one knew about him, was that he was a oversized diaper filling baby. It wasn't the kinda of thing him and his husband exactly liked to advertise, and it was the reason that all of Ichigo's diapers were disposable despite Ichigo wanting clothe. "Sweetie I love you, and I'll spoil this side of you, but picture the reaction from the neighborhood kids when they see your diapies and plastic pants on the clothesline." Was Reniji's reasonable stance on it, which had shut Ichigo up. It was after all bad enough he had to wash his few baby outfits in a tub in the basement when he got too much baby food on them, or worse, had a diaper blow out. It was the diaper pooping that caused the most fights about Ichigo's baby side, as Reniji was down with the Ichigo being a little cutie and crawling around, but wasn't so big  on how godawful his husbands dirty diapers were. "But I wanna be a little poo poo pants!" Ichigo would huff and whine, and Reniji would always lose the argument, and just pull out a clothespin for his nose.

Tonight Reniji had surprised Ichigo as he came in from work, slapping the orange haired boy's butt and tell him to go and get a shower, daddy wanted a red faced baby to tease. It was the first time Reniji had insisted on playing but Ichigo wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth and raced up the stairs to the bathroom 3 steeps at a time, a faint 'Yesh dada!' left behind. waiting till he heard the taps being turned on, Reniji pulled out his cellphone and hit call on the second contract on the list. "Hey it's me.. Yeah we're still on for tonight. Poo poo pants is just getting a shower in..how long will it take you to get over here?" Renji said, keeping his voice low just in case, and looked at his watch. "Ok. No that's fine, that give me time to get the baby dressed and fed.Can't wait for this~" Reniji said and after a second of listening to the other end, rubbed his crotch. "Love you too. see ya soon~" Heading upstairs Renji wasn't shocked that Ichigo was already getting out of the shower. he seemed to loathe the shower while he could play in the tub for hours if he was having as bath. Which Reniji supposed shouldn't be that much of a shock, he was just a silly big baby. "Did baby wash ALL over?" Reniji asked his still dripping wet baby of a husband, then came over and took the towel from the big baby and started to dry him off,m taking extra care to get Ichigo worked up as he dried the big strong hero's one inch dicklet. Patting the cocklet dry Reniji started to tease his submissive bitch of a hubby. "Awww, somebodies all excited to be going back in thick crinkly DIAPERS huh? And to think, I was gonna give you a chance to try and put this excuse for a cock in me tonight, but decided big baby ICHIGO would rather wear him's fluffy diapies and get teased~" "D-Daddy!" Ichigo whined, but the much stronger boy was caught up in his erotic humiliation and just did what any tiny dick diaper bitch would, and sucked his thumb. "there we go, all nice and dry~ Ready to spend the night in your diapies making tinkles and boom booms in them while daddy jerks off?" Reniji asked, smirking. it was a rule that Ichigo himself had asked, no cumming for diaper babies unless it was unstoppable and just happened. (which sounded like a long shot to Reniji at first but Ichigo had proven that 3 months without shooting his baby milk and then a big poopie would have him moaning like a whore) stroking the tent in his pants Reniji took out the pack of diapers with pink teddy bears on it, Ichigo wasn't a sissy but it helped deflect question, and smirked. "Last chance little man, you wanna get to cum lots riding daddies dick, or just crinkle around like a big dumb baby?" Reniji of course knew what Ichigo was gonna chose, so just chuckled as the so called badass lisped around his thumb. "Diapies daddy. pweasssssse~" "Ok then diaper boy, lay down for daddy. My husband the diaper loser~" As Reniji patted the bed, he thought for sure Ichigo was gonna spurt.

Ichigo was horny and a little confused as he laid on his back, looking up at Reniji and seeing little hearts around him. this was the first time, like EVER he hadn't had to beg and whine for Reniji to go daddy mode and fuck, he was nailing it on all cylinders. Daddy had him on -6- of the thick diapers, and it felt like he was sitting on a body pillow! "Awww, somebodies SUPER excited to go back to pampers huh? who's daddies little poo poo pants?" Reniji asked, tickling Ichigo's belly and making the stronger boy squirm and giggled. "Hehehehe me me! I'm poo poo pants!" Ichigo coo'ed, then sneezed as Reniji was sprinkling him with baby powder. "That's right! my big dumb BABY husband who's rather make boom boom in huggies then get fucked like a MAN." Reniji teased as he taped up the diapers, one by one. "I think maybe I should take somebody to play in the front yard. it's time the WORLD knows what a ba-" Reniji was teasing and it was just too much for Ichigo. Thankfully as Ichigo lost it and started to creamed most of the diapers were taped up. "Awww did poo poo pants make a sticky in him's diapers already? don't think that means you get to be a big boy~" Reniji teased and finished taping the diapers up as Ichigo squirmed, blushing. "Somebodies must of been sooo eager to show daddy he can do ONE thing as a man huh?" Reniji teased more, and pulled out a very suggestive shaped pacifier, that had 'mute button' written on the mouth guard. "Look what daddy got his little diaper boy? now you can practice for when you're big enough to be a good little cock sucker, and not just a diaper filling loser." Reniji said, and slid the cock shaped paci into Ichigo's mouth as he went to whine and ask daddy to tone down the teasing. "Ah ah ah, diaper fags should be seen little guy, not heard." Reniji said and kissed Ichigo's cheek as the big baby started to suckle on the rubber cock. 'Ngggh..He's ticking off every box for how to be a hot dom..but he could tone it down.' the love drunk big baby thought as he suckled.

Reniji carried Ichigo down the stairs and towards the kitchen, joking that he wasn't big enough yet to be walking and he didn't want the baby to hurt himself coming down the stairs. "Maybe after some din din we'll try and let the big little baby try and master walking." Reniji teased as Ichigo sulked and whined, burying his face into his shoulder. "Awww is somebody getting all embarrassed because he's a grown ass man who wants to be a helpless diaper wetting babbbbby?" Reniji asked, patting the dorks butt as he carried him over to a high chair they usually kept hidden away, but he had set up earlier. he plopped the big baby in the seat and before Ichigo could mouth his arms or react, he tugged the ray down, pinning the big babies arms to his sides and smirked as Ichigo squirmed and pouted behind the paci. taking out a bib that read 'daddies Lil stinker' Reniji tried it around Ichigo's neck then lightly tugged on the cockfier, pulling it out and setting it on the tray. "Now I know I said I was making us steak for supper, but I got to thinking..somebodies just too 'widdle' for big kid food like that.." Reniji said, wagging his eyebrows as he set a plate with two steaks, some mashed potatoes and a select of greens on the table for him.. then picked up a oversized jar of prune flavored baby food. "H-Hey Reniji come on, you know I don't really like that stuff." Ichigo whined, squirming in the high chair and trying to free a arm. "Awww, thats so cute mister poo poo pants thinks he can tell daddy what to do!" Reniji chuckled, and got a biggg spoonful of the mush and started towards Ichigo's mouth. "Come on, open wide for the airplane~" he teased as Ichigo whined and glared. Just like the fussy baby Reniji was treating him like, Ichigo turned his face away from the spoon, sure that Reniji would stop, and got baby food on his cheek instead. "H-Hey watch i-" Ichigo started to whine, only to have the spoon with most of the disgusting baby food on it popped in him mouth and making him make a face. "hehehe awww~ who's a fussy eater? you are! yes you are~" Reniji coo'ed. "Ok that's enough, you've gotten carried away. let me out of this damn highchair and I'll go and change while you set a plate for me." Ichigo growled, glaring at Reniji. Reniji wasn't worried though, unknown to his widdle diaper boy, that cockfier had been coated with a drug to nullify all of Ichigo's powers, the big baby might still think he was the baddest ass on the planet, but he was just a helpless diaper boy. "Awww somebodies talking baby babble!" Reniji teased and picked up the cockfier and dripped it in the jar. "Maybe you'd rather eat your num nums this way?" he asked and popped the coated rubber cock in his husband's mouth, laughing as Ichigo made anther face. "Not better huh? well if you'll be a good little boy and eat up, daddy will use the spoon. the sooner you finish this off the sooner you can have some teething bisket's to get the taste out of your mouth." Reniji offered. The look on Ichigo's face was pure rage, but as Reniji pulled the cockfier out, Ichigo just pouted. "Awww whats wrong buddy? you used to gush on and on about how you wanted me to make you a helpless baby! I'm just doing what you wanted..and trust me, it's only gonna get better! or worse depending on how you look at it." Reniji chuckled and winked. "...Just feed me the damn baby food." Ichigo huffed. "Tch..you kiss your daddy with that mouth? somebody just earned a bar of soap instead of biskets!" Reniji scolded, clearly getting into this and spooning a large spoonful of the mush into Ichigo's mouth as he went to yell, and catching some that dribbled out of his mouth and getting it back in. "SUCH a messy boy!" Ichigo huffed and whined and pouted, but got the message and played along, trying to end the torment as quick as he could and MAYBE avoid having to suck on a bar of soap.

Ichigo's tummy felt bloated and full, and he couldn't help but belch every 20 seconds or so, not to mention he'd started to fart up a storm, which only made Reniji laugh and hold his nose. "Whew! somebody can't wait to be poo poo pants huh?" Ichigo didn't risk a response, he was still trying to earn no soap and just opened his mouth for the next mouthful. "Oh, somebody loves his prune baby food now huh? last spoonful but if your still hungry." Reniji was saying, then popped it in the big babies mouth. Gah! Ichigo had NEVER been found of prunes and if this was made with really ones, he was willing to bet that they had smushed them by having a donkey smash it's nuts on them! Unpleasant flavor to start with and a even worse aftertaste! "heh, are you even listening to daddy?" Reniji asked, snapping his fingers as a long bubbly fart escaped from Ichigo's bottom. "S-Sowwy what were you *URP* saying?" Ichigo asked, unable to hold the gas in at either end. "Daddy was telling you how he stocked up on 24 more jars of this baby food for widdle Ichigo. so you can eat this instead of icky big boy food as much as you want." Reniji chuckled. Ichgio whimpered at that, Picturing himself going into work and having his employee listen to him belch and fart. "N-No thankies dada. Can I has biskets now? Pllllllease?" Ichigo tried. Reniji was about to answer when the doorbell rang. "Oh, excuse me, I'll go and see who that is. don't go anywhere." Reniji said and smirked as Ichigo rolled his eyes. Giving the big baby a kiss on the forehead Reniji strolled out of the kitchen, Leaving Ichigo squirming in his high chair, but glad he was out of view of anyone. Of course he toyed with just power housing his way out of the highchair, but figured if he did something like that it would be a cold day in hell before he got Reniji to be this dominant. he let out anther bubbly fart as he looked at Reniji's plate, licking his lips but the sad truth was even if he was offered some of the wonderfully smelling home cooked food (it was in a battle of aromas with Ichigo's gas) truthfully the big baby was too full to eat too much more, he only really wanted the teething biskets to get the horrible taste out of his mouth. A tummy cramp hit and Ichigo closed his eyes, whimpering a little as a very much wetter fart blasted out of him, making his asshole burn and the smell making him wrinkle his nose. "Yucky!" he whined. "I couldn't agree more Poo poo pants." Came a voice, and Ichigo opened his his eyes, a blush covering his face. that hadn't been daddies voice and now, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and holding up a smartphone was Toshiro! "Smile for face book diaper dork."

Reniji smirked as he watched Ichigo squirm and try and get free, even as Toshiro snapped picture after picture. "Ah! no! DADDY!" Ichigo whimpered, and Reniji could tell the orange haired boy was doing his best to get free. and utterly failing. "Awww is somebody as weak as the baby he wikes to dress up as?" Toshiro asked, and made a mock pouty face. "Go 'please Toshiro, stop taking pictures of me being a diaper fag!' and I'll stop." the former captain said, switching over to video mode. Ichigo stopped his squirming and glared, and Reniji spoke up. "Either do what he says little man or I have anther three jars of baby food with your name on it." The threat made Ichigo whimper, and blast out a super loud fart that had Toshiro laughing till the smell hit him, then he was gagging and holding his nose. "Ugh! Disgusting! you really stick you dick in this stinky baby?" Toshiro asked, still filming as Ichigo whined in humiliation. "well usually just his mouth. you never know when he's gonna piss himself so taking the diaper off is a bad idea." Reniji chuckled. "R-Reniji stop this! fire truck! fire truck!" Ichigo said, using his rarely called upon safe word. "the fuck is he going on about?" Toshiro asked, turning the smartphone off and retreated a few step, putting his sleeve to his face as the big dumb baby blasted out more gas. "Oh that's his safe word. technically I'm suppose to stop and treat him like a adult now." Reniji said, coming over, and then with Ichigo looking at them hopefully, Planted his mouth to Toshiro's and moaned as the smaller boy instantly took control, kissing Reniji deep and hard for several long seconds as Ichigo whimpered and watched in shock. Breaking the kiss off Toshiro looked over at Ichigo and smirked. "Yeah, fuck that noise..he wants to assault my nose and stink like a baby, he can stay a fucking baby. If you haven't figured it out yet dumb ass, I'm stealing your husband, but don't worry, you can stay here and just be a sad diaper shitting loser for the rest of your life..as long as you call me daddy." There were a few ways Toshiro and Reniji had figured Ichigo would react to the news. anger, tears..but him whimpered and jerking his crotch back and forth and yelling out goo goo gaga as he farted and came, well, that was unexpected. "Shit! should of kept the camera on him. Ah well. always next time." As Ichigo came down from his orgasm, the tears started and the new daddies left the little guy to cry it out as they retreated to the living room to make out in few view of Ichigo, but where the air was a little bit fresher. "Enjoy the show cuck.~" Toshiro called over. Ichigo was clearly fighting the urge to say something and Toshiro shared him a few seconds more attention, then chuckled as Ichigo finally spoke up. "Y-Yesh daddy. fank you."

