#his Si comes 10 times more instinctual
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Sis! Now I need a full on fic for Logan x Fem!Reader x Wade with the whole pregnancy thing! I love the trio and I can just see Logan’s wheels always turning, trying to pin point the scent difference, why he’s so touchy and clingy. Then when it comes out both men are 10 x more clingy! Dotting on their woman hand and foot, taking care of her when she’s sick or hurting from the added weight and her symptoms. I can see one of them standing behind her and they just put their hands under her belly and they just lift it up some to relieve the pressure on her and she’s just IMMENSELY relieved
Oh, I’m not sure if I’m in a state for a full fic right now (I work and when I’m not working I’m in school) but I can elaborate more for sure!
🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀🩷🎀
You would absolutely be the most spoiled, protected pregananant person in the world. In fact, they’d have to start taking turns with missions, because one of them would need to be at home with you at all times from the moment it’s confirmed by your doctor. Not that you really needed the confirmation, with the way Logan lives with his face pressed into your neck the moment it clicks for him that the lovely warm scent that mixed with your usual sweetness and lingered after you were long gone is due to the little life inside you.
Wade is a lot more hesitant at first. He’s overwhelmed with how happy he feels at the news, and that alone is enough to scare him. Logan’s too caught up in his protective instincts to think logically about the fact that you really are in quite a dangerous situation, but Wade’s all too attuned to the myriad of ways you and the baby could be hurt because of them and the lifestyle they’ve chosen. You’ll never see him so cautious. He comes home with less injuries than ever (though not insignificant, but it’s Wade), not wanting to cause you any undue stress after he reads how bad stress can be on you and the baby (because yes, he’s secretly started hoarding a stash of pregnancy books and magazines from the moment he saw those two blue lines).
And trust me, the moment that you start to show, things will only amp up from there. That’s when reality starts to set in— this is happening. They��re going to be dads.
Now that Logan has an explanation for his odd behaviors from before, it becomes much easier to manage them for the three of you. You and Wade understand his instinctual need to keep you close, so you start to mind it less when he gently tugs you over to him in his lounge chair from the couch, keeping his broad hands over the expanse of your belly and his head on your shoulder where he can keep that comforting aroma in his senses. It also means that it’s easier for him to allow you to relax with Wade, his instincts now accepting Wade as a fellow protector, rather than a threat.
Wade loves laying his head on your stomach for as long as he’s physically able to, your hands lovingly caressing his head as he talks to the baby about anything and everything, for as long as you’ll let him go on— or until he falls asleep, feeling a deep sense of comfort from being so close to you and the baby. Every other sentence is punctuated by enthusiastic kisses to your growing roundness, slowly becoming softer and more tender as his rambling shifts from making up stupid nicknames for the unborn child and telling them all the ridiculous ways he’s going to teach them to get into trouble, to soft murmurs of how good of a parent you’re going to be, how much he already loves them, how he can’t wait to see Logan act like a real daddy, how he can’t wait to be their daddy, too. And once you’re too big for him to lay his head down, he’ll just rest his head on your thighs instead, dotingly rubbing his hands all over stomach, tracing your stretch marks with his fingertips and admiring your physical and mental strength for carrying their child.
When you get to spend time with both of them, it’s usually on the couch or in bed now. You’re exhausted all the time, so lucky you that you’ve got two men who would never let your feet touch the ground if that’s what it took to keep you happy. You’re always laying with your head in someone’s lap, having your hairline lightly brushed by soothing fingertips, your feet and calves massaged by strong hands. You’ve always got someone to run and get you what you’re craving, someone to help you shower when you can’t see your feet anymore, someone to hold you when you’re crying because your hormones are too much and you’re thinking too much about the impending pains of birth. Bonus, that also means you’ve got two hands to crush in your death grip when you need it— and you don’t have to worry about breaking their bones.
A pregnancy with Wade and Logan may be tumultuous in some ways, but in all the ways that count, you couldn’t ask for a more perfect family.
