#He who smelt it dealt it.

[ooc-miqojak]

In my time on the internet, I've found that whoever points the finger first, is often the person believed in any kind of dispute - large or small. The person who tries to go on with their life, and not bring strangers into something that doesn't concern them is often the one vilified, and almost never gets a chance to be heard, when they realize they've been slandered - onlookers have been told one side of a story, formed an opinion on that half story of misinformation, and don't want to look bad/feel bad when it turns out they were duped/believed the wrong thing, and may have caused hurt to a genuinely innocent person who never meant harm. It's a bitter pill to swallow that this initial person you believed may have misled you/taken things out of context to purposefully make a situation or person look worse than they are, and rather than acknowledge the truth of a situation, it's easier to let another suffer, that you won't be embarrassed by admitting to forming a bias based on misinformation.

Be critical of one-sided stories - seek both sides of any situation (or just avoid getting involved in miscommunication/misunderstandings that aren't pertinent to you personally). There's always more nuance than an accuser wants you to know. (And really, unless they're genuinely outing a pedo or an abusive user who actively harms others in a community, airing personal grievances about a personal problem to paint another person in a bad light... is indicative of bad faith behavior on the accuser's part. A 'witch hunt' never did anyone any good, after all.)

[rastronomicals]

8:57 AM EDT August 18, 2024:

Caravan - "He Who Smelt It Dealt It" From the album   For Girls Who Grow Plump in the Night (October 5, 1973)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

More of them please. Early version of "Memory Lain, Hugh"

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Ancient Law Unearthed From 5000 BC

Though the Code of Hammurabi is often cited as the first legal text, a much older stele dating to 5750 BC is thought to have held an earlier code of law, specifically dealing with mineral sales and metals of the proto-bronze age. The stele only has one law remaining intact but may have held over 20 total.

Unearthed from an ancient tin mine in Serbia, the Stele of Cassander The Nameless is a solid granite block measuring about 3 meters tall, engraved with Ancient Macedonian letters and mostly broken apart by time and mining activity.

Most of the laws on the stele are unreadable, but law 7 is fully intact and details the ownership rights of tin ingots, stating that it was not the miner nor the owner of the mine who had the right to sell the tin, but rather whoever participated in the smelting and reduction into the metal's pure form. Because of the past tense writing of ancient Hellenistic dialects, the first law recorded in human civilization translates exactly to, "He who smelt it dealt it."

[stsgooo]

The Moonlight Goddess.

✩࿐ summary: the toy that got tucked away, would eventually come back out to play.

warning(s): chapter 48.2 manga spoilers, unedited. wc; 3.2k

pairing(s): jinshi/fem!reader

a/n: caught up on the manga, feeling incredibly deranged. i will Not be speaking about chapter 65 as that was the craziest experience i've ever had at 1 am. also, i'll be reading the light novel soon :)) anyway, i hope you enjoy this random thing i cooked up.

part ii m.list ao3

WHEN MAOMAO SUGGESTED JINSHI TAKE THE PLACE OF A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN, YOU WEREN’T ENTIRELY CONVINCED.

Sure, your master was a beautiful man who had won the lottery of genetics. But you weren’t sure if he could convince beautiful western women that he of the same level, if not above, as them. It wasn’t a slight towards him. A lack of confidence in his abilities. But the mere fact that this issue itself was presented as nonsense. Achievable for a god, perhaps. But not for someone as simple as Jinshi.

It’d been 50 years since the last time the convery had last visited and spotted this beautiful woman. Surely, these girls were aware of the effects of time and how… unkind it could be to some?

It all smelt bad.

“Uh, Maomao, are we sure this is the absolute best approach for this matter?” You had asked as the three others had come to some general consensus amongst each other.

Maomao had stared at you flatly and, for a moment, you ponder if she even knew who you were. “Have you ever dealt with unruly women, Y/N?” She asked in her usual monotonous manner.

You blinked, expression equally as flat as you regarded the younger girl for a beat. Her time at Jinshi’s home had been spent, primarily, with you and Suiren. It was fond to look back on, but the two months had been stressful and the girl was rather difficult to work with. She drug you around on one or two of her little investigations. Much to the disdain of you both. The only compliment she paid you in that time was that you were quick on your feet and able to keep up with. Something that you guessed wasn’t common.

Yes, you are rather unruly, Maomao. Was the reoccurring and unkind thought that passed through your mind.

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of unruly people.” You opted to answer instead.

The girl raised an eyebrow, “Women?”

You deflated, “Many.”

Unfortunately, being Jinshi’s maid had meant you had your encounters with women who, blinded by their fondness for him, would attempt to make random walk-ins. Something strictly forbidden unless it was the upmost emergency. Despite them being the ones in the wrong, it was usually you who suffered the brunt of their abuse until Gaoshun finally decided to inquire what was wrong.

You were quite used to unruly women.

Unknowingly, you'd guaranteed your place in Maomao's plan.

She placed her fingers against her chin, eyes squinted on you. "Do you use makeup often?"

You blink, a weary frown on your lips. "What?"

"Are you familiar with makeup and hair, Y/N?"

"Of course I am." What did she take you for? A lazy uneducated lady?

Maomao grinned, something that was dark and twisted, and you felt like you had somehow stumbled into a terrible trap. "Wonderful, you'll help with Jinshi-sama's makeup!"

"Wha- no, I-I have my--" You attempted to decline, but were quickly cut off.

"That's a great idea," Jinshi spoke up, looking rather delightful as his eyes moved to you. "No one I would trust more with this."

Seeing the glint in his eyes and the kind smile, you knew you could no longer remove yourself from this plan. With a bowed head, you turned to Maomao, prepared to receive your duty.

You suppose this is how you ended up here. Maomao and Gaoshun out to find an outfit that would suit the Moonlight Goddess. And you awfully close to Jinshi's face as you carefully apply the eye makeup.

Silently, you were thankful that he had his eyes closed, as his violet eyes endlessly and innocently staring back into yours would surely make your heart stop. The work had been silent for the most part. The both of you uttering only what was needed: close your eyes, please look up, tilt your head to the side. It was the easy back and forth you both fell into.

It made you realize that most of your companionship with Jinshi had primarily been in silence. You simply deciphering exactly what he wanted from the twitch in his brow or the look he would shoot. It'd never really been on your mind before. Although, it had always been an easy agreement between you that shouldn't be brought to question or pondered upon too much. Ever since the both of you were children. Ever since you were just being trained for the duties that would be carried out in the rest of your adult life. You'd both just been in this tiptoe waltz that carried you through life.

He didn't pry too much into your personal dealings and you never questioned his demands as your master.

Life was, in all ways, easy.

But still, you felt as though this plan was toeing a line. Asking too much, underestimating the intelligence of another.

You supposed Maomao was like that and Jinshi would easily follow her word.

Maomao. Jinshi. Maomao and Jinshi.

They are quite the duo recently. You knew it would be nothing good the moment he'd called for her in Lady Gyokuyou's with that glint in his eyes. The eagerness and curiosity similar to that of a child. The way he sought her out at any given opportunity. If you had to guess, you would say Jinshi is rather fond of dear Maomao.

It made you sigh heavily, your eyes narrowed on the liner that looked a little wobbly.

"Any mistakes, you can just retry, don't stress yourself." Jinshi spoke, assuming that your sigh was related to the unsteady line rather than the trail of thoughts plaguing your mind.

You blink, eyes focused on the kind smile that stretched over his lips. A slight pitter-patter took your chest. "No worries, Jinshi-sama, I won't ruin your looks." You shoot back, softly.

Jinshi's eyebrows raised, a soft snort released. "Oh, really? Are you teasing me now?"

"I do have the ability to joke here and there, sir."

"You barely do anymore. Joke, that is." Jinshi observed, a subtle frown on his lips as you applied a bit of glimmer to his eye lids. "You're very serious now, very on edge."

"These are serious times, Jinshi-sama." You replied back smoothly, feeling an indescribable ache in your chest. "I'm sorry if I'm not entirely entertaining."

Jinshi's frown seemed to deepen. And, suddenly, his fingers were wrapped around your wrist and his eyes were open to reveal the clandestine violets that glimmered into your very soul. His hold felt warm and all encompassing, a disorienting welcoming feeling that made you falter in your work. Frozen, you offered him your undivided attention as he appeared to struggle with himself. gave him your undivided attention. His brows were furrowed and the frown on his lips was entirely too childish for the man he claimed to be. His lips parted and he released a sound akin to frustration. He huffed and huffed and huffed. Then he stared into your soul-- still, he couldn't seem to find the proper words for his thoughts.

One of the many things that Jinshi struggled with often is that he simply had a greater outlook on life while being so terribly confined. A childish optimism that should've left him once he was grown, clung to his soul desperately and gave him a more bountiful outlook on people and life. He knew the risks, he knew the dangers, he knew the nastiness of the world, but still stayed kind.

You know it was one of the many things his mother tried to change about him. That and his attachment to things. That was something you'd encountered first hand.

"You have your reservations about this, I can tell."

When he spoke, you weren't entirely sure what he'd say. There were times he was too insightful, too smart for his own good. It used to amuse you, now you only worried when it'd come across as unseemly.

Jinshi stared up at you, glittering eyes kind and approachable, his fingers squeezed gently around your wrist. "I don't want you to feel like you can't speak your mind." He continued as if he had no idea who you were. What you were. What you were to him.

Your gaze bounced between his own, a small frown breaking the perfect exterior you always desperately kept up. Maybe he was still stuck in the past. Maybe he was still enchanted by who you both used to be to one another.

The past was usually more lovely than a future unseen.

"I'm actually told not to voice my mind."

"By who?"

"Everyone."

There's a moment where Jinshi looks as if he's remembering something. Something distinct and obvious. Something that he had completely disregarded in the back of his mind for whatever reason, for however long. It must be pleasant, to not be constantly reminded that the people around you are paid or contracted to be by your side. Must be nice to have a choice.

Master. Servant. Master and servant.

That is all you and Jinshi shall ever be.

"I see," He uttered, eyes briefly tracing the tiles on the floor before fluttering back up to you with a new spark of determination. "But I'm ordering to speak your mind! Freely!"

You stared back flatly in return. Was he oblivious what freely meant? Ordering me and then saying it's of my own volition can't both be true.

Jinshi would put you into early death.

"Well, I, uh," you found his eyes to be too vibrant, to be staring too intensely and too welcoming. You turned your gaze away, desperate to grab some type of bearings over yourself. But, alas, his hand was still wrapped around your own. His skin scorched yours, tainted it with the warmth that was all his. "I think that this plan will not go entirely as you all hope."