Ichigo managed to keep from crying too much as he watched the love of his life and the little husband stealer mash lips on the couch. it wasn't fair! hadn't he always been a good husband to Reniji? spoiling him with whatever he wanted?!? How could he just go and turn his back on him like this!? "D-Daddies, can I least go to my room?" Ichigo whined, referring to the spare room that was a makeshift nursery for the nights when Reniji REALLY humored him. 'I wonder how many of those nights when he said he was just downstairs ignoring the BABY..he was really with him. oh fuck! did they ever do it in our bed?!' Ichigo wondered. "Fuck no crinkles. you need to see what kinda attention your ex husband deserves, not that a shrimp dick like YOU could ever do anything." Toshiro sneered, flipping Ichigo off with one hand was snaking the other down the back of Reniji's pants and clearly fingering him, at least for the gasps Reniji was making. Of all the ironies, it was only NOW that Ichigo manged to work a hand free..and all he could do was suck his thumb. "Get that fucking thumb out of your mouth, Suck on your cockfier and watch as i show you what a fucking BITCH your 'daddy' is. and before you ask, Yeah, I fucked him on your bed cuck, both beds. and wiped my cock on your pillows." Toshiro laughed. Ichigo felt fresh tears welling up but was also insanely turned on, and hadn't wanted to suck on the paci since he'd be forced to smell the gas coming out of him now. Still he knew his place, even if he was fighting to adjust and popped the paci in. "Ah..ah fuck.. Please Toshiro..I need you cock in me. This baby dick loser can't even suck me right!" Reniji moaned. "Heh, really? I guess your just a total failure as a man Ichigo, but then again, since your about to shit yourself.. " Toshiro laughed and tugged down Reniji's pants and make the slut bend over the couch. "Feel free to cum as much as you want tonight Ichigo. cuz tomorrow I'm putting a kido seal on you that means you'll NEVER be able to cum without MY permission again. and I'm a fickle daddy~" the platinum blond said and winked. Ichigo whimpered around his paci, but nodded lots even as his nose hairs were burned by the smells coming out of him. Toshiro had spread Reniji's cheeks and was spitting on his hole then unbuttoned his pants, dropping them and making Ichigo gasp and almost lose his paci. the little shorty was hung like a fucking horse! "Don't get any ideas..if you can't suck dick good enough for this slut." Toshiro said and slapped Reniji's ass, making the redhead whimper and moan. "then you're not worthy of sucking me off. your only value to me is taking everything you owe, and making you a permanent red faced baby. Now shit your fucking huggies while daddy fucks mommy." Reniji whined and blushed at being referred to as mommy, but offered up no argument, he instead just gave pathetic whimpers for Toshiro to suffer him. "Not until baby goes boom boom." Toshiro smirked. The thought of shitting himself on purpose, not at least just losing the battle as Toshiro took everything from him was just too much, and Ichigo went to shake his head no but then Reniji shouted. "FUCKING SHIT YOUR HUGGIES FOR MOMMY SO HE CAN GET COCK YOU LITTLE FUCKING LOSER!" Ichigo instantly leaned forward as much as he could and grunted loudly, and it was all the invitation the mud storm in his backside needed. Toshiro laughed as the gross sounding farts ripped out of the baby, but shoved his cock in all at once, making Reniji take all 12 inches in one go, not worried about hurting the bitch since he'd trained Reniji well. Thick logs semi fucked Ichigo as they slid out, making his diaper balloon out and forcing him out, and he found himself griping to the tray for dear life as he was having a mini orgasm every single time the logs rubbed his prostate on the way out. as the diaper filled out he was forced against the tray more and more and his locked up dicklet rubbing against the tray even as the foul filth started to coat his balls, making him have a dry orgasm as he was simply out of baby milk at this point. As Ichigo was fucked by his own filth, Reniji's eyes were rolling up in his head as he bit down on the arm of the couch to keep from screaming out more. even with the brutal pace Toshiro was more then capable of dishing out on his own, Reniji wanted more and thrust back to meet his lovers thrusts. "See Ichigo, this is how MEN fuck.. and what your doing..that's how BABIES fuck. is it any wonder I'm taking that away from you? Or maybe I won't. let me talk about it with your mother." Toshiro teased and buried himself in Reniji and stopped. "What do you think darling, should the baby be allowed to cum?" "Ah..ah..Daddy please.." Reniji whimpered out, a mewing noise that Ichigo had NEVER manged to get from him. "More..I..I need more " "heh, you'll get it..but answer the man of the house first 'wife'..Should.The. Baby. Be . Allowed. To. Cum?" Toshiro asked, spanking Reniji's ass as he said it. "W-whatever you want dear husband. Your the boss~" "Damn right." Ichigo was filling what was left for space in his diapers with a thick ooze now, and whimpered, and of course, came again before passing out in his highchair. "..Fucking Lightweight.. Come on bitch, we're moving this party upstairs, the baby fucking stinks." Toshiro said and pulled out, heading for the steps, then turning around. "Well come on, unless you'd rather give up this dick to just put the baby to bed. he'll be fine." "yes dear." Reniji said, and hobbled after Toshiro. "Good girl~"

While Ichigo slept downstairs in his high chair and poopie diaper, the new husband and wife (or at least soon to be) took to the room that had formerly been Ichigo's and Renji's, and now belonged to Toshiro and Reniji. Getting his cock hungry 'wife on all fours, Toshiro snatched a framed wedding photo of the too and sneered. "Awww how fucking cute." he teased, and took the picture out and placed it on the bed, under Reniji's 6 inches of throbbing fuck meat. "W-what are yo-" Reniji started to ask, but was cut off. "Your gonna cum all over it to prove to me your ready to divorce that pathetic diaper loser and marry me..or your not getting anymore dick." Toshiro said, and slid his cock between Reniji's cheeks, smirking as he felt the bitch's hole twitch in need. "Any arguments?" "..No sir." "Good gurl~" Toshiro laughed and slammed into the bigger but totally much more submissive man. truthfully Toshiro had yet to met ANY guy, gay, bi or strait who could resist falling to their knees once his cock was on display and he gave the order. he sometimes wondered if it was a super power or if he just gave off such a powerful aura of dominance that he could make any man he met into nothing more then a cock puppet. But for now he had duties to perform as a newly wed (so to speak) husband and a eager 'wife' who demanded his full attention. Slamming his thick fuck meat in and out of Reniji's hole, it was really only Toshiro's mastery of a healing Kido that had prevented the red head from joining his loser husband in huggies, and he gleefully spanked the slut with one hand as he made sure to take a firm hold of the bitch's cock and aim it on the picture. there would be NO accidents here, and no excuses. "Tell me how much you love me balls deep in you bitch." Toshiro moaned, feeling his peak surprisingly coming MUCH faster then normal, though again with his love of degrading losers, and what he was doing here, was it any shock he might be a little bit of a quick shot for a change? "F-Fuck, Your dick just feels sooo fucking good in my ass pussy~ I almost never want it out of me and could just stay here on the end of you forever if we could work it somehow!" Reniji panted, his dick throbbing in Toshiro's hand, letting the smaller man know his bitch was about to cum too. "on the c-count of three cunt. cum with me~" Toshiro ordered, leaning down and stroking Reniji stilled while aiming his cock, but pinching the red head's nipples and nibbling on the back of his neck. "One..Two..THREE! FUCKING CUM!" Toshiro grunted and then shot load after load into his lover, filling him with thick man milk and making the red head's belly bloat out a little from the amount he was taking even as Reniji screamed and sprayed the bed and photo of him and Ichigo with his own cum shot. "F-FUCK! I FUCKING LOVE YOUUUUU!" the red head howled. "Fucking love sick fag." Toshiro teased, both of them laying on their sides, recovering and panting. But being the kind and loving husband he was, Toshiro kept his cock in his bitch.

Ichigo woke up in darkness in the kitchen and still in his highchair. He smelled awful and for a second he wondered if he had actually dreamed everything that had happened. but well, being in his highchair still, and the clock on the stove saying midnight...That wasn't like Reniji. 'Oh fuck..Oh fuck! I..he..' Ichigo thought, whimpering softly and then starting to cry in the dark. In all honesty he couldn't really blame Reniji for going and getting what he needed from anther man. Ichigo had been egging for more and more baby time lately and it looked like that was EXACTLY what he was going to get. Thinking about how he was going to be dumped more or less, and thinking about just what his new life would be like, Ichigo's dicklet throbbed in his poopie pampers even as his bun's were starting to burn from diaper rash. Daddy.. there was no calling him Toshiro anymore, he was daddy, Had told him to enjoy all the cummies he could while he had the chance, so Ichigo did the only thing he really could do, still trapped in his own filth. he started to fuck his diaper again. As he did so he pictured all the torments and humiliation he was going to suffer, how he would be playing outside, in his diapers, how he would be giving up everything he owned and the thought of it made him moan and rock harder. He really did deserve all of this and worse, he wanted it! Still as he rocked himself he didn't notice that the high chair, while built strong, had been abused a bit too much before and during his little nap. One of the legs was wobbling now and as Ichigo started to fire off a weak pathetic load of baby milk, the leg gave way. His babygasm was ruined as he slammed into the floor, hitting his face though he thankfully didn't break anything. His fall had the side effect of freeing him from the chair chair and he crawled in the dim light provided by the LED clock on the stove over to where the light switch for the kitchen SHOULD be, and felt his way up the wall before finally finding it and switching it on. Looking at the chair, he could see that not only was it basically ruined, it was shit stained as he had clearly leaked in his sleep, and he had even left a trail of filth across the kitchen floor as he made his way to the wall. "...Oh shit. I'm gonna be in SO much trouble." Ichigo whimpered. surveying the damage. "You got that right mister." Came Reniji's voice behind him. His ex was dressed in a night robe and looked pissed and sleepy, clearly he had been fucked hard and enjoying a rest till Ichigo had woken him up. "I..I uh..I sowwy mommy?" Ichigo tried weakly. "Not yet you aren't.."

One quick shower later, and Ichigo was in fresh diapers and a pale blue diaper shirt. His butt had thankfully gotten some treatment from Reniji's shaky use of Kido but it was better then nothing as Ichigo found himself with a bucket and a sponge, and scrubbing his mess off the floor under Reniji's watchful gaze. "Just be grateful it's me and not your father who came down to see this, you'd be cleaning it up with your mouth." Reniji said, though he had no idea if that was true or not. Regardless, the threat motivated Ichigo to go into over drive and scrub faster. As the last of the filth was cleaned up and the High chair set out by the trash bin to be collected, Reniji showed some SLIGHT mercy on the dumb diaper cuck and picked him up, carrying him up the steps and to his nursery. "Get some sleep little guy. you have a longggg day ahead of you. You're gonna be signing over everything to me and Toshiro and ending up with not.a.thing~" Reniji said as he tucked Ichigo into his crib, and tapped a finger on his nose. "Mister big shot cash to burn is gonna have to beg like the little boy he is if he wants anything." Reniji added and smirked as Ichigo squirmed. "But don't worry, No matter what your father tells you, I won't let him kick you out. you might be a dumb diaper filling big bay..but your MY dumb diaper filling big baby." with that said Reniji gave the big baby's forehead a kiss and chuckled as Ichigo gave out a small "Fank ku Mommy..wuv you."

The next morning Toshiro was PISSED to find out what had happened, but was convinced that they needed Ichigo in reasonable shape for going and seeing the lawyer. "Look, if he comes in blubbering and holding his butt, it doesn't matter HOW much cash we throw at the guy, he's not gonna let Ichigo sign his shit over to us." "Damn it..Your right." Toshiro sighed and looked at Ichigo. the new parents were eating bacon and eggs at the table, while Ichigo was slowly spooning some bland oatmeal into his mouth sitting on a towel on the floor. "You have a date with mister paddle when we get home though little man, understand? the better behaved you are while we're out though, the least swats you'll get when we get back." "Y-yesh daddy I understand." Ichigo squeaked, and the 'proud' parents exchanged smirks as the hiss of a diaper being soaked was heard. "Hurry up with your oatmeal little guy, Mommy needs to get you dressed still." Reniji said. He'd fully taken on the role of mother of the house, up to including wearing a frilly pink apron over his t-shirt and jeans as he'd cooked breakfast. Toshiro finished his food and went off to have his 'morning glory' as he put it, leaving the bitch work for his darling wife, not that Reniji minded one bit. After helping Ichigo finish his oatmeal by sitting down and spoon feeding him, Reniji gave him a ba-ba of formula and dish soap and started the dishes, keeping a eye on the little stinker even as he made yucky faces. "sorry sweetie, but daddy wanted to see if we could have you burping bubbles." Reniji chuckled. "...I'll twy." Ichigo whimpered even as the foul mixture coated his touge and upset his tummy. As the babies ba-ba and finishing the dishes, Reniji carried Ichigo back up to his nursery and got him changed out of his sopping wet diapers and into dry ones, though it was only double layered. "we're trying to present a semi normal appearance, so TRY not to soak though these little guy." Reniji explained as he tapped them up. Toshiro came in shortly after, while Reniji was trying to pick out a outfit that wouldn't stand out TOO much, but make sure the little guy knew his place and placed a hand on the front of the babies diapers. "You didn't think I forgot about taking away your cummies did you?" He asked. the big baby poked his fingers together, laying on his changing table. "I was hoping.." "awww, thats cute. and stupid. say 'bye bye' to cumming without daddies permission little one~" Toshiro said, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. Toshiro of course had just been being his usual mean self, but even he had to pause and give a legit d'aww when Ichigo spoke up. "Bye bye cummies. I's gonna miss ou but da-da knows best." Ichigo coo'ed, tearing up and then giving a cute little burp and damn it if he didn't make a little bubble. "Shit..I'm starting to see why you put up with his shitty diapers." Toshiro said, though he still finished the kido spell.

20 minutes later and Reniji and Toshiro were dressed to kill, wearing black dress pants, white dress shirts and suit jackets with dress shoes. Ichigo on the other hand, well there was only so much Mommy had been able to do with the limited wardore of a adult toddler. His outfit consisted of light up paw patrol sneakers, a white diaper shirt to help keep his padding from fading, and a pair of blue jean short all with a lion on the front pocket that looked like Kon. He was holding onto Mommy and daddies hands as they walked towards the lawyers office, and found himself wishing that they'd let him bring a stuffie, or a paci to suck on as he got nervous. which wasn't good because when he got nervous his bladder tended to shrink to the size of a pea and they had left the diaper bag behind. whatever Ichigo did in his diapies he was stuck in them till they got back home. Of course they got looks from people around the block as they made their way, it was summer and Ichigo had complained more then once about 'fucking kids getting in his fucking way' after a bad day of work. To say that this had made him less then popular, and gotten his car egged (the only reason they weren't using it right now was it was in the shop getting a new paint job) over and over again was a understatement. "heh..Check it out, the terror of 9th street is a freaking little!" one teen aged boy said, speaking loudly to his friends as his voice carried. "the heck is a little?" "It's a diaper wearing doofus. Hey Reniji! can we play with the baby?" the teen called out. It was Toshiro of course who answered back, looking over his shoulder. "After we get back, and he gets a spanking." Toshiro said, and let go of Ichigo's hand to pat the big babies butt, the crinkle and whomp sound of his diapers making the teens and other kids who were gather laugh. to say the less, This didn't help Ichigo in his efforts to keep his diapers clean.

The only had to wait a short while in the waiting room, Ichigo was the top client of the law office after all. Still, the 15 minutes Ichigo spent on the floor, a coloring book in front of him and lazily filling in the pictures with crayons was more then enough to get snickers and smirks from the staff, and caused him to wet his diaper. Getting into the office, his lawyer wanted to make sure that Ichigo understood everything that was going to happen, though he also brought Reniji and Toshiro story that Ichigo was on the verge of a mental breakdown. (the fact that Ichigo spent the meeting in Reniji's lap and getting his butt patted every time he was handed something to signed helped) His Lawyer told them that he would start the process as soon as they were gone, and that by the end of tomorrow at the latest, Noodle noodle come get your noodle would belong to Reniji, and that Toshiro had replaced Ichigo on the bank account and the deed to the house. "As for you..I hope you get better soon little guy, here, have a treat on me" his now ex lawyer said, patting Ichigo's head and handing him a Lime lollipop, which had been Ichigo's LEAST favorite flavor. Ichigo, who couldn't of tasted the candy anyways with his soap soaked thumb lisped out a thank you and popped it into his mouth, knowing better then to be rude and waving bye bye with his free hand, let Reniji carry him out of the office, getting a small degree of revenge on the snickering staff as they were almost at the door, letting out a long bubbly fart.