#sorry for rambling I’m at work#tw pregnancy#deadpool#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine#deadpool x reader#deadpool x wolverine#poolverine x reader#wade wilson#wade wilson x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader
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none of you are ready for my super hot take of infp ronan lynch
#its literally all there girl#first of all he's Fi defined like. obviously#his Ne is all over the place we're not gonna touch that LMAO but heres the most important part#his Si is so goddamn evident who cares if he races and drinks that boy lives!! in!! the past!!!#im sure his Te fits in somewhere i dont remember how hes like under pressure lol i need a reread#cause sure you can interpret his Racing and Stuff as a need for stimulation from external sources but i think thats just depression#thats not Se. thats mental illness#his Si comes 10 times more instinctual#you know who Really is an isfp?? blue.#anywayuahdhsnd#n#ronan lynch
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Sins of the Mother: 10
Chapter 10: Disillusion
Previous: Collection, Agreement, Terms, Truths, Accidents, Goodbye, Grieving, Visions, Recovery,
You don't like to admit it, but your dreams have been getting worse since you first cast your spell. It's not Trinity you dream about, that would make too much sense, you dream about someone else. Someone you can't really get a bead on. You talk in this person's voice, share their thoughts, and run through their life as if it were yours.
Its disconcerting to feel so disoriented when you wake up. It's only when you wake that you realize you'd been asleep. Each morning you wake up feeling more tired than when you'd gone to sleep. Fern, with all her inherited mothering nature, keeps asking if you're okay. You hate lying to her, but it's all you have at this point. She's not like Trinity, you can't lay everything down on her, you can't even give her a portion of what is going on in your day to day because she's too young.
Walking over to the sink you wash your hands of the chicken juice on them and work on cleaning the knife while Fern and Ollie finish their breakfast. “Chicken pasta tonight.” You tell them setting the knife on a fluffy white towel on the counter. Drying your hands you glance out the window of the kitchen and feel a cold chill run through you.
“Savannah...” You whisper staring into the eyes of your supposed dead ancestor. Freezing your breath catches in your throat. You feel trapped staring into her now blackened eyes. She looks demonic and it squeezes you with fear. If Savannah is a demon she'd be more powerful than she had as a human, you just know it instinctual.
If Savannah is really a demon and not a figment of your imagination, wouldn't Damien know? Wouldn't he just tell you that Savannah was alive? Why hide it? To what end would they need you for? A child? But wouldn't Savannah be perfect for that? Whatever the case, your hope that being with was the worst of it all has vanished.
“Sis? Sis?”
Shaking your head you glance to your right, Ollie stands next to you his gaze jumping from the window to you and back again.
“Sis, are you okay?” Ollie asks watching you shake away your thoughts.
Smiling a little uncertain about what just happen you nod your head. “I'm okay Ollie, why do you ask?”
Ollie looks a little uneasy at the question as if it should be self explanatory. “Who was that lady?” He asks. Your blood runs cold at his question, your smile falters. Ollie sounds like you feel, afraid.
“W—what?”
“The woman outside the window. The one with the long hair, who was she?”
You look back to the window. Savannah's gone. “I don't know, Ollie. She's gone now.” You respond in a hushed whisper. Trying to remain normal you hurry Ollie off to get dressed and take the twins to their music lessons. Your Aunt Allison will pick up the twins for a weekend at the estate. A few times a year there are little festivals held near the estate and all the children are invited to stay the weekend at the main house and have fun. Ollie and Fern have been looking forward to the event for the past month.
You don't want to ruin their weekend. Marking off their list of things needed you load them into your vehicle and take them to the private tutor's home. Your family's been using Vanessa Whitewater's services since you were a small child. She's nearly into her nineties but her mind is still very sharp and her lessons have never failed. Her knowledge is unparalleled and you will mourn her passing.
Kissing Ollie and Fern goodbye you tell them to mind the adults, not to cause trouble—especially Ollie, and to call if they'd like to come home early. Fern hugs you tightly as does Ollie and you feel a lingering twang of fear in him. Shooing Fern off you hold Ollie back.
“Oliver? What's wrong?” You ask not really needing to crouch down to look him in the eyes. He's grown so much this past year and it hurts.
Ollie looks away as if guilty about hiding something from you. You press him again. In one quick motion Oliver wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly, as if you are his last lifeline.
Biting back the sadness at the truth of your own analogy you hug him just a tightly. “Oliver, you know you can talk to me.” You tell him.