"Is that so?" His voice is like a smooth honey, soft and all too endearing.

You hum, nodding, "Yes, uh, I believe they want you to fail, sir. And to have a rather unsavory thing to report back." Jinshi simply hummed in response. You could feel his eyes almost stroking against the side of your face. "I just think that they won't react the way you and Maomao hope they will. This is no slight to your or her intelligence, of course. Just a mere observation."

"I know what you mean, no worries." Jinshin's thumb was now slowly and softly stroking the butt of your palm. A soothing action that brought your eyes back to him. Captured in the way he serenely observed you. "What exactly about this makes you uneasy? Maybe I can ease you."

It didn't sound like an offer, but a promise. If his words weren't enough, his eyebrows were drawn together in careful contemplation. He wasn't going to walk away from this conversation without you both reassured in some capacity.

"What if they want to talk to you?"

Jinshi might had fair and delicate features, and a soft voice, but it wasn't nearly feminine enough to pass. If anything, they'd grow more suspicious. Then they'd report back about what a joke they all were and then Jinshi could suffer some type of punishment for his embarrassment. It wasn't that you were too pessimistic or didn't believe in the little group, but that the women's request felt bad all around.

A set-up if anything.

So, you took a deep breath and focused on that reassuring circle being drawn into your skin as Jinshi contemplated this for only a moment.

"Then I'll have the apothecary cover for me." Jinshi smiled, all too bright and all too reassuring. "We've already decided that I'll swim across the pond-- give me a vanishing effect and she'll deter them elsewhere."

You furrow your brow, all too worried, but bow your head instead of voicing such. "Of course, I have no doubt in you, Jinshi-sama." You reassure.

There was a beat of silence, then, "You're my oldest friend, you know?" You tense. Frozen into you bow, your wide eyes stare endlessly at his feet. His tone is tender, soft, almost hesitant, as if he wasn't sure if he should be speaking these things aloud. Yet, he continued. "You're the only one, beside Gaoshun and Suiren, that has stuck by me without judgement or doubt. I thank you for that, but I also fear that we've grown apart."

"I suppose we have." You uttered, trying to ignore the clench in your chest.

"Even as children, we started to grow apart." He continued to observe.

Because of your mother. Because of her fear that you'd end up like him, like your father. That disgusting and vile man. How could she not know you'd never be like him?

There was a day, a very distinct day, that you and Jinshi had been separated for "his own good". Your birthday. You had waited him eagerly in the main courtyard, being able to slip away from your duties out of kindness from Suiren. You waited and waited, until Gaoshun had approached. His expression downtrodden and dark. He informed you that it was no longer proper for you to play around with the boy you so dearly adored. Said his mother commanded it.

If he plays with a toy too much, take it from him.

You used to be bitter, resentful, and angry over it. Only eight-years-old, you had clung onto any companionship you could and he had given the illusion that he'd be there forever. Until he wasn't. Until you were a toy to be tucked back into the chest, forever forgotten with time.

He would be there forever, but you only merely a pawn for him to use as he pleased. To do work and to never grace the same level as you had when you both were only children, not yet exposed to hierarchy. Pure and innocent.

Now, you were mere servant and master.

Finally, you willed yourself to pull away from his hold, turning around to pick through various hair products. "It's been a long time, Jinshi-sama. We're no longer children."

"Hm."

As you reached for a brush, he pressed against your back. His hands coming to rest against your own with a delicate, featherlike touch. He was suddenly surrounding your ever sense. His warmth enveloping you into a hug that was almost earth shattering. Your lips parted and your eyes wide, you tensed as his lips brushed against the top of your head.

"I think of you often," his words are a whisper against you and your eyes, if possible, widen further as you almost lean back into him. "I sometimes wish I could just reach out and...and hold you, like we used to. Is that so bad?"

"Jinshi-sama, this is rather inappropriate!" You whisper back, not daring to look back at him in fear for how quickly you'd crumble.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating from his chest into your back and sending various chills down your spine. "If I'm making you uncomfortable, then please, tell me."

You don't open your mouth, as much as you wished you would deter him, you were rather eager to keep this up for a moment longer. To have something to think about and something to cherish later. Surely, this wouldn't happen again.

Instead, your attention goes to keeping your heart steady as Jinshi gently turns you around. His eyes heavy as he stares at you earnestly, lips quirked up barely. Your hands came up to clutch his forearm, gently squeezing as he did the same with your shoulder. You felt your heart stammer and a sweat collecting on your brow, this was definitely something frowned upon. To be so close and to breathe his same air-- as he exhaled, you inhaled the rich oxygen.

Suddenly, Jinshi's eyebrows furrowed and his fingers reached out, gently tucking some hair from your face. "What did they teach you to make you tremble like this?" He whispered it to himself but, thanks to your proximity, you heard it.

It made your ears redden, your lips pressed together. Did he really not know?

Before you could even speak, the door to his room were opened. Both your heads snapped to the door where Maomao and Gaoshun stood, both varying degrees of expressions on their faces that brought shame to you both. The four of your frozen in your respective places, staring at one another dumbly. Your hold on your master slackened and Jinshi took that as a sign to move first.

Jinshi made a rather odd noise, jumping away from you, face red and wide awkward smile to the two at the door. "Did you find the goods?" He asked as he approached, nervous fingers moving about.

Maomao, bless her soul, decided to ignore whatever it was they had walked in on, moving forward with a bundle of things in her arms. "Yes, Jinshi-sama."

You nervously pulled yourself from the table, turning your back to the three, hoping to conceal the red hue on your face. You really, really, hoped that no one would say anything.

Your hopes were tarnished as Gaoshun stepped up beside you.

The man was family. He'd been there for every milestone, or the rather unruly years when you found yourself in trouble more often than not. You'd grown accustomed to reading into his expressions more than his words. He was more open there, his only weakness.

That's why you withered when you saw that aghast expression on his face. The glimmer in his eyes that said it all-- he knew what was happening.

You ducked your head at the same time you heard Maomao ask, "Why isn't your hair done?"

You mustn't get ideas above your station. You are there to serve your master. Nothing less, nothing more.

That is the first thing that they taught you when you were "of age".

You are to give your life to your master. Any inappropriate behavior will be punished, severely.

That's the second thing they taught you.

There were many things that contributed to your regression. That made you cower away from who you used to be. Going from a loud troublemaker to the polite, obedient lady that lived to serve her kind master.

But as you watched Jinshi, or more correctly, the Moonlight Goddess dance elegantly at the edge of the pond. As you witnessed the light hit just right an illuminate him in a way that would send even the most beautiful angel into a rage. You realized one thing.

You would never tell Jinshi of those things.

Someone as beautiful and perfect as him, untouched from the life that you lead, shouldn't be exposed to the things he confined you to.

All you could do was gaze upon the Moonlight Goddess, utter your most daunting praises and wants, and tuck it all away.

You mustn't get ideas above your station.

You were a lowly maid after all. Someone so dignified and beautiful wouldn't settle for you.

"My hair is still wet!" Jinshi's voice bounced off the walls, a scowl etched on his face.

You bowed your head as you entered, towel tucked in your arms. "I have a towel for you, Jinshi-sama."

As you ruffled his hair with the towel, watching his shoulders relaxed you thanked the Moonlight Goddess.

A coward like you would never belong with a Goddess like him.

[cotiere]

  “ when's the last time you talked to elena? ”

“ you ain't talked to lennox lately? ”

[spanishskulduggery]

are there phrases in spanish like 'whoever smelt it dealt it' or 'if you said the rhyme you did the crime'?

Follow-up question for you - do you mean rhyming phrases (because yes I know a few), or do you mean call and response type things (because I know they exist but I don't know many)

As for farts it's el que lo huele debajo lo tiene which is "he who smells it has it under them" literally

Followers if you have any rhymes or cutesy sayings to add please do

-

As for rhyming things - and I don't know how regional any of these are:

Hola caracola [a greeting; lit. "hello, shell"]

Chao pescao [a goodbye; lit. "ciao, fish" - el pescado is "fish" like seafood or fish for eating, not el pez "a fish" as animal; but it's pescao or pesca'o where the D isn't fully pronounced; sometimes chao bacalao where el bacalao is "cod"]

¿Qué pasa, calabaza? = What's up? [lit. "what's happening, pumpkin?"]

Me piro, vampiro. = "See you later, alligator" [lit. "I'm going out, vampire"]

De nada, monada. = "You're welcome" [lit. "you're welcome cutie"... la monada can be "cutie" from mono/a, or it can be "silly" or "monkey-like" because also mono/a]

Te sales minerales. = "You're doing great", or "You did good" [lit. "it's coming up minerals" like in mining]

Caminando y meando (para no hacer charco). = "Let's keep it moving" [it literally is "walking and peeing to not make a puddle" but that's like "hey we can do multiple things at once, pick up the pace", but it's also a song lyric]

Calabaza calabaza cada quien a su casa. = "Time to go home everyone!" [sometimes it's cada uno a su casa or some variation; it's always casa at the end; it means "everybody go home now" but in a playful way... this is how you'd jokingly say "okay time to go home everybody" or "you don't have to go home but you can't stay here" at a party... literally "pumpkin pumpkin each one to their house"]

Colorín, colorado, este cuento ha acabado. = "That's all, folks", or "And they lived happily ever after." [it's a joking way to end a story or say something is over... literally it's "little red, red, this story is over"

There are also a few that are so very cultural I couldn't explain it all... like Superman chorizo y pan is just like a thing to say that sounds vaguely inspiring but is nonsense? It's not quite the same as perrito super gordito which is just a meme that's silly... but it's equally just silly and childish

[though chorizo and pan have some political significance where chorizo is slang for corruption and pan is slang for money, where chorizo was linked to thieves and political corruption, and pan is linked to money like "daily bread" or ganar pan is like "to earn a living", very much like "breadwinner" in English; that's just too much to hope someone would understand if they didn't just know it already so for your purposes it's a silly thing people say with Superman... unless it's politics and people are saying no hay pan para tanto chorizo "there's not enough bread for this chorizo" in which case they're saying politicians are taking our money - think the way English-speakers call useless spending "pork" in bills]

And call and response, very few.

Like I know ¿qué pasa, calabaza? is often followed up by Nada, limonada or Nada, nada, limonada which is just "nothing, lemonade"

I've heard a few from South America where it's like ¿Cómo andiamo? or ¿Cómo anda(s)? for "How's it going?" [and yes andiamo is Italian], and the response is con patas "with legs"

...