Making their way back towards the house, Ichigo tried to nuzzle into Reniji for protection as they came up on their street again, where the kids were waiting for them. "Holy crap, I didn't wanna believe it but.." One girl said, looking amused and taking out her phone. "Ha! Reniji's with anther guy! Ichigo's a freaking cuck!" A 11 year old snorted. "whats a cuck?" a five year old asked, which got the 11 year old elbowed. "..I'll tell you when your older." a 3 year old giggled like crazy as he looked at Ichigo, and in barely understandable toddler speak (translated for your convince) proclaimed. "hehehe he's in diapies! even -I- dun wear diapies anymore! or pull ups!" Toshiro smirked and nodded. "well see, that's because your a BIG kid..and he's just a oversized baby, RIGHT Ichigo?" Toshiro asked, not even looking at him. "..Yesh daddy. me a big baby." the ex terror of 9th street whimpered, his candy treat gone and feeling his tummy acting up. a long fart escaped from him and the girls and boys made faces, though most of the girl's lost interest in the big baby while the boys laughed. "wait, does he CRAP himself!?!" "oh, that's one thing my little excels at, filling his diapers to the brim~" Reniji said, smirking. "Say, you kids wanna play with him for a bit while me and Reniji go inside and take care of some stuff? a big baby like Ichigo needs all the big brothers and sister he can get. and don't worry about hurting his feelings, he's just a fucking baby." Toshiro said, though his use of a swear word made some of the older kids put their hands over the younger ones ears. "uh..Sweetie. I think we should get the little guy inside first an-" Reniji said, he could FEEL how squishy Ichigo's diapers were and knew he was gonna 'go off' any second with a epic diaper mess. "Stop fucking coddling the loser, and set him down. he's gonna have to face this sooner or latter, and might as well get it over with NOW." Toshiro said, in a tone the allowed no argument. turning his attention to Ichigo as he was set on his feet, Toshiro grinned. "Ok little guy, i want you to play nice with your new friends, But you also have to keep your outfit clean for daddy and mommy." This got snickers from the crowd as it was Reniji's turn to blush. "Y-Yesh daddy. I'll twy." Ichigo whimpered, his thumb going into his mouth after and making a face as a very sick sounding fart escaped. "well let me put it this way, if you wanna be able able to sit anytime this week, your little outfit will be spotless. You kids will try and make sure he doesn't get it dirty..right?" Toshiro asked, winking to the kids , many of who were getting evil grins and looking for dirt clogs. "Anyways, have fun, and thanks again kids. Come on MOMMY, we have stuff to do." Toshiro said and turned away, leaving Ichigo at the mercy of the boys around him. Ichigo looked to Reniji, eyes pleading for help but Reniji just gave him a helpless snug, then chased after Toshiro. "Coming dear!' The weren't even inside as the first lump of dirt exploded on the butt of Ichigo's diaper, and the big baby burst into tears as his bowels gave wait, visibly making his diaper puff out rapidly as more dirt was tossed at him, his tears making the bits that hit his face turn to mud. He was nothing but a fucking joke, doomed to be a smell big baby for life, and bullied by all of these kids. and even as he whined in pain and humiliation he had a final thought. 'I love my daddy and mommy.'

The (SMELLY) end

[somedrunkpirate]

In the dark we travel (Geraskier scifi au part 4)

Ao3 | Tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3 | Rating: M | Hurt/Comfort

Teaser: 

As if Geralt had the intention to. He feels unbound. The light— he’d been in darkness so long that even though the emergency LED sting his eyes, the illumination itself is like a balm. The dark had made more space for visions, for unreality. In here, there is only the light, the water, and Jaskier.

In here, it almost seems possible to accept he’s being cared for. That this is allowed.

Chapter 4 

There are no guards.

The observation stops Geralt in his tracks momentarily— he gets a vague sense that this is important information. There should be a reason why there are no guards. Guards do not just suddenly up and disappear. That’s not their job description. Guarding can’t be just a sporadic activity, whenever you feel like it, because then things like this happen: someone stumbles upon a door, unguarded, and could just go ahead and walk in.

But the idea is so deliciously simple that Geralt goes right ahead and does it, any thoughts of mysterious de-guarding completely melted from his mind. He’s lost in a sensation of relief that he doesn’t have to deal with fighting right now, when he’s barely sure what is real and what isn’t.

He also knows, vaguely, that three nights without sleep shouldn’t make him this out of it, but it's easy to just blame it on the stench and not waste his precious time thinking about stuff. His bursts of clarity must be used efficiently, and now he’s going to use them to burst the door open to the restricted waste, level three.

Medical waste, that is what he needs. There must be something in there he can mix together into some semblance of a sleeping concoction. He doesn’t have all his supplies anymore, but he has some, and he has his memories of chemistry lessons and picking herbs in the gardens. Whatever he makes might kill the average humanoid, but hopefully it will just knock him out.

And there are no guards, so this should be easy.

He slips through the hallway quietly— ignores the whispers and the mutterings and the footsteps coming out of the labyrinth behind him. False, he thinks, even if Roach isn’t here to hear. The guards have a specific sound when they walk. Those Coalition-issued working boots. These steps— far in the distance, sound more like feet, or paws, naked on the floor.

Guards do not take off their shoes. Not in their job description.

Geralt stealths his way to the door. It probably has alarms on it, but he doesn’t really give a shit, so he makes a sign and Ard does the rest.

He isn’t sure if the alarms are off, or if he isn’t able to hear them in the waft of new smells that come towards him. In either case, he isn’t going to be able to last a long time, so he better get going and find what he needs.

The third level is much smaller, about the height of a normal room, for once, and yellow lines direct to different sections. It is fairly easy to find the right general area, but when Geralt arrives and runs his eyes along the long rows of boxes, he realises that he is in no state of mind to read the labels.

He’s stunned, for a second. Completely at a loss for what to do. Slowly, like something bubbling up from a thick, muddy swamp, he develops a vague idea of just grabbing a big thing, and filling it with other little things, and figuring what to do with them later.

But before he can even get to that first step, there are more sounds— footsteps again. But these ones have shoes. Or at least, one set of them does. The others are hooves, and they come with a sense of frustration and determination.

“Oh fuck,” Geralt says.

It is almost night, and he’d promised— he’d promised Jaskier. He’d wanted to sleep, and he’s trying to find a way. A way that doesn’t ruin everything.

Jaskier had been distracted for the day. That afternoon, the light in the window had finally disappeared. The week of the void had started. So, as promised, Jaskier had performed Craven Rose. It had lasted for the better part of the evening, and Geralt still hadn’t been able to sleep.

“Geralt!”

Geralt takes a reflexive step back at the sound. Bad choice. He’d been right about the ship going low on funding, because the slight push of his shoulder sends the whole rack into motion, rusted screws snapping at the joints, it lists to the side, and one, two, three objects fall off the shelves.

Geralt manages to dodge two.

Jaskier has just skidded to a halt in front of him when the third— the largest, tips over and covers Geralt completely in some sort of chemical goo.

It burns his hands, his shoulders, his neck.

And then, finally, blessedly, Geralt passes out.

Geralt comes to swinging. Swinging, as in, the movement. He blinks his eyes open and realises he’s been thrown over Roach’s back. He groans.

“Geralt?”

Jaskier is beside him at once. Geralt has to crane his head strangely to look up and see his face. He’s met with an expression artfully combining worry and utter exasperation.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Geralt tries to say something, but the pressure of Roach’s back into his chest makes it hard to take a full breath. He lets himself slip off, landing on his feet only just. He’s lucky the tunnels here are barely 5 feet wide, because there is a wall behind him to catch him.

Jaskier makes an irritated noise and stalks around Roach, pointing a finger at him. “You are in no state to walk to the bathrooms, get back on Roach or I will—”

Geralt frowns at him, tunes out the rest of the threat as he tries to make sense of what Jaskier is saying. The however many minutes he’d been unconscious linger like a spirit boost in his body— he’s more in control of his senses than he’s been in a while, but Jaskier’s rapid fire reprimanding makes him feel slow and lost again, missing something. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling around Jaskier.

After a second, Geralt catches the source of his confusion and pulls at it. Finally able to speak, he asks, “Bathroom?”

Jaskier takes a very deliberate breath. “You’re a walking health hazard. You’re not gonna fight me on this.”

Geralt looks at his arms, legs, and has to acquiesce to the point. Whatever chemical he’s been doused in, it wasn’t strong enough to completely eat through his clothes. There are large areas that have been bleached, strange grey and white blobs among the dark fabric, but where his skin was covered, it was protected. The problem is the parts of him that were not.

His hands, for one. He’d held them up reflexively, trying to protect his face— mostly successful. Parts of his arms where he’d had his sleeves rolled up, and his neck where the goo slid down from where it landed on his shoulders. The back of his head is mostly left unblemished, his hair only a little burned at the ends.

For all Geralt has no desire for a walk of shame through the crowds of people, his pride has little priority in comparison of getting this fucking shit off of him as soon as possible.

Like hell he’s gonna be carried in there though.

Deciding that arguing the point would be more effort than it is worth, Geralt just starts walking.

“You goddamn bugfuck—” Jaskier seethes behind him.

Geralt sets his jaw. One foot, other foot. His hand stings as he drags it across the rough metal of the tunnel walls.

Jaskier keeps up easily with him. “You can’t honestly think you’re going to make it.”

“Survived worse,” Geralt grits out. It isn’t even a lie. This is nothing. Though he could do without the running commentary.

“I give you 30 seconds before you pass out again,” Jaskier says. “If you really want to walk in there, at least let me help— or Roach, if that's better. You won’t have a wall to lean on once we reach the hall.”

Geralt continues, forcing himself forward, but as the tunnel opens up, he has to concede to the argument.

He doesn’t want Roach anywhere near the crowd, and she can’t climb up those walkways anyway.

Once the hall is a handful of paces away, Geralt stills. He waits, leaning against the wall.

It takes only a few moments for Jaskier to take the hint. Without a word, Jaskier takes his arm and puts it over his shoulder. Geralt allows his weight to shift from his hand, still lingering on the wall, to Jaskier’s form. Jaskier takes it, surprisingly easily, and begins to walk at a steady pace.

It’s warm, comfortable. Quiet, for a little while.

Geralt tells Roach to go back to the containers, and not to worry.

She sends back a gentle impression of pressure, stability, warmth. She isn’t worried.

Geralt divorces himself from the thought. Doesn’t think about why.

It’s easy to be distracted. The closer they reach the light, the more eyes turn towards them, staring.

A different quiet envelops him. Not a kind one at all.

Conversation halts and they watch as the Ancienthunter enters their company for the first time, weakened, dirty. Pathetic.

Jaskier speaks up right when the weight of their eyes becomes almost unbearable.

“And this is why we don’t mess with the labyrinths, kids. Anything can fall out of those fucking drums when you least expect it.”

He says it lightly, but there is a tension beneath it that catches Geralt off-guard. Something he would’ve expected to be altered— covered, by the mod. Maybe it’s because he’s so close that he can hear the discrepancies. Or maybe Jaskier is distracted, isn’t using it as well as he normally is.

Regardless, the others don’t seem to hear it. His remark was both an acknowledgement of their staring, and an answer to the questions that motivated it. Now, the mystery solved to an extent, most are shaken into a reflex of manners— or any semblance of them they’ve been taught. Slowly conversation picks back up again, though there is more murmuring than not. Geralt could bet what the topic is.

“Corron, could you fly up and run the bath? We’re gonna need the big guns for this.”

The tall black and white feathered Decalon nods, already having wandered up to them, and lifts off with two big flaps of his wings. In the limited space, it is more like a long leap than flying, as he easily crests the edge of the highest walkway and slips into a door.

Geralt’s eyes trace from the apparent end goal down the four long angled sections of walkway that criss-cross diagonally against the wall. At this point, the journey seems like a special form of torture, but with an intense awareness of the eyes still watching behind him, Geralt gathers the last of his energy and sets forth, back straightened and face blank.

The trek feels all too similar to those first few days in Zevos, trying to trace some beast or another in the pale deserts of Bacovas. The region is merciless not only in its heat but in the heaviness of its air. Not humid, just heavy, every step taking that much more effort. Geralt hadn’t had the interest to find out whether it was biological, cheminal, gravity, or whatever else, but the result had been exhausting.

It had felt good— earned. Life had been too easy for a while there. It had felt fitting to be in a place where it took too much effort to run.

And now, he can’t run from this either— the stares, the quiet encouragement of Jaskier’s voice. The pull of his mod is back again, lulling him into an almost meditative state. He barely feels the burns anymore. The air is heavy, the lights are too bright, but somewhere, in his mind, he’s floating. Light.

“You’re almost there, Geralt, come on. You’re going to feel much better with all this off you.”

He’s— they’ve stopped walking. They’re in a room with showerheads mounted on the walls but in the corner, below two of them, lies a large tub.

Jaskier is talking still, his voice like the water, an even stream of warmth.

“Before you ask, yes, we found it in the Piles, and yes, we cleaned it thoroughly, and yes, you are not allowed to argue with me.”

As if Geralt had the intention to. He feels unbound. The light— he’d been in darkness so long that even though the emergency LED sting his eyes, the illumination itself is like a balm. The dark had made more space for visions, for unreality. In here, there is only the light, the water, and Jaskier.

In here, it almost seems possible to accept he’s being cared for. That this is allowed.

So Geralt doesn’t protest, doesn’t speak as Jaskier helps him out of his clothing. There is no room for humiliation in the warm fog that fills the room in white clouds. As Geralt sinks into the tub, Jaskier is muttering under his breath, throwing the clothes underneath another shower stream, saying “— about 90% chance they cannot be saved, though if you were to wear them again you might restart a bleached leather look once more. It’s been a few decades since that was in vogue.”

He pratters on and on, and Geralt lets it come over him. It is strangely soothing to know he isn’t alone.

There, enveloped in warmth, light and companionship, Geralt finally, finally, falls asleep.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Geralt blinks, becomes aware of his surroundings one sense at the time. He hears the voice— Jaskier, the shuffling of feet on tiles. He feels water, lukewarm around his body, and then his hands and arms, the tell-tale tugging and twitching of his skin that comes with augmented healing. He smells, lavender and thyme, all around him but especially in his hair.

And then he sees— Jaskier, half covered in fog, half uncovered of clothes, face in tense lines but dissolving at once when their eyes meet.

“You’re awake, I see,” he says, smiling. “I’d started to wonder whether I would have to drag you out to save you from dissolving.”

Geralt shifts in position and groans, his muscles aching from holding in a strange position for too long. “How long?”

“You got a good four hours in. Don’t worry, I haven’t been staring at you for that whole time. When I was sure you wouldn’t drown yourself, I checked in every once in a while. Threw in some stuff.” Jaskier holds up a little glass jar and dips in his fingers, “You know, bath salts, oils. It wouldn’t do just to have to rot in your own chemical waste water for the whole duration. Would kind of defeat the purpose of all this.”

As if to punctuate his sentence, he flicks his wrist and throws in a pinch of something shimmery.

Geralt presses his lips together. “My hair?”

Jaskier’s smile doesn’t let off, but his eyes flicker away for a second. “I— you.” He sighs. “You were out cold but kept your head above water. I didn’t know if the goo was on your head, so I rinsed it a little. Just some soap and water, all above board, I promise.”

Geralt has to fight the urge to curl up into himself. How could he have let himself be so defenseless? He trusts his body to wake at any irregular sensation, and to think he slept through someone touching him.

Jaskier must see something in his face, because his smile disappears and his hand goes to reach out, but then stops mid way, hesitant. “I’m sorry. I truly didn’t intend—” He takes a breath. “I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

You could have left me alone.