“Y/n, that lady scared me. Fern didn't notice but you were just staring at her. She didn't look happy to see you.” Ollie tells you.
“How long?” You ask.
“I don't know. It was long enough to make me worried. Does... did that lady have to do with...” Ollie looks around as if an obvious secret agent looking for prying ears. “Does it have to do the demon?” Ollie asks hushed.
You want to smile at his antics in this moment, but the look in his eye is all serious and frightened. Instead you shake your head. “I don't know Ollie. I wish I did. The woman looked like someone I've seen in pictures, that's why I was staring but I didn't know if it was real or if I were still dreaming.”
“You've been talking in your sleep.” Ollie offers without question. “I've never heard you talk in your sleep before.” The look in Ollie's eyes turns your gut.
“Oliver, what have I been saying?” You ask knowing already he's been listening to you talk in your sleep.
He hesitates. Vanessa taps on the window with a stern expression of disapproval. You give her an apologetic smile but hold up a finger. She nods and disappears from the door. It must have been the grim look on your face or the plead in your eyes but thankfully she backs off.
“Oliver, please.”
Tears glisten on his lower lashes. “You say you wish we were never born, that you hate taking care of us. You... you say you want us dead.”
Your heart pauses in your chest and a cold sweeps through your veins. “No, no, Oliver I would never.” Your dreams pass by your eyes. Those aren't your words. “Oliver. Look at me, please.” Closing your eyes you realize your voice is harsh and quickly change it. “Ollie. I love you. I love Fern, and Trinity so very much. I wish our mother were still here to see how wonderful you two have become, but I do not regret the things I have given up to be there for you.” You reassure Ollie as best you can.
“You know I pride myself on being honest with you and Fern and expect it in return. I don't want you dead, I don't want to be alone, Ollie. I may hide how sad I am, but it's not because of you. We've lost so many important people to us, our mother, Trinity, and basically our father. You are all I have left to keep me even remotely happy. Seeing you and Fern grow to be amazing people is my life's goal.”
Ollie looks up at you with watery eyes. He knows you're telling him the truth, but the seed of doubt has already been planted in his mind. Closing your eyes you hang your head. You wish you could tell him everything, but Oliver is just a child. He'll be a teenage soon and that'll be a whole different world of turmoil and pain and uncertainty.
“I'm sorry if there was ever anything I did to make you think I'd be happier without you, Fern, or... or even Trinity. You're my baby brother, Ollie. I would never be happy without you.” You whisper hugging him again. “I love you, Oliver Joseph Scarlet. Come hell or high water, it changes nothing. If I lose you, if I lose Fern, even Dad... I will lose my world.” You whisper brushing a kiss to Ollie's forehead.
When you pull away Oliver reacts. His arms wrap around you again. Oliver holds you tightly. “I love you sis. I'm sorry if I hurt you.”
“Shh, after everything we've been through, it's good to look out for yourself, Ollie. Keep Fern close, just in case; okay? I don't know what that woman wanted, but I trust your judgment. I trust you to keep Fern safe.” You tell him brushing away his tears. Ollie seems to buck up a little at your confidence in him to protect his twin. “Don't hide things from Fern just to protect her, okay? If something is off and you have to run, it's better to have both of you in the know. Who heads can be better than one when you're in sync.” You add sternly. Ollie nods his head with just the same serious expression as you.
“Ms. Scarlet, time is wasting.” Vanessa warns you.
“Of course, I'm sorry Mrs. Whitewater. Oliver is coming in now.” You promise noting her slight change of expression at Oliver's red eyes. She nods her head and waits at the door for Oliver. Hugging Oliver again you ruffle his hair. “I'll see you Sunday night. Have fun, okay?”
Ollie gives you a look you know all to well. He is your brother after all. You laugh and shoo him into the old but well kept house. “Bye.”
When you get home you call an herbalist and a few others to gather supplies needed to put protection over your siblings. If Oliver saw Savannah that means she's not just a phantom from your memories. Thanking each person you speak to in kind you gather a special pouches you'd found specifically for each group of items.
Without Dark's urging you've delved deeper into the lore and teachings of the Book of Shadows. Slowly but surely the book is getting lighter and lighter, but that doesn't mean you've leaned anything of true value. It doesn't explain why you and Ollie saw Savannah. There are no clues as to what Savannah had been planning.