And there are sometimes where someone will be cutesy and choose a word that's almost close to the word as a joke; like saying holanda "Holland / linen" instead of hola, or Graciela instead of gracias

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

Rise and you should pay.

Logan howlett x reader

------

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE SPOILERS!!!!

-

Warnings: fluff idk, angst stuff. Normal mcu/xmen stuff. Logan howlett is hot. Idk what else.

-

After years of working at the TVA, you'd have thought I was accustomed to being devastated by watching timelines fade and watching things disappear in front of my eyes. The amount of screams and cries and groans of agony, the scene of upset and destruction.

It never really becomes normal. Not for anyone. Not even for me. The noises are haunting. Horrifying. Those orange strands of death, veiny and disgustingly upsetting to stare at. I missed the x mansion. I missed staring at the stone walls. Hell, I even missed staring at Charles's wheelchair wheels roll around.

That's how I knew I was beginning to lose my mind. I wanted my powers back. I wanted my family and my life back. And above everything, I just wanted Logan back.

I had been assigned a high-profile retrieval mission to fetch the Wolverine alongside deadpool, the anti-hero mercenary that apparently everyone in the TVA despised. I still haven't found one person who even tolerates him.

But I turnt this mission down. They were using me for bait to bring Logan to them and do God knows what to him. I wasn't going to be an accomplice to that.

I didn't hate my job here. I suppose it got interesting most days. Sometimes, we got iron-Man variants stumble in. Most days, it was Loki variants, and on the rare occasion, scarlet witch.

Any other day felt like being an accountant.

And the week after, I dealt with my last Loki variant. I took the Wolverine job. Of course they were ecstatic but I wasn't doing it for their pleasure or for the sacred fuck around of the timeline. No, I just wanted my Logan back.

And God help anyone who would try to stop me.

-

The void.

Deserted, hot, dry, and empty beyond horizon. My suit was clinging to me. By the end of this walk, I swore my body was going to be stained yellow and blue. I'd look like a van gogh paint palette in 20 minutes.

Groaning, I began to stumble toward a billboard, or what looked like a sign of some kind. Shade. Finally some fucking shade.

I wanted to find Logan. I really did. But I wasn't going to be able to do it. Without some fucking help that was for sure. I don't even know if he's here. But the TVA tazed me with their stick things and now I'm here.

"You know if you wanted shade that badly, you should have grown out your hair. It can be an awesome umbrella or the perfect love handles"

I didn't know who the fuck was talking to me. But I saw in the distance a red suit I felt I had definitely seen before. Black patches. God be damned blurry vision.

"Who the fuck is that?" I groaned, leaning my head against a pole.

I watched as they approached closer.

"Fuck" I cursed to myself.

"God you look like shit don't you?"

Deadpool.

---

Logans arms were hard. They weren't comfortable sleeping on, but they were comfortable to hold and to be held by. He always smelt like woodfire and sweat. To be near him was to drown in the scent of the infamous wolverine.

Not a single person had ever expected him to smell of roses and sunshine. Well to me he smelt like heaven, but if you had ever asked Charles Xavier he'd say 'deodorant exists Logan. Use it'

It wasn't fair how badly I wanted him back.

"Is she gonna wake up or what? We have a bald freak to kill"

Wade's annoying voice. Fuck. I might have accidentally stumbled into hell, I fear.

"Shut the fuck up for once would you?" I mumbled.

Slowly, I sat up and instantly came face with four people. All confused and all faintly recognisable. One, obviously, was deadpool. One may have been blade, and I didn't know the other two. But I knew my back was killing me and I needed to fix that shit.

"Where the fuck am I?" I asked as I rolled my back into place.

"You're in the void. Welcome to hell" A female voice spoke.

"And who are all of you?"

One by one.

Blade

Elektra

Gambit

And for any other reason, Wade introduced himself. Even though I already fucking knew him.

"I need to get out of Here"

"Ya know ya could just stay, ya much safer ere"

Gambit. God, I could never understand him.

"Why are you all here?" I asked them. Mostly wade but I asked it as a collective.

"Well," Wade pointed to himself. "I'm here with wolvie, and we're gonna kill a bald freakazoid with all these gu-" he said in an unbearably happy tone.

"I'm sorry." I put my hand up "wolvie?"

"Yeah," Elektra spoke, "like wolverine?"

At the point I was convinced I had actually died. I was dead. The heat had finally gotten to me, and this was the price I paid for not dying honourably.

"Ya all good? Ya look pale."

I was too focused on 'wolvie' to listen to gambit. Wolverine. Wolverine. Wolverine. Gods above, I was going to throw up.

"I'm sorry, Wolverine?!" My mouth fell agape.

"Yeah, big yellow kitty, died heaps of times but never really dies. Sweaty all the time. Heroic and brave. Used to bang the phoenix lady"

I held my hand up again "Yeah Yeah I get it"

I looked around and stood up. The air was humid, and through a small window I could see trees. A forest? How in the fuck is there a forest here?

"Is he here?"

"Wolvie? Yeah, he's just there" Wade pointed behind me.

The scent, oh, that familiar scent. That intoxicating smell. It invades my sinuses.

"Who the fuck is this?"

It sounds just like him. It sounds like gaining memories back. It sounds like losing them. It sounds like campfires on the farm. It sounds like logans late night wood chopping activities.

I turnt around. Yellow. And blue. Blue. Yellow. Azure. Sapphire. Amber. Sunflower.

"Why the fuck is she dressed like me?" He grumbled

Blade hummed. "I was waiting for some to mention it"

There he was. His gruff face. Aged. Still lined in scruffy brown hair. Kitty ears still in his hair. Frown lines. Deep brown eyes and memories all over.

"Logan"

He furrowed his eyebrows and shoved my shoulder as he walked right passed me "how the fuck does she know my name? Who the fuck is this wade?!"

He doesn't remember me.

Hedoesntremmeberme he does n, he he , rmme.

My head hit the floor with a thud. It felt like taking a bullet for Logan for the first time. The first time ever felt something real.

-

"You know him don't you?" Wade asked.

"Better than anyone"

The camp-fire crackled Amber in the dark forest. It brought back memories I didn't know If I wanted to keep or throw away.

"He's someone very important to me" I sighed

"He doesn't remember you. Do you know why?" Elektra asked

I tried to hold back tears. I missed xaviers' wise advice. I missed hearing Jean's voice tell me to relax and drink tea. I missed storms taking me for walks to clear my head. And I missed most of all, logans endless effort to help me.

"No. No, I don't know!" I threw one of my daggers at a tree, and it hit with a splitting thud into the wood. Elektra flinched, worried the tree would split completely and fall.

"I just want him back. It wasn't supposed to be like this"

No. Not like this at all.

[daddyelliott1979]

Whys you so stinky. Chu needs a change!

As my wise old Granny once said - " he who smelt it dealt it!" And after the smellyness your bottom was making last night I would say that daddy should check the back of your nappy Mr!!

[tarrynightss]

𝒜𝓋𝒶𝓉𝒶𝓇 𝓂𝑒𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝒸𝓀𝓈

Characters: Jake, Quaritch, Tonowari, Tsu’tey, Lyle, & Lopez (for @nin3kyuu hehhehe)

cw: Cursed stupid shit, gross things like farts or smelly feet, just memes

A/N: Im sorry but also I’m not sorry, my brain is fried so this is what you’re getting

𝒥𝒶𝓀𝑒

This man farts. I’m sorry, he toots. It wouldn’t be so bad if he had the sense to just do it around your home, but he got stuck in te marine humor from when he just turned 20. He still chuckles whenever he rips a fart, and often does it in public thinking nobody will notice. They do, you do, but no matter how many blank stares this man receives he just shrugs it off, uttering “you smelt it, you dealt it.”.

𝒬𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽

Doesn’t was his balls. Or ass. Miles is of the firm believe that the water running past it will do the trick. The type who’s boxers can be smelled from a 20 miles radius after he takes them off and this only got worse in his Recom body.

Gets offended when you give him body wash.

𝒯𝑜𝓃𝑜𝓌𝒶𝓇𝒾

He just has some stinky ass feet. Tonowari is constantly stomping around the sand with his wet feet and also just strolls over seaweed. They smell like the ocean in the worst way possible, reminding you of a beached fish that has died and rotted in the sun for 1,5 days. He’s just so used to the general smells of the ocean that he doesn’t even notice anymore.

𝒯𝓈𝓊’𝓉𝑒𝓎

You know exactly when he wants to kiss you, Tsu’tey the type to pull that typical guy face before leaning in. He’s usually so handsome so the cringy face he pulls with his lips puckered and eyes half lidded is a true shock to your system.

𝐿𝓎𝓁𝑒

Being bald.

𝐿𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓏

Dressing and talking like a little cholito, saying shit like “damn vato that hyna’s so fiiiiine 😩”. Absolutely not rocking the high socks in sandals combo and going on about the ‘oldies’ way too much.

[farawayfiction]

Sparkle (Batman)

“Take a sparkler.” Jason handed one to Damian without waiting for a response.

The youngest regarded it with disdain. “Sparklers are for children,” he sneered.

“And you’re a child. Knock yourself out, brat.”

Jason lit the end with a Bic and watched with unveiled satisfaction as his brother’s expression changed. The awe surfaced in Damian’s eyes as the sparks jumped from the stick in showers of green. Close by, Cass unabashedly weaved giant letters into the twilight sky and danced to music only she could hear. Further on down the gravel driveway, Dick and Tim lunged at each other with swords or wizards’ wands. The narrative changed second by second depending on their whims. The play was intense and short-lived as the sparkers burned down and died. Then they rushed back to the stash of unlit fireworks almost all at once.

Dick tossed the used sparkler into the metal bucket. “Smoke bombs?” he asked excitedly.

“Yeah, before it gets too dark,” Tim added.

“I do not see the appeal. Smoke bombs are a tool, not a toy.” Damian jumped the leftover stick, its end still glowing a slight red.

Cass smiled and put one in his palm. It was yellow and chalky, the texture definitely different from the smoke bombs loaded each night in his utility belt. “Punk?”

Damian’s body language stiffened. His brothers called him names all the time, affectionately but openly rude. It was unlike Cass to join the fray. He opened his mouth to return fire, but Dick stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He passed Cass the slowly burning stick Jason had lit at the beginning of the evening, used to ignite the remainder of the fireworks. “It’s called a punk,” he explained.

“You’re a punk,” Jason directed at Dick.

“Takes one to know one!”

Tim groaned. “I’m back in middle school.”