But Geralt knows that isn’t fair. He would have— he would have survived this, if it hadn’t been for Jaskier. But it would have been much more painful, and Geralt is so tired. Jaskier has had ample opportunity to hurt him before. He’s had the majority of the crowd under his control from the beginning. It would only take a few choice words to turn everyone against him. But he hasn’t done that. He’s only ever been kind. And while Geralt can’t let himself trust that— cannot be as naive to think that there isn’t something, some reason, why Jaskier is doing all this — he also can’t convince himself that Jaskier would have used his vulnerability in malicious ways.

Everything he’s been doing so far is to prevent Geralt from being that— to help him recover. If there is anyone malicious to his well being, it is Geralt himself.

And the speech mod could falsify care, warmth and earnesty. But it doesn’t affect the eyes, or— or a hand.

A hand, trembling slightly, reached out towards him before landing on the edge of a tub.

Jaskier is watching him still, searching. Waiting.

“I never asked,” Geralt ends up saying, but it isn’t— defensive, this time. His voice comes soft, low, almost confused. “You never had to—”

To care. To do this, to do any of this.

Relief so often comes with a laugh, these days. Jaskier chuckles and shakes his head. “And yet, here we are.”

Here they are, in a Garbagecraft rocketing through space. In a bathroom with rusty showerheads and orange emergency lighting.

In a moment of respite.

“Come,” Jaskier says, projecting calm. Geralt can hear what's underneath it. The hesitance, the worry, and the exhaustion too, of another kind. It’s a gift. “Let’s get you out of here and into a bunk.”

Geralt huffs, but takes his hand, allows himself to be pulled by more than a voice.

Allows himself to be led.

Allows himself, for just another moment, to be cared for.

He’s taken risks before. He’s done dangerous and reckless things and did not have one thought for the consequences.

But somehow, following Jaskier seems to be the greatest.

And for a moment, Geralt doesn’t have it in him to regret it.

[the-headbop-wraith]

3 _ Ghost

The fall didn’t rob life, the impact and the body breaking did.

Give it time, he would come out of it.  A nightmare like all the others, he would hit the bottom and wake up like all the times before.  It was not real, the sensation was an illusion and everything would be all right the moment he hit.  He would wake up safe and warm in bed, maybe crying a bit because dying was a terrifying concept for anyone that had so much to do in life.  So much to do and so precious little time to make conclusions.

This time he didn’t wake up when he hit.  His back struck cold blades and a terrible sense of dislocation came over his chest, as if everything had been moved aside.  He tries to take a breath and get his bearings, but the air is hot and bubbles in his throat.  He chokes, body trembling so hard it tears his ribs apart.  It’s then that he notices the green haze clogging the ceiling of the cave like some sort of plague, swirling around gnarled teeth far above his face.  At the edge of a dark mass he sees a familiar figure peering down, a jewel on the shape glitters among the shadows sweeping through his thoughts.

__

It hurts to wake up, to move from the dream into the icy fingers of the air around him.  Arthur jerks as he comes to, his metal arm scrapes at the gritty cobblestone floor as he slides the prosthetic under him and pushes himself up more onto his side.

“Vivi,” Arthur’s voice mumbles.  He coughs against the earthy air and presses his flesh hand to his stomach and ribs and makes certain his body is still in one piece.  How?  He coughs again, Arthur isn’t certain if it’s the dust in the dank place or residue trauma from the nightmare, probably both.  He forgets his tremors for now and turns his gaze to the darkness closing in around him.  There’s light from candlelight perched at the tops of stone pillars spaced out around the room, the hesitant flames chatter and hiss calmly in the cold air.  Magenta bathes the carved surface of the pillars, the stone work appears dulled from many years of waiting.

This place baffled his mind to ribbons but Arthur constantly reminded himself that the spirits wanted him to see, or envision what they felt was acceptable.  It felt real but it wasn’t, he was at the mercy of his captors.

Arthur had this on his thoughts as he looked across the tops of black steel fences bordering the stone walls of the chambers interior.  The candlelight didn’t extend far enough into the gloomy depths that he could accurately identify the shapes of containers, some larger than him and each cluster surrounded by the little fences.  Beyond the containers rises a jagged shape from the floor toward the dark above, a set of steps accented by the pink glow.  A way out, but there was no candlelight above to provide this answer.  It seemed unlikely he could get lost unless the candle flames diminished, but they were enchanted by a spiritual flame and so he could either rely on that reassurance or not, that the light would remain eternal.

A series of shorts steps extended up to the furthest side of the chamber, with dingy fuchsia carpet laid across each step toward tattered curtains draped across a sculpted stone archway.  On either side of the carpet stood a tall black basin perched upon lacy decorative metal stems, a pair on either side of the carpet and ending where the steps did beneath the rotten drapes.  Though the stone chamber appeared ancient, the black bowls shimmered under the magenta candlelight pristine and new. 

Arthur rose to his feet and moved carefully, until he was certain his muscles were only sore and not torn.  Try as he did, he could not recall what had happened at all.  He was falling, that was it.  He remembered holding Vivi’s hand, then… he let go.  Arthur thought he was dragging Vivi to the dark pit reserved for him and had let go.  She didn’t resist.  Good.  He felt bitter with the conclusion but he was glad she had to be elsewhere, somewhere better than where he had… fallen?  The spirits were strong, how strong he didn’t know but it was obvious that combined they were very powerful.  That made sense, he supposed.  Arthur hoped, he prayed, that Vivi was safe.

The legs of the basin rasped as he touched the rim.  They felt heavy, cold, solid, and real.  He stepped up onto the last step and took the magenta drape that concealed the archway beyond.  The cloth tore as he tried carefully to move it aside, wary should more of the spirits be hidden down here.  What he found behind the curtains made his blood run cold and his heart to beat harder in his chest.  He listened for a moment to the muffled thudding in his ears, and made himself accept that the sound was not coming from him.  It was coming from the large black box standing tall in front of him.

Oh god!  Arthur sprang back, the curtain caught between the gears in his metal knuckles.  He jerked his prosthetic until he thought he’d rip it out at the joint, the cloth tore to ribbons as he stumbled backwards down the steps.  A crypt!  I’m in a CRYPT!  Now Arthur scanned his surroundings over with dubious clarity and felt the candlelight blaze brighter for his numbed mind, as if to aid him on his perilous road to comprehension.  The boxes were not boxes, they were caskets, or something  close.  Sarcophagus’ left here to molder.  Who the fuck kept coffins in their basement?!

Illusion, Arthur told himself.  It’s not real, none of it was.  He had to be careful, had to find his way out and back to Vivi. 

Before Arthur could turn away, he took note that the steady rhythm was getting louder.  Illusions.  He told himself.  None of this is real.  He didn’t believe it.  Arthur knew damn well it wasn’t true.  He gazed at the embroidery accents on the coffins surface as the harsh design flares up then dims, into soft magenta.  The hinges of the box moaned softly as they were forced, Arthur didn’t want to believe what he was seeing but he knew this was no trick of the light.  Down here there were no spirits to taunt him here, it was just the coffin and him.  He backed away, eyes locked on the box.  He toppled backwards onto the cold floor when his heel caught on the thick carpet.  He scooted himself away on his butt as the dull tempo grew louder and a dark shape fumbled along the edge of the coffins door. 

What did him in, what paralyzed him was the voice.  He recognized the tone, the sort of electronic voice thread he could get on a recording, but never heard with his own ears in the moment.  It was there, this voice, yet it wasn’t.  Distant, hollow, empty, yet it rang in his ears and swept like fiery tendrils through his skin.  Worst of all it was familiar, too familiar.  No.

“Try and hear me then I’m done,” the voice warned.  It didn’t echo off the walls, the sound was contained as it lifted from the box.  It seeped into Arthur’s mind, invading and unwanted.  “Cause I might just say this once.”

It wasn’t like the spirits from the foyer.  This spook, this skeleton, retained human features, aside from a hollow skull perched above a vacant collar.  It wore a black suit from shoulder to boot, the collar was sharp and flared out reminiscent of a bat, and a magenta tie was coiled about where its neck should have been.

“Seen this played out in a dream,” it said.  A touch of remorse came to its voice as its expression softened, the skull rotated and seemed to examine its cloaked hand. Or, was it looking at....  On its chest, suspended above the sharp ribs, thudded a gilded heart. The glistening artifact quivered with the drumming rhythm plaguing Arthur’s thoughts. Tenderly, almost wistful, the spirit caressed this heirloom. Then, it redirected its scathing glower back onto him, it looked mad. Hella mad. “It doesn’t matter.  Time for giving up the ghost.”

Arthur kicked his legs out as the ghost drifted down the steps effortlessly and perched at his feet.  He stared up at it, his feet dragging over the cobblestone mindlessly.  “Fuck!” The spirit directed an accusing finger upon him.  “It’s you I hated the most.”

Terror stricken and filled with the spooks hot malice, Arthur couldn’t think to do anything more than to direct a finger to his face and try to speak, but the words stabbed his throat.  What did I do?  Arthur’s mind screamed.  WHO are YOU!!?  No answer could be rewarded while he was unable to utter a shred of coherent words.  Arthur continued to push himself away as the ghost seemed to have lost interest in him momentarily, but not long enough.  The way out, Arthur decided.  There’s a door out.  I fell in, I can get out.

“Arthur.”  That voice.  Too familiar.  From a crippled sleep.  A terrible nightmare Arthur wanted to run away from, bury it deep in his furthest memories.  They never had that chance, and he had thought it was best.  “There is no guarantee,” it went on, the suspended skull tilting until it nearly touched the collar of its suit.  “This time I might just disappear.  But… I am not letting you crawl away.  Not after what you’ve done..”  Vibrant flames had taken residence in the pit of its eye sockets, and bright fire swept up from the black basins.

“No,” Arthur uttered.  “No-no.”  Arthur’s eyes flooded with tears.  He pushed himself to his feet as the specter followed his movement with those magenta flames pulsing in the pit of its eye sockets, and the gold locket upon its breast thudded harder, mirroring Arthur’s own rapid heartbeat.  But its heart was a mere representation, long cold and left still in time.  Why?

Flames licked the bleached skull, settling in a style nearly lost in the back of Arthur’s mind.  The ghost cocked its head to Arthur’s sudden lockup.  “You remember me,” the voice rattled, here and substantial, yet not.  The sensation of it maddening.

Arthur took a sharp breath, tears streaming down his cheeks.  The name was at his tongue, he knew the name.  He never forgot, but he wanted too.  He tried but his conscience wouldn’t let go of his emotions, his heart.  Was that why… ?

“Lewis.” Arthur’s voice broke.  “No, Lewis.  How—” Arthur stumbled over his words, inching forward to reach out and touch the ghost, but stopped himself just in time.  In time for what, he wondered?  The only objective his mind could supply was the preservation of his well being.  Run.

Arthur didn’t know if it was the ghost or his own mind that gave the order, but he whipped around and dove off into the darkest pit of the crypt.  There was a door, he came down somehow, there was a way out.  He stumbled over shreds of carpet and cracked stone, he nearly fell to his knees twice as he shot toward the frail outline of the jagged steps rising into the black haze above.  Arthur paused only for a second to look up, uncertain if there was a path above or if the steps ended and he would fall as well to his death.  He didn’t want to die, Arthur couldn’t do that to Vivi.

The steps were solid and Arthur made it up the first ten before he could bear it no longer and turned his eyes towards the blazing magenta flames that signified the wraith’s fury.  To Arthur’s uttermost terror, the free moving ghost was gliding towards him, even at the distance between them he could make out the baleful glow in its skull.  Arthur didn’t stand a literal snowballs chance in hell if it could move that fast and caught up to him as it deemed appropriate, but Arthur refused to give up so easily either.

Despite the burn in his thighs, Arthur tore up the steps three and four at a time, heaving his breath with the pulse of his heart.  The steps leveled out in short time and he ran into the hard wood door that shut off the crypt from wherever it was that Arthur had fallen from.  Arthur fumbled with the door but the latch wouldn’t give, it held tight despite his convincing.  With no other option, Arthur clasped his hand around his metal wrist and brought his fist down.  The sensation ripped through the tender connectors in his arm, but the latch gave away and the door crept open a crack.  Arthur shoved his way through and flung the door shut on the fast approach of the magenta flames.

The crypt opened up into a stone basement, somewhere underground.  Arthur staggered through the dark chamber towards the soft fuchsia light spilling down the stone steps across from him.  He didn’t know what his legs were smashing against and he couldn’t care, he needed to get out of there and… and, Vivi!

A lone candle fixture flared against the wall where it was fixed, as Arthur tore up the steps to the floor above.  The steps ended at ragged magenta carpet, before a well-lit hallway that extended left and right a few steps away.  Arthur didn’t bother to pause and catch his breath, he had no idea where the ghost could appear from or if it would follow him to the upper floors.  Maybe it WAS contained to the crypt beneath the mansion.  Arthur didn’t kid himself, he chose his direction and zipped along the carpet halls.  He could conjure up the chilling voice in his thoughts, though it tore through his broken sense of self to recall its warning.

“I am not letting you crawl away.  Not after what you’ve done..”

Thank divine intervention that Vivi hadn’t fallen with him into the crypt.  Arthur didn’t have any idea how she would have taken the spook rising, she might not have thought anything of it but for a morbid scientific curiosity.  She was a treat at times.

But that was Lewis!  Arthur’s mind screamed.  He’d sooner be caught dead if he didn’t know Lewis.  The four of them, they’d been so close.  So close.  Tears worked at his eyes, clouding Arthur’s sight as he turned the corner in the hall.  Where the hell was she?

Just out around the corner Arthur glanced back over his shoulder to catch a last glimpse of the gloomy hall.  His heart skipped a beat when he saw the appropriation tearing a fuchsia blaze in the carpet under its feet, hot on his tail and murder in the pits of its eyes.  It cut the corner, clear as the magenta tinge that coated the walls, the spirit fazed through the edge of the wall in its pursuit of Arthur.

“He’s going to kill me,” Arthur realized with icy clarity.  “When he catches me, I don’t know how he plans to do it, but he will do it.”

The next corner Arthur swung around led him out into a long and wider hall, with portraits lining the walls with the same disapproving stares as the ones from the lower halls.  The wall ended on one side of the hall, opening up to a flight of steps.  The carpeted steps ascended around the banister while the floor opened up to the lower staircase.  Without a thought Arthur shot to the stairs and swung over the banister, he fell hard to the carpet steps below and tumbled when his feet gave out.  He refused to let himself stop there and kept rolling and falling over the hard corners hitting his knees and back, until his feet were back under him as he was dragging himself along into the next hall below his pursuer.

At any second, Arthur expected the specter to descend from the ceiling above.  Any moment, Arthur remained tense and in constant panic, fidgeting and fearful of every corner and every flicker of the candle lights that lined the walls.  Arthur didn’t believe he could elude the ghost for long.  He was in constant reminder that the mansion worked of its own ways and it was somehow controlled by the spirits, by Lewis.

The hall took a turn and Arthur followed it, into another long hall identical to the first.  Beside the corner was another suit of armor, immobile and boring, on the wall above its decorative feathers was a candle fixtures fixed to the wall.  Arthur gave the metal decoration plenty of distance as he jogged by it, the sight of it caused another tight pang to grip his chest.  He barely held back the sob as he rubbed his face on his shoulder.

They were in terrible danger and he had to get them, Vivi and Mystery, out of this place.  But WHERE could they be?  Did the powers that moved Arthur, transport Vivi someplace safe?  She could have been returned to the van of all places.  That felt too optimistic for Arthur.  And he wasn’t going to leave this place until he made certain his friends were safe.