Turning from the freshly locked front door you nearly barrel into Dark. Catching yourself you pause on the edge of the small platform. “Damien, you startled me.” It's not a lie. You don't normally have just silent as death demons stand directly behind you.
“Not my intention, I promise. I came to discuss something of great importance with you.” Dark explains. You just know it has to do with Savannah.
“You'll have to walk and talk, so to speak. I have a few errands I have to do.” You tell him walking to your car and slide into the driver's seat. Dark appears in the passenger seat already buckled up. “What do you need to talk about?” You ask once you've set out on your drive into town.
“I was told you saw Savannah this morning.” Dark says, he's not asking you, he's telling you he knows.
“How'd you find that out?” You ask.
He ignores you. “Did she say anything to you?”
It's your turn to ignore his question. “Why don't you sound surprised to know she showed up at my house?” Flicking your turn signal you take a left when the road is clear and quickly pull into a small parking lot.
Dark simply studies you while you park your car and unbuckle your seat belt. He doesn't like the turning in his stomach, as there is a knife piercing his flesh and twisting it with painful slowness. The realization that Savanna may not be truly dead unsettles him. He had honestly believed Savannah had finally died when the summer cottage had burnt to nothing.
“I believed Savannah to be dead many centuries ago, to have her reappear now would mean she planned this in much greater detail than I thought her possible of.” Dark explains.
Pausing with your pouches in your hands you look to Dark. “Will she hurt my siblings?”
Dark looks away from you. “If it servers her purpose, yes.” His words hit you in the chest. “Damien, please, keep them safe. Fern, Oliver... my dad... losing them to old age and natural causes I can live with. I'd never be able to live and know they died because of me.”
Dark looks at you in question. “Why because of you?” If anyone is to blame he'd think you'd blame him.
“I've been having dreams lately. In my dreams I'm someone else but I don't realize it until I've awakened. Ollie says I've been talking in my sleep, saying horrible things that I would never utter even in my darkest of hours.” You don't have to say much more, your expression and tone say more than words could ever.
Dark doesn't respond immediately. He knows you must have said some awful things if you're sharing at the very least memories with Savannah. Even to her own children she was not kind. Dark catches the names on your pouches and knows instantly what you're doing. “You said you would need to hurry before the shops close, did you not?”
Dark's voice brings you back to why you're currently parked in a small strip mall not many people shop at on a daily basis. The L shaped strip mall is a collection of novelty, specialty, and collector's shops. The sun beats upon you from it's place in the mid afternoon when you finally step outside your car. Dark follows your actions. You feel a little bad that he came with you on such a hot day. His black suit, black shirt, black tie, and black shoes must be very hot and uncomfortable.
“Damien, do you want to wait in the car? It's pretty hot out and you must be... uncomfortable.”
Dark doesn't respond but the small smile on his lips feels genuine enough to make you blush. He nods for you to continue on and you do. Hugging your pouches to your breast you walk over to a small shop with flowers and foliage panted with neat hand on the window. In beautiful bold script is written THE SECRET GARDEN.
Pushing the door open a small bell jingles harmlessly above the door frame. No one greats you instantly but you're pretty much used to that at this point. AC hits you like a welcomed breeze. Looking around the small but well used space you smile to yourself.
Alexandra Pomper, or rather Alex owns the shop and has been in the same location for nearly thirteen years now. A very lovely woman, she practices Wicca and originally opened the shop others of the like but soon found a lot of her wears have many purposes and even the non practitioners would benefit and appreciate her store.
“This is a very cozy store.” Dark remarks looking at the various potions, spell elements, and various other items. You watch him pick up a candle and give it a quick smell. You can't help but giggle a little at the surprised face he gives the candle. He's made the decision to buy the candle.
Leaving the natural stone pendulums you walk over to Dark looking at the various candle names. Seeing Dark in such a normal setting its easier to fool yourself he's not a demon. Looking at the candle names again. “Uh, what is that candle called?” You ask noting the different names on the shelf Dark took the candle from.
Sinful Touches. Lustful Nights. Whispered Kisses.
Oh joy.