“You never graduated middle school, replacement,” Jason lobbed.

“Nobody graduates from middle school,” he returned straight-faced.

Cass followed Damain out a short distance. A second later, they backed away as the ball spewed forth a cloud of yellow smoke. It seemed to turn a darker color as more emanated. Then the smell hit them.

Tim nearly gaged, the wind wafting the sulfur right under his nose.

Dick chimed in with a grin. “‘He who smelt it, dealt it!'”

“That is revolting,” Damian declared.

“Toss me the blue one.”

“Blue balls. That sounds like a personal problem. You should see a doctor about that.” Jason handed him the cheap plastic lighter.

“‘Flick my Bic?'”

Jason flipped him off without hesitation.

“I have more balls,” Cass added, triumphantly beaming. She held up a cannister with a bright label of purple and gold. It read Fu King ~ Purple Dragon.

“I can attest to that statement. She does in fact have more balls,” Jason replied, deadpan. Nobody among them was willing to disagree.

“Wait,” Tim reached for the package in genuine disbelief. “Fu King?”

“That’s Fu King unbelievable,” Dick threw in, his thoughts mirroring Tim’s.

“No, that’s Fu King amazing,” Jason countered.

Tim pointed to the label, then his inspecting gaze shifted to the other fireworks that were laid out ready to use. Several of them were sported the same manufacturer’s name. “That’s-“

“Totally legit.”

A moment of silence followed as all eyes turned to Jason, who’d purchased 95% of the fireworks they planned to set off. It was Dick, who witnessed his brother keep a carefully constructed neutral expression, who spoke first. “You’re full of shit.”

Jason cracked, enjoying the fruits of the long con. “Custom made. Took you dipsticks long enough.”

Damian chose his next canister after some deliberation. “My balls are ‘Screamin'”, he informed them, never one to be outdone.

Cass snorted. Tim made a similarly strangled noise. Dick looked eminently proud.

Jason was the only one who commented. “I’m not touching that.”

“Yet you have touched all the other balls.”

“I’m gunna kick your balls, twerp.”

Cass gestured to the small patch of gravel where a variety of other spent carcasses lay abandoned. Damian took the invitation and stepped out before her. He scrambled backwards as the fuse burned and the first ball left the tube with a distinctive thump. A scream split the air, followed by another thump thump and still more ear deafening screams. Cass put her hands over her ears and tracked each as it rose, twirled, and exploded horizontally in galaxy shapes. Alive with beauty for just a second, then gone in the blink of an eye.

A piece of debris fell and bounced off of Damian’s head. Cass reached over and ruffled his hair. “Light fireworks. Not head.”

“That is indeed the plan.”

Cass took her turn. The rest cycled through with their own choices. Spinning ground blossoms, tanks, expanding black snakes. Bruce sat silently on the sidelines, watching his kids and listening to the banter. He’d been treated to the first round of hot chocolate while the others occupied themselves. At Alfred’s insistence, he’d wrapped himself in a few extra layers. The temperature outside was dropping rapidly, heat and daylight bleeding away by the minute. After a long regiment of antibiotics and inactivity, they’d finally gotten the pneumonia under control. The lingering smoke irritated his still healing lungs, but it was a price he was willing to pay to be present. Jason dropped into the extra chair beside him. “Holding up, old man?”

Bruce lifted his mug a little, warm and comfortable in his hands.

Jason craned his head to view the interior. It was almost empty. “You want a refill?”

“Later.” He didn’t want to deprive Jason of time with his siblings. He also knew that Alfred was making regular trips outside to check on him. To check on all of them. To check that the house and grounds weren’t burning down in a feat of pyrotechnic disaster. He watched as Tim retrieved the Roman Candles, the kids forming a firing line.

“Back in a sec.”

Bruce stalled his departure with a hand on Jason’s forearm. “Watch the trees,” he begged, his voice little more than a raspy whisper.

“Check your angles, assholes!” He rushed out to grab his own, lit each going down the line, then joined them at the end. Shot after shot ascended in fiery streaks, a barrage of greens and reds. Christmas colors cascading in July. Only one came too close to the trees. They had the hose close by just in case, along with a first aid kit for accidental burns. Hopefully they’d need neither. They made it to the cakes without incident, flat bricks with multiple fireworks lit from a single fuse that went off in sequence. These were the finale pieces, the longest and most elaborate.

“We should do this every year,” Tim proposed as they paused for snacks, gathering around Bruce. They stuffed their mouths with cucumber sandwiches, potato chips, and popcorn. A smattering of glass soda bottles surrounded them. Each of the kids had staked a location claim, making it easier to identify their own drinks. Once they were done, hot chocolate, cake, and ‘Independence Day’ awaited them inside.

“Father has responsibilities elsewhere.” It was always Damian who pointed out the facts, whether anybody wanted to hear them or not. In this case, he referred to the Wayne Foundation’s Fourth of July Gala held yearly. Had he not been sick, Bruce and a majority of the kids would have been downtown, watching the professionally stagged fireworks go off over the city.

“I like this better.” Dick’s honest statement seemed to resonate. Cass nodded in agreement. They waited expectantly for Bruce to weigh in.

“We’ll see.” It wasn’t a no. That in itself was worth celebrating.

“Sweet,” Tim muttered as Cass drummed out a happy dance with her feet.

They rounded up the night with the most massive brick, saving the best for last. The Dragon Rising measured two feet by four feet and contained over 300 shots. From the base shot out rapid fire columns of red, sweeping in a moving arch from left to right, followed immediately by overlapping peonies of gold and white. An onslaught of purple fountains sprayed in a dome in all directions and from the heart exploded a dazzling array of white waterfalls. The interval abruptly sped up to an overwhelming number of ignitions, some simultaneous. It was grander, closer, and more wonderous than anything they could have witnessed from behind skyscraper glass. Then there was silence and the stars.

Cass started to laugh. Tim let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Dick wrapped an arm around Damian’s shoulders and dropped his gaze from skyward to his younger brother’s face. That expression of awe had returned.

“Fuck yeah,” Jason exclaimed. “And thus concludes the night’s entertainment. I bought ‘um, you clean ‘um, losers.”

There was a collective groan before the hunt began but no words of objection. Jason, with the better end of the bargain, wandered back over to his father and sank back down. Two of his siblings produced cell phones for flashlights and the gathering of the trash began. With nothing left to accidently ignite, he pulled out a cigarette. Then stopped. Put it away. A thick haze hung in the air, but it was drifting away from the chairs. Away from Bruce.

His father wordlessly offered him a lighter.

Jason froze, not knowing what to do or think. Then he took his first real look at it in the dim light. It was silver. Or silver plated. The metal pocking created a uniform pattern on the body’s exterior. A tiny dent in the flip lip betrayed its previous use. It was a hefty weight in Bruce’s outstretched palm. “Take it,” Bruce prompted.

Jason eyed him suspiciously but did as he was told. The weight surprised him. Definitely solid. “Heavy motherfucker,” he commented, flipping it open and lighting it. “Smooth action.”

“It was my father’s.” It’s yours now.

Again, he froze. “Bruce-“

“Please.” I’d like you to have it. Bruce sat his mug aside and pulled the blanket around his shoulders tighter across his chest, his now free hand disappearing under the wool like it did under his cape on other cold nights.

Jason couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to say no. Instead, he rolled it over in his palm a few times, got used to the feel of it. To the idea that it was now his. Then he rose, turned, and repositioned his chair a few feet farther away from his dad so the wind was his ally. Still close enough to converse and share a space with the man who mattered most in his life. Then he pulled out the cigarette he’d previously stowed and lit up.

(a/n: Happy belated 4th, y'all.)

[twinksrepository]

A Valentine's Day treat. Well more like night after

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Pairing: Dante X F!Reader

CW: Food play, P in V sex, teasing, bad puns

Word count: Roughly 3K 

A/N: It's been a few months since you started dating the silly pizza man, and fail to keep that on the down low when it's Valentine's Day and one of your co-workers pesters you about dating the man but being at work. Good thing Lady is giving Dante a hard time as well. Well maybe after your shift you can find a way to have some fun with your boyfriend. 

The third of my Valentine’s Day fics.

Quirking your nose as you scrawl out the last of your notes before handing them off for entry in the system you let out a long exhale. It’s not even ten pm and you’ve already dealt with four accidentally swallowed rings, three broken noses, and two stabbings. The stabbings were a little normal for the emergency department but the rings weren’t. 

“I don’t understand why people just can’t propose like normal people, why do they put it in food Doctor?” You snort shaking your head as one of the orderies rubs at her temple. 

“People want to be different, if they knew how often people miss the ring dropped in their champagne glass because of nerves they might try something else.” Signing your name before looking at the next person on the triage list and reading what happened. “Like this person. They tried chocolate mousse, I’ll give them a point for originality.”

“Me. Hey Doc?” Letting out a hum as you double check to make sure you don't hand anyone higher up on the priority list to check with. “How come you're here tonight and not out with that man of yours?” 

You feel your nose quirking again. “Which man would that be?” Attempting to avoid eye contact as you do know exactly who they're talking about. Your silly pizza loving man with a knack for killing the demonic, even if most people think he's just a regular handy man of sorts. 

“Funny. That broad shoulders white haired fella. Damien or something.” 

“Dante” you wince as the correction slips from your mouth with ease. 

“Him!” Grinning like the cat that ate the canary at catching you. “Come on, I've seen the two of you out around town. He's a hottie. Why aren't you out with him instead of in here dealing with the chaos of proposals gone wrong?” 

You laugh hearing how the night in the ER has been going so far it sounds about right. “He's working tonight, besides I'd rather cover this night over New Year's and the Fourth of July anytime.” Winking before you head down the hallway with your clipboard, hoping this couple is a lot calmer than the last. 

“Explain how I'm a bad boyfriend!” Dante was pissed as he swung the rebellion slicing one of the lizard like demons in half sending Lady a look of bewilderment. 

“If you were a good one I wouldn't have to explain it.” Snarking back as she unloaded a few rounds into her own quarry before shaking her head at him. “You really are terrible with women, at this rate the pretty little doctor is gonna leave you. Working on Valentine's Day.” 

“It's just a sappy day to give chocolates, if she wants to leave me over that then fine!” Slicing another demon and dodging having a set of talons driven through his back. As much as he said that the smaller voice I'm his head was screaming. No. It wasn't fine. She was his and it didn't matter what day it was he should be balls deep in her, making sure she smelt of him and sex. 

“You really are an idiot.”