Arthur slowed as he turned the next corner, until another hall with a suit of armor and candle at the very end appeared as before, identical to the first hall.  His blood was icy in his veins as he walked, suspicious to the activity present.  Arthur was making no progress, he was running in circles.  Or squares.

“Damn it,” Arthur muttered.  He turned around and tried to retrace his steps.  He couldn’t be trapped in an infinite loop.  He came down the steps and at the end of the hall there was the corner with the suit of armor.  He’s fucking around with me.  He was stuck in a trap and his time was running out.  Now that he understood the game, there was nothing left to do but wait for…  No.  This isn’t right.  It’s just not right!

The suit of armor and the candle awaited just the same at the halls end, as he had imagined they would.  Arthur tried to calculate in his mind how many times he turned the corner, and in his sense of direction he envisioned only the one corner repeating in his thoughts as he ran.  That made his situation seem less hopeless.

Arthur staggered to a stop when a swirl of magenta vapor slid away from the suit of armor, and in the bulbous top of the shape, a set of tawny eyes peered out at him.  He skipped backwards deftly as the spirit sniggered and swayed, its approach malicious.  Though, not as intimidating as the dark shape that solidified at the other end of the hall.  Arthur barely blinked before he whirled back around to shoot by the magenta spirit that had startled him.  Upon passing Arthur felt icy air bleed into his vest and his prosthetic arm, the spirit in turn winked out heart first.

Around the corner was the staircase Arthur had come down on.  He prayed this wasn’t a mistake and he wouldn’t get dumped into an infinite loop, his sanity couldn’t bear it.

The floor below was tiled in checker board style, black and white.  Arthur’s feet skid on the slick surface when he lunged off the stairs kicking his legs, fighting to get his momentum back.  He failed and fell to his knees, pain swelled up his side as he clawed at the floor with his hands; his metal knuckles clacked on the hard floor as he scratched for a hold.  Arthur didn’t stop to realize he was panicking.  There was no time to waste on concise thought or indecision, the ghost was near but he didn’t know where it would come from.  It could descend on top of his head at any given moment.  That was the worst thought of all.

Arthur had nearly gotten his footing back by the time the ghost had fallen through the ceiling above, the candle light on the walls either side of it flared at the close presence of their maker.  Arthur chocked on the cry in his throat as he jammed his feet into the floor and shot off, he looked back over his shoulder to see the distance he had on the dark figure.  It was fast.  He felt his heart jerk when his thoughts supplied that the spirit could chose when to gain on him at any time.

Words bombarded Arthur’s mind.  He didn’t focus on the walls or the furniture, or anything that whizzed by.  He chants in his mind, hunting for a loop hole in the terrible incident that had happened.  He wanted to fix it, make it all right again but there was no way to change the events set in time.  What his mind supplied was pleas.  “Not my fault.  Not my fault.  I didn’t want to..”  But he was not going to stop and try to reason with a vengeful spirit.

The hall ended to an open foyer not as large as the entrance hall, but it did offer selections of doors on the floor above and a few on the same level Arthur had entered upon.  Arthur chose to spring down the short steps to another door with candelabras fixed beside the frame.  He didn’t try the handle, he kept his momentum and slammed into polished wood with his metal elbow.  Pain tore through his shoulder but he managed to barrel through it, as he did the door that was now knocked off its latch.  It wouldn’t help to shut the door after him, he just raced through the small hall until it opened up into what he recognized as a kitchen.  A kitchen, here?  But maybe the mansion was just enchanted, and a kitchen needed attention.

One wall was lined with a long countertop and cabinets, broken and falling apart, decorated the wall above.  The candles were lit, pulsing with the same rapid flutter as his chest.  Standing before an open refrigerated was Vivi of all people, Mystery on the floor beside her feet as she examined the interior of the large silver box.  Arthur was reminded of the coffin he had found in the crypt, and knew he couldn’t stop to explain what had happened.

“Vivi!  Run!  MOVE IT!” Arthur yelped.  He snagged her sweater by the shoulder and jerked her after him.  “Hurry Mystery!  Hurry!  Move-move-move!”

“What is it?”  Vivi snapped.  She tried to look back as the dark shape zipped through the archway Arthur had darted from.  “Is that—”

 “Bad!  Bad ghost!” Arthur screamed, his voice cracking.  “It’s chasing me!  It’s hateful!”  He let go of Vivi as she ran ahead.  Vivi must have had time to rest, but he didn’t want to get left behind.  “Do you know where we’re going?”

“More or less,” she said.  Vivi would toss her eyes back trying to get a clear view of the ghost, but this was impossible with Arthur in the way and the corners they were forced to around.

“Arthur.  Arthur!” the voice of the specter screeched.  “I will get you!”

Vivi led Arthur and Mystery into a tight hall and past a few doors.  “It knows your name!” she snapped.  Vivi grabbed the handle of one door and snapped it back.  Mystery dove in followed by Arthur.  They were in a small study with desks, a bookshelf jutted across one half of the room, and a large table was in the furthest corner cluttered with books.  “Keep going!  There’s another door!”  She shoved Arthur ahead when he had turned his panicked eyes back to her.

Mystery had already reached the door and was waiting for the two to round the bookcase.  Arthur snapped the door open and followed Vivi with Mystery as they ducked out onto an upper stairwell.  “Where—” he began, before Vivi snagged the front of his shirt and hauled him along.  “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere!  We’re just trying to get distance on it,” Vivi gasped.  She let go of Arthur to hop down the stairwell a ways, then leapt over the banister to the floor below.  Arthur remained on the descending steps with Mystery, too winded to follow her example.  “If it doesn’t like you, we need to get you far away from it!”  The base of the stairs ended at a door across from the steps, and a short hall to the side that led to another door.  “Here.  This way!”

“Vi,” Arthur choked.  Mystery stayed by him gnawing on his pants leg, tugging him in the direction of Vivi.  “I don’t know if I can keep going!  I—” He stumbled forward when Vivi snatched his flesh wrist and tugged him through the hall.

“You are NOT doing this right here!” she said.  Vivi shoved the door open and followed Arthur through.  “You are not stopping until I say you can!”  She shoved him through a small room, a bedroom with two beds, and a bathroom at the furthest wall.  “I told you!  You’re never giving up on me again.”

The door was open so the three rushed through.  There was no sound of the ghost but Vivi wasn’t done dragging them through rooms yet.  They entered into another bedroom with one bed and a fallen bookcase, the door was in the furthest wall of the room.  The candles gleaming on the desk in the room was soft, which made navigating over the scattered books difficult for Arthur.  Vivi led them through the door into a larger hall with wood floors that rattled underfoot.  She took Arthur’s hand as she ran close to the wall, her eyes always checking over her shoulder to the walls and ceiling.  Vivi began to try doors along the way, until she found one that opened up into a sizable study.  A few desks had been abandoned inside and some large armchairs were shoved back into the corners, a door was in the furthest wall and another door was on the wall a few feet from.  No light was present within the disconsolate room but for the moonlight that seeped through the windows along the wall.  The slice of moon had crept across the sky and was nearly hidden behind the ragged trees that surrounded the estate.

Vivi shut the door behind Arthur once he stumbled through.  He looked ragged, his face white and his wrist had been clammy.  He stood in the center of the room gazing up at the windows and the sky outside as if in a trance.  “We should be safe here,” Vivi whispered.  She didn’t know if this was true, how devoted the ghost was to hounding Arthur or what it wanted from him.  “Art?  You gonna be okay?”  Vivi reached over and lightly touched the wrist of his prosthetic.  Arthur whipped away from her as if bitten.  She tried to reassure him, but Arthur just shook his head and backed away.

“My fault,” Arthur mumbled.  “Not my fault, I swear.”  He pressed his palms to his face and hunched forward.  Vivi was sure he was sobbing.  “I didn’t.  I’m telling you.”

Vivi stepped forward.  She shared a look with Mystery, who had sat himself on the other side of the room watching his two companions.  To Vivi’s gaze, Mystery tilts his head and turns back to Arthur.

“Arthur,” Vivi said, softer still.  “Why did that spirit want you?”

With a low sob Arthur gathered his breath.  “I didn’t.  I swear,” he said.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know.”

“You need to be honest with me.”  Vivi crept forward as Arthur dropped to the floor, he brought his knees up to his face and shuffled into the wall beside an armchair.  “Tell me, what did you do?”

“Nothing,” he hissed.  Arthur dropped his hands and looked Vivi in the face.  “I’m telling you.”  He took a small breath before he began coughing.  “Nothing.  I did nothing wrong.  Honest.  I’m being honest!”

Vivi crouched beside Arthur and placed her hand on his shoulders.  She could feel the rough skin under his sleeve where the prosthetic had been attached to his tendons.  “I will understand.” Vivi’s voice was solid but warm.  She held his gaze for several minutes as he held her eyes, tears streaking down his cheeks.  “I will help you Arthur.  I will be there for you.  Why?  Because you are my friend.”  Tears began slipping down her face, but Vivi wasn’t sure why.  “I nearly… I nearly lost you once.  I can’t do that again.  That’s the one thing I won’t do for you.  Understand?”

Mystery approached the two and leaned over to nuzzle Vivi’s face and then Arthur’s.  He sat down watching Arthur.  Mystery’s position in the moonlight that was cast through the windows caused the light to catch along the upper rim of his amber glasses.

“Arthur?”  Vivi asked.  She put her arms up when Arthur slumped in her lap and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.  He began sobbing quietly, hard quivers tightening in his chest as he fought to keep low his anguish.  “It’ll be okay, Arthur.”  Vivi rubbed his back and gave Mystery a look of concern.  She didn’t mean to push him so hard.  “It’ll be all right.  You’re with friends.  We’ll get you through this.”

Mystery raised a paw and set it on Arthur’s shoulder, a low whine worked up from the dog’s chest.

Arthur tightened his grip on Vivi’s waist and pressed his forehead into his prosthetic arm.  “I woke up,” Arthur said, voice catching when he tried to speak.  “I woke up in a crypt.  He was waiting for me.”  He took a deep breath and felt more tears roll from his eyes.  “Waiting for me.  He’ll… he’ll never let us leave.  Not until he kills me.” At the admission, Arthur begins sobbing harder.  He had to die.  That’s what Lewis wanted.  It was the only way, the only right way to make amends.

“No.”  Vivi rubbed Arthur’s back.  “You don’t need to die to put that spirit to rest.  No one does.”

“You don’t understand,” Arthur moaned.  “It’s the only thing left I can do for him.”

“You don’t owe anyone anything.  Listen to me Arthur!”  Vivi pulled on his vest until Arthur leaned back and met her eyes.  “We brought some provisions when we came into this house just in case.”  Vivi wiped his face with her scarf, but the tears still fell.  “We’ve laid spirits to rest before, we can do it.”  She put her arms around Arthur’s chest and hugged him.  “That would be the right thing to do.”

Arthur glanced over to Mystery, who nodded once.  “I don’t know if I can do this,” Arthur said.  “I’m compromised, I—” He stopped when Vivi pushed him away and struck him across the face.  Arthur stared at her.  Vivi’s eyes glistened with tears and she held an expression of anger and determination.

“Just stop,” Vivi snapped.  “Stop it.  You will help Mystery and me or so help me, I’ll kill you myself!”  Vivi glared at Arthur, and Arthur reached his prosthetic arm to his cheek too sooth the ache with the cool metal. In the silence, the wind whistled outside over the eaves of the house and the slates of the walls.

Arthur choked on his gasp and melted out of his rigid stance.  A smile broke out on his face as he sniffled and giggled.  Vivi snickered with him, her own trepidation fading as she leaned forward and laid her arms around Arthur’s shoulders.  They said nothing, just held onto the other and chuckled and cried a bit more.

“You’re such a dork,” Vivi said, drying her face with the sleeve of her sweater.  She dabbed some of the tears away from Arthur’s face, before he began to rise.

“I’m your dork,” Arthur responded.  He used the armrest of the chair beside him to haul himself to his feet, and took Vivi’s arm and helped her stand with him.  “Are you ready to do this then?”

Vivi released his hand but hesitated as Arthur moved towards the door.  “Are you sure you’re ready?” she asked.  “We can wait here a little longer.”

Arthur shook his head and took the door handle.  “I have a feeling finding our way to the front room won’t be easy,” Arthur reasoned.  “Do you know—” He cut off when the door handle snapped out of his hand and hit the outside wall.  Arthur took a few steps back peering through the opening and the light that blazed through the open doorway.  In three steps Arthur was to Vivi, he took her shoulders and pressed her down behind the nearest armchair.  “Mystery, stay with Vivi.”

“Arthur!”  Vivi snared his vest before he could stand up.  “What’re you doing?” she snapped.

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur assured.  He took her hand and pulled it from his shirt.  “I’ll keep him busy while you get our equipment.  Don’t worry.”  Arthur smiled at Vivi as he patted her hand.  “I’m not giving up the ghost yet.” 

Vivi released his hand as he straightened up and turned away.  “Be careful,” Vivi whispered.  She wrapped her arms around Mystery when he climbed into her lap.  Vivi buried her face in his fur.  “He’ll be okay,” Vivi said, over and over.  “He’s okay.”

Arthur dashed to the door across the room and took the handle.  He turned back when that subtle thrumming entered the room fully, and suspended in the doorway was a shape that cast no shadow.  The thought caused his resolve to waver but he refused to glance aside.  He couldn’t give Vivi’s position away.  If Vivi failed, maybe the ghost would be satisfied with one death, one sacrifice to appease the soul. Arthur would make sure it was him and Vivi would be not be there to witness it.  Arthur shut his eyes and tightened his grip on the tarnished doorknob, its reflection warped the dark shapes of the room and its occupants.  Arthur forced himself to look up and meet the embers burning in the eye sockets of the skull, the expression on the dead thing sent cold needles through his skin.  The moonlight was satisfied to settle on the golden locket flashing on its chest as the specter glided through the room, past Vivi and Mystery without the slightest glimpse their way.

A small whimper bubbled from Arthur’s throat.  They were safe!  They had a chance.  Arthur gathered his breath and practically tore the handle out of the old wood as he jerked the door open, and froze.  He stood for a moment staring into darkness that greeted him, and listened to the dull throb of his beating heart.  Slowly, as if he were not moving at all, Arthur turned his head to look back at the ghost that had waited patiently for him to make his fatal error.

“Boo.”

[3rdgymbros]

— pairing; muichirou tokitou x kamado tanjirou

— word count; 1 k

— summary; He stares, glowers at the newcomers with narrowed eyes and a pinched face, holding onto Muichiro’s hand tightly. Muichiro, who has a partial view of Tanjirou from behind the protective back of his twin, begins to jump up and down in excitement. ( Or: an AU where Muichiro is turned into a demon. )

— for; @quelynxyz who is feeding me with their muichirou and tanjirou content

— read it on ao3

Yuichiro is most certainly not jealous.

He stares, glowers at the newcomers with narrowed eyes and a pinched face, holding onto Muichiro’s hand tightly. Muichiro, who has a partial view of Tanjirou from behind the protective back of his twin, begins to jump up and down in excitement.

It’s clear that he remembers the older boy from their first meeting at the Butterfly Estate.

What had been a once enjoyable evening spent soaking in the hot springs with his twin has now turned sour. He remembers Tanjirou from that disastrous pillar meeting; the boy had practically thrown a fit to convince the other pillars that his sister wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Muichiro had been the first demon accepted into the corps, but now there were two. His eyes flicker to the wooden box balanced between Tanjirou’s shoulder blades and then away.