Dark simply smiles keeping the label from your preying eyes. He walks away leaving you to stare after him. Just what candle did he pick out and what kind of magic is attached to it?
“Oh, Y/n, I didn't realize it was you.” Alex appears from behind a black curtain. Her auburn hair falls down to her waist in loose beach curls. You've always been envious of her hair. Always perfect, never a hair out of order. Amber colored eyes watch Dark carefully as she sets a large box atop the counter.
“Hey Alex. I'm not in too much of a hurry so I didn't think to call out.” You tell her walking over to the counter. Curiosity bringing you closer to Alex and her box. “What cha got in there?”
Alex has to pull her attention away from Dark perusing her wears to respond. “A new shipment. I got an archaeologist friend down in Peru and he sent me so pretty awesome supplies. Dried rare flowers, some well preserved seedlings, among other things like amulets, blessed stones and jewelry by a few priestesses. I haven't received my whole shipment but I'm pretty happy with what I've gotten so far.” Alex explains pulling out a few things customs has approved of. You look at the items without touching just in case something could be ruined.
Alex's eyes follow Dark again. She can't put a finger on it but there is something other worldly about him. He gives her the creeps despite having just met him. “Who's the guy?”
You glance up at Alex then to Dark. “That's Dark.” Alex raises a brow at the name. You shrug in response. “Hey, I don't judge.” You tell her. To be honest you do judge, but not out loud or to others. There's a girl in Alex's group of witches that renamed herself Luna Moon.
You can't help but smile each time you think of her. Luna is a larger Caucasian woman with a round face and muddy blue eyes. She keeps changing her hair color on an almost weekly basis, but it's not her looks that make you laugh thinking about her; it's her choice of name and her attitude. She essentially named herself Moon Moon and it makes you think of the meme with the wolves and one that seems to always be the ass of the photo. Unfortunately Luna has the same kind of wacky personality and forgetful tendencies.
“Y/n, I don't mean to alarm you, but I don't think he's completely human.” Alex says looking at Dark again. You have to give Alex her credit. She's not a witch born from a bloodline, but rather one of her own making. You've found out a lot of people have hidden magic abilities but to what degree is kind of case by case. Alex had been the daughter of florists and was going to school for her degree in botany and botanical medicine, but found she could create potions and infuse magic into natural oils stones. It'd been by accident and the more she tried new things the more she found she enjoyed her work.
“I'm aware,” You tell her trying to ease her worries. You can see it does just a little. “But, aside from that, is my order ready? I have a few spells I need to complete before dark.” You explain knowing Alex would understand your need to have your items. She nods choosing not to say anything more about Dark and kneels down.
“From the items you chose I know it's a protection spell, is everything okay?” She asks lifting up a basket with dried and fresh herbs perfectly labeled with a few smaller baskets with stones in them. She picks a few herbs, both fresh and dried, and sets them aside. You place your herb pouch on the counter. Alex takes it and fills it gently.
You sigh. “I'm hoping. There's been some weird happenings around the house and I just want to take precautions. Thankfully the spell I'm using keeps us protected from just about any kind of harm. I have to go over to Jennifer's shop after this for a few other items.”
Alex nods her head. “If there is anything I can do, just let me know.” It's your turn to nod to her. She hands you back your bag and asks if there is anything else she was get for you when Dark walks up. The pair of you pause and look down at the candles Dark has picked out. Two are the same and the third is a different scent.
“Dark?” You ask looking up at him in question.
“Allow me to pay.” He says pulling a small bill fold from an inner pocket of his suit.
“Ah, s-sure....” Carefully Alex looks at each candle for a price sticker on the bottom, you can see a little bit of heat creep into her face as she looks the candles over. Curiosity gets the better of you and you pluck one of the duplicates from the counter and look at it.
Your eyes widen at the name. “Sinful Touches? Really?” You ask blushing. You can't believe he picked this candle up. Alex laughs sounding a little embarrassed by your exchange. She sets the candle in her hand down and looks up at Dark.
“There is another candle that pairs with this one. It's—ahem—it boosts the power of this one.” Alex says watching you pick up the candle she'd just put down.