“Whatever Lady. Are we finishing this job you asked for my help for or not?” He'd rather focus on a fight than the way his pants were growing tighter. Damn libido.

As you left the hospital that morning, well 3 am, you couldn’t help but swing into the nearest 24 hour store to grab a few grocery items for yourself and saw a few items that made you smirk. A package of chocolate dipped and plain strawberries, grabbing them before heading to the devil may cry office with a can of whipped cream and a terrible plan. 

Trying the door to find it unlocked and slinking inside, a good sign that Dante is home otherwise you would have had to try and dig through your bag for the spare key he’d given you. “Dante!” If the lights in the main office hadn’t of been on you wouldn’t have called out, but if it is on then it’s a good sign your handsome man is still awake. 

“Backroom Babe!” Well, that answers that, heading towards the door that hides a short hallway ending in a minuscule kitchen. The main level of the office doesn't have much besides the front area itself which takes up the bulk of the floor space, there is a second bathroom that you’re certain before you entered his life was the only one Dante used. Well used being an operative word. 

Stepping into the space and finding the white haired man holding a small glass filled with amber liquid. “That kind of night huh?” You snort laying your paper bag of goodies on the the tiny counter before dropping your overnight bag to the floor and approaching him. 

“Any night that involves Lady is one of those kind of nights.” Rolling his eyes before taking a sip of the drink and setting his eyes on you. “Didn't think I'd see you this early, thought you were working the ER tonight?” 

“I was.” Lifting your arms to drop them over his broad neck and play with some of the longer white hairs at the back of his head and leaning closer. His jacket is draped over the chair you suspect would snap if anyone sat in it so your arms are able to rest more against him instead of the leather. “My shift finished about an hour ago and I didn't have a lot of paperwork to do. How was your night?” 

Raising his drink between your bodies you watch him quirk a brow as if surprised you asked “Shit so far. Now that you're here though.” Hooking two of his fingers in one of the belt loops of your pants and tugging you a little closer to him. “It seems to be getting better.” 

Tossing the rest of his drink back before sliding the empty glass behind him and dropping his hand on your hip you get the hint and push up on your toes as he leans closer to you. Only for your senses to be flooded by the smell of rancid copper and things you'd rather not think about. Sharply pulling away from him. “You smell like ass” Waving your hand in front of your nose as you screw up your face at him.

“I got home maybe ten minutes before you walked in!” His tone is haughty as he lifts his hands exasperated by your reaction, and for a moment you're distracted by the shift of his shirt and the hint of pale skin. 

“You need a shower if you want a kiss.” Shaking your head at him and hiding that you had been distracted by his body. “Or the other treat I have for you.” You might be annoyed that his first thought was a drink before getting cleaned but his lifestyle wasn't focused on getting the grim off his body right away for the longest time. 

Hearing you mention a treat, however, has his mood shifting and a smirk on his handsome face “A treat huh? Do I get a hint?” Wiggling his eyebrows as his gaze roves over your body, making you flush in response. 

“I don't wanna ruin the surprise but let's say trying something new.” Giving him a wink as he grabs his coat and starts to walk past you. “Only clean good little boys are going to get it though.” 

Roaring with laughter as he turns on his feet facing you as he walks away. “Guess I'm outta luck. Even with a shower, I'm zero outta three on that list.” Dropping his hand to his crotch just before stepping out of sight. “Especially the little part.” 

You can't help but laugh as he slips away, waiting until you hear either the water running from the downstairs bathroom or the creek of the stairs as he heads to the upper level. It's the creaking of the stairs that you hear, grinning as you wait another moment before placing your food for tomorrow in the fridge. At least you don't have to worry about something trying to crawl out of the neglected device. This time. 

Keeping the strawberries and whipped cream with you as you headed out to the main part of the office once more, checking the main door was locked before taking the stairs. It was more for your own peace of mind than anything else, if something wanted to go after Dante a metal bolt wasn't going to stop it. 

Hearing the shower run as you reach the top of the landing you slow, pondering for a moment if you should join him or just jump into your own little surprise. You did have a quick shower before you left work because you hated the smell of the antiseptic on your skin, but the idea of rubbing your hands over his wet chest are hard to ignore. Giving your head a shake you keep walking, if you don't commit to what you have planned you'll never try it, and Dante likes surprises in the bedroom. 

Leaning across the bedspread as you hear the sound of his footsteps you grin to yourself before swallowing to try and settle your face. As the door swings open you try to get your expression sorted out so you aren’t a blushing mess, trying to aim for sultry. 

Dante has a towel thrown over his head missing your expression and one slung around his waist, except he has the size of them backward. The larger one over his head and the smaller struggling to remain tied around his waist with how thick his thighs are and your little plan to try and seduce him fails as your jaw drops a little. “Maybe it’s me who’s getting the treat instead of you. Big boy.” Tacking on the last word to get him to lift his head. 

At least your little plan worked as his composure snaps for a moment as he stares at you, his eyes following the trail of whipped cream along the lines of your stomach from your covered core up to your tits. “Babe.” A hard swallow and it’s clear as the towel around his hips flutters from something hidden underneath that he’s getting aroused. “Are those strawberries on your tits?” 

“I figured since it was too late to get you a sundae I’d try and be one instead.” Trailing an index finger along part of your stomach and scooping some of the cream up before sticking the digit in your mouth and sucking on it hard enough to hollow your cheeks. That towel around his waist stood no chance as his cock hardens and sticks up from the edge, raising the fabric as if his dick is peeking out at you. “Sorry, but it’s the best I could do on such short notice.” 

Using one of his hands to pull the towel from around his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor with a wet smack your covered core throbs. His eyes are wild and you can see his neck flexing as his jaw works. Too bad all his attempts are undone by the way his length keeps twitching as it arches from between his legs. “I don’t see any ice cream unless you’re hiding it under that pretty body of yours.” 

Striding closer before he stops. Dante is far from unobservant and the man has noticed your own gaze keeps landing between his legs. “For some reason, I don’t think you have any for me. Not with the way your eyes keep looking at this fine display.” With a snap of his fingers, the towel is gone and you can’t help the little noise of satisfaction you let out at his naked body. He’s fit and knows it, surprising with his terrible diet, but you can’t get enough of it. 

“You’re right. I wanted some meat tonight.” Winking at him before spreading your legs, showing him the damp spot on your underwear. “I think you should come get your dessert before it gets too warm though.” Adding a small whine at the end as you want to feel his skin against yours, or his tongue. Really he can remove the fruit and cream covering your torso anyway he wants to. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t cover your pussy in cream too.” Snorting as he closes the final distance and you feel his bed dip as he joins you. 

“I might be willing to try food play but I am not having anything go in my pussy that isn’t sanitized.” 

“Sorry Doc, I gotta call you out on that one.” Running one of his large hands along your thigh before snapping your underwear with his finger. “My tongue and fingers go in there all the time.” You roll your eyes and reach a hand out to try and get him to pay more attention to your body. 

“Funny Dante. Honestly though. Do you want to lick or help me clean this up? The cream really is starting to run.” A chuckle before he moves, throwing a leg over your body and settling so he straddles your form, sliding down a little as his hands come to rest beside your body. 

“I think I can help with that problem.” Lowering his head to where the cream is starting to run just below your naval and licking a wide strip along the stream of white painted on your body. Right away you moan, the heat from his tongue chasing the chill that was seeping into your skin has you shuddering. “I’d have rathered lick at another cream though.” Lapping his tongue up your body and following the trail up your belly, all the while your hands are roaming across his back. It’s hard to stay still under him as you react to his closeness, your muscles shifting in delight at the texture of his tongue, and the way his breath fans out across your tummy. Rubbing your thighs together the slightest amount as you grow wetter the closer his head gets to one of your breasts. 

Almost there and your clit throbs and your body tenses. 

Laughing when he shoves his face between both of your boobs, covering the sides of his face in the cream before looking up at you. “Wanna taste my cream now?” Wiggling his eyebrows and you aren’t sure where the cream ends and his hair starts. 

“You’re so cheesy Dante.” 

“No. But I can go get some spray cheese if you’d rather lick that up.” Shuffling and grabbing one of the strawberries to pop in his mouth before dipping his face towards yours. As his lips connect with yours you don’t bother trying to respond to him verbally, instead letting one hand slide up along the muscles of his back and tangling in his hair. Parting your lips and moaning into him as his tongue darts out to lick the inside of your mouth, tasting some of the cream and strawberry juice on him. It isn’t a long kiss as he pulls away and grabs the other strawberry, holding it to your lips and offering it to you. 

“I ate two chocolate covered ones earlier. Those two were for you.” Smirking up at him as he rolls his eyes, tossing it in his mouth before reaching for the floor to grab the towel and wipe the cream off his face and one of your tits.

“I’ll remember that for next time.” Going in for another quick kiss making you gasp as he rolls his hips against yours, certain you could feel some of the fluid dripping from his tip smear against your belly. “Now to clean up this remaining mess the way you wanted.” The movement of his tongue is different this time, short quick swipes as he works his way up around to the tip of your nipple. Understanding why he cleaned the other off as he starts to circle his rough thumb against the hard nub, an involuntary roll of your hips as you sigh. The burning in your core grows hotter under his touch. 

Another whine as he ignores the tip of the nipple under his mouth, his lips kissing the edge of the skin now instead of lapping at it as if it’s some sort of divine nectar instead of cheap whipped cream from a can. A few more rolls of your hips as you try to edge him on, wanting more from the white haired man however he is having none of it. 

“Seems like this was more a treat for you than me.” The hand that had been massaging your other tit is now at your hip keeping you from moving while he leans more of his weight on the arm he has resting beside you as he licks everywhere but the point of your breast. Making low grunts and groans as he laps at your skin, tilting his head to make eye contact, and once he does he sends you a look that you can only describe as sinful. 

“Dante, please. No more teasing.” Doing your best to plead with him as your body thrums, you want him and you’ll do anything at this point to get it. “It was just a silly idea.” 

“Lucky for you.” Dipping his head and flicking the hard flesh with his tongue at last. “I like silly.” The hand at your hip pushing your underwear to the side and pushing his way inside your tight heat, while at the same time sucking on your tit like it’s the last thing he’s going to do. 

Your reaction is immediate as you scream his name, your back arching and pressing your chest more into his mouth as you cum around his tip that’s barely part way inside of you. His fingers circle your clit while keeping the thin fabric that divided your bodies away from your core as he works more of himself into you, trying to drag out your orgasm as long as he can. 