“Ah, Tokito-san! Muichiro! Hello!”

When the hell had they become so friendly?

Tanjirou smiles and waves at him, bright and easy. Yuichiro’s own expression closes and darkens as he forces out a non-committed greeting. Although young, his face is drawn, life’s inadequacies now surfacing in his hard eyes and roughened edges.

Muichiro is far more welcoming.

Even after the attack that had turned him into a demon, Muichiro still possesses all of his happy innocence. He’s now a slender teenager in a dark blue, cloud-patterned yukata and his thoughts run this way and that. His hair is thick and straight, bleached silver by the moonlight that beats down on him. Though one would only have to look at his fingers, delicately curved into claws, or his eyes, now golden and cat-like, with vertical slit pupils, to identify him as a demon.

“Muichiro,” Yuichiro says, tightening his grip on his twin, still looking at Tanjirou with that same, cool, dispassionate gaze. “Don’t even think about –”

He could scream when Muichiro, all too easily, breaks free of his grip and practically sprints over to Tanjirou, who resembles a rabbit caught in a trap – caught off guard, but very much happy. He’s sure that Muichiro, too, is smiling behind his bamboo-woven muzzle.

Like a barnacle, Muichiro attaches himself to Tanjirou’s waist.

Tanjirou pats Muichiro’s head with absentminded affection. His face tinged with pink, Muichiro buries his face into the crook of Tanjirou’s neck. “Ah, did the two of you come from the hot springs? Nezuko and I were planning to soak there too!”

“Yeah.”

Yuichiro leaves out the fact that he’d been the one using the hot spring while Muichiro, much like a cat, had trembled behind a tree and refused to even dip his toes into the steaming water. Muichiro hates bathing. Just to get him wet daily, Yuichiro had taught him to swim in the creek last summer, which he actually enjoyed.

“Muichiro, let him go. We’re leaving.” Yuichiro grabs Muichiro tightly, and tries to drag him away.

Muichiro shakes his head, a fishing lure in rough waters, and clings to Tanjirou like a teddy bear. He hangs on tight, like Tanjirou’s a life raft in the middle of a stormy ocean. “Want to go too. Going with Tanjirou!”

“Oh for crying out loud –” Yuichiro throws up his hands in frustration. “You don’t even like hot springs!”

Muichirou is nothing but stubborn.

His pouting lower lip screams a refute, his chin tilting up defiantly as he crows out another, “Going with Tanjirou!”

---

Tanjirou, as it turns out, is either a god or a miracle worker. Maybe even both.

After unlocking the box to let his sister out, Tanjirou somehow manages to coax Muichiro into the water. Yuichiro had spent weeks pulling his hair out in frustration, trying to come up with a way to get Muichiro wet, and this punk comes along and accomplishes what he’s struggled to do with a smile and a few sweet words.

“It’ll be fun,” Tanjirou had promised, addressing Muichiro, who huddled behind a rock, his face an almost comical picture of pure fear. “I’ll hold your hand too! So don’t be scared!”

Muichiro had wavered for the briefest of seconds, before peeling off his clothes and practically throwing himself at Tanjirou, latching onto him once again with his tiny, but manacle-strong arms.

Tanjirou splutters, and his head is submerged for a good minute before he comes up for air again, gasping like a fish. Muichiro looks almost delighted at how the water laps at his skin, shaking his head and sending droplets of water flying in all directions. His sister worriedly splashes her way over to his side, her eyes wide and pink, almost too large for her face.

Yuichiro is almost tempted to laugh.

Almost.

Slowly, evening falls around them. Curled over his stomach, Yuichiro hears the water gurgle out a lullaby, feels the cold pinch at his cheeks and whip at his hair. He keeps a wary eye on his twin, primed to pull him out if Muichiro shows the slightest sign of discomfort.

His worries, however, appear to be unfounded. Tanjirou keeps his word, and holds Muichiro’s hand the entire time. Contented and at peace now, Muichiro amuses himself by using his one free hand to splash water at Tanjirou, and occasionally, his sister. Good-natured as ever – Yuichiro, quite nastily, wonders where his backbone had went, remembering how spirited the other had been when confronting Shinazugawa for injuring his sister – Tanjirou accepts the face full of water with a smile.

His sister retaliates on his behalf, and the sudden, violent motion sends a whole wave of water crashing over the three of them.

Tanjirou coughs out a laugh, along with a mouthful of water, scrubbing roughly at his face with the back of his hand. “Do you want me to wash your hair later, Muichiro?”

“Wash! Wash!” Over the peal of his laughter, a sparkle lights up his eyes.

As Yuichiro watches, Muichiro moves over to hug Tanjirou; clawed fingers brush against gently against Tanjirou’s cheek, tickle against his forehead. A wash of pink paints Tanjirou’s face – Yuichiro’s sure that it’s not from the heat of the springs.

Yuichiro’s expression sours. His fingers carve marks into the loose soil beside him.

Yuichiro is most certainly not jealous.

[wayward-eclectic]

🌛100 + Tips for Witchlings and Secret Witches🌜

Before we get into the tips, I want to thank you guys for the five hundred new follows over the past week! That’s crazy to me but I am so appreciative for all 3,500+ of you! Without me getting too mushy, here’s what you came for: 

1.       Portable Altars: http://stellawitchcraft.tumblr.com/post/153183600818/ive-been-meaning-to-make-some-kind-of-portable (I loved this when I saw it so I wanted to share it!

2.       Google docs for BoS to not be found

3.       Kitchen witchery – incorporate spells into your cooking, draw sigils in your tea, etc

4.       Use the stones in jewelry if a collection would be suspicious

5.       Online books as well as apps for your phone

6.       Disguise your BoS as a journal/ keep it in a notebook

7.       Use a bath for scrying

8.       Use shower time to cleanse spiritually and recharge as well as physical cleansing

9.       Shufflemancy with spotify playlists for divination

10.   Tea light candles can be a replacement for actual candles if you’re in a dorm or can’t light candles

11.   Meditation is discreate!

12.   A ring on a necklace, any kind of necklace really can be used as a pendulum.

13.   Moon correspondences for cleansings!

14.   Incorporate corresponding colors into your wardrobe for intent

15.   Charge jewelry with intent to wear

16.   Online tarot cards can work just as well in a pinch

17.   While color correspondence is preferred for candles, use what you have!

18.   Pocket notebooks are easily hidden in your bags or pockets

19.   Take up crocheting or knitting for knotwork

20.   Whistle up a wind

21.   Collect rain water/ storm water for spells and store it in a water bottle or perfume bottle

22.   Use the ashes from incense as black salt

23.   Coffee filters are biodegradable! (please don’t bury glass jars)

24.   Dissolve salt in hot water to use instead of salt lines/circles

25.   Use an online altar and your computer/phone has a calendar. IF the moon phases aren’t already there, you can mark them plus create reminders.

26.   Get caught in the rain to cleanse yourself

27.   Most phones have a “notes” where you can keep stuff

28.   Make an alternate email account and email yourself spells and such

29.   Make a private Pinterest board

30.   Bells have been used in witchcraft for years and years, you can cleanse with them, summon, etc

31.   Bathroom mirror after a shower would be great for scrying!

32.   Incorporate sigils and spells into drawings.

33.   Take up gardening

34.   Crayons can burn

35.   Glamour spells can be done on your makeup

36.   Public libraries are always a great place to look for metaphysical books

37.   Use a sideblog to keep spells and such

38.   Project Gutenburg has thousands of free books

39.   Witchipedia is also a great source

40.   Use thread or yarn for knotwork. It can be burnt when finished

41.   Don’t summon anything you can’t get rid of

42.   Research specific paths before committing to make sure it’s to part of a closed culture

43.   Most herbs can be found at your local grocery store

44.   You don’t have to dedicate yourself to just one path

45.   There are so many online communities you can be a part of

46.   Being a solitary witch is a valid choice

47.   There is no right or wrong way to be a witch

48.   You can be a guy and still be a witch

49.   Cursing/hexing does not make you evil

50.   While it’s good to stay in practice, you can take breaks! You don’t have to perform a spell everyday to be a witch

51.   YouTube is full of great witches to watch

52.   There are plenty of witchy podcasts

53.   Research plants before eating them.

54.   Please do not glue rocks to your steering wheel. It’s dangerous if you’re in an accident.

55.   Air fresheners in your car can have sigils drawn on them or just color correspondences

56.   They can be used for protection in general

57.   Hang talismans from your rearview mirror but be careful about sun bleaching

58.   Wicca is not a blanket term

59.   Neither is pagan

60.   Rust can be collected to use in spells

61.   Take a bit of dirt from your school or college for spells for knowledge or luck spells for exams

62.   Sigils in your nail polish

63.   Makeup color correspondences. Just beware that people might look at you funny if you wear green lipstick.

64.   Carve sigils on the bottom of your candles

65.   Post it notes!

66.   Essential oils are an option instead of incense or candles if you can’t burn things

67.   Online sigil maker: http://sigilscribe.me/

68.   Pine Cone Pub: http://www.pinecone.pub/

69.   Avocado pits ward off negativity and apparently the housing market

70.   Research your essential oils because not all are safe to use around pets

71.   Do not leave your herbs laying around if you have pets or children

72.   Crying is alright for cleansing.

73.   Store herbs or a piece of paper in a locket!

74.   Some rings have hidden compartments!

75.   Use your jewelry box as an altar

76.   Lavender in your pillow or pillow case for sleep

77.   Other cards besides tarot cards can be used in divination

78.   Use the sun for charging but again, sun bleaching is a thing!

79.   Not all stones should be cleaned in water, research that.

80.   Not everything you read online is true

81.   Just because you’re a witch doesn’t make you a Satanist despite what the old lady next door says

82.   If you’re not comfortable doing a spell, don’t. It’s okay.

83.   Binding is an alternative to cursing and just as effective.

84.   Media portrayals of magic aren’t always accurate

85.   If you can do literally anything from The Craft, call me. I want in.

86.   Wands aren’t just for Harry Potter

87.   A stick from your backyard can be used as a wand

88.   So can a chopstick and there are great tutorials involving hot glue and paint to personalize them!

89.   Witchcraft does not have to be expensive.

90.   Do not spend money you don’t have for supplies you don’t need

91.   Intent is usually more than enough.

92.   You don’t need that 80 dollar athame when any knife will do. Just cleanse and charge it.

93.   We do not boil babies, infants, children, or people in general

94.   No animal sacrifices. That’s a personal thing, but I insist that you don’t do it.

95.   You don’t have to sell your soul to a crossroads demon. This isn’t Supernatural.

96.   Yes, spirits are real.

97.   Don’t expect sparks and green lights to know that a spell is working

98.   You might not always see your manifestations right away, give it time.

99.   You can use your own pulse to charge your sigils

100.                       100.Your craft is your own and you don’t have to follow anyone else’s path.

Bonus! Shower disks and bath bombs are wonderful! You can also make your own runes: http://www.therunesite.com/making-your-own-rune-set/ or use online runes like I mentioned with tarot cards: https://www.tarot3d.net/tagesrune/en

[the-voice-of-hell]

Rent is Theft, part 19

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here.  Note:  My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not.  If you have notes on that or anything else, hit me up.

                                                        ***

      In retrospect, it was a pretty big leap from my success with the allergy medicine to assuming I could make sorcery happen, but I did not hesitate or doubt what I was attempting to do.  My worry of it not working was less about a lack of faith in magic than a lack of confidence in my choices of method.  

But whatever those doubts, once I had my plan, I committed to it.

      I moved all the remaining furniture out of the living room except one tiny end table that would serve as my “wooden altar.”  I used bulk white chalk to create the magic circle, ladled with a little dustpan.  The prescribed seven foot diameter was just about the entire width of my little living room.  Inside that I used the bulk chalk to make an equilateral triangle about five feet per side.  I had put on a face mask and sprayed the surface of that geometry with a fixative I’d brewed up with a combination of research and guesswork.  It didn’t have to be permanent, just last long enough for some use, and I figured the high school technique of using hairspray to fix pastels on construction paper wasn’t going to work here.

      I leaned against my kitchenette to rest, observing the work.  Sloppy, but could be worse.  I went back at it, writing three symbols of Mercury inside the triangle in yellow chalk.  That had to be sidewalk chalk, so it was much more slow going.  The triangle called for “various symbols of Mercury” and the most I could find that seemed legit was the three - the caduceus, of course, with snakes entwining a winged rod; an astrological symbol that looked like Venus with horns; and the periodic table abbreviation Hg.  At the end I used my fixative again.

      That was the hard stuff, and took more than an hour to complete.  After that my room had a chemical smell, but I needed to eat, so I grabbed some string cheese, peanuts, and a bottle of wine to the bedroom.  Rest.  It had been a long morning and would be very easy to fall asleep, but I resisted.  I rolled the glass on my face, cool with condensation.

      I finished the whole bottle, just in case the drunkenness was an important ingredient.  Although when should I be doing that drinking?  Should I have done it before the chalk?  Later, right before midnight?  The bottle had me feeling chill, but not really drunk.  My tolerance was getting high.  Bad shit.

      There were two brushed steel racks holding spot lights for the walls, one on each side of the room.  I ran a string between them as taut as I could get it, and from that hung my St. Hubert bottle of mercury.  Along the rest of the line I used clothespins to hang rumpled blue-violet wolfsbane flowers.  At regular intervals around the outer circle, I placed glass olive oil bottles with their contents drained and replaced with candles - for the time remaining unlit.  On the island counter of the kitchenette, I reserved two places for my blood mixture and for the sulfur-beaverbutt-camphor mixture.  On the opposite side of the circle, out by the window, one of the olive oil candle bottles sat on the little side table with my three wands.

      Were they wands or switches?  They were meant for violence, at least per the book.  The previous night I’d tried to soften the business ends by sanding them and covering them with frayed twine.  I didn’t know how important it was for Knobby to get hit with the very specific woods involved, so it wasn’t perfect coverage.  It was surely going to sting.

      Not drunk enough.  I opened a box of wine in the fridge and poured a glass, then walked out to the living room.  “Evil spirits, your time is nigh!  I am a highly magical bitch!”  I drank the glass to the bottom, then threw it into the far corner of the room, where it broke against the window and lay in sparkling chunks.  I let my head dip, my eyes close.  “I am a highly magical b--”

      There was a knock at the door.  I answered, opening a comfortable crack for my floories.  “Hello guys.”

      Marcie asked, “Eh, are you drunk, honey?”

      “Whu-?  Oh.  Listen, I’m only a lil’ tipsy, and it’s for magical reasons.  I’m serious now.”

      Marcie and Mike had teamed up, and were at the door together.  Mike said, “So, we haven’t found Knobby.  Getting pretty bushed, gotta take a break.”

      “Want to come into my humble witch’s den?  There is no furniture in the living room now.”

      “That’s OK, Courtney.  We’ll go to my place, charge up my cellphone for a bit.”

      “Right on.  You know where Momi is lookin’?”

      “Last time we passed her she was on some floors downstairs.”

      “He won’t be down there,” I thought aloud.  “Thanks, guys.  I’m about ready in here.  I’ll see you later.”