Silently you read the name and just about choke on your own spit. Fertility Goddess. Leaning on the counter you cough into your hand. You can't believe Dark would dare to bring that to the counter with you as his obvious date for the time being. His large hand rubs comforting against your back, the warmth from his palm seeping into you.
Alex produces a bottled water from somewhere on her side and you take it, drinking it as slowly as you can to stop your coughing. Alex is still giggling by the time you can breath normally. You shoot her a glare daring her to make some kind of remark. She doesn't take the bait but does retrieve the pairing candle for Dark and—after he pays—bids you a good day and a very interesting evening.
You glare are her again but wave and tell her you'll call her if you need anything more. You ignore the candles despite being hyper aware of their position in you car. You don't bother asking Dark why he bought them. You don't want the answer.
#Sins of the Mother#Chapter 10#another chapter#wtf savannah?#is she really there?#Ollie's hurting#comfort the baby#Dark is Damien#reader insert#Female reader#Dark x reader#a little funny at the end#Damien is a little scamp#rapscallion#luv candles#magic#embarrased#teasing#more to come
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why Scotsmen wear kilts
It all started at one of my wee sisters annual BBq`s.
She does many over the year but there is one, normally the first one in August which has developed a mythos all of its own. This mythos grew out of her five star grub and good nature and grew and grew until, now well bawdy and hilarious don’t do these BBqs justice. The word spread, her bbq`s grew. If she wanted to she could have sold tickets.
I was at this one last year and as usual it started out as good fun but between the beers and the red wine a tension developed. It gradually got more and more tense. To lighten the mood ma wee sis started a tall story competition between the sexes. It had only one rule and that the rule was : the tall tale had to be true and had to take the mick out of your own sex, which as it turned out was not as easy as it first seemed.
A gathering of the warring parties happened in the gazebo and the initial tall tales were really nothing more than reworked sexist jokes. Then we started to get the hang of it and the laughter really took off.
The tension eased and more laughter flowed into the gap.
We got carried along and only noticed the lateness of the day when the sun started to drift away from the garden. Those sober enough slithered into the lounge onto whatever seat they could get into without spilling their drinks. As it was getting on we decided on two last tall tale tellers, one from each side. S went for the women and I was `elected ` for the men. It was also decided that the teenagers who had not floated off to play the ps3 or DS would be the judges.
Having all got refills S fake coughed to get our attention and began.
She started,
`This is a true story, honest it is ! this really happened and I think it shows how stupid women really are. During WW2 the top American general went on a morale boosting tour of the troops in the far East. The US navy liberated many, many islands on their way to attack Japan. One of these islands turned out to have a tribe on it that had never seen a white man, never mind one wearing clothes. Being very remote and isolated they themselves went around buck naked.
A sip was required, S continued.
Well the press wanted some footage of the liberating heroes so it was decided by the big wigs to use this island. The press managed to persuade the big general to do the triumphal parade bit the only problem was getting the islanders to wear clothes and therefore not upset the delicate Tv audience back home. The male elders took to clothes no problem but the women tried but were only comfortable in skirts. They just had to go topless, but seeing as the supreme symbol of the mighty victorious US forces was doing the parade this could not be allowed. So a senior diplomat was sent to convince the women to wear tops and after much too-ing and fro-ing an agreement was reached. Tops it was. The women promised the elders they would cover up and there would be no great afront to the mighty war chief.
The Elders told the diplomat the diplomat told the army and the parade and filming were set.
On the day of the parade there were many dignitaries, generals and the associated press from the free world. The parade was in full swing. It came down past the village elders, swung round a tight corner into the village square and there where the women all lined up along each side of the square creating a natural V. This V had the effect of driving the general`s party towards the ceremonial handshake with the chief at the top of the square. But ohhh ! no the women were all topless !! .The general was aghast but his embarrassment was only just beginning. The chief signalled the women to cover up. The women on mass took hold of their skirts and lifted to reveal -------.
here S took a pregnant pause
there total nudity`.
S well !! she could hardly finish.
Laughter rang out from the women they knew what S had done. It was a classic double-dip. Men were the butt here not women so laugh at the men they did. Some of the men got it too and there were some half-hearted cries of derision.
When the debacle died down the teens gave her 7 out of ten and now it was my turn.