Growling as you respond, dragging your fingers down his shoulders and trying to press more of his body down to yours lost in the sensation before you’re panting from the overstimulation. Dante stops the movement of his fingers and lifts his head from your now abused breast, smirking at the indent of his teeth in your supple skin and the bruise forming there. Once you calm down he’ll rip those panties off your hips and fuck you for real. For now, he’s content feeling the tremors of your walls along his length while you recover from your first release of the night. 

“Guess I’m not that bad of a boyfriend after all.” 

[spoops-screams]

| When they realise that MC is allergic to magic

Character(s): Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

TW: Trauma, allergic reactions, suffocation, pain/ injury, allusions to/ mentions of death, hospitals, angst, self blame, spoilers for the overblots

Notes: Gender neutral MC || Yeah <3

Riddle

Riddle realises early on

He catches on after Leona's overblot when he sees the sign of you reacting negatively to something. Since his parents are well known doctors, he's quite accustomed to things like the signs of an allergic reaction but it’s different

It’s more severe than most and he isn’t so unobservant so see the black blotches that stain your skin

He goes to Crowley after consulting you, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the expression of fear that takes a hold of you after having so recently dealt with two overblots and now being told by someone that you knew wouldn’t lie to you that you might fall to the same fate

He doesn’t pay enough attention to to resignation when he says that the best course of action is to tell Crowley. You knew that he wouldn’t be able to do anything, but Riddle is scared, more so than he ever recalls being

He’s never heard of this, never thought anything like this could happen and yet here you are breaking all of his belief down and leaving him pieces to at he can’t make out to try and piece them back together

After the first few times, Riddle stops feeling disappointed about the lack of help from Crowley and turns to Crewel. All he can do is request that you be transferred into his care where he can hope that, if it will be the only thing that his mother ever taught him that will be of use to him, his understanding of medicine will aid you as will the professors understanding of herbs

Leona

Leona realises at your first meeting

The smell of blot, something that he'd only ever smelt from his pen, hanging thickly around you

He can smell your weakness and he knows that you weren’t anything like you were the first time he had saw you in the entrance ceremony

He doesn't care though. Not yet

You aren't a priority. Not yet

You aren't until much later when the fact begins to eat him up inside at the idea that his hands could cause you pain, hands that wish for nothing more than to hold you to him and allow you to rest

Azul

Azul never gives himself the chance to fully realise at all

Even after his overblot he's unwilling to talk to you, much less so when he can see you getting tired, weary, struggling to breath, to move

He cares for you of course, to the best of his abilities. It's the least he can do for everything that you have done for him but it's all at a distance

But he knows that it has something to do with him. He isn't sure how, maybe it's just his insecurities again, but he can feel it. He can feel it in how your body draws in his contracts but deteriorates because of it, how magic is drawn to you but your body wants nothing more to repel it

What could he do as a source of magic, who possesses, who possessed, so much other than leave you be?

Vil

Vil realises almost too late

It’s during his overblot, perhaps one of the reasons that he falters and makes it so easy for him to be subdued after that, when he notices the way that the creature behind him gravitates towards you

It screams at him to attack you, you, only you like everything about it, every cruel thought it had ever had was because of you and destroying you would bring it a joy and relief unlike any other

But he doesn’t want to

There’s a flicker of the Vil you knew when the blot reaches out to you without his say so, and your body reacts as though you’re being burned, a hand coming up to grip at your throat as if to clear your airways

No one else reacts like that

Not Rook who’s covered in blot or Ace who has is splattered across his face

It’s just you and, when he comes to, he looks at you with eyes so wide, somehow still having retained the fear that he felt when he saw how you reacted, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself

Idia

Idia realises mere moments before you were lost to it

He’d been tracking all of the overblots, sure, and he can see all of the traces of it around you when he does so but he chalks up the fact that you’re in pain and so painfully out of it up to you having to deal with them all and he doesn’t care beyond that and the fact that he briefly entertains the idea of needing to take you in to be looked over

It’s not until after you collapse when you return to NRC, lips, skin, hair losing colour and being replaced with a disturbing grey and deep black pools of blot clinging to your skin, that he realises that he should have taken you in as well

But he’d never seen anything like it before and it’s all he can say when your body weakens further any time that any one gets close to it

He’s never cared for a human life beyond Ortho’s before but he’s downright terrified as he calls in as many contacts as he can - everyone else with the capability following suit - to help you at the idea that your death might be on his hands

He doesn’t think he would be able to deal with that and, with all of his devices blaring at the high blot levels of all of the people surrounding, he doesn’t think anyone else would be able to either

Malleus

Malleus realises immediately

He isn't sure what it is but he can feel the way that your body reacts to his magic

His entire being radiates it without restraint due to him being a Fae - a magical being by nature - and he can feel the weakening of your heart the longer that he stays around you

He doesn't understand why, not even really when he can see blot clinging to you and your body almost failing

He doesn't really ever realise that you're allergic to his very being and only understands that you must be kept away from extreme sources of magic for whatever reason - perhaps the fact that you were from another world and magicless so shouldn't be able to host blot at all

No, he only realises when he feels his heart shatter at being given the information that magic causes you harm, the first time that he saw you collapse still burnt in his mind, and isn’t quite sure what to do with himself next

He knows that the best thing would be to leave you be but whether he can hold himself to that he doesn’t know and he doesn’t know if he’d be able to make you leave him be either. Not when you’re the first person who has been so willing to approach him in years

It hurts him so much and he can’t decide between his duty or his selfish, painfully human, desire to keep you close to him

Do not repost or claim. Only reblog 💕

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Who was Paracelsus?

Paracelsus was the screen name of Philippus Bombastus Romastus Fantastus Supercalafragalisticexpialadastus von South-Stuttgart-Next-To-The-University-Cafeteria-With-The-Zig-Zag-Roof. His name Paracelsus literally means "Better than Celsus." We do not know who Celsus may have been, but the name is likely a reference to St. Jerome Para-Ezra of Baton Rouge, who was known in his time to have been far better than Ezra.

Paracelsus invented many of the medical techniques used from medieval times to the modern medical revolution, including bleeding, leeching, exsanguination, draining blood from the patient, and ultra-hemorrhagic-cleansing. He also coined the phrase "Only the dose determines the poison," as well as its corollary, "You can eat anything, just some things you can only eat once," and the less impressive but better known, "He who smelt it, dealt it." This was all considered an advancement over the old theory of bodily humors, which is why Paracelsus's friends all said he was a humorless bastard, or so he kept claiming.

Paracelsus was married in a Rosicrucian ceremony based on the Chemical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz, which was of course preceded by Chemical Engagement and a Chemical Romance involving a black parade, the theatrical faking of several deaths, and a great deal of sodium (a mass scientifically abbreviated as Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na). To whom he was married is a matter of much debate, with potential spouses speculated to include Shakespeare, Queen Elizabeth I, Queen Elizabeth II, Martin Luther, Galileo, Ivan the Terrible, Thomas Hobbes, John Calvin, Catherine Di Medici, the Popes Alexander V-VIII, or possibly all at once.

Paracelsus died in the 1540s after suffering a minor splinter which he treated with his own experimental technique known as "setting the patient on fire and stabbing him with a fork in his balls until he barfs then laughing at him." He was then cremated with his urn displayed at the University of Hohenheim for several centuries, until he was accidentally misplaced during an American tour and is presumed to have been used as ash in some Humboldt Fog Cheese, which was considered an affront to his Swiss heritage.

Also he apparently invented Zinc. Good job.

[runnning-outof-time]

Ohh hi❤️ blurb requests yeah!! Can I please request Back Hugs back hugs back hugs with Tommy? (Maybe with the added addition of nuzzling the nose into the back of his neck?😂) have a great night!

Hello anon!! 👋🏻👋🏻 thanks so much for sending this in! This idea came to me almost immediately. I hope you enjoy it! Also quick shoutout to @thomashelbyswhore who also sent this one in!

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! :)

———

Some Motivation

Tommy Shelby

Warnings: none

(Y/N) lets Tommy know that he’s doing exactly what he’s supposed to be.

Tommy stood at the front side of his desk. He’d just come back from a meeting and was feeling the pressures of everyone’s expectations weighing down on him. Piles of papers were scattered around his desk. He didn’t know what he should do first. Instead of making any moves to get started on it, he rested his hands on the desk and let out a sigh.

He was so encompassed by the thoughts in his head that he didn’t hear the office door open, or the footsteps coming his way. He tensed up at the feeling of arms encirling his torso, and was about to act when he looked down and saw the glimmer coming from the wedding ring that he immediately recognized as (Y/N)’s. How could he forget the ring he’d shakily placed onto her finger a handful of years ago now? He offered many times to buy her a newer, bigger, one, but each time she refused. Another sigh escaped his lips, this one of content, as he felt her rest her cheek against his shoulderblades.

“That could’ve been dangerous, love,” he remarked, his hands dropping to gently hold onto her wrists as she hugged him tightly.

“I’ll take my chances with you, Tom,” she whispered back, not making any moves to let go of him. Instead of trying to break out, Tommy accepted the hug and let her stay pressed against his back. “You seemed stressed after that meeting,” she commented after a few quiet moments had passed.

“There’s a lot on my plate,” he answered her, his eyes falling onto the piles of papers again. I should get started on them, he thought. “A lot of people are coming to me; needing me to do things.”

“You’ll get them done in due time,” she assured him, craning her head upwards so that she could nuzzle her face into his neck. His scent immediately overcame her senses, and she let out a content sigh as she breathed it in. He always smelt like home.

“Maybe I’ve taken on more than I can handle,” he said after a few more moments had passed.

This sentence made (Y/N) lift her face from his neck and finally unwrap her arms from his middle. This allowed Tommy to turn and face her. He was only able to hold her gaze for a moment before he looked to the ground. (Y/N) pursed her lips as she studied his features. It was obvious that he was stressed; that he was overwhelmed by the amount of work that needed to be done, and she couldn’t help but feel slightly happy at the fact that he was willing to show her these emotions. He usually kept them bottled up and close to the chest.

“I don’t think you have,” she said to him, her voice making him look up again, “you know what you can handle. You’ve dealt with much more before, and you’ve came out of that successful. This time will be the same,” she assured him, hoping that her little speech would spark some motivation within him. He said nothing in response to her pep talk, the solemn expression still lingering on his features. “I could help you with the papers, if you’d want,” she offered then.

“You wouldn’t want to be dealing with that,” Tommy was quick to point out.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t…” (Y/N) responded, not masking her true feelings. She hated doing paperwork of any sort, but it was part of the nature of the job, “but I’d do it for you. Anything to take some of the weight off of your shoulders,” she ended her statement with a smile.