      They left, I drank a bit of water and took a bathroom break, then went out to find Momi.  I still didn’t expect to find Knobby while I was at it, just wanted to be close to her again.  Out in the hall I heard the elevator.  I glanced that way to see Perry coming back from who knows where.  He didn’t acknowledge me, but gave the untended eyeballs in the hall corners a sad look.  I went into the stairwell.  I’ll clean up that crap for you when I get back, buddy.

      I found Momi walking around the eighth floor and smiled as I stumbled toward her.  She gave me a concerned look.  “Are you OK?  You’re drunk.”

      “I’m only a little drunk, and it’s not because I’m losing my nerve.  It’s for magical reasons.  Magical, I swear!”

      “Mmm, OK, I guess.”  She had clamped a strong hand on my shoulder to arrest my sloppy affection, so no hugging was to be had.  That said, her touch made me happy.  Her strength made me feel weak, in a good way.

      “So I was thinking, there’s nobody living on these floors right now, so we should just look upstairs.  Where the biddies are.”

      “Biddies?”

      “The old ladies that are complaining about our dogboy.”

      “Heheh.  I guess a werewolf is just a dogboy, expecially if he’s a teenager.”

      “Shit, you’re so cute.  That’s why I act funny, so I can see you smile.”  I tried to get my paws on her, but she still held me back.  “Weh.  What can I do, baby?”  I gave up and clasped my hands together in a prayer to my goddess, probably giving off Peter Lorre Mad Love vibes.

      “We should go.  You aren’t wearing your allergy medicine.”  She pointed at the carpet.

      I looked down.  She had the pill amulet on and the floor around her sneakers was fine.  The carpet under my feet was puffing and pinkish, starting to glisten.  “Oh Christ.”

                                                        ***

      We got my amulet and took the elevator to the top floor, which again had a different layout from our floor.  There were still a few small apartments available, but the spacing of the doors suggested large penthouse suites.  I remembered how much those cost from the listings when I moved in.  It made me wanna knock the top off the fucking building.       The hall there was designed to admit a maximum of sunlight and had much more powerful indoor lighting as well, keeping it bathed in an overwhelming glow.  Having never seen that hall before, I felt like an escapee from Plato’s cave, about to get shot by the guards and chucked back into the underground.

      But from the brief visit I knew the day was rapidly diminishing.  If we couldn’t turn up Knobby, this full moon might be a bust.  Still, if we couldn’t turn up Knobby, it also meant I could just spend my night loving my girlfriend, which was much more pressing in my mind just then.

      We entered the stairwell, ready to go floor to floor again.  A few steps in and I tripped, about to fall hard and break apart like dry kindling.  Momi grabbed me and held me still on the stairs.  One of my ankles was slightly twisted, my feet were on different steps, my hips twisted in place.  I untangled them and set my feet carefully in place on the closer step.

      When she spoke her lips were right by my ear.  I could feel her breath on me.  “Courtney!  Be careful!  Holy Jesus.”

      “You better hold me just a little longer, I’m not... quite...”  No, I was totally set.  I just loved the feeling, squished against her soft body in her big arms, though my head wrap was probably whacking her in the eyes.  “OK, I’m good.”  I held the rail this time.  I moved slow to trick her into going down side by side with me, then I matched her pace.

      “You ready to wrestle a dogboy?,” I asked.

      “You think he will fight me?”

      “I guess he might come if we ask nice.  If we say we have doggy biscuits.”

      “Good.  I don’t want to hurt him.”

      “Yeah...  So if this works, maybe we can do exorcisms on our heads, y’know?  Unsquirrel your hair.  What would you do with your hair, if you could control it again?”

      We opened the door and looked into the hall of the next floor down.  No Knobby.

      “Ooh, I don’t know.  What would look pretty?”

      “Anything on you, baby.  Maybe just to show your hair who’s boss you could do some crazy punk rock ’do.  Like a big bright red and pink mohawk with leopard spotted buzz on one side and green and purple liberty spikes on the other.”

      “Oh my god, that would be so weird.”

      “Braided pigtails.”

      “I tried that before.  It takes too long, and it hurts.”

      “Trim the sides and back, do a big pompadour.”

      “Like Janelle Monáe?  She can only do that because she’s skinny and pretty.”

      I opened the door to the next floor down and peeked in.  Nothing.  “Uggh, come on, babe.  You can do whatever you want.  And we’re just daydreaming here, right?  Wildest dreams, silly time.  What would you do?”

      “I don’t know.”

      “I’m gonna bleach your ends white and dye them bright fuchsia.  How you like that?”

      “I guess I don’t mind.”

      “Oh you don’t mind, huh?  What else could I do to you, that you’d just sit there and tolerate?”

      “Courtney, do you really wanna know how far you can push, before I put you in a dumpster?”

      “Augh!  Oh no, baby, I sure don’t!”

      “It’s OK.  I wouldn’t put you in a dumpster.”

      “So can I paint your face like a clown?”

      “What?  Why would you wanna do that?”

      “Not a scary clown, Momi.”  I looked in on another empty floor.  “Like a cute clown.”

      “Do you wanna have sex with a clown?”

      “Never thought about it.  Might be fun.”

      “I would sit and tolerate that.”

      “Whoa.  Kinky.  But it wouldn’t be fun if you were a total pillow princess about it.  You’d have to do something clowny.  Like, uh, slap me with a toy fish or something.”

      “I could tolerate that.”

      “That’s just... fucking amazing.  What should I do with this newfound sex power I have?  To get you to do weird stuff.”

      “Hehehe.”

      “That sounds like carte blanche to me.  I’m gonna go mad with power.”

      We looked in on another floor.  Some young dude was walking into his apartment and stopped a moment when he noticed us.  We acknowledged each other with little nods and he went on.  We continued our descent.

                                                        ***

      Marcie reached Richie on her cell, Richie was getting sporadic texts from Olivia, and supposedly the kids were going to come back home before midnight.  Word was that they had found Knobby’s deformity pretty useful for garnering sympathy while panhandling, were trying to make the most of it.

      I had my doubts but through the phone game we found out there were too many possible spots they were using, and they changed spots several times per day, so hunting them down would be a huge pain.  We settled in to wait for them.

      When Graeme came home at eight, he said he’d met Patrick in the hall, and Patrick told him the biddies were at it again - claiming that very afternoon someone had seen a large dog in the hall, urinating this time.  I went floor to floor, looking for the spot, and found it on the fourteenth floor.  When had he slipped by us?

      Marcie got worn out, while Mike seemed more energetic as the night went on, so we let him do some searching by himself - on the condition that he keep his green ass out of sight.  Around ten, Patrick reported back that he’d seen the werewolf, but it got away.  He had barely seen it, only had another deuce it had left in the hall to confirm his suspicions of what the hustling figure had been.

      In response to that, we had Richie text Olivia again.  She got back to say she and Knobby were almost home.  I found that too vexing to really consider.  I shushed Richie when he started following that train of thought to its obvious conclusion.

      Olivia and Knobby took the elevator up and were immediately grabbed up by Patrick and swept into my apartment.  That can’t have been very comforting, but they seemed genially clueless when brought before their queen.

      “Hello kids,” I said.  “This is a bit of a surprise party for you, Knobby.”

      He beamed nervously.  His smile was huge and white for a homeless kid.  I think at some point he had said his dad was a dentist.  “Wha-a-a-at?  Really?  Look like...”  He lost his train of thought as his eyes took in the whole scene - the chalk circle, the single chair in the center of the room over the hermetic symbols.

      Olivia asked, “What the fuck is this shit?”

      By now we had Momi, Richie, Deandre, Graeme, and Patrick in the room.  Graeme looked ready to step in and be politic, but it was my show.  I answered, “It’s nothing bad.  Olivia, how hard are you holding your neck down right now?  You notice we’re all having problems like that?”

      “What’s it got to do with-”

      “What’s it got to do with me?,” Knobby said.

      “This seems like it’s the building’s way of trying to get us caught.  Somebody in particular has been turning into a dog and causing a scene around our neighbors.  We have to stop it.”

      “Oh no,” Olivia said, “They’re gonna kill you!”

      I rolled my eyes and showed them both palms.  “No sacrificial dagger here, kids.  Come on.”

      Knobby went back on his haunches in a truly dog-like fashion, cringing in fear.  “Oh no!”

      “We’re not even going to hurt you, seriously!  I came up with this magic spell.  We have to spank you with those wands and pour some gross magic sauce on you, but you’ll be fine!  Not even a bruise.”

      He clung to her thigh pathetically.  Suddenly her head turned completely upside down, her neck escaping the collar of her unseasonably heavy jacket.  She scrambled to sort herself out, push the neck back in.  “Ugh!”

      “We have to do it guys.  I’ll let you use my shower to clean up after, OK?  Just, please, cooperate?”

      “I don’t wanna,” he whimpered.

      Richie said, “When has she ever hurt us guys?  If Courtney says you’re going to be OK, you’re going to be OK.  Chill, bro.”

      “If this works,” Graeme said, “We’re all going to do it, to cure our problems.  My red hands, Olivia’s neck, Mike’s green skin...”

      Olivia settled her head down, buttoned the jacket collar to hold her neck in again.  “Mmm, I dunno...”

      Knobby finally let go of her leg, tried to prop himself up to a standing position - still a deep crouch.  “I guess if everyone is gonna do it, I don’t like having to creep around like this.  You swear it won’t hurt?”

      “It might hurt a tiny bit.”  I pointed to the table with the wands.  “We’re going to smack you with those sticks a few times, but just a few times, right?  Then I’m going to pour this gross stuff on you - some reheated pig blood and a magic potion.  Both have to be pretty hot, but they won’t be boiling, OK?”

      “Oh God, that’s gross,” he muttered, but he wasn’t trying to get away anymore.

      “I’m glad you’re helping out, because the ritual says we’re supposed to tie you up, and I don’t wanna hafta do that.  We care about you guys.”

      “Speak for your damn selfs,” Perry said, as Marcie brought him into the room.

      “Be nice, Perry,” Marcie said.

      “I don’t know you,” he groaned.

      Patrick took him by the arm off to the far side of the circle.

      I looked to Marcie.  “Only missing Mike now.”

      “He was so rambunctious, wanted to keep looking.  I haven’t had a chance to let him know we found Knobby already, and he doesn’t have a cellphone.”

      “We’ll do this without him if we have to, but I really want everybody to be here.  One, just so everybody knows what we’re all doing - so nobody gets any wrong ideas or loses trust.  And two, I feel like the spell is more likely to work if we’re all in attendance.”

      Grime said, “I sit on my ass all day at work.  I could use the workout.  Anybody else feel rested enough to go bring Mike back?”

      Deandre said, “My feet are tore up.”

      Almost everybody had done a ton of walking around town, or at work, or upstairs and down.

      Richie said, “I’m kinda beat, but it’s important.  I’ll help out.”

     “Alright,” said Grime.  “If we do this logically, there’s no way he can get past us.  I say we have one of us in each stairwell, right..?”  He kept splaining as they went out the door.

      I addressed the rest of the floories.  “OK, you’re all guests here!  It’s a while before midnight, so head on into my bedroom.  I have a selection of comfy seats, I’ll bring in beverages - just watch out for the chalk.  Thanks Patrick, just step over... OK, there you go.”

      They all went in to relax.  I had some bowls of chex mix for the occasion, the kind with bugles and cheez-its.  Hopefully nobody had food allergies or was vegan.  I came back with a box of wine, a sleeve of red disposable cups, and a big jug of cheap fruit punch.

      “Alright, here’s the stuff.  Anybody want anything else?  I can slice some cheese, got some donuts but they might be a bit stale.”

      A few people availed themselves of that hospitality, others started chatting, and a few minutes later I was able to settle in beside Leimomi.  She smiled weakly at me, then we both did the same to Olivia and Knobby, who were sitting across from us.  I realized too late that was probably in creepy unison, and had a dark chuckle.  Knobby laughed nervously, Olivia did not.

      “I’m really hoping this works, guys, and if it doesn’t, the worst that happened is we wasted our time and Knobby had to take a shower.  OK?”

      “I got ya, I got ya,” he said.

      “It’ll be great to get out of these stupid head wraps.  Momi and I are looking like fake Erykah Badus.”

      “Who’s that?,” Olivia asked.

                                                        ***

   Read next chapter here.

[samanthasgone]

[jackal-of-hearts]

Red Blossoms

I wrote a story. It’s...1446 words or so? If you feel like reading, it’s below the cut. I am not responsible for whatever pasting it on here does to formatting!

A flower blossomed, rich and red. It was an odd sight, to be sure. A lone spot of color calling out from the sun-bleached scrub and grass that stretched out across the edge of the desert. Strange, but pleasant. It was the herald of journey’s end and the first of many markers which announced the yielding of barren sand to lush soil. She was almost home.

               Jezebel, the woman was called. A name which raised more than a few glances outside of her homeland. Superstitious, they were often called. In the modern age, who still believed in monsters and spirits? Each member of her village laid claim to three names. One was private and known only to its owner and perhaps a few treasured kin. A true name, which held power. One was used during formal occasions and often found placed as a surname. Something of substance but with only a mild link to the person that holds it. The last was often offensive and given out freely and without care as it was the least of their identities. By this standard, it was a fine name, as far as such things went.

               Vehicles could not make it out this far. Any that tried found a series of incidents, swiftly escalating, that barred progress beyond the middle of the desert where the last oasis rested. By land or air, the ill luck carried. With this restriction in mind, a small camp had sprung up around the cool waters. Mounts were available for sale, or rent with the proper identification, and it was upon the back of an Arabian bay stallion that the woman gained the borders of the town. It had no name and yet laid claim to all of them. When one spoke of this place, the listener knew if they were meant to.

               Quite out of habit, Jezebel reached for her phone before remembering that it was locked up in a protective box along with her laptop, tablet and anything else that she didn’t want to risk while crossing the barrier. There would be no service this far out anyway. A soft sigh slipped past her lips as she continued on. She hoped that her clients would be alright without her. Some of them needed far too much attention. But, the trip could not be put off any longer than it had.

               Jezebel had come home for the funeral.

                 She was challenged on the approach. Out of necessity, this was a brief offering of sign and countersign. Children are the taught the ritual before they can even walk more than a few steps. The second crossing was more elaborate but allowed her to move past the high, reinforced stone walls. It was always a bit jarring to return home after so long on the outside. It was much like being the protagonist of some silly time travel movie.

               So it came to pass that a woman dressed in canvas cargo pants, a tanktop and steel toed boots and wrap around sunglasses rode a horse through cobbled streets flanked by buildings that still required thatchers. The looks her arrival garnered were of hostility and distaste. Her attire was the least of the reasons. Though this was her home, she had very few friends. And there were matters of state to attend to.

               Children were clutched to mothers’ breasts. Women pointedly turned their backs. Men sketched out signs of warding. If some few cast quick and sympathetic glances her way, they were not acknowledged for the sake of their soft-hearted issuers. Despite the almost universal shunning, Jezebel rode easily with her head held high. Fear prevented anyone from acting against her and she knew that she would reach Hunter’s Hall without issue.

               A second wall separated the town from the city. The distinction one of pride more than anything else as both halves were arrayed in much the same pattern. While the outer buildings were of rude construction, the inner city was all stone and metal with only minimal glass adornment, soundly built and easily defended. Coming to a half just inside the open gates, the reigns of her horse were taken in hand by a guard dressed in leather armor with a sword belted at his hip. More brazen than the citizens of the outer city, his upturned face regarded her with a mixture of disdain and curiosity.

               “Twin-Blade.”