The Guinness kept me in the chair
I began, `Many, many years ago when Scotland was still a baby, this grabbed their attention so I stood up and continued, now I don’t know if you know it but each country has its own male and female and in Scotland these were known as Heather, and the Mac the Green man.
Heather is where all Scotsmen get their unconscious ideas about women. She is everything from a kelpie to Flora McDonald. She is the spirit of everything from waterfalls to fairies, and if you believe the hype form those Barrs people she even gave them the secret to irn-bru, only kidding folks but a few of you were thinking about that for a moment there, eh !.
I sank some Guinness.
I carried on, ``-- but the green man is the story here. You see the green man is the symbol of male fertility as Heather is the symbol of female sexuality. This was known and very much revered in the very beginnings of Scotland when we were more like cavemen than homo-sapiens. During this age we were still very warlike. This annoyed heather no end so she gave the green man an ultimatum, ` do something, end this cycle of wars or no more sex`. Being the ultimate symbol of male fertility the green man thought, ` uh, I can live without sex, no prob, I don’t need her !`.
In the months after Heathers ultimatum the green man found this very easy. Being one with the land meant he was also one with the animals and there rutting was in essence a form of release for him. There instinctual acts gave him some more time to ignore Heathers ultimatum but this did not last.
As time went on the green man got randier and randier until sleep deserted him. Sleep left because of the difference between light and hard because as you all know you can sleep with the light on but you cant sleep with a ------------! `.
I didn’t need to finish that one. There were a few groans but I moved swiftly on.
`This went right on through a particularly hard winter and on into the spring. Where, feeling the sap rising again the green man fell into a deep, deep sleep of utter exhaustion. But the sap was still rising and it was springtime and time for the rut so the green mans dick made a decision. It decided to leave the green man. As the green man slept his dick jumped off and out into the world.
Of it went.
It visited every nubile women in the land and that is why there are so many redheads in Scotland cause that’s all the green man had was masses and masses of red hair. Having travelled far and sated most of that springs rising sap the green mans dick decided it was time to head home. So off it set.
The green mans dick was more tired than it thought and as a result slipped, lost its footing and tumbled head over bollocks, more groans here but I answered these with, `ah ! come on you wish you had thought of that one – that’s top class comedy that is ! `. I continued, ` --- yes head over bollocks right down into a humungous patch of scotch thistles. He was stung everywhere, over and over. It seemed like forever before the green mans dick reached the end of the thistle patch. When it eventually got out every square millimeter had been stuck more times than a tourist in the Algarve gets stung by timeshare touts. The green mans dick was now itchier than a redheaded person with sunburn in a cloud of midges
So ! lion rampant, off it went.
About now the green man awoke and realising his loss started to track his dick down. This was not easy as his dick was the same as him, of the land and so could shape shifty as and when required. At this moment in history his dick was every shape everywhere making love to anything with a pulse. It is rumoured that it even went up the grab-a-granny night at the Savoy !!`.
hurrying on
`One day the green man caught up to his dick just as it was starting to get amorous with an animal freshly introduced to Scotland. This animal was the humble sheep. So the green man watched and waited for his dick to be totally engrossed in the task at hand and then he crept up behind and reattached himself. His dick was having none of that so it struggled and struggled and in this struggle he got entangled in the wool in the upper back of the sheep. Feeling the coarseness of the wool the dick relented. Unknown to the green man Heather had been tracking both of them and had come across them just as this crucial moment.
As heather fake coughed the green man was clearing all the wool from his dick. Taking pity on him Heather made love to the green man but alas the green mans dick was still restless.
She had a brain wave during some post-coital haggis.
She went over to the sheep and after apologising for this rather unusual welcome to a new country she and the sheep dropped down into a deep conversation. Much bartering took place.
As a result of this bartering the sheep got a place in folklore which no one could erase, it also got the knowledge of colours and colour schemes for which in return all it had to do was provide an endless supply of wool. Heather now told the green man to get busy and he set about building the first ever loom.
The sheep gathered.
The following morning when the green man met Heather she looked down and she saw the first ever kilt.
The green mans dick was content to stay put as the coarse wool meant that his itches were rubbed 24/7 and that is why Scotsmen wear kilts !`.
The women went, `10 out of 10` but to be honest I do not think the men will ever speak to me again.
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