Tommy tried his hardest not to let the smile break through onto his straight faced expression. He knew he was lucky to have (Y/N) in his life, but it was days like today, and moments like this, that just hammered that sentiment home. “I’ll give you the papers I’m finished with…to make sure that they check out,” he told her the plan, and she nodded before grabbing one of the chairs facing his desk so that she could drag it around to where his chair was.

They both sat down and got to work; Tommy filling out the papers and (Y/N) checking over them. Time went by quietly for a bit before Tommy stopped and looked at (Y/N). Feeling his eyes on her, she also stopped to look at him.

“What?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Thanks for this,” he told her, his words coming out quietly.

But she heard them loud and clear. “You’re welcome,” she smiled at him, the expression alone telling Tommy that he shouldn’t be worrying so much about all of this. Things would be ok.

———

Tagged: @mgcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @raincoffeeandfandoms @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @lora21 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @dragons-are-my-favorite @sunsetbeachesandwriting @forgottenpeakywriter @cilliansangel

MASTERLIST

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 20 - Twins

The Ironworks Twins Need a New Home:

Of all the pairs of twins on Sodor, Arry and Bert are quite easily the most dysfunctional – though that’s not really a fair comparison considering Arry and Bert dealt with scrap all day.

The pair had lived and worked at the Sodor Ironworks and Smelting Yard for almost all their lives. They’d left the factory together, been bought ‘off the peg’ from British Rail together, and spent every day working together. They hauled scrap iron into their yard, melted it down, and turned it into sheets of new metal to be sent out and turned into something useful again. It was not always a pleasant task – Arry and Bert had often been tasked with taking withdrawn engines, coaches and trucks to their ends.

Arry had always been just a little more excited by this prospect than Bert. He was the elder of the two twins, and – much to Bert’s chagrin – was weirdly overprotective of his twin. Somehow, he’d gotten it into his radiators that this meant being supportive of every job he was given, even if it involved the scrapping of other engines. Bert let his twin believe he was a great hero and mastermind – but in all actuality, he wasn’t interested in Arry’s latest scheme to annoy the steam engines or curry favour with their boss.

If anything, Bert was actually the smarter of the two.

And indeed, as the new millennium had dawned and their mainland relatives were withdrawn and cut up in droves, Bert began to quietly pull together as many connections as he could. He volunteered to work away from the smelter’s whenever the opportunity arose, especially as he noticed the manager flicking through locomotive catalogues in his office.

Arry, naturally, didn’t notice that at all.

One evening, Arry and Bert were resting in their shed when they heard a low, distant rumbling. Thinking it was just another load of scrap for the yard, the pair thought little of it and continued sleeping; perhaps it would have been better if they had investigated.

The next morning, the two twins woke up to find a new engine at the fuel tank. It was already painted into their livery, a sneer on their face.

“Wonderful, he’s arrived!” grinned the yard manager, striding out of his office. Arry and Bert blinked, and gazed at their owner as he made his way across the yard to stand between them. “Arry, Bert – it’s been nice owning you, but I’ve put you up for sale. If you can’t find yourselves a buyer… well, I do own a smelting yard! And who would buy twins…”

Arry snarled, his engine revving furiously. Bert thought fast. “We’ll get goin’ with our steel train then, sir!” he practically bellowed, thundering away. Arry spluttered indignantly, and gave chase.

“What was tha’ about?! You want to keep workin’ fer that old knob even after he’s announced he’s plannin’ to scrap us?” Arry demanded, catching up to his twin as Bert began hurriedly shunting together the steel trucks. “No, you dolt,” snorted Bert. “Use yer noggin. Where are we?” “The scrapyard.” Bert groaned, and rolled his eyes. “Sodor, you dimwit! We need ta make our case ta Fat Hatt, and fast.” Arry reared back, his engine coughing out thick black smoke.

“Fat Hatt? You want us ta work with the steamers?” Bert sighed, and finished arranging the trucks. “Yes, Arry, I do. It’s not 1968 anymore – we’re outdated too. Make yer peace with steam now, or we’re not gettin’ a new home.” “We have other options,” sniffed Arry. “We’re maintained, an’ boss put us up fer sale.” Even as he said that, Arry coupled onto the train and let Bert take the lead. Bert couldn’t help but grin – Arry had never let him lead when they worked together, calling it ‘unsafe’ and trying to protect him from whatever was on the line.

“Boss ain’t put us up fer sale,” Bert said coldly, the moment the pair left the smelter’s yard. “He lied. Why sell us when he can sell our scrap? We need Fat Hatt – no, Sir Topham Hatt ta buy us. He’s the only one who would. Now come on!”

The steel train was bound for Tidmouth, with stops all along the route . When the pair arrived at Wellsworth, Bert left Arry to shunt the train away and rumbled towards the sheds. A few moments later, he returned with Edward following close behind.

“So, he’s bought a new engine to replace you both?” quizzed Edward. “Yeah. An’ he’ll scrap us at the end o’ the week if we ain’t bought.” Edward frowned, then smiled at Bert. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said. Bert just smiled. “Thank you,” he said, and buffered back up to Arry. “We gotta get goin’ now.” “Bye Bert!” called Edward, already puffing away. Arry waited until the old engine was out of earshot before saying something.

“What. Was that?” “I’ve been talkin’ ta some of the Sodor steamers fer a while now,” Bert replied easily. “Why?!” “Fer this exact reason,” retorted Bert. Arry couldn’t even think of an argument against that – Bert had already managed to get Edward the blue engine to potentially plead their case.

It was the same story at Thomas’ junction. Bert wandered off for a brief moment, found Percy, and told him about what was happening, bending the truth just a little to make it seem like the twins were in immediate danger. And just like Edward, Percy promised to talk to the Fat Controller about their dilemma.

Then, the pair reached the Big Station, bringing the trucks down to the harbour where Henry and Bear were. The two saw Bert coming and smiled. Arry very nearly coughed up all his fuel in shock.

“Afternoon Bert!” called Bear. “Lovely day, isn’t it?” “I wish,” sighed Bert. “But I got bad news this mornin’.” “Oh?” exclaimed Henry, looking concerned. “What was it?” Bert told the events of their morning again, and again Henry and Bear promised Bert that they would try their best to help.

Arry was flabbergasted. He didn’t know what to think! When had his little twin gotten so… mature? Old? Clever? Bert was his younger twin! The one he protected and kept the boss from selling, always being eager and interested in his schemes to make them seem like the best possible engines for the job.

Then again, that had done them a fat lot of good in the end, hadn’t it? Maybe Bert was onto something with this idea of working for the Fat Hatt…

Bert’s plan worked a treat. With not one, not two but four different engines all telling the Fat Controller about the Ironworks twins being retired and even more saying positive things about Bert, he really had no choice but to put forward an offer. To say the Ironworks manager was stunned was an understatement!

Arry and Bert were repainted into a new NWR livery and now work at the Big Station, arranging trains and shunting the harbour. Arry is still brash and difficult at times, but he’s slowly learning how to fit in. If anything, the biggest shock to Arry the Ironwork Twin was to discover just how much his younger brother had grown up.

Back to the Master Post

[fever-fluff]

Home V

Word count: 3.2k (Not Proof Read) Azriel is butting heads with his new companion, being forced to recognise some hard truths...

Part IV , Part VI

The waves crashing against one another was a sound she hadn’t realised she’d missed so much in her time away. Brien had taken up post beside her, finally moving away from their guest for the first time since that night. She had felt his reluctance to carry out their journey after she had woken him for the terrors that had plagued his mind. It wasn’t the first time he had dealt with them, she supposed. But the undiluted fear that had come off him in waves was unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

So, she had silently requested Brien to accompany him when she couldn’t. And now that they’d made t to the swelling ocean, his anticipation to slip away had turned into a desire to run from what he’d promised. She’d smelt the shift so intensely that she almost felt bad for keeping him here. But their work was more important than running from inner demons, at least to her anyway. Besides, there was no telling whether he’d return to Indere to Mor, and she couldn’t allow someone a new friend held so dear decide to disappear into his shadows.

She moved away from them towards the cove they’d need to complete the journey from, walking down the steep rocks she’d passed so many times she didn’t need to follow Brien’s lead anymore, but his presence in front of her was a welcome one. They’d spent centuries together, sometimes it only being the two of them, and he had become apart of her just as much as she for him.

Aodhan was talking to Azriel behind her, explaining how they’d cross safely without fear of the swallowing waves beneath. “You’ll have to fly on the currents, making sure to take the ones sweeping up and avoiding those that’ll push you towards the swell. It gets easier as you do it, but winnowing is out of the question. There’s wards up that haven’t been broken longer than I’m alive.”

“And another reason Mor wouldn’t be able to cross regardless of whether she was allowed to or not.” He’d already pieced together that it was too dangerous to carry another fae as you navigated the currents. Aodhan nodded in confirmation, “We’ve had sailors and other fae try to cross before, whether they knew the islands were inhabited or not, we don’t know. Their secrets went down with them to the bottom of the sea.”

She was still looking towards the sound of the sea when she’d heard his next question. “Which still doesn’t explain how you’re crossing…” She smiled, not straying from her position, but pulled a sharp whistle to Brien who was preoccupied with sniffing around something to her right. Her voice cut loudly to the howling wind that had picked up as if it sensed the oncoming flight, “I can’t let you in on all my secrets just yet Shadowsinger.”

Brien moved to her feet, his physical body shifting into something else, something entirely magic. It swirled around her, climbing from her legs upwards and taking whatever was physical of her with it. There was no sign of her feet beneath her, not feeling of them either. They ceased to exist, as did the rest of her body as Brien climbed and climbed. It was always terrifying, feeling everything she was and is being turned into what felt like nothing. Brien had reached her neck as she bid her goodbyes, “I’ll see you both on the other side,” and the very last of her body was engulfed.

There was never any memory of what had happened once her consciousness was consumed. She had been something, then wasn’t, and until Brien decided to place her back in the physical world she did not exist in and shape or form. She always thought maybe one day, if Brien ever decided to, he could just allow her to be that way for eternity. She didn’t know if he could form his physical body without bringing her back, and never thought it necessary to find out. 