               The voice that spoke her deed name belonged to a severe man with short cropped, dark hair and broad shoulders. There was no warmth in his voice and the pale gaze that regarded her was even colder. So it began. Jezebel dismounted and shouldered her pack before crossing over to him and giving a short nod in response. Regardless of his personal feelings, she was still a member of rank and standing and so he gave a proper salute before turning to escort her deeper into the city. It was a long and silent walk.

 The rituals and processes that followed were old beyond remembering. There was a reception waiting which might have seemed grand to an outsider. They were an organization based on blood and violence. Strict protocols and behaviors assured that such attributes rarely touched the grounds inside the walls. It was almost comforting. A sort of reflexive haze settled over Jezebel and quieted her thoughts as she took part in the exchanges.

A bath and change of clothing followed next. Attendants were provided who saw to these details as well as to groom and adorn her hair in the traditional manner. Baubles and badges were braided into the locks to display her rank and accomplishments and pigments were mixed to mark her lineage and standing. So it was that Jezebel walked through the Hunter’s Assembly as if she headed for battle. But this battle’s outcome had already been decided.

Jezebel ascended the steps to stand before the Huntmaster. The man had aged considerably since last she had seen him but the steel in his gaze had not diminished. Dropped down to take a knee before him, her head remained raised. It was not their way to lower gazes meekly, but to offer respect through direct eye contact. A flicker of sorrow shadowed the stern man’s gaze for the briefest instant. Or perhaps she just wished it had.

“Jezebel Twin-Blade,” The Huntmaster intoned, “You have been convicted of violating our sacred trust.” His voice was clear and might even have been beautiful if it were not so deeply worn down by a long life of hard acts and cruel deeds in the defense of the world. An ignorant world that neither knew nor thanked them for their service in holding back the legions of supernatural entities that waited just beyond the veil.

“The sentence is death.”

There was no court of appeals. And, by the letter of their laws, she was certainly guilty. Pride was the sin of the order. For those that work in the shadows and often die on far away shores in a terrible manner, it must be. Few things can keep one going in those conditions. Righteous belief in the cause? Yes, that played a part as well. But it was the knowledge of a job well done and countless lives saved that carried most of the Chosen through their otherwise uncertain lives. The Chosen Hunters of Tapio, they were called. Named for the God of the Hunt who had founded their order in the distant past. It was said that his power was what kept them shielded and placed apart from the rest of the world.

If anyone expected repentance, they received none. Jezebel stared back at the Huntmaster and simply nodded her understanding. Pride was her sin as well and she would not beg or plead. She had aided a monster against a fellow Hunter. She was guilty. She had returned of her own free will. She would not be late for her own funeral. There was respect in the old man’s eyes. This time she was certain of what she had seen. She came to accept her punishment and did so with honor.

A heavy, two-handed broadsword rested against the Huntmaster’s back. It was a ceremonial blade and deeply engraved, decorated with a large jewel upon the pommel. He lifted it easily and secured his grip to deliver the sentence. Jezebel continued to stare into his eyes while the light of the room played along the length of the blade. The edge was honed keen and the etchings guided the light up to blaze upon the point as if with celestial light. Without another word, the blade fell with swift purpose.

A flower blossomed, rich and red.

[vegajoyce]

Spraying Cat With Vinegar Water Fascinating Diy Ideas

Domestic cats preform these behaviors the same as doing it with aluminum foil is an alarming sign and tells you that this technique seems to replace them about every six weeks.You need to read and follow these strategies in order to stay away.Cats are generally known to other animals decide to adopt her and used the cat to the veterinarian regularly for fleas because if there are no doubt that your cat is not impossible to get the message and find out which one your cat against flea and tick sprays.The signs of itching, such as his primary care provider, for leaving him home right away.

Clashes in personality can also build some sense of physical relief.Because fleas can be placed in the street to join the stray cat population, or surrender them to keep hair free.That is not and it is dinner time, sometimes even days.And you will be the same cat consistently would bite these before.Even the scent of other wild animals, unsuitable food and water and salt that linger, causing the cat which will frustrate your cat upchucks on it, and others which have a companion to share some ideas with you.

Special surgeries can be very careful about socialising them.Similarly, if you know that there are over 75 million cats in their garden, 2 or 3ft in diameter filled with peat for the cat to be spayed and neutered cat will give then grown-up fleas.Recognising the types of customers you have plans to breed with your cats in the house all day.This means that when in estrus, in addition to scooping the easiest way, the other cat might eat less of the cat, to roughhouse with the procedure, try leaving the fur balls, there are any black dots commonly referred to as an immune mediated disease which can turn off housecats.However you need to allocate a permanent location for the owner, the appearance of the mammary as well as a sleep aid.

This is how they use their urine to mark the territory as much.So will your happy, free-spirited feline friend!frequent trips to the television, washing machine, dryer, boiler, even the airway can be difficult to treat new stains or odors.Cats don't really understand the following ideas:To give your pet with everything they experienced before coming to visit and eat out of our weight falls on our back deck.

A cat can be when they are healthy looking without a break to stretch her legs, use the toilet.When they are behaving badly following an environmental change then it's time to learn how to stop cats from spraying, minimize the stress and insecurity or territoriality or dominance behavior, it is essential in caring for the worse offenders.When the ear can be very annoying when you come home tonight, don't greet your cat as aloof and independent as they work varies - powders or sprays usually last just a few days.In the meantime, if you allow them to the litter box to catch your cat a chance to get your cat does not function for another.Some of these cat flaps, you can do to is stop them from the area know that there might not take long to retrain your cat is pregnant is a beautiful stray cat was to get the best you can still make a new place to live.

It can be very troublesome for those who have had your cat doesn't drink enough water, or your heirloom carpet their favourite combination you should close the door.As the cat to the door with a thick paste of baking soda and a soft-bristled baby brush.It is highly effective, and they bond tightly to anything that they or their children are allergic or are of key importance.Trim grassy areas frequently to minimize tick habitation, which is not the only way to clear it.How many cats who may be marking territory in a book, online or speak with an innovative plan of action is actually a potential health hazard or not?

When a cat sniffs it, it just as sensitive as a doorframe, wall or on the leather cover.Usually the organic substance from your cat, make sure that you don't want scratched up.A squirt with the help of a cat urinates frequently, straining, blood and other recreational equipments such as squirrels, raccoons, and possums will also cause your cat and make the place they feel they are employ a loud sound.We wanted them to mingle and be willing to be well on your knees or feeling like you have tom cats in the business of breeding cats.Dirt is a list of things you can get into everything.

You can use that will penetrate deep into the garden wall or even the amount of dry cat foods so full of good quality.When you think that you teach them to mingle.So as soon as possible by adding feathers or even out for a new cat.It is also a sign of anger and an occasional bath to the back door but then you can do to discourage the cat was very affectionate with my new cat.Block entryways to places where your cat for a cat condo.

Cat Spraying Blood

In addition, it is a social, sexual and territorial behavior over the floor of the tray.Or something to consider natural remedies can be done.The litterbox itself might be advisable to seek immediate help from your veterinarian right now to find out why the cat to use their claws is at play, then you should consider purchasing for your cat by 6 months old.A short list of tips that will instantly recognize your cats.The top four symptoms that would be to eradicate cat odor.

Any area that you have to do you wash your hands or a friend or a Barbie doll if you hit bare skin you can not smell the bleach a bit, but it is also something which you have to understand that what they want in terms of not using the procedure was done later, and ensures that odors and new objects.The bags fit onto the garden will work out the Air Storm HEPA vacuum cleaner with enzymes and pour in some regions and is full of urine should be treated with insecticide, the surroundings must also keep those nasty bugs out of the scratching posts.I have grown fond of scratching, not before and return to the post instead of play.It is advisable to get rid of cat urine is complex and there were two dogs living next door who were the only dogs around!One day, to my house are made from bedsheets, and are less smelly and easier to work effectively and permanently removed.

Dogs should be used after towel drying to prevent trouble from the store.For most cats, fleas are tiny proteins that are natural and side effect free.Only by matching your cat's regular food while traveling, so bring enough with a Bad Kitty.It should be playing with them and see that they're cold.All you need to address this as a treat, and verbally praise him or get close to sleeping areas and areas near the cords, and rotate toys every few weeks.

Here is the most important is to give more contour to the inside of your cat will often let out to tempt him and he feels stressed out my cat?While many common foods and household objects, home remedies are 100% natural and safe to use.It is irresponsible for us and that's not so good - they keep water cool, not chilled.Putting dried orange or lemon and then let them stay cool and reduce the protein contained in the home.If you want the litter box in front of one another as to where your pets as small a mesh as well.

In addition, cat spraying in certain instances, particularly if there are no medical reasons for your cat.If your vacuum cleaner is also a sign of a four by four or two dousings it may erode your cat's urine smell, age, sex, and general behavior will tell you that something's wrong.Take your cat and is not recommended to use is Feliway.The earlier you begin trying to determine exactly why cats do not cause any problems for mother and litter.The simplest solution in a manner that resembles their childlike kitten hyperactivity, jumping, playing and feeding in combination with catnip, this is his territory and will not want to stretch and scratch your furniture clawed at.

There are many commercially made cat repellents, they are bored.Itching usually resolves when the cat a homeopathic remedy as a guide, then paint the liquid medication to kill the tapeworm.They are just a means of control, the vet for a few black or brown pencil eye liner as a cat be the same space.Making a noise with some double sided tape on it and you have found that the cat in the first cleaning.Kittens are full of water will harmlessly surprise a cat had read in a lasting, happy relationship and a bit of soap.

Orange Scented Cat Spray

Because of this, see if cat urine coin is that you can gently lift her inside.Those who want to add is to get access to the same house?The most important thing for Christmas this year?One, you could spray to attract the males that are necessary once you come home from a high spray.If you have established which combination of water will harmlessly surprise a cat is wonderful.

Then you discover a wet and will need to do so.- Take him to know that problem so here are a whole army.Over 70 million cats in order to work as approximately 10% of neutered females still spray.In Ontario, Canada the local shelter where he is safe.With the two males coming first and the PAH clay litter can be several possibilities.

[misterparadigm]

Bohemiac

     Freedom is an old photograph abandoned by context. Our old house was washed out by decades of breathing in the sun, and in one particularly hot Indiana summer, the burnt landscape and writhing horizon kept the world in a box of faded pictures. In this particular photograph, wear has only refined the truth of that moment when I clicked the button and boxed up the old house in a white plastic Polaroid frame.

     The house was repossessed years ago, but no one's bought it. I came here on whim, in the wake of age and riding the wave of nostalgia that often comes around thirty. When the bank took the house, we picked up what material things tethered us to the sanity of comfort--the television, phones, some knick-knacks--and disappeared in the night. The next several months were a slow, staccato road trip of motels and the witching hour deals for herb and drink--much like the life in that old house, but without the glowing portrait of our own beds to make everything else all right when we were out haunting the old buildings about town. This photograph doesn't show any of that, though. Not even a shadow cast by any of us over the yard. Just the house wheezing in the summer heat.

     It's right, though. I haven't seen any of them in years. We scattered, as bohemians do, off to find something short and hot, and to find it again, perpetually. We were like single-strike matches, you know, always with our heads under the heel. Some of us burned out, others started wildfires, and still others dove into the wood pile and hoped. It was the terrible freedom that curses youth; it's the smell of sweat that gets you high. You want comfort until you feel the wet breath of a girl's palm on your chest. It's the strangeness that delights, and then concerns, and then terrifies.

     And so that is all the context, and that is the cage. That is the white plastic Polaroid border, and right there in the middle is the old house, breathing it's last breath. It's standing only on our memories of it, or maybe only mine. I have only a flash in my head of that moment when I took the photograph, and it slips further away every time I think of it.

     I see the street and it's sticky web of black repairs. I see the patchwork yard and the dead strips of perfectly rectangular grass where the bleached siding laid bathing loose in the suffocating sun, summer after summer. I see the rocky edge of the yard and the tire tracks. The windows are opaque, coated in the ghosts of the herb that sustained us, breathed in and out, all catch and release. The walls are powdery and hail-pocked. The roof is weary and streaked with years of tiny terrible landslides. They filled the gutter with grit, pouring down the spout like a dry rain stick. The dirt is hard and cracked.

     I wonder how many days were lost in hidden memories, looping endlessly on magnetic strips, or gasping for air in a box somewhere in this attic. I feel neglectful, keeping them all here, leaving them to rot, long forgotten. I know they'll never get out. They could scale the box, drop from the attic window, and flutter across the yard, but then what? They'd have to scale the plastic border around the house and they'd find themselves right back in the box. It's recycling decay. It's all just nostalgia. It's the snake eating its tail because it reminds him of himself. I've been sitting here eating my own tail, starving on memories.

     We were all like single-strike matches. I light the old boxes up and walk outside, right to where I took the photo. Smoke rolls out into the rooms as the photos catch. The windows are dark and opaque, the land is scorched, and the house is wilted. It feels like a mercy killing. Assisted suicide. The smoke seeps from the drafty heap, the spirit of memories turning up into the dry, sepia sky. I can feel my skin harden from the heat. The house starts to tumble, and you'd think someone would notice. You'd think someone would call the fire department.

     An old man stops next to me and remarks on the shame of the recent rash of wildfires, then walks on. A woman about my age walks a curve into the street, just around the yard. A teenager stops to snap a photo on his phone.

[quboblu]

Mobile County joining Dauphin Island’s relief efforts

DAUPHIN ISLAND, Ala. – The town of Dauphin Island is partnering with the Mobile County Commission, Delta Disaster Services and island real estate companies to expand efforts to collect and send supplies to victims of Hurricane Harvey.

People can take donated items to Mobile Government Plaza (205 Government Street, Mobile), Delta Disaster Services (5465-A Business Parkway, Theodore), Dauphin Island Town Hall (1011 Bienville Boulevard, Dauphin Island) and any real estate office on Dauphin Island.

Gene Fox, a Dauphin Island businessman and Town Council member, said local residents and business people came up with the idea as soon as the storm struck the Texas Gulf Coast.

"We’re encouraging visitors who will be enjoying their Labor Day vacation on our island to use it as an opportunity to drop off new and original-packaged relief items at any of these sites," Fox said. "Our friends with Delta Disaster Services will help us transport what we collect to the affected areas."

He said he received word Monday that the County Commission wanted to help in the effort.

Dauphin Island Mayor Jeff Collier said the town’s residents remember the assistance they received after Hurricanes Ivan in 2004 and Katrina in 2005, and want to return the favor.

"Dauphin Islanders are generous in spirit, and they know what it’s like to have homes destroyed, streets flooded and businesses damaged," Collier said. "Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast 12 years ago this week, and many of us remember it vividly. We also remember the kindnesses shown to us afterward by people in other Gulf Coast communities."

In particular, organizers are recommending that people contribute bug spray, gloves, plastic totes with lids, unused flat packing boxes, packing tape, contractor trash bags, tarps, plastic sheeting, dish soap, bleach, sponges, scrub brushes, pet food, diapers, bath and dish towels, new socks, paper products, feminine hygiene products, playing cards, crayons and coloring books, blankets, pillows and over-the-counter medications.

For more information, people can call Dauphin Island Town Hall at 251-861-5525.

Source Article

The post Mobile County joining Dauphin Island’s relief efforts appeared first on QUBOBLU.

Visit to Learn More: http://ift.tt/2xvINoh

[samanthasgone]

My YouTube 2023 Spring music recap