The return of her was always more tedious than the consuming, taking longer as if Brien wanted to make sure he didn’t forget to form a toe or a finger on the way back. Azriel and Aodhan hadn’t made it over yet, and she wondered if he’d actually attempted to make a run for it when she had disappeared. But the beats of two pairs of wings from the sea was enough to confirm her thoughts wrong. She sat perched on a rock, Brien wrapped loosely around her shoulders, purring loudly. He always craved the closeness of it after, as if he missed her presence in the short time she wasn’t there. Aodhan and Azriel were panting from the exertion it took to cross over, she wondered if either of them had gotten close to being swallowed on the way over.

She stood as the caught their breath, moving to greet the two of them on home soil. Home. It felt good to be able to call the ground she stood on that. The chieftains were right to call her, it had been far too long.

“Azriel” his body turned to her attention, “welcome to our home.”

    

Azriel never, never, wanted to agree to a race like that again. After he had gotten over his spluttering about how Brien had practically eaten her in a wave of pure magic, Aodhan had insisted that it was the best way to cross, that it would take his mind off the sheer force that would be beneath him. But it had done no such thing, and he’d nearly toppled through the rough wind too many times and fell straight into a watery grave. Dancing with death had always been easy for him and his brothers, but that was sheer stupidity.

But, looking at where he’d be stationed for the next while, he understood what that graveyard beyond the cliffs was hiding.

Peace.

He felt it in the wind, soft and warm unlike the ones he’d just flown through. Lush green covered the sloping sides of the tops of the cliffs above him, a colour so inviting he felt the itch to roll in it like he were a dog. Trees of every kind seemed to guard him on both sides, and the sounds of running water filed his ears from somewhere. There was a quiet here he had never felt before, there was no inkling of being alert for oncoming dangers from somewhere. This place was a land that felt like he had passed on, but the aches in the muscles holding his wings and the tightness still filling his chest from a lack of air grounded him from thinking he had truly died going over the water.

They had begun to walk inland, passing floral and fauna that had gone undisturbed for centuries, unperturbed by their trek and seemingly unaware of the predators they could be. Azriel had never seen the likes of it -even Velaris, the city which held an imaginable number of dreams and hopes couldn’t hold a candle to the utter surrealness of this place.

Even watching her as she walked among paths long trodden into the earth, her steps were lighter than before. Like she had nothing to fear behind the bends ahead or the treeline to her side. Brien didn’t walk as closely to her either, shifting between prancing legs and swift wings as he basked in the afternoon sun overhead. The stopped slightly as they came to a dip in the land, the expanding view of her land filling his vision. She nodded towards Aodhan, “Fly ahead and let everyone know we’re back.” His arrival with them a silent command between her words was not lost on him as Aodhan unfurled his wings and split through the air, the gust he left behind making Azriel plant his feet more firmly in place. Before he had even looked to the sky, Aodhan had flown out of sight.

“Sometimes I forget the strength he has until he takes off.” The fondness in her voice was contagious and Azriel found himself smiling along. “You must be proud.”

Her face had tilted towards the sun to take in the heat as she sighed, “You have no idea.”

“When he was fifteen, he’d crash landed into the roof of our home, falling into where I was sitting trying to enjoy a glass of wine after a long day. It took him a week to repatch the hole. But the entire time all he could talk about was how fast he had flown and how he’d become faster and faster.” They were walking side by side now, his attention raptly on the joy she seemed to light up with as she gave him a laugh, “I couldn’t even be mad about the roof, or that he could have hurt himself. He seemed so happy in that moment that all I wanted from then on was to keep it that way, that he’d never feel bad about being who he was.”

“His happiness meant your happiness” Azriel thought back to Nyx, already noting the familiar feeling he had for his nephew brewing in his chest. “My brother, he has a little one now with his mate. I’m certain the whole family would tie the stars on strings for him if it’d make him smile.”

“It’s terrifying, thinking what you’d justify to bring them happiness. Everything is fair game when it comes to them.” her sentiment was horrifyingly true for Azriel. If anything -or anyone- ever got in the way of Nyx, not only would Feyre and Rhys burn the world, the rest of them would destroy whatever ash was left over in their wake. The air had turned tense around them for a moment until she spoke again, “It’s the reason I’m doing this, pushing to open the boarders that is… Aodhan, like many of the younger ones, is restless. He’s never truly seen the rest of the world. And this peace we’ve created, it’s become suffocating for them.”

She made to grasp his hand, gripping his fingers with hers stiffly, as if it would convey how much resolve she had in her to make this happen. “Children of peace are so different from children of war, Azriel. He – they – need the freedom we’ve kept from them for too long.”

He wanted to believe her, truly. But he’d seen so much of the ugly side of the world that he couldn’t bring himself to stop the words spilling from his mouth, “The world isn’t as welcoming as you think. It’s not as beautiful as here, the wounds are still so fresh from everything that I doubt even the next few centuries can fix it. Too much blood has been shed…”

“And yet your sister tends to those wounds not far from here, doing the work so many before have been too scared to even consider a possibility.” Something hard had entered her tone, and he felt himself wishing to take back his words if only to remove it as quickly as it had come, but he persisted. “She’s creating trade routes, what you’re implying is opening up a world, an unknown world, to the rest of us. You can’t possibly think it will end in peace…”

“She’s connecting worlds, how is that so different from what I want?”

“You know damn well how different it is. You’ve been cut off from the rest of us for centuries! You hid during wars that the rest of us bled for, how welcoming do you think our world will be to yours once they realise you have come out of everything unscathed while the rest of us clawed our way out of hel to rebuild what was left?” She’d ripped her grip from his at that, eyes hardening and levelling him. Even though he knew she couldn’t very well see him, Azriel had a mind to take a step back. “Do not try to educate me on political matters I am damn well aware of Shadowsinger. I see now I should have let you slink off in your fear instead of having Brien watch you like a dog.”

Azriel bristled at her admission, “Fear? Do you think that was what that was?” the distance he created closed instantly as he matched her stance a hair’s breadth away, “I have come here, an unknown territory with unknown fae, unguarded and you believe I am afraid?” His wings had spread wide, shadows pouring from them steadily as if to snuff the light that surrounded the two of them forever in a sea of darkness. But the female in front of him didn’t cower, didn’t balk at his act of dominance as so many others had.

“I have been alive for over seven hundred years; I know fear when I smell it. And the stench of it smothers you Azriel, whether you realise it or not.”

The hitch of his breath seemed to pull her from the fight she seemed so wound up to have, and she sighed when he answered her with a growl. “Azriel, I am not ignorant to what fae outside these islands may think. But this is the only step forward. If you do not want to help, then that is your choice, and you may leave whenever you want. But do not shut a door you haven’t properly opened yet.”

As she stepped away from him and the wave of shadows around them, turning to begin the walk again, Azriel felt himself torn in two. He was still angry, her implication still stinging fresh, but he hadn’t lost himself enough to forget the rest of her words. So, begrudgingly, he made to follow. Brien had flown back in between it all probably to ensure his masters safety and now slunk in between her steps, chuffing at him as if it was his fault the mood had turned sour. He growled back lowly at the disrespect, but the familiar had already taken to ignoring him in favour of watching a butterfly in the nearby brush.

  

Azriel wasn’t sure what to expect with his arrival, newly announced as it was. For somewhere so disconnected, surely a newcomer would warrant some type of wariness in the form of unchecked violence should the need arise. But, as they reached as small town that she had told him was one of many that sat on the outskirts of the main part of the island, he was met with very much the opposite.

Fae with wings very much like Aodhan’s had come out in groups to get a glance of what they’d heard to be an emissary of the known world. Small children, more than he had ever seen in one place his entire life, huddled in groups or at the legs of who were most likely their parents as he passed through beside her. Their whispers reached his ears quickly.

Gods, look at his wings…

Mom, why do they look like that?

Dad, why does his wings look different to ours?... He’s not fae like us son, he’s a foreigner. What’s a foreigner? Ahhhh, it’s someone who comes from a different place than you do… Oh….

Do you think he can fly in the rain?

Wonder where he’s coming from? Probably the continent, it’s where Danu was last visiting.

He looked to her in question of the last whisper he listened to, “Danu?”

“An honorary title, it’s what most fae will use instead of my given name.” He hummed his understanding, “So should I be using it as well?”

She threw him a shrug as they entered one of the buildings, “If you want, it makes no difference to me.”

The building turned out to be a tavern of a sorts. Bottles lined the shelves behind a counter, and tables with precarious looking stools littered the rest of the floor. But she made for the back of the room, pulling back a piece of fabric to reveal a better looking table and chairs made for those with wings more private than the rest of the place. Danu, he supposed it would be best if he honor her name here for the good graces of the rest, motioned for him to sit while she went to grab the bottle and two tumblers the barkeep had left on the counter without a word.

Pouring what looked to be whiskey for each of them, she lifted her glass in cheers to his and downed it in one go. It burned his throat as fire would going down, hitting the base of his stomach far harder than any liquor in Rita’s ever had and he found himself staving off a cough.

“Uisce thine, one of the best things to ever grace the world of drinking.” Azriel didn’t really agree with her sentiment. If either Cassian or Nesta got their hands on the likes of this, well, there wouldn’t be much to keep the chaos that would ensue from happening. “Perhaps you should keep this on the island.” Their spat from earlier on seemed to be a matter of the past for her as she laughed in understanding. Pouring a second round, she began to tell him more of her home and how to navigate it. “Muintir na Lasrach are an old race, they predate even some families of high fae and our customs are much different to yours.”

He listened closely to how they didn’t believe in the mother creating the known world, and how the phoenix was one of four gods who had given up a single feather to create them from fire, wind and clay. “Like the phoenix, they’re incredibly selfish down to their very nature, so I’d be careful if you decide to venture outside of political connections and who you choose to do that with. Male and females alike are extremely territorial if they’ve claimed someone for themselves, and because you’re an outsider death wouldn’t be too harsh a punishment if you put a foot wrong.” Azriel felt his stomach drop as the memory of Rhys swearing him off Elain resurfaced. He’d made the mistake of coming between fate once before, he wouldn’t do it again. “No mates. Noted.”

Her brows pulled together in rebuttal. “There’s no mates on the island, at least not in your knowledge of the term. Everyone here chooses their partner of their own accord, no fate involved. They’re just extremely territorial is all I’m saying.”

Azriel didn’t know how to comprehend what she’d admitted. Regardless of whether they believed in the mother or not, how could there be no semblance of mates anywhere. “How is that possible?”

She made to pour one last drink for them before they’d go to an inn for the night, “A story for another time. Drink up, and I’ll tell you the rest of what you need to know after we’ve had some stew.”

Pronunciation of words

Muintir na lasrach —> mwin-ter na lass-rock

Uisce Thine —> ish-kah chin-a

Aodhan —> a-dawn